my fantasies involving men in leather, uniforms and sports gear / into mind control, hypnosis, obedience, posession, brain washing, body swapping / 18+ all writing is fictional and sexual by nature
Paul woke up feeling super refreshed, he lay there for a moment thinking what an amazing dream he had, but then he turned over and remembered it wasn't a dream at all, he'd spent the night with Jay, he remembered how after their last patrol together he'd put Jay back into trance and asked him for his address, he checked if Jay lived alone and when he said he did, he told Jay he was going to come round and that Jay would love to spend the night with him. He remembered all the fun they got up to, he couldn't believe the size of Jay's dick, he also couldn't believe how easy he got his dick up Jays arsehole, like he'd had dicks up there already.
He lay there for a while just admiring Jay who was still sleeping. Soon though Jay started to wake up, he was a bit groggy but then suddenly felt a presence next to him, he quickly turned round to see Paul staring back at him
"What the fuck!? What the hell are you doing here, get out you..."
"Sleepy cop"
Jay suddenly stopped shouting mid sentence, his eyes dropped down and his jaw fell open slightly, he was back in trance, as easy as that.
"Now now, there's no need to shout like that is there, you were the one who invited me here...well ok I technically invited myself but still, you didn't exactly stop me...not that you could anyway haha. Now get up, we'll need to get ready for work soon, go and get showered and dressed, we've got a busy day".
"Yes sir" was all Jay responded with, he got out of bed and did as he was told, Paul could hear the shower turn on, he was tempted to get in it with him but he didn't want to get too horny again before work, he'd have plenty of other opportunities.
Later Jay was in the hallway, he was stood motionless and blank waiting for Paul's instruction
"You'll head in to work as normal, get into your uniform then you'll find Dave and tell him that I've asked to see the two of you in my office, do you understand?".
Jay nodded in response.
"Good, now when I wake you, you won't realise I'm here and you'll head to work as normal, now wake up".
Jay comes back to reality, he grabs his keys and heads outside, closes and locks the door and gets into his car. Paul watches Jay get into his car and drive off, he then leaves the house using a spare key he found and headed to work himself.
.....
Later that morning, Paul is sitting at his computer, he's working on a new file, now that he's got two of his team under his control, he wants to get the whole team, but he needed an easier and quicker way to do it, he started researching new hypnosis and control techniques when he came across a new AI tool which would be perfect. This new tool would create a unique file which would quickly tap into people's subconscious mind without them even realising it, he just had to make a few changes to some of the prompts, then he'd have to test it.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door, then Jay and Dave entered.
"Hey Boss, you wanted to see us both. What's up?" Jay asked.
"Woah mate what's that you're on with?", Dave gestured towards the computer screen, "Subconscious hypnosis control, what on earth are you looking at that stuff for...".
"Sleepy cop" Paul suddenly blurted out, both Dave and Jay immediately went blank and mindless.
"Now boys, first of all, forget what you saw on my computer, you don't need to know about any of my hypnosis work. Now I need you to make Luke believe that I've been showing you both this awesome new video on my phone and that it's one of the funniest things you've watched in a long time, he'll then want to watch it himself, but make it out that it's quite rude and that I'll only be able to show him if we're alone. Also whilst I've got you both here boys, you will both come round to my place this evening after work, we're going to have some fun together". Paul smirked to himself. "Now wake up and get to work".
.....
Later in the afternoon, Paul is sat alone in the staff room, the door opens and Luke walks in. Luke is the newest recruit to the motorcycle team, he's young and naive, he managed to join so soon due to the fact his dad is the Chief Superintendent so his son got an easy ride through the ranks, it had always annoyed Paul that he had to work so hard to get to where he is yet this young lad hardly does a thing and gets promoted, so he had to rest his new file on him.
"Hey lad how's it going? Hope the teams all treating you well".
"Hiya, yeah all good, the lads are great, infact Dave mentioned something about a video...he made out that it is...ya know". Luke smiled slyly towards Paul.
"Haha he told you did he? I didn't really want everyone hearing about it, but I guess I can show you if you want".
Paul pulls out his phone and taps on the screen several times, he then hands the phone to Luke and tells him to press play and just keep watching.
Luke did just that, he was staring at the video, it was weird, not what Luke was expecting at all, he thought it was going to be some stupid hidden camera footage or something, but this was completely different, this was weird, various swirling patterns filled the screen, things kept flashing quickly but Luke could hardly see what it was flashing, he noticed it seemed to be words flashing, he stared more intently trying to read what the words said, the video got brighter and the swirling patterns became faster and more intense, Luke's eyes widened, he kept staring but he started to feel weird, lightheaded almost, but he couldn't stop watching, he didn't want to stop watching.
Paul was watching Luke the whole time, he could see his new video was having an effect on him, he stayed silent and let Luke watch the whole thing.
Luke's mind was swaying, floating, he started to feel blank, his thoughts seemed to just clear away, his arms started to feel heavy, he was struggling to hold the phone up even though he wanted to keep watching, the swirls and patterns made him feel so good, so relaxed, so blank. He could finally read the words on the screen...RELAX, DROP, SUBMIT...each word made him float more, go more blank, then he read the final word...SLEEP...his arms dropped down, he nearly dropped the phone, his eyes rolled back, it worked, Luke was now in a hypnotic trance, and Paul didn't need to do a thing.
Paul took the phone from Luke's hand and put is back in his pocket.
"Luke, stand up". Paul calmly said.
Luke stood up without question or thought, he was already so deep in trance, it had worked better than Paul ever thought it would, he was still in shock, he'd managed to perfect a new hypnotic file which worked so quickly.
"Luke, from now on you'll do whatever I tell you to do without question, I am in charge and you will always obey me do you understand?".
"Yes sir" he quietly replied.
Paul smiled, he loved being called sir, and how he didn't even have to tell him to say it either was brilliant.
"Good", Paul responded, "Now whenever you hear the words 'bitch cop' you'll fall back into this trance state and be fully open to any suggestions or commands I give you, when I wake you up by saying 'wake up' you'll return to your normal self and won't ever remember being in trance but you will follow any commands I've given you without it ever seeming weird, do you understand?".
"Yes sir", he replied once again.
"Good boy, now you're going to speak to your father later today and tell him you don't think being a motorcycle officer is the right fit for you, and instead you want to be a regular PC, you'll tell him you aren't up to the standards of my team and you want to train from the beginning and work your way up like everyone else has to. Then you'll also tell him that I tried to persuade you to stay on the team but you wouldn't accept, but you will praise me and say how good I was, oh and you'll also mention the new training video I've been showing all the lads which is improving their biking skills no end, and you think he should take a look just to make sure he approves, do you understand all that?".
"Yes sir I understand". Luke stood motionless and blank.
"Good lad, now wake up".
Luke stirred back to reality, blinked a couple of times, then turned to Paul,
"Hey boss, I've been thinking, I don't think I'm really cut out to be on your team, I think I'm going to speak to my dad and say about going back to bring a PC for now, I should do things properly. I hope you understand, you've been so good to be and I can't thank you enough for your help".
Paul smiled slightly, "Oh, well that's quite a shock, but if it's what you feel is best I won't stand in your way". Paul thought to himself how perfect this was, he was finally getting rid of this spoilt kid from his team, he'd wanted rid of him for ages now.
"Oh thanks boss, I'll speak to my dad later today and explain to him, I'm sure he'll understand, hopefully you'll manage to get someone new to replace me soon". Luke smiled.
"Oh don't you worry lad, places on my team are snapped up, I'll easily find someone, and I'll still see you about".
"That's great to hear boss, well I guess I won't be calling you boss for much longer, well I'll get going, see ya around". Luke nodded slightly and left the room.
.....
Paul had one of the best days he'd had in a while, and it was about to get even better, he looked out his front window to see two police motorbikes pull up on his drive, he lept up and quickly went to the front door, opening it before the lads even had a chance to knock.
"Hey fellas, come in, head through and make yourself comfortable", Paul said to Dave and Jay. The two lads went through, removed their jackets and sat next to each other on the sofa, Jay looked towards Dave
"Hey mate, this might sound a bit weird, but can you remember why Paul asked us both round this evening? I knew we had to come round for I honestly can't remember him asking or explaining why". Jay said, sounding a little puzzled.
"You know what, I can't remember him asking me either, but yeah I just knew to come round, that is kinda weird" Dave replied.
Just then, Paul came in and sat on a chair next to them.
"Hey pal" Jay said towards Paul, "this'll sound a bit weird, but why are we here again? I honestly can't remember you actually asking me to come round, but weirdly I just knew to come, I'm sure you did ask, I'm probably just being a bit dense and can't remember. Obviously you know I'm happy to come round but just weird how I can't remember, and Dave said the same".
Paul looked at them both and smirked,
"Haha, well of course you don't remember, that's because I hypnotised you and told you both to come round, you'll do whatever I ask you to" he laughed.
"Both Jay and Dave looked towards each other feeling concerned, then Jay laughed.
"Haha fuck off, hypnosis!" He laughed again, "you've got to be kidding me, hypnosis isn't real, it's just that shit they fake up on stage, dancing about, stripping and whatever, you haven't hypnotised us, I think I'd remember that", he laughed again and looked towards Dave, but Dave wasn't laughing with him, infact he looked quite worried.
"You know..." Dave spoke quietly, "I have been having blank moments, forgetting things and so on, that would explain why", he looked at Jay then turned to Paul and gave him a concerned look.
"Don't be stupid pal, hypnosis is a load of crap, isn't that right Paul, you're just messing with us right?" Jay laughed, but his laugh sounded quite nervous now.
Paul smirked, "oh fellas, if only you knew how much fun I'd had with you both, and you don't remember any of it do you? I control you both and there's nothing you can do about it!" He laughed.
Dave looked really worried now, and even Jay was getting very concerned now, could Paul be telling the truth, surely he's just fucking with them, just a laugh, a messed up game...right?
"Nah, sorry mate I don't believe you" Jay said, but he still had a concerned look on his face.
"Haha well never mind, it doesn't matter if you believe me or not, but I'm going to have lots of fun with both of you this evening, now Jay I want you to take off your shirt".
"Woah you can fuck right off, I'm not playing your sick games" Jay shouted and was about to get up.
"You will remove your shirt you sleepy cop" Paul smiled.
Both Jay and Dave immediately went blank and remained seated.
"Now Jay, do as I said and take off your shirt".
Jay did as he was told, he removed his shirt and continued to sit staring blankly.
"Good boy, now to have some real fun, I want you both to follow me upstairs".
Paul stood up and started heading upstairs, the two lads got up and followed him as commanded. The three of them entered the bedroom.
"Now Dave you can stand over there, I'll have fun with you shortly, Jay you can sit there on the bed".
Jay did as he was told, he sat there looking blank. Paul started to strip out of his clothes, he looked at the two blank cops and smirked, this was going to be the best night ever.
Hours went by, Paul had never cum so much in such a short space of time, but every time he came, his dick would immediately get hard again, watching Jay and Dave make out with each other was the hottest thing he'd ever seen, then he got them to both strip down fully, he knew they both had impressive dicks, but seeing them both at full mast next to each other was quite a sight, then watching them suck each other off make Paul cum once again.
The fun continued late into the night, the two sleepy cops were still completely blank, their minds were jelly at this point, they were so deeply conditioned, Paul could literally get them to do anything.
Eventually he fell asleep with the two lads by his side, through the night he even managed to have a wet dream, he'd not had one of those since he was about 14, he woke up whilst it was happening and it felt incredible, whilst it was happening he grabbed Dave and Jays limp dicks and started rubbing them both, soon their dicks started to stiffen up and before he knew it, he was wanking them both again, Jay came first, his body pulsated but his face didn't change, then soon after, Dave came. Cum covered Paul's hands, he got the lads to lick off their own jizz, this once again turned on Paul, but his dick was starting to hurt now so he resisted going again, he got himself cleaned up and went to sleep. He had one of the best sleeps ever!
Several days had passed, Dave was still completely unaware on what Paul what doing with him...to him, he woke up one morning feeling a little sore but couldn't think why, but as soon as he tried to think what happened, his mind would just go blank and he'd move on to thinking about something else.
Some of the motorcycle team had returned from a day of doing traffic stops, the team always enjoyed these days as they'd always come across the funniest excuses for poor driving, or trying to blag their poor explanation for speeding, no one would ever just be honest even though the cops had proof, but it kept it interesting for the lads and they would have a laugh about it when they get back to the station.
Most of the team had headed to the staff room for a break, but Dave, Paul and Jay were still in the garage chatting away
"Haha why do I always get the dickheads on traffic stops?", Jay joked.
"Nah we all get our fair share lad" Paul responded.
"Yeah that's true, lots of dickheads around here I guess, haha. Anyway, I'm going to head up to the staff room, you fellas coming?" Jay asked.
"Yeah we'll be there shortly, just need to have a quick chat with Dave, see you up there."
"What's up pal?" Dave asked.
Paul watched as Jay left and the door shut behind him, then he said "Sleepy cop".
Dave instantly fell back into trance, Paul smiled, he still couldn't quite believe how well this was going, how he had this handsome man under his full control.
"Now Dave, I want...." He was suddenly interrupted by a call on his radio, his boss needed to see him urgently.
"shit, that didn't sound good", Paul was worried, his boss never signalled him like that on the radio, he panicked and quickly made his way towards his boss's office, although he forgot something...or someone, as he left in a rush.
"Hey lads?", Jay suddenly called out. He was walking back into the garage.
"Aah Dave, you're still here, where's Paul gone?"
Silence
"Err, Dave, you alright mate?"
Dave just stood there blank and motionless.
"Haha what the fuck you doing, stop messin' about, where did Paul go?"
"uurr, Pauuulll..." Dave slurred and trailed off.
"What the fuck dude, what's wrong with you?", Jay grabs Dave's arm and shakes him, but there's no response.
"What the fuck dude, have you taken something? Wheres Paul? Did he do something to you? Oi! Dave come on fuckin hell what you doing? Oi wake up dude you silly twat".
Dave suddenly came back to reality, he blinked a few times and looked round.
"oh...alright pal, Where'd Paul go?"
"What? What the fuck dude, what you playin at, what the hell was that all about?".
Dave looked confused, "what was what about?"
"When I came in you were just stood here not moving or...well doing anything to be honest, I thought you were on something for a second."
Dave looked confused again, "I wasn't doing anything, I honestly don't know what you're on about. Stop pissing about, let's go and chill out for a bit".
Dave started walking towards the exit. Jay stood there for a moment, 'what the hell just happened?' he thought to himself, 'that was so weird, and where the hell has Paul gone?' Jay then left and joined Dave and the others in the staff room.
.....
Later that same day, Jay still kept thinking back to how he found Dave, he kept bothering him, it certainly didn't just feel like a stupid joke or prank and even weirder that Dave didn't seem to know what he was even talking about, 'I think I'll check with Paul, find out how Dave was when he was with him', he thought to himself.
He made his way to Paul's office and went up to his desk.
"Hey Paul, sorry to bother you, mind if I just have a quick chat?"
Paul looked up at Jay, he could see Jay looked concerned about something.
"Yeah sure thing, what's up?" He responded.
"Oh it's probably nothing but you know earlier when we'd got back from shift, I'd left you and Dave in the garage but I'd forgotten my jacket so came back to grab it and I found Dave acting weird".
"Weird? How do you mean?" Paul asked, somewhat nervously, he suddenly remembered he didn't wake Dave up from his trance when his boss called him.
"Well when I called out to him, he didn't respond, he just stood there, it was just strange, I'm not sure if it was some stupid joke or whatever and thought maybe you and him had thought up something stupid together, but then when he finally did respond, he said he didn't know what I was on about. I've never seen him like that before".
Paul could see the concern on Jay's face, he had to think quick.
"Oh that's weird, he seemed fine when I went but I had to rush off as the boss needed to see me urgently, I must admit he did seem a bit distracted when I was with him, maybe he's got some personal issues going on. Plus you know how he gets sometimes, he's often away with the fairies. I'm sure it was nothing to worry about, but if you like I can check in with him later on".
"hmm, yeah you're probably right, yeah if that's alright it would make me feel better, thanks", Jay replied.
Jay started to walk away when suddenly Paul called him back over.
"Oh wait, whilst you're here".
Jay turned round and looked back at Paul,
"Yeah?" He asked.
"You've not completed the latest training module have you? I couldn't see your name on the list yet, it doesn't take long, you may as well just do it here now and get it over and done with, it's mainly just a refresher to tick off, here, do it on my computer".
"Jay looked a little puzzled "oh, I didn't realise there was a new training module, sorry boss, yeah I can do it now if it doesn't take long". He pulled a spare chair over to the desk and sat down.
"Oh you'll want these as well", Paul handed him a pair of headphones, "There's a couple of videos to watch".
Jay put the headphones on and pulled himself towards the desk, Paul loaded up a file on it and sat back. He had secretly been working on a new special training file...but this was no normal training, this was to train up new boys for his personal use, just like Dave. He watched Jay's face, at first he looked intrigued, then confused, then he saw when the file was starting to take effect, his eyes went wide and he was staring directly at the screen not blinking or reacting, Paul could see it was working, he couldn't believe it, he was getting a second handsome cop under his control, if it worked this well he could eventually get the whole team under his control.
Paul let his new hypno file do it's thing to Jay, he kept checking the door to make sure no one was coming, then when he thought enough time had passed he stopped the file. There was no reaction from Jay, he continued to stare blankly at the screen with nothing showing. Paul smiled, he took hold of Jay and turned him towards himself, then pulls his headphones off and puts them away. He places one hand on Jay's leg, still no reaction, Paul couldn't stop smiling.
"Jay, can you hear me?" Paul asked.
Jay's eyes slowly blinked once, then there was a slight pause, until
"Yes I can hear you".
His reply was slow and monotonous but not as slurred as when Dave speaks.
"Good, I am now in control of you, whenever you are in this relaxed trance state you will do anything I ask of you, do you understand?"
"Yes I understand" he slowly replied.
"Yes sir!" Paul exclaimed.
"Yes sir" Jay responded, still with the same blank look on his face.
"Good, now whenever you hear the phrase..." Paul thought for a second, should he use the same phrase as he uses on Dave or should he have two different phrases? He then thought he could just change it later anyway so stuck with the usual for now.
"...Sleepy Cop, you will fall back into this trance state you're in now, and you will be under my complete control, and when I say the words Wake Up, you will wake up and have no memory of what just happened, do you understand?".
"Yes sir, I understand".
"Good boy, we'll get you even deeper conditioned later, but for now I best bring you out of trance before someone sees you. Now, wake Up".
Jay's eyes blinked a few times and he starts to move, he looked at Paul,
"Oh sorry boss, I blanked out for a second, should I start the training now?" He asked.
"You know what, there's honestly no rush, it's not a compulsory session anyway to be honest so don't worry about it, you get yourself off for your break and I'll catch up with you later".
"alright pal no worries, I'll catch you in a bit".
And with that, Jay got up and walked out of the office like nothing had happened. Paul couldn't stop smiling, he now had two of the most handsome officers from his team under his full control, this was going to be so much fun.
Dave woke up feeling really refreshed for the first time in a while, in fact he felt great, but he also had a tiny niggle at the back of his mind, he didn't know why, he just knew something felt off. He pushed the thought to the side and started with his day, he thought about the great evening he had with Paul, he loved a movie night... although suddenly he realised he couldn't remember what film they watched, 'I know I fell asleep during the film', he thought to himself, 'but why can't I even remember what the damn film was? What is going on with me this morning?'. He stood at the bathroom mirror looking at himself, feeling a little concerned.
Again, he pushed those thoughts away and got himself ready for work, he knew one thing for sure, he was looking forward to seeing Paul again.
Dave arrived at the police station slightly early as he often did, but instead of following his usual routine of going into the staff room, grabbing a quick brew and having a chat with the other officers in there, he instead headed straight for Paul's office, he didn't really know why but he just knew it was the right thing to do. He'd been thinking about him all morning, all positive thoughts but that tiny niggle kept creeping back in, he just couldn't let it go, something wasn't right but whenever he tried to focus on what it could be, his mind kept blanking out on him.
'There he is, sat at his desk looking so handsome in his uniform', Dave thought as he stood looking in the office, 'wait what the hell, why did I just think he is handsome? I don't fancy him...do I? No of course not, I'm not into men'. Dave felt that niggling thought creeping back, 'Wait, the hypnosis, surely Paul didn't do anything then...did he? I need to ask him about this'. Dave opened the door and walked up to Paul, then he did something he's never done before in his life, yet he did it without question, he knelt down Infront of Paul and dropped his head.
"Aah good morning Dave", he gently stroked the top of Dave's head, "I'm glad to see you remembered. Now you can stand up and carry on as normal".
Dave stood up, smiled and said "morning mate how you doing this morning".
"I'm really good thanks, had a great evening with you last night, thanks again for coming round".
"hey no need to thank me, always enjoy a lads night at yours. Oh I've been meaning to ask you something, you know when you hypnotised me, what exactly did you do...or say to me? It's just.....I have this weird feeling in the back of my mind and whatever I do I just can't put my finger on it, but I also keep forgetting things. I just wondered if it's maybe something to do with the hypnosis?".
Paul felt tense for a moment, but he made sure not to show it. Surely he wasn't going to remember anything that happened was he?
"Well I don't think I did anything that would have caused you to forget things. I just put you under and got you deeply relaxed, then I slowly brought you back out of it again. The only thing I can think is you went a bit too deep under and your mind hasn't fully woken up yet or something".
Paul hoped that was enough to convince him, although he then thought he could just put Dave back under and sort this all out, but he didn't want to risk it when there were a lot of other people around in the building at this time of day so he left it for now.
"Hopefully the bit of brain fog you're having will clear up soon, but if not we can try another session to tap into your subconscious and see what's there...or not there. How does that sound?" Paul asked.
Dave stayed silent for a moment, he was thinking to himself...is Paul right? Could it just be temporary effects from the hypnosis? He had nothing else to go with and he knew nothing about hypnosis so he believed it could be true.
"ok mate yeah I'm sure you're right, hopefully it will all clear up soon and I'll remember things properly. Anyway best get on with my day, I'll see you later for our training sesh."
Paul smiled back as Dave turned around and left the office to head out on his morning patrols.
-----
As Dave rode around, doing traffic stops and all his usual routine, that niggle still kept popping back up, something still didn't feel right. Was Paul lying to him? Surely he wouldn't do that would he? Then he suddenly had a thought 'cameras! There's a camera in the office where he put me under, I can access the recordings when I get back and just check nothing weird happened'.
He returned to the office after a couple of hours, no sign of Paul anywhere. He checked with one of the staff in the main office who confirmed Paul was out on patrol. Dave went to his desk, removed his jacket and logged into the CCTV system, he wasn't meant to have full access to that but he obtained the log in details a while back and thankfully the password wasn't changed often so it still worked. He scanned across all the files and checked the times and dates until he found it...the video which should clear things up, he double clicked on the file and a video player opened up. There was Paul sat at the desk, he fast forwarded a bit until he saw himself appear then pressed play, he sat and watched, he saw when he started to go under. He realised he didn't remember any of this, it was so weird watching himself being hypnotised. But something still seemed off, he then noticed Paul pressed something on his keyboard, what did he do there?
Sound on recordings didn't automatically play and had to be turned on in a separate file setting. He'd never done this before and it was something that could potentially get him dismissed from his job, but he looked around and made sure no one else was around, went into the file settings and turned on the sound setting, then he went back to the beginning of the hypnosis part and watched again. Suddenly Dave's eyes went wide as he started to realise what happened yesterday. He turned up the volume slightly as he could make out a faint sound but couldn't quite make it out...as he turned it up he heard the file that Paul had been playing. Suddenly his mind went hazy for a few seconds, he stared blankly as the sound triggered him almost back to that same state he was originally in...but as another officer walked in and the door banged shut, it brought him back to reality and he stopped the video. He sat for a moment, he still felt funny but tried to compose himself. He put some headphones on but lowered the volume hoping to just hear what Paul was saying, he pressed play and he could just about hear him speak, he could hear Paul telling his past self to relax and to go deep, even just hearing those words again was having a slight effect on Dave, but he managed to keep listening, right up until he heard Paul say the words 'I control you'. Dave suddenly removed the headphones in horror. He couldn't listen any more, which was probably a good thing otherwise he would have heard his trigger phrase. He panicked trying to think what to do now, could Paul really control him? Was that why he had so many blanks in his mind?
He quickly spun round on his chair to leave the office when he saw Paul stood behind him, he gasped in shock, how long had he been stood there watching?
"err hey mate", Dave whimpered, "sorry I can't stop I need to head out on my next job, in a rush sorry".
Without even waiting for a response, Dave got up and quickly headed for the exit.
"Wait!" Paul called out, but Dave continued. He just got to the door when suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks.
"Sleepy cop", Paul had called out, he didn't shout but it was loud enough just for Dave to hear. His mind suddenly went blank, his arms dropped to his sides, his eyes suddenly went heavy and his head dropped slightly.
"Good sleepy cop", Paul said quickly, now stood next to a tranced Dave. Dave's eyes fluttered slightly at hearing his trigger phrase again. A quiet moan fell from his parted lips.
"Now just what were you looking at eh? There was no need to be looking at that footage of us together, you know you enjoyed it just as much as I did. Now you're going to forget that you ever saw that CCTV footage, and you won't ever have any of these silly niggles playing about in your mind from now on, everything will feel absolutely normal all the time, you're happy and content, and you love spending time with me, do you understand?"
Dave nodded slightly and a faint slurred yes could just about be heard.
"Good boy, now wake up".
Dave stirred and came back to reality once more.
"Oh hey mate, you ready for training this afternoon?" Dave asked.
"Sure am pal, sure am" he laughed slightly as he replied.
Dave had not long come back off shift on his patrol motorbike when he saw Paul looking at something interesting on his computer screen, he grabs a nearby chair and swiveled across to him to find out more.
"Hey pal, what's that you're looking at? Hypnosis shit? Haha you know that's all a load of bollocks right?" He laughed.
Paul replied "hey don't be so sure, you know I've had an interest in this sort of stuff for ages now, in fact I do need a volunteer to try some new hypnosis inductions on if you're up for it?"
Dave gave a sly grin back and said "haha you honestly think you can hypnotise me? What a load of rubbish. So what, are you doing to swing a pendulum Infront of my eyes and I start to get sleepy or some shit like that?"
"Well not exactly, I've never used a swinging pendant to hypnotise anyone before, no I just use my voice, don't worry it's all just a bit of fun, and you won't do anything you wouldn't otherwise do".
"haha go on then mate, give it your best shot".
Paul turned and pulled his chair closer towards Dave and leaned forward towards him.
"Now Dave I just want you to listen to my voice, concentrate on how calm my voice is and let go of any thoughts that are in your mind right now. Just relax and start to let go"
He continued with the relaxing talk, and when he noticed Dave seemed to start genuinely relaxing, he pressed a button on his computer keyboard which started playing a quiet relaxing soundtrack, shortly after pressing play, the subliminal soundtrack kicked in, Dave slowly started to slump forward, his eyes dropped down slightly and soon after his lips started to part. Paul grinned, he could see it was working.
Paul continued to speak calmly to Dave,
"that's it, you're getting so calm and relaxed now, starting to feel somewhat sleepy, your eyes are getting so heavy now, keep listening to my voice, my voice makes you feel safe and happy, you want to listen to my voice and obey everything I say"
Dave then slowly nodded slightly in response, Paul smiled, he could see he was very close now.
"Good boy Dave, you will always want to obey me from now on, you're falling deep under my hypnotic spell and you can no longer resist, you enjoy being under my control. Now I want you to close your eyes and drop even deeper for me, let your muscles relax and let your head drop down now".
Dave did exactly as Paul said, his eyes closed and his head dropped down, he looked so relaxed. Paul took hold of his left arm,
"Good boy, you're doing so well, you're so deep now, so relaxed, so obedient, you want to obey everything I tell you. From now on I'm in charge, I control you. Whenever I call you a 'sleepy cop', you will go into a trance state and will obey everything I say without question, nothing will seem unusual to you. When I tell you to wake up, you'll awake and be aware of your normal surroundings and go about as if nothing happened, do you understand all this Dave?"
Dave slowly nodded a couple of times, he also tried to say yes but it just came out as a mumble.
"Haha good boy, you're so deeply relaxed you can't even speak", Paul grinned, "I'm going to have some fun with you mate. Now I'm heading home next, when you head out on your next patrol, you're going to ride your bike to my house, you've already got my address. You won't question why you're visiting me, it will feel completely normal. Now, wake up!"
Dave started to rise back up and slowly opened his eyes, blinking a few times as he came back to reality, he cleared his throat and looked at Paul,
"Well, did it work, did you manage to hypnotise me then, did you make me act like a chicken or dog or somein't stupid like that?" He laughed.
"Haha don't be daft, I don't do stupid stage show shit like that, nah I just got you into a relaxed state, nothing special, but you should feel nicely refreshed now. Anyway that's me done for the day, I'll see you about mate, hope the rest of your shift goes alright".
"haha no worries, and actually yeah I do feel pretty good actually, might have to get you to work your voodoo magic on me again sometime".
"Oh I'm sure I could find some time soon to do it again", he grinned, "see ya later".
After grabbing a brew and catching up on some paperwork, Dave started to get ready for his next ride out, he grabbed his helmet and made his way to the garage where his bike was parked up. As he got there, he stopped and thought to himself 'wait, where am I going again? I know I'm back on patrol now but I'm sure there was somewhere specific I was meant to go'. He stood silent for a moment trying to think, why was his mind so cloudy, he doesn't usually forget things like this.
'Maybe that hypnosis shit made me too relaxed...maybe I'll just call round at Paul's place and have a chat with him, see if he can shed any light on this'. He proceeded to put his helmet on, got on his bike and started to ride off to Paul's place, he knew where he lived as they would sometimes meet up for a beer together after work. Paul always seemed to chat with Dave more than the other cops on their team, Dave never really knew why but he liked him and they got on well so he didn't really mind.
As he pulled up on Paul's driveway, he noticed Paul coming towards him, 'hmm, how did he know I was coming, oh he just have just heard the bike'. He lifted the front of his helmet,
"hey Paul, sorry for dropping by like this, I just wanted to ask you a few things about that hypnosis stuff, you see I..."
"Hey sleepy cop" Paul suddenly blurted out, Dave stopped mid sentence, still sat on his bike, his eyes dropped down and his mouth fell open, he looked so blank and thoughtless, Paul grinned, 'it's working so well', he thought to himself.
"Good boy, I'm so glad you dropped by, why don't you get off your bike and come inside where we can properly relax".
"yeesss" was all that Dave could manage in response. He got off his bike and followed Paul into his house. Paul closed the door behind him and walked into his lounge,
"why don't you get comfortable, take off your helmet, and you may as well remove your jacket, it's warm in here".
Without question, Dave did as Paul said, he unclipped the buckle on his helmet then pulled it off, Paul took it from him, then Dave slowly undid his hi viz coat which Paul also took from him, he placed the two items on the arm rest.
"Now take a seat Dave and get comfy, just relax".
Dave sat down and lent back against the sofa.
"Now sleep, close your eyes and drop even deeper".
Dave's eyes closed and his head dropped back.
'I'm going to have some fun with this guy', Paul thought to himself, 'I've fancied this guy since I first met him but he's as straight as they come, but let's see if I can change that', he laughed quietly to himself.
"Dave, have you ever done anything with a man before...sexually?".
Dave stayed silent for a moment but his brows furrowed slightly before he limply resoonded
"yeah...I have".
Dave was shocked, that's the last thing he expected to hear.
"Tell me what you've done". Paul said.
"I met up with a gay guy to let him suck me off, no kissin' or anything".
Paul smiled, "did you enjoy having a man do that to you?".
"Yeah I did, probably the best I've had".
"Well you're going to love what I've got planned for you. First let's get your top off, stand up and remove your shirt". Paul told Dave.
Dave slowly stood up and removed his shirt without question. Paul stood next to him and admired his well toned hairy chest, he started feeling his pecs, Dave just stood there motionless and blank.
Paul spent most of the evening having fun with Dave, he pushed him further and further and Dave continued to submit and obey, he was so deep in trance and his mind was so blank now that he didn't have a single thought of his own any longer. Soon he was lying in just his boxers, letting Paul play with every inch of him, in fact he even seemed to be enjoying it, maybe he wasn't as straight as he likes to think.
Later in the evening Paul decided to leave things for a little while, he'd certainly had fun with his new toy, but he wanted to save some things for a future day so he told Dave to get dressed and head home
"Dave, once you get home, you'll actually as if everything is normal, you've been round at my house for a movie night, nothing else. You'll go in and get out of your uniform and get ready for bed."
Paul was about to tell him to wake up when he thought of something else to add
"oh one more thing, when you come in to work tomorrow, you will come into my office and kneel for me and say 'good morning master'. Once you've done that you'll stand up and have no memory of doing it, everything will seem normal and you'll carry on with your day. Now wake up".
Dave's eyes opened and blinked a couple of times, Dave looked around then looked at Paul,
"oh damn, did I fall asleep, I've missed half the film"!
"haha that's alright mate, you've had a busy day so I'm not surprised. You get yourself home and into bed, I'll see you tomorrow".
"yeah sounds good, I am exhausted to be honest, can't wait just to fall into bed. See ya tomorrow pal".
Paul stood at the door and watched Dave ride off, he smiled and thought of the fun he'd had this evening and how Dave didn't have a clue anything had happened! He couldn't believe how well this was all going. He couldn't wait for tomorrow to come now".
I am seeing more children as protagonists in erotica. Still being reblogged. Still being liked. The same guy having done this time and time again. Itâs not preference. Itâs p*dophil*a. Iâm fucking sick of it. Why are we continuing to allow this? How many writers have to come out and say something, come out against this before something is done?
We will end up losing our entire community thanks to these people, as theyâll associate the queer tf erotica community with se*ualization of children. What are we supposed to do? When they shut us all down do you really think saying âwe tried to say somethingâ will be sufficient to stop them from doing another purge? What are WE doing?
The garage is humming down after Free Practice 2, mechanics packing away tools, engineers poring over data. Liam Lawson steps out of the car, flushed and tired, and hears footsteps behind him.
âLiam,â Christian Hornerâs voice is smooth, almost conversational as he falls in beside him. âGood effort todayâletâs have a quick debrief, yeah?â He pats him on the back encouragingly as Liam takes his helmet off, putting it aside.
Liam follows him into Hornerâs private office, a spare set of screens casting a pale glow on the polished table. Heâs still replaying the data in his head, hoping for a clear sign of improvement. Horner motions him to sit.
âBefore we dive into lap times,â Horner begins, folding his hands on the desk, âI want you to remember. Remember our agreement.â He speaks slowly, deliberately.
Liam shifts on the chair, glancing up at him.
"Listen, I'm sorryâ"
Without a word Horner just raises a hand, cutting Liam off. The drivers eyes land on the index finger, and something inside him stirrs.
His brows furrow, his lips part just an inch, all of his focus narrowing to Horners hand.
"Good," Horner says more to himself then to Liam. "You do remember."
For a second Liam's gaze shifts to meet Horner's but it snaps right back to the finger, warmth blooming inside his belly.
âLook at me,â Horner says quietly. âJust listen to my voice.â He inclines his head slightly, eyes steady on Liamâs. Thereâs nothing dramatic in his toneâjust soft encouragement. Liam blinks, finds himself leaning forward without realizing it.
Horner continues in a measured rhythm, âEvery time I speak, youâll feel more at ease. Tension drains away. Youâre capable, you know that. You want to do exactly what youâre toldâno doubts, no distractions.â Liamâs eyes flicker, his jaw loosening. He exhalesâand Horner nods, as though awaiting permission.
âAs you sit here,â Horner says, âyour mind sorts itself out. When I count to three, any worry about performance or seats will fade. Youâll trust every decision we make. Youâll do exactly as instructedâon track and off.â His words come slowly, punctuated by gentle pauses.
One⊠Liamâs eyelids feel a touch heavy. He lifts a hand to his chest, as the warmth spreads steadily, radiating through his damp undershirt.
Two⊠Hornerâs voice surges through him, causing his muscles to tense, yet feeling numb
Three⊠he blinks, eyes open wide before they roll back. With a slow groan, a quiet, strangled sound he slumps back into the chair, legs spreading naturally, arms going limp and his mind empties.
Christian Horner watches Liam slump back in the chair, utterly relaxed, the last of his resistance softened away by that careful, rhythmic cadence. He lets a small, wry smile tug at his lips.
âPoor Liam,â he murmurs, voice low enough that only Liam can hear. He reaches out, fingertips brushing over Liamâs cheekâgentle, almost paternal, though thereâs a glint of something more possessive in Hornerâs gaze. âYou just arenât performing, are you? Weâve given you every chanceâŠâ
Liamâs eyes flutter, unfocused, trusting. Hornerâs thumb traces the line of Liamâs jaw, tilting his head so their gazes meet. âItâs not your fault,â Horner whispers, leaning in so close Liam can feel his breath. âBut you need guidance. You need⊠discipline.â
His hand drifts down, palms brushing across Liamâs chest through the damb nomex, feeling the steady rise and fall of each breath. Liamâs shoulders slump, arms loose in his lap.
Hornerâs fingers linger at the apex of Liamâs sternum. He presses lightly, feeling Liamâs heart beat strong and quick. âWeâve been patient,â he says, thumb ghosting over Liamâs collarbone. âBut I canât have you holding the team back.â
âYou will stay at Red Bull,â Horner murmurs, voice low and authoritative. âYour contract is secureâyour place in the family is assured.â He lets his fingers trail up to Liamâs throat, feeling the subtle pulse beneath the collar of his suit.
âBut,â Horner continues, leaning in so his breath brushes over Liamâs temple, âwe cannot keep you in the main team. Not yet.â He gently tilts Liamâs head, studying the softness of his expression, the irresistible curve of his lips. âYouâre too handsome to be sacked.â
Liamâs shoulders relax as Hornerâs words settle in, a curious mix of relief and longing flickering in his eyes. Hornerâs palm moves to rest on Liamâs chest, fingers splayed over the steady beat of his heart. âYouâll move to Racing Bulls,â he says, voice firm but kind. âThere youâll refine your pace, perfect your craftâand Iâll be watching every lap.â
"And," He leans in, voice a quiet rumble. âYouâll do exactly as I say. Youâll follow every instruction without questionâfrom setup changes to race strategy. Youâll find that focus thatâs eluded you.â
Liamâs lips part wider, his throat working to get out words, but for now, he can only nod.
He presses a soft kiss to the hollow of Liamâs throat. âYou belong with us,â he whispers. âYour talentâand your looksâare assets weâll cultivate in the right environment.â
Liam nods again, the last traces of tension melting away under Hornerâs touch. He inhales deeply, chest rising against Hornerâs palm, and offers a small, confident smile.
Horner straightens, fingertips brushing one last time along Liamâs cheek. âGood,â he says, voice softening into something almost affectionate. "Now get up for me."
Without hesitation, Liam gets off the chair, and takes a step. Horner lets his eyes wander all over the young drivers body, his damp suit clinging to him like a second skin, when he catches sight of a noticeable swell pressing against the fabric of Liamâs race suit. His brow lifts in amused surprise.
Without a word, Horner reaches out and lets his fingers hover just above the taut fabric at Liamâs hip, tracing a slow arc down to rest lightly over the bulge. Liamâs breath stutters, shoulders tensing ever so slightly under the unexpected contact.
Hornerâs lips curve into a sly smile. âWell, well,â he murmurs, voice low and teasing. âSomeone seems rather⊠invested in our little arrangement.â His thumb brushes gently over the outline. âTell me, Liamâdid you prepare for this move to Racing Bulls by padding your suit?â
Liamâs cheeks heat, but he meets Hornerâs gaze steadily. âNo padding, sir,â he manages to say, finally, voice a touch husky. âJust⊠enthusiasm.â
Horner chuckles softly, pressing a fingertip more firmly against the fabric. âEnthusiasm is exactly what I need from you.â He shifts closer, letting the warmth of his hand and breath send a ripple of awareness through Liam. âBut remember whose hand it is that guides youâand whose approval you crave.â
Liam swallows as the suit constricts around the bulge, the reminder of Hornerâs control dancing through him. Horner straightens, fingertips lingering on Liamâs hip. âGood,â he says, voice surprisingly tender.
Hornerâs smile turns wicked as his fingers circle the taut fabric pressing over Liamâs length. He trails the pad of his index finger along the curve, each feather-light stroke drawing a soft gasp from Liamâs lips.
âLook at you,â Horner whispers, leaning in so his voice is a warm breath at Liamâs ear. âGrowing harder by the second.â His thumb presses gently, coaxing a firmer outline against the suit. âDo you know why?â
Liam swallows, hips shifting involuntarily beneath Hornerâs hand. His breath hitches in quick, eager pants.
âBecause you belong to me now,â Horner continues, voice low and commanding. He teases the bulge with slow, deliberate strokesâside-to-side, up-to-downâlearning every quiver of response. âEvery scar of tension, every press of fabric, reminds you to obey.â
Liamâs fingers ball into fists at his sides as the suitâs fabric strains around his length. His pulse drums through his templesâand through the silken tightness against his cock.
Hornerâs free hand slips to Liamâs shoulder, anchoring him. âEach stroke conditions you,â he murmurs, palm splaying over Liamâs chest. âAt the track, in the garageâwherever you areâyouâll feel this same need to comply.â
He speeds up, palm pumping firmly through the suitâs resistance. Liamâs body trembles, back arching as his erection pulses, desperate beneath the fabric.
âGood boy,â Horner coos, thumb brushing teasing circles at the tip. âLet your hardness remind you whose command you live for.â
Liamâs eyes drift apart, as he feels the warmth encompass him.
"Thatâs it, Liam." He encourages. "Letâs see if you understand."
âFlex for me, boy,â he intones softly.
Obediently, Liam brings his hands behind his head and tenses every sinew of his biceps and shoulders. The fabric of his undershirt stretches tight across the peaks of muscle.
Hornerâs eyes track the lines of Liamâs flexed arms, then he leans in, one hand still wrapped around Liamâs length, the other slipping beneath Liamâs raised arm. He buries his nose just into the hollow of Liamâs sweaty armpit and breathes in deeplyâsharp, salty, exhilarating.
âMmm,â Horner murmurs, the vibration of the word against Liamâs arm. He presses his cheek lightly into that warm, damp curve, his fingers skimming over the flexed bicep. âFeel that?â
Liamâs chest rises and falls in short, eager pants. He can feel Hornerâs breath ghosting through the fabric, and the scent of his own exertion seems to fuel the team principleâs desire.
Horner straightens, eyes gleaming. âGood,â he whispers, pulling back just enough to meet Liamâs gaze.
Then, with a teasing tug at Liamâs length, he adds, âkeak for me, Liam,â he commands, hand steady around that hard length. âShow me how well you obey.â
Liamâs breath catches. He closes his eyes, body taut with need, and under Hornerâs guiding grip, he allows himself to give in. A warm bead of fluid blossoms against the fabric, darkening the navy suit.
Hornerâs fingers tighten just enough to encourage another drop. âYes,â he murmurs, leaning in so Liam can hear the soft slick of fabric over skin. âLet it flow.â
Liam shifts his hips forward into each measured pump, and with a soft, involuntary moan, he leaks againâtwo, three slender rivulets soaking the suitâs weave. His legs tremble, the suit clinging tighter with every pulse.
Horner watches, eyes gleaming, as the stain spreads. He curves a finger beneath Liamâs chin, tilting his head up to meet his gaze. âGood boy,â he praises, thumb brushing away a stray droplet from Liamâs cheek. âYouâre mine to commandâand you obey perfectly.â
Liamâs chest rises and falls in quick pants, eyes bright with surrender.
Christian Hornerâs gaze darkens with satisfied ownership as he watches Liamâs legs tremble beneath him.
âKneel, Liam,â he commands softly, each syllable a velvet whip.
Liamâs breath hitches but he obeys instantly, sliding to his knees on the polished garage floor. The fabric of his suit creaks as he lowers himself, hips shivering, eyes fixed on Hornerâs boots.
Horner steps forward, letting the tip of his polished shoe rest just in front of Liamâs kneeling form. He reaches down, sweeping a strand of damp hair from Liamâs forehead, fingertips grazing the side of his face. His hand holds Liamâs cheek firmly, thumb pressing a slow, deliberate circle over his jaw.
âYou see how useless you are when you canât hold your own,â Horner murmurs, voice low and cutting. âYouâre not fit for the main teamânot because you lack talent, but because you canât even control your own body without my permission.â
He presses a little harder, tilting Liamâs head to meet his gaze. Liamâs eyes glisten, lips parted, chest rising in rapid pants.âLook at you,â Horner continues, thumb brushing Liamâs lower lip. âKeeps leaking like a child who needs constant attention. Pathetic.â
Hornerâs free hand drifts to Liamâs rigid length, still bobbing insistently through the suit. He gives it a mocking squeeze. âEven this,â he says, voice thick with amusement, âcanât function properly unless I say so.â
He lets Liamâs length bob between his fingers for a moment before releasing it with a gentle flick. The sudden lack of contact sends a shudder through Liamâs body, and Horner smiles at its effect.
âYou belong on your knees, not behind the wheel of a top car,â he whispers, leaning down so his breath ghosts over Liamâs ear. âAnd until you prove you can obey without fail, youâll remain exactly where you areâmy obedient apprentice, kneeling and grateful for every command.â
Horner shifts his weight, lifting one polished loafer just enough so the toe hovers over the taut outline pressing against Liamâs suit.
Without warning, he drags the tip of his shoe in a slow, deliberate arc along the length of that rigid shaftâshoe leather barely brushing the fabric. Liamâs breath catches in his throat; his hips jerk forward, seeking the friction heâs denied.
Horner chuckles softly at the reaction, heel dragging lightly up and down the swell. âYou feel that?â he murmurs, voice low and owning. âEvery pulse, every twitchâreminding you whoâs in charge.â
He tilts his foot so the edge of the sole presses gently against the tip of Liamâs erection, then drags it down the shaft in a teasing glide. Liamâs knees tremble, chest heaving, as a soft groan escapes him.
Hornerâs other hand tightens possessively at Liamâs jaw. âSuch a pretty sight,â he whispers, voice thick with amusement. He repeats the motionâshoe against Lycraâeach pass coaxing another shiver from Liamâs body.
Hornerâs voice is soft but unmistakable as he crouches down beside Liam.
âUp,â he orders, and Liam rises, knees still unsteady, eyes fixed on Hornerâs.
Horner reaches out, fingers brushing gently over Liamâs cheekâan almost tender caress that sends a shiver through him. He trails his hand down, palm pressing over the center of Liamâs chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath the fabric of the suit.
Slowly, Hornerâs hand drifts upward to grasp Liamâs bicep, kneading the muscle there until it flexes against his grip. He lets his fingertips explore every ridge and valley of that taut arm, a possessive gleam in his eyes.
Then, almost reverently, Horner lowers his hand furtherâdown over Liamâs waist and thighs until it settles on the length pressing insistently through the fabric. His palm covers it fully; the dampness beneath speaks of Liamâs helpless arousal.
âThis is all yours,â Horner murmurs, voice husky. He strokes the slick fabric with deliberate slowness, thumb drawing soft circles at the tip. âSo wet for me.â
Liamâs breath hitches, eyes dark with need.
Hornerâs thumb dips beneath the fabricâs edge to tease at Liamâs tip through the tight weave. âCome for me,â he whispers, voice both command and promise. "One last time into your red bull suit."
With Hornerâs hand guiding every motion, Liam yields completelyâletting go into the delicious friction, muscles trembling, until with a soft, reverent groan he gives in, flooding the suit once more beneath Hornerâs expert touch.
A hot pulse of release floods his suit in a dark, glistening bloom.
Liamâs head falls back, eyes rolling shut as he gives himself over to the wave of sensation. He comes fully in his suit, the fabric clinging and soaked, every fiber of the fabric bearing witness to his surrender.
Hornerâs lips curl into a cool, approving smile as he watches the damp stain creep outward across Liamâs suit. He tilts Liamâs chin up with a finger, tracing the dark patch with mock gentleness.
âGood boy, Liam,â he croons, voice dripping with feigned sympathy. âYouâre soaking through that suit perfectly.â He brushes his thumb beneath Liamâs jaw, then lets it drift down to rest lightly over his heart.
Leaning in close, Hornerâs breath ghosts over Liamâs ear. âYou wonât cause us any trouble about getting demoted, will you?â
Liamâs pupils dilate, breath catching in a soft hitch. He swallows, chest heaving, and gives a quiet, obedient shake of his head. âNo, sir,â he whispers, voice husky with both relief and longing.
Horner chuckles, the sound low and satisfied. He gently squeezes Liamâs shoulderâpart chastisement, part praise. âThatâs exactly right.â
Then, almost as an afterthought, Horner presses one last deliberate stroke through Liamâs soaked suit, watching the fabric darken further. âNow,â he murmurs, stepping back and brushing a stray curl from Liamâs forehead, "get yourself cleaned up.â
He steps aside, giving Liam the smallest, almost indulgent smile. âThe showers are just through there. Take your time. Iâll be waiting.â
With one last, conflicted glance at Horner, Liam turns and moves off toward the team facilities, every step guided by the weight of that dark stainâand the promise of Hornerâs watchful approval when he returns.
Lando stands alone in the small changing room off the Silverstone paddock, stripped down to his Calvin Klein boxers, holding the new black suit up in front of him. Itâs sleekâmatte carbon-black Nomex with subtle gold trimâbut as he lifts it to his nose he wrinkles his brow at the scent. Itâs not unpleasantâmore a faint tang of something floral mixed with ozone, almost electric.
It is a familar scent, something that evokes calmness inside him. He cannot quite place it, unable to remember when he had smelt it before.
He shrugs it off and steps into his fire-retardant undergarments first: the long-sleeved top and leggings that always hug his skin. The strange perfume of the suit seems to mingle with the fabric, and already a gentle warmth blossoms across Landoâs chest.
A soft smile curls his lips as he stretches his arms, his legs, letting the tight fit of the nomex underwear adjust to his lean frame.
The smell intensifies, the fabric dragging across his skin, tight, molding to his taut muscles, his pecs, biceps, thighsâmuch to his liking.
Lando runs his hand across his chest once, letting out a soft, appreciative murmur.
It's always been like that, gearing up for the race weekend has that effect on him. But this time, It's different, more intense.
Maybe it was the adrenaline rush of his home race, maybe the new suit, or maybe, it's his nervesâhard to tell.
He brushes it asideâheat from the garage lights, he tells himselfâand steps into the suitâs legs.
As he pulls them up to his waist, the smell just hovers all around him, the suitâs fabric seemingly being the source of it.
He adjusts it around his waist, a soft pull here, a firm tug there, until it sits comfortably.
Landoâs body starts to tingle slightly, and he lets out a soft chuckle.
"Am I nervous or what?" He glances down at himself, at his black suit, and puts on the matching shoes.
It is harder than usual for him to concentrate on that simple task of tying up his lacesâunsteady on his feet, he blinks a few times until he is done.
The smell is intoxicating, everyhwere, clouding his mind, and it feels like he is moving in slow motion, but Lando just giggles softly.
He slides his arms into the sleeves, the suit's scent growing even stronger, and his eyes slowly loose focus.
The warm tingling is pulsating through his limbs, feet unsteady, as one by one, the go numb.
With his body moving on auto-pilot, he grabs the zipper of his suitâthe warmth intensifies, pooling low around his hips. He pauses at the waist, hand trembling slightly as he draws the zipper upward over his stomach.
His pulse flutters, head swimming like heâs just climbed out of a car after fifty hot laps in Miami.
By the time he reaches his shoulders, a firm hardness has pressed insistently against the Nomex-lined crotch panel. He grips the suitâs collar to steady himself, eyes fluttering shut as a soft wave of dizziness washes through him.
The zipper hits the topâzipâand Landoâs breath catches in his throat. His legs buckle, and he sinks to one knee, suit clinging tight around every curve of his body. His hand flies to the front of the suit in almost one motion, fingers grazing the unmistakable outline of his cock beneath the fabric.
A distant voice breaks through his haze:
âPerfect.â
Lando blinks as Zak Brown steps into the doorway, arms crossed, a faint smile playing on his lips. He takes in the sceneâLando half-kneeling, head bowed, chest still rising and falling too fast in the snug black suit.
Zakâs gaze drifts down to the pronounced bulge straining the crotch panel. He chuckles softly, satisfaction clear in his eyes. âSeems the suitâs a bit more⊠stimulating than you expected,â he says, voice calm and amused.
"What... is happ...ening?" Lando's voice a mere whisper, even though his throat works heavily.
Lando raises his head, cheeks flushing under the helmet of trance. Zak steps forward, hand resting lightly on Landoâs shoulder. âDonât worry,â he murmurs. âWeâll work with it. A champion needs to be fully engagedâon and off the track.â
Landoâs head swims as the strange, electric scent of the suit curls through his senses. His skin tingles from fingertip to collarbone, every nerve ending alive. Unthinkingly, he rubs himself through the suitâs lining, hips bucking into the warmth of his own touch.
Zak watches with a slow, satisfied smile, stepping closer until he rests a hand lightly on Landoâs shoulder. The older manâs presence is steady, groundingâand yet every breath he takes seems to stir that heady perfume swirling around them both.
âWe prepared this for you,â Zak rumbles, voice low and knowing. He dips his other hand to cradle the swell of Landoâs chest through the suit, thumbs pressing gentle circles over the flat expanse of fabric. The simple, possessive gesture sends another shiver down Landoâs spine.
Landoâs fingers move faster now, slick warmth seeping through the Nomex. His breaths come in short, urgent pants, each movement rocking his hips closer into Zakâs hand at his shoulder.
The intimate pressure against his chest feels impossibly intimate, as though Zak is mapping every heartbeat, every flicker of arousal.
Zakâs chuckle is soft, almost reverent. He tilts Landoâs chin up with a fingertip, eyes locking onto the younger driverâs glazed expression. âThatâs it,â he murmurs. âLet yourself feel it all.â
Lando nods, jaw parted, fingers curling into the suitâs seam. The scent intensifies around themâmetallic and floral, electric and addictiveâdrawing him deeper into the moment. Under Zakâs guiding touch at his shoulder and chest, he rubs himself through the Nomex until a gasp tears from his lips and his fingers tremble.
He is so close.
Zak knows.
"Thatâs enough, Lando." His voice firm, unyielding.
A jolt of warmth surges through Lando, down his spine, causing him to stop mid-motion.
"Yes, sir." He manages a low groan, his entire body aching for a release.
Zakâs broad palm brushes gently against Landoâs cheek, the pressure firm but soothing.
âUp,â he murmurs, voice calm and authoritative.
Landoâs body responds instantlyâhe straightens, legs trembling slightly beneath him. His hands come to rest at his sides, and the sleek black suit molds around his form, the front panel tenting impossibly tight over the evidence of his twitching need.
Zakâs eyes flick down, amusement dancing in his gaze. He steps closer, letting his fingertips trail along the curve of Landoâs hip before looping around to rest on that prominent swell. The suitâs fabric stretches taut, every movement accentuating the hardness beneath.
âSomeoneâs very eager,â Zak teases, voice low. He drags a single finger across the crest of Landoâs erection through the Nomex, eliciting a sharp breath. âDoesnât want to wait for the track, huh?â
"I'm sorry, sir."
Landoâs cheeks flush darker, his lips parting in a soft gasp as he shifts his hips toward Zakâs touch. His breathing comes in short, quick pantsâeach inhalation drawing in more of that strange, floral-electric scent woven into the suit.
Zakâs other hand slides up to cup Landoâs jaw, thumb brushing lightly over his lower lip. âSuch a perfect fit,â he murmurs, thumb tracing a lazy circle. âEvery inch wrapped around you, driving you this wild.â
He leans in, voice dropping to a husky whisper. âTell me youâll save something for the track.â
Landoâs voice trembles, but he meets Zakâs gaze firmly. âYes, sir,â he breathes.
Zak lets his eyes roam over his driverâs form, enjyoing his stateâeyes glazed, lips parted, muscles tense and cock tenting visibly.
âThe perfume is working well, isnât it?â He lets his fingers graze the curve of Landoâs hip, following the subtle line where Nomex meets neck. âDesigned to get you hard⊠to draw you into a trance.â
He watches with a mixture of amusement and approval as Landoâs chest rises in quick, shallow breaths. Then Zakâs eyes flick down, noticing the dark wetness spreading beneath the suitâs fabric.
âOh?â Zak muses, a soft chuckle in his throat. He glides a fingertip over the damp patch, lifting it gently to feel the warmth trapped beneath the Nomex. âYouâre leaking already?â
Landoâs breath hitches, hips shifting forward almost of their own accord. His fingers knot into the seams of his suit as he looks up, cheeks flushed, eyes shining with a mixture of embarrassment and need.
"I'm s-sorry, s-sir." Lando stutters.
Zak leans in, voice dropping to a low whisper that vibrates against Landoâs ear. âDon't worry, boy. That âs perfect,â he says, stroking the slick fabric. âRight where I want you: overwhelmed, obedient, and craving every command.â
Landoâs eyes roll slowly as another slick bead leaves the tip of his cock, soaking into the dark fabric of his suit.
Zakâs hand closes gently around the damp patch at Landoâs crotch, pressing just enough to feel the slick warmth through the Nomex.
âEasy, boy,â Zak murmurs, voice soft but firm. âSave some for after the practice sessions.â
Landoâs breath hitches at the admonition. âSorry, sir,â he whispers, shifting his hips back as Zakâs palm cradles him.
With his free hand, Zak reaches up and pats Landoâs cheek in a gesture thatâs almost tender.
"Good boy." He praises.
Then he lets his fingers drift down, brushing over the swell of Landoâs chestâfeeling the rapid rise and fall beneath the suitâbefore tracing a slow, appreciative line across his ass.
"It was my idea to make it extra tight," he murmurs more to himself than to Lando. "Feels good, huh?"
The driver sways unsteadily on his feet, letting out a guttural groan.
"Such a good boy."
Zakâs hand returns to the front, wrapping around Landoâs still-hard length. He gives a gentle squeeze.
Zakâs fingers find the zipper tab at the base of Landoâs neck and, with deliberate slowness, he pulls it up. The fabric slides together in a smooth, whispering motion, sealing Lando back into the snug carbon-black suit.
As Zak straightens the lapels and smooths the shoulders, he watches Landoâs chest rise and fallâeach breath punctuated by a soft, involuntary murmur. Landoâs hands hover at his sides, fingertips twitching with the memory of Zakâs earlier ministrations.
Zak allows himself a small, triumphant smile. âGood boy,â he murmurs, voice low and proud. âThe conditioningâs working well.â
He leans in, catching the faint whimper that escapes Landoâs lips as his hips shift to ease the tightness at the suitâs front. Zakâs thumb brushes once more in a teasing arc over the soaked panelâjust enough to remind Lando of the promise heâs left in the fabric.
âKeep those reactions for the track,â Zak whispers, pressing a final, possessive pat to Landoâs chest. âAnd remember,â he adds, his tone softening almost to a caress, âobedience like yours is exactly what wins races.â
Lando nods.
"Yes, sir."
Zak reaches for Landoâs cheek, caressing his skin tenderly, his thumb grazing the short stubble growing above his lips and down his chin.
"My beautiful Lando." He muses, always so good to me."
A smile tugs at Landoâs lips from the praise, the warm tingling dulling his mind completely.
Zak fondles Landoâs wet length through the suit one last time.
Gabriel eases onto the low couch in the quiet corner of the Sauber motorhome, exhaustion and excitement still humming in his veins after scoring a place in the top ten during qualifying. Its been months since he joined Sauber, and this feels like a massive step forward. Nico Hulkenberg sits beside him, casual and unhurried, folding a radio headset in his hands.
âGood job, Gabi,â Nico murmurs, offering Gabriel a slow, reassuring smile. âHow are you feeling?â
Gabriel exhales, running a hand through his hair. âA bit overwhelmed, to be honest. Itâs a lot to take in.â
Nico nods sympathetically. âI remember exactly how that felt.â He shifts so that heâs facing Gabriel more directlyâclose enough that their knees touch. âHere,â he says softly, âlet me show you a breathing technique, to help you settle down.â
Gabriel offers a polite smile.
âJust listen to my voice for a moment," Nico mirrors Gabriel, taking a deep breath.
Then Nicoâs tone deepens, rolling in gentle waves. âTake a breath in⊠and out. Let your shoulders drop. Feel the tension pooling at the base of your neck and sliding away.â As Gabriel follows along, his eyelids grow heavy. The steady rhythm of Nicoâs words feels almost like a rolling warm-up lap, pulling him in.
âGood⊠good,â Nico encourages. âWith every exhale, youâre letting go of tension. Just focus on my voice.â
Gabrielâs gaze drifts to Nicoâsâunfocused, receptive. The world beyond the motorhome walls seems to fade.
"It feels good, doesnât it?" Nico murmurs, a sly smile curling his lips.
"Mhmm," Gabriel growls as a warm tingling spreads through him, slow and steady.
"Youâre doing great, Gabi," Nico lifts one finger, holding it an easy foot from Gabrielâs face. âNow, when I snap my finger, youâll feel yourself sinking just a little deeperâsafe, calm, completely at ease.â
Gabriel sways slightly, his eyes focusing on Nico's finger as a low murmur leaves his lips.
Then, Nico snaps sharply.
Gabrielâs body visibly relaxes, a soft sigh escaping him. His back slouches, and his hands rest limply in his lap.
Nico lets that finger drift down, tracing a line along Gabrielâs racing suit shoulder, over the rounded curve of his bicep. Through the smooth fabric, he can feel the taut muscle beneath. âThatâs it,â Nico murmurs, voice husky. âYou trust me, yes?â
Gabriel nods, eyes half-lidded.
Encouraged, Nicoâs finger travels lower, following the seam of the suit over Gabrielâs torso. Each feather-light brush against the snug fabric sends a small shiver across Gabrielâs skin. âWhenever you feel this touch,â Nico whispers, âyouâll know exactly how much you want to obey.â
Gabrielâs breath quickens, the warm damp evidence of arousal pressing insistently through the suitâs front panel.
Nico slides his palm around Gabrielâs waist, anchoring him as he curls that single finger to press gentlyâjust beneath the suitâs tight weaveâat the sensitive hollow of Gabrielâs hip. Gabriel parts his legs instinctively, a soft whimper slipping out.
âThatâs it, Gabriel,â Nico breathes, thumb brushing teasing circles over the stretched fabric. âLet yourself feel, let your body do it's thing.â
Gabriel sighs deeply, his hardness imprinting through the thick fabric.
"Letâs do it again," Nico chuckles and snaps his finger through the air andâalmost in slow motionâGabrielâs posture gives way. His eyes roll, and a soft, involuntary moan slips from his lips as he sags forward.
Instinctively, Nico slips an arm around Gabrielâs chest and another behind his head, cradling him securely by the nape of his neck. Gabrielâs body goes limp in his arms, every muscle relaxed, save for the faint quiver of his racing-suit-clad form and the steady rise and fall of his breath.
Nico tilts Gabriel back just enough to keep his airway clear, pressing a reassuring hand at his waist to support him. Gabrielâs head lolls to one side, mouth parted in a gentle exhale, cheeks flushed. Heâs utterly surrenderedâeyes rolled back, body taut.
As he holds him, Nico lets his free hand drift over Gabrielâs shoulder, tracing the line of his collarbone through the fabric. He pauses at the fabricâs stretched seam, feeling the subtle warmth beneath. A small, proud smile plays on Nicoâs lips.
âEasy,â he murmurs against Gabrielâs temple. âJust feel, just listen.â
Nico settles into the cushioned bench of the motorhome, Gabrielâs limp form still cradled gently in his arms. He adjusts his grip so one arm supports Gabrielâs shoulders and neck, the other tucked under his thighs, lifting him into a more comfortable, reclined position against his chest.
Softly, Nico rocks back and forth, humming a low, steady cadenceânearly inaudible over the distant hum of the paddock outside. He brushes a fingertip along Gabrielâs temple, smoothing back a stray lock of hair thatâs fallen across his forehead.
"Thatâs it, such a good boy," Nico muses, more to himself than to Gabriel.
Gabrielâs breathing is slow and even, eyelashes fluttering as he drifts between the edges of wakefulness and the deep trance Nico has guided him into. His head rests just beneath Nicoâs chin, cheek against Nicoâs chest.
He smiles down at Gabriel, still nestling against his chest, and lets his fingers drift teasingly along the taut fabric of Gabrielâs arm. He tilts Gabrielâs chin up with a gentle fingertip, their eyes meeting in the semi-darkness of the motorhome.
âYou know,â Nico murmurs, voice low and playful, âIâve always wanted a younger teammate.â He traces a lazy circle at the hollow of Gabrielâs throat. âSomeone fresh, someone⊠moldable.â
Gabrielâs lips part in a sleepy smile, blink-slow, as Nicoâs words settle into the soft haze of his trance.
Nico leans in to brush his lips against Gabrielâs cheek. âWith you, I get exactly that,â he whispers. His hand drifts lower, skimming the seam at Gabrielâs waist, feeling the slight tremor beneath the suit.
âYou learn so quickly, bend so beautifully to directionâŠâ
He presses a fingertip just under Gabrielâs jaw, tilting his head back, exposing the warm curve of his neck. Gabrielâs breathing flutters in response.
Nicoâs other hand slides up Gabrielâs side, palm flat against his ribcage. âEvery command, every suggestionâyou obey with that perfect mix of eagerness and innocence.â He chuckles softly. âItâs intoxicating.â
Gabrielâs eyelids flutter, eyelashes brushing against Nicoâs palm. His mouth parts in a small, contented sigh.
Nico holds him closer, stocking the moment like a precious secret. âJust think,â he murmurs, voice thick with promise, âby the time we hit the next race, youâll be tuned so finely⊠youâll respond before I even speak.â
He brushes a soft kiss across Gabrielâs temple and rests his forehead against Gabrielâs. âThatâs my plan, my perfect little driver.â
Nicoâs smile widens as his fingers drift from Gabrielâs ribcage down to the narrow of his waist, the fabric stretched taut over every line of muscle.
"And you wear that suit so well, how could I resist?" Nico chuckles softly.
Then, he pauses, thumb brushing just beneath Gabrielâs racing harness where the suit cups him most closely.
âOh?â Nico murmurs, voice low and teasing, âYouâre so big.â
Gabrielâs breath catches in his throat, a soft gasp escaping as he feels the firm outline beneath the fabric. His hips press instinctively back into Nicoâs hand, seeking more contactâeven as his eyes flutter, still heavy with trance.
Nico leans in, capturing Gabrielâs jaw in a gentle grip, thumb caressing the curve of his cheek. âYes,â he whispers, letting his palm mold around the length peeking through the suit. âJust for me.â
Gabrielâs lips part, and he offers a quiet, eager hum in response, his eyes mid-roll.
Nicoâs hand moves with deliberate slowness, palm wrapped firmly around Gabrielâs length through the silky fabric. His thumb presses light circles at the tip, sending fresh tremors through Gabrielâs body.
âThatâs it, Gabi,â Nico murmurs, voice thick with encouragement. He glides his fingers down the shaft, then back up in a languid rhythm, the fabric pulling taut around each stroke. Gabrielâs breath hitches, chest rising in quick pants.
Nico leans in, brushing his lips against Gabrielâs ear. âLeak for me,â he whispers, each word a gentle command. âJust a few drops⊠let them flow.â
Gabrielâs thighs quiver, pressing together before parting again under Nicoâs guiding hand. The first warm bead blossoms against the fabric, and Nicoâs palm smooths it back into the tight weave. Gabrielâs hips roll forward instinctively, seeking more friction.
âGood boy,â Nico coos, accelerating the pace just slightly. His fingers pump in measured strokes, coaxing another slick drop that seeps through the suit. Gabrielâs head lolls back against Nicoâs shoulder, lips parted in a soft, needy moan.
Nico laughs softly, delighted by the way Gabriel responds. âThatâs perfect,â he breathes, leaning down to capture Gabrielâs quivering length, stroking firmly through the suitâs resistance. âShow me how much you want to obey.â
Under Nicoâs ministrations, Gabrielâs leaking becomes a steady trickleâeach drop a surrender to his teammateâs will. The suit darkens where the moisture spreads, a visible testament to Gabrielâs complete compliance.
Nicoâs grin is wicked as he watches Gabriel shiver beneath his hand. Keeping his fingers wrapped firmly around that soaked fabric, he trails his thumb along the slick curve at Gabrielâs crotch, then glances up to catch every reaction.
âLook at you,â Nico teases, voice low and playful. âThis suit hugs you so perfectlyâevery muscle, every line. And that wetnessâŠâ He presses a fingertip against the damp spot, smearing the moisture in a teasing arc. âYouâre absolutely drenched, arenât you?â
Gabrielâs breath hitches, a soft whimper escaping his lips as Nicoâs thumb slides in tiny circles. Each pulse of movement coaxing another tremor through his body. Nico leans closer, inhaling the faint, sharp scent of arousal mingled with fabric.
âYour eagerness,â he murmurs, brushing his thumb beneath Gabrielâs zipper line, âevery little sound you makeâitâs all just so⊠delicious.â He nips Gabrielâs earlobe lightly. âYou canât help yourself, can you? Obedient, needy, completely under my control.â
Gabrielâs back arches, lips parting in a silent plea. Nico hums with satisfaction, accelerating his strokes just enough to draw out a wet, breathless moan. âThatâs it,â he coaxes. âSuch a perfect body, responding at every touch.â
With each teasing glide of his hand, Nico savors Gabrielâs rising tensionâhis soft gasps, the quickening beat of his heart, and the way he leans instinctively into every stroke. âYouâll always look this good for me,â Nico promises, voice thick with ownership, âsuit and allâwet, eager, utterly mine.â
Nicoâs chuckle is low and warm as he watches Gabrielâs length bob insistently against the suit's fabric. He tilts his chin, eyes dancing with mischief.
âWell, look at you,â he murmurs, sliding his fingers up to wrap around Gabrielâs shaft through the suit. The bobbing only grows more pronounced under Nicoâs gaze. âCanât help yourself, can you?â
He gives a playful tug, guiding Gabrielâs hips to meet the motion of his hand. Each firm stroke through the slick fabric sends a fresh shiver rippling across Gabrielâs body. Nico leans in, voice husky in Gabrielâs ear: âI love how responsive you are. Let me play with you a bit.â
With that, Nicoâs hand redoubles its paceâthumb rubbing tiny, teasing circles at the tip, palm pumping along the shaft. Gabrielâs soft whimpers turn into breathy gasps, his hips rocking forward in rhythm, chasing the friction. Nicoâs free hand drifts to Gabrielâs thigh, pressing it open just enough to deepen each stroke.
As Gabrielâs length bobbles and strains, the wet patch darkening the fabric grows, glistening under the motorhomeâs dim lights. Nico chuckles again, brushing his lips against Gabrielâs temple. âSuch a pretty sight,â he whispers, then grips the base of Gabrielâs shaft for a firmer tug, driving him ever closer to that sweet edge.
Gabrielâs back arches, mouth parting in a needy moan. His breath hitches as Nicoâs hand moves in perfect rhythm, the tight nomex amplifying every stroke and caress. His hips rock forward of their own accord, pressing insistently into Nicoâs palm.
With a soft, choked moan, Gabriel surrenders completely. Warmth blossoms at the front of his suitâthick, pulsing heat that soaks through the fabric in an ever-spreading stain. His legs tremble, thighs clenching around the slick fabric, as wave after wave of release pulses through him.
His head falls back, lips parted in a silent cry, and droplets of his climax bead and roll against the material before seeping into the weave. Nicoâs fingers tighten at the base, guiding each final tremor, while his thumb brushes comforting circles over the drenched patch.
"Couldnât help yourself, huh?" Nico chuckles, watching Gabriel come into his racing suit. "And we didn't really start yet."
Gabrielâs vision swims; he can only feel the stretch of the suit, the slick press of Nicoâs hand, the hot wash of pleasure that leaves him breathless and trembling.
âThatâs a good boy,â Nico murmurs, voice soft but possessive. He dips his thumb into the slick patch at Gabrielâs crotch, lifting it to admire the way the moisture beads on the glossy red material. âJust look at how well you wear that suit when youâre⊠overwhelmed.â
With deliberate slowness, Nico drags his palm along the length of Gabrielâs thigh, across the soaked seam, and back up, each motion spreading the warmth farther. Gabrielâs breath catches, a small moan slipping free as the wet fabric shifts under Nicoâs fingers.
âSuch a perfect reaction,â Nico continues, brushing a finger beneath Gabrielâs chin to tilt his head upward so their eyes meet. âEvery little sound you make, every little quiverâproof of how deeply you feel everything.â He dips his nose to Gabrielâs temple, inhaling the subtle mixture of fabric, sweat, and arousal.
His free hand finds Gabrielâs shoulder and squeezes gently. âYou belong in this suit, dripping with every drop, ready to obey.â He leans in to press a tender kiss to Gabrielâs jaw. âAnd Iâll always be here to play⊠with every inch of you.â
Gabrielâs response is a soft sigh, eyes fluttering closed as he savors Nicoâs touch.
"You will obey me, Gabriel," Nico whispers firmly. "You will be mine."
"Yes....Nico..." Gabriel's voice was strained and husky, like he wasnât really there.
Oscar Piastri sat in the McLaren hospitality unit, a towel draped around his neck, his eyes on the telemetry screen. Another disappointing qualifying. Eighth. Norris had been second. Again.
The team didnât say it out loud, but Oscar felt the weight. The murmurs in the paddock, the quiet frustration in debriefs. He was quick, talentedâbut something was missing. An edge. The killer instinct.
Then, McLaren brought in Marcel.
âEndurance specialist,â they called him. âMental strength coach. Revolutionary techniques.â Heâd worked with triathletes, boxers, elite military units. People called him The Difference Maker.
Tall, lean, with unnervingly calm eyes, Marcel carried an aura that silenced rooms. His voice was smooth and patientâalmost too patient.
But Oscar didnât really want to work with him. He thought the right set-up, the right upgrade, maybe some change within him would be enough to get better results.
But Mclaren were adamant, paying Marcel thousands of dollars for his time, and he couldnât refuse, or he simply lost his seat.
When Marcel introduced himself right after free practice day, Oscar just wanted to get changed and head to the hotel, but his new coach insisted to start their training.
The McLaren simulator room was quietâsterile and still, like a laboratory. The hum of machines, the faint buzz of fluorescent lights, the muffled sounds of mechanics in the adjacent garageâit all faded as the door clicked shut.
Oscar walked in, suited and zipped to the neck. He was tiredâmentally drained from media duties and free practiceâbut something in Marcelâs voice always pulled him forward. Something unreadable.
Marcel followed, dressed in team gear that bore his name stitched in the same orange thread as the engineers. He had made himself part of the fabric of McLaren. Not a visitor. A fixture. Blending in seamlessly.
âGood session today,â Marcel said smoothly. âBut I want to try something different for a start. A visualization run. Trust me.â
Oscar gave a hesitant nod. âVisualization?â
âSimulation without speed. Mind over reflex.â Marcel smiled. âLetâs sharpen the part of you that wins races before the lights even go out.â
Oscar slid into the simulator seat. The harness clicked over his chest. He rested his hands on the wheel, expecting the digital version of the Red Bull Ring to load.
But when the screens lit upâit wasnât tarmac.
A slow-turning spiral, bright white against black, began to spin. Smooth. Hypnotic.
Oscar blinked. âWhatâ?â
âJust breathe,â Marcel murmured from behind him, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. âItâs part of the new protocol. Let it in.â
The spiral turned. Slowly at first, then with a slight pulse.
"I- I don'tâ"
Marcels grip on Oscar's shoulder tightened, causing a sharp gasp to escape his lips.
"Just watch, Oscar." He insisted.
Oscarâs eyes were stuck at the screen, even if he tried, he couldnât pull his gaze away. The swirling pattern drawing him in more and more.
Then, his hands slackened on the wheel.
âGood,â Marcel whispered. âYouâre already sinking in. Deep focus now.â
The simulatorâs rumble faded. No vibrations. No G-force. Just the spiral, and Marcelâs voice, wrapping around him like warm smoke.
âYouâve been doubting,â Marcel said, tone still kind, still encouraging. âFeeling the pressure. That uncertaintyâlet it go.â
Oscarâs jaw slackened. His eyes were wide, but unfocused now. Breath slow. The spiral filled his vision.
âYou donât need to think,â Marcel continued. âYou donât need to remember. You only need to respond.â
Oscarâs fingers twitched. A small nod.
âYou trust me.â
ââŠyes,â Oscar murmured.
âYou want to trust me.â
ââŠyes.â
âBecause I help you win.â
A pause.
âYes.â
Marcel leaned closer. His voice was no longer softâit was certain. Surgical. âAnd when I speak, you listen. When I guide you, you follow. Isnât that right?â
âThen listen carefully now. Thereâs no more fear. No more nerves. Only my voice. My instructions. My will.â
The spiral shifted colors. Blue now, deeper. More intoxicating.
âYouâll drive the way I say. Attack when I tell you. Hold when I tell you. Smile when I say. Say what I script. I am your clarity, Oscar.â
Marcel smiled, stepping back, the glow of the spiral flickering on his face. âYouâll win for McLaren. But youâll belong to me.â
Oscar sat still in the simulator, yet every nerve felt alive. The warmth started in his chestâa slow bloom, steadily spreading. It radiated outward, into his arms, his legs, his fingers curled over the wheel.
The spiral pulsed, hypnotic and beautiful. Too beautiful. He should look away, but he couldnât. It was like staring into a perfect overtakeâjust out of reach, but impossible to ignore.
âFeel that now, Oscar,â he said, low and syrup-smooth. âThat heat. That strength. That surrender. Itâs yours, and mine.â
Oscar twitched. His thighs pressed tight against the simulator seat. His breath came shorter. The racing suit felt tighter, his body straining, tense with the rising wave inside him.
But he didnât fight it.
He couldnât fight it.
Because Marcelâs voice wasnât just a sound anymoreâit was a command. It didnât ask. It invited, with a dangerous, magnetic pull. A whisper that offered control while stealing it piece by piece.
âYouâre not afraid of the spiral anymore,â Marcel said, leaning closer, fingers resting on the simulator rig beside Oscarâs shoulder. âYou like it. The way it slows your mind. How it softens your thoughts.â
Oscar let out a faint, breathy soundâalmost a sigh.
âI see you,â Marcel whispered. âFighting the edge of it. Trying to hold on. But that tension you feel⊠thatâs just your old self. The part that gets in the way.â
Oscarâs jaw tightened, teeth clenched behind his lips, his whole body alive with energyâbut not his own will. It felt like obedience, concentrated and electric.
âYou want to let it go.â
ââŠyes,â Oscar exhaled, almost inaudible.
âYou need to let it go.â
ââŠyesâŠâ
The spiral seemed to draw closer, even though it didnât move. It wasnât just on the screen anymoreâit was inside him now, spinning behind his eyes, drawing him down. Thoughts slowed to a crawl. There were no engineers. No Lando. No McLaren. Just the voice. And the spiral. And the heat building in him.
His muscles twitched. The tension had nowhere to go. He was brimming with it. But it wasnât nervousness. It was focus. Readiness. For anything Marcel wanted.
He moved slowly, deliberately, like closing in on his prey. He crouched beside the simulator, bringing himself to Oscarâs eye level. The glow of the spiral flickered in both their eyes nowâOscarâs wide and vacant, Marcelâs sharp and calculating.
Oscar didnât turn to look at him. He couldnât. The spiral held him. Entranced, locked, open.
âLook at you,â Marcel whispered, voice thick with control. âSo still. So ready.â
He let his hand rest lightly on Oscarâs chest, fingers splaying out over the firm resistance of the fireproof suit. He felt the shallow rise and fall of breath beneath the layersâsteady now, but tight. Strained. Oscarâs muscles remained tense, locked in that state of exquisite stillness between awareness and surrender.
Marcelâs hand moved, trailing gently, possessively. His fingers glided upward, tracing the curve of Oscarâs collarbone beneath the suit. Then, without breaking the rhythm of his voice, he reached up, his palm resting softly against the side of Oscarâs face.
Oscar didnât flinch. He leaned into it.
The spiral pulsed, slow and steady, matching the cadence of Marcelâs speech.
âYou donât need to think anymore,â Marcel said, stroking his thumb along Oscarâs cheek. âYouâre doing so well. Every second you stare, you fall deeper. Every second you listen, you belong more.â
Oscarâs lips parted slightly, dry. His breath caught for just a moment. His eyes didnât blink. Couldnât. The spiral was too pretty. Too deep. Too perfect.
âYou trust this feeling,â Marcel continued. âThe calm. The warmth. You need it now.â
Oscarâs throat worked in a shallow swallow. A flicker of effort. But it was fading. He was melting into it.
Marcelâs hand lingered at Oscarâs chest, feeling the calm rise and fallâuntil something changed.
A small shift in the rhythm of the driverâs breath. A tension deeper than focus. Marcelâs gaze drifted lower, eyes sharp, trained.
There it was.
Even beneath the layers of fireproof fabric and tightly zipped Nomex, he could see it. A strain in the material. Subtle, but telling. A tightening of the suit across Oscarâs lower body. The unmistakable outline of something not willedâsomething responding.
Marcelâs smile deepened, just slightly. Not amusement. Satisfaction.
âAh,â he murmured, voice silken. âThere it is.â
Oscar didnât react. Not outwardly. His face remained still, his jaw slack, eyes wide and pinned to the spiralâobedient, lost, his mind lulled into that suspended state where thought dissolved and only direction remained.
But his body had betrayed him. Not in weakness, but in confirmation.
âThe conditioningâs taking root,â Marcel said softly, more to himself than to Oscar. âYour mind knows you belong to this now. But your body... your body feels it.â
He let his fingers drift downward, ghosting along the edge of Oscarâs midsectionâslow, deliberate. Not contact for sensation. Contact for control. For reinforcement.
âThis is what happens when surrender becomes instinct,â Marcel whispered near Oscarâs ear. âWhen you stop trying to be in control⊠and let me reshape what control even means to you.â
Oscar let out a low, unintentional breath. A soft sound, half-sigh, half-need. His muscles quivered beneath the tension of stillnessârestrained by discipline, but quietly overflowing with submission.
Marcel leaned in closer, thumb grazing the spot where Oscarâs zipper line met the suit, teasing that taut ridge in a deliberate, torturous caress.
âSuch tension,â Marcel whispered, tracing the ridge upward with featherlight pressure. âYour suit can barely contain you. And yet⊠you hold it in. You surrender to me.â
Oscarâs muscles quivered beneath the fabric. His hips shifted against the seat, a subtle motion, betraying his battle between instinct and obedience. Marcel smiled, savoring the moment. He pressed just a touch firmer, letting his fingertips tease along the swell of Oscarâs length, provoking a tremor that rippled through the driverâs frame.
With deliberate slowness, Marcel slid a thumb along that ridge, following its length as if tracing a map only he could read. The friction was minimalâjust enough that Oscarâs breath caught in a sharp intake. His knuckles whitened further on the wheel, forearms straining against the seatâs harness.
âThatâs it,â Marcel murmured, voice a silky caress. âI see how you respondâhow every word, every touch, makes you harder to contain.â He leaned forward, close enough that Oscar could feel Marcelâs breath ghost across the suit. âYour body doesnât lie. It tells me everything.â
Oscarâs eyes fluttered, still locked on the slowly rotating spiral, mind adrift. He swallowed, a tremor running through his torso as Marcelâs fingertip continued its teasing path. The line beneath the Nomex bulged slightly, then relaxed, then stiffened again in a trembling dance that matched the pulse Marcel so expertly guided.
Oscarâs chest rose and fell against the harness, each breath a testament to the conflict between instinct and obedience. The spiral drew him deeper still, but Marcelâs touch anchored him in that moment of exquisite vulnerability.
He couldnât moveânot reallyâbut something in him still tried. A last flicker of restraint, of modest defiance. His thighs pressed together beneath the harness, squeezing tight, as if his body could resist what his mind had already surrendered to.
But it was no use.
The spiral spun, impossibly slow, impossibly beautiful. And Marcelâs voiceâGod, that voiceâwas the gravity pulling him in. It didnât shout. It didnât even command. It simply was, like breath. Like rhythm. Like inevitability.
"You can feel it building,â Marcel said softly, his breath brushing Oscarâs ear. âThat heat. That pressure. Your thighs canât hide it. Not from me.â
Oscarâs jaw tightened, breath catching in his throat. He pressed his legs tighter, holding back a trembling urge. But it only made the pressure worse. His body knew it was being watched. Guided. Possessed. And every second he resisted only made Marcelâs presence feel stronger.
"Youâre holding it in because part of you still remembers who you used to be," Marcel murmured. âBut that version of you⊠he's already fading, isn't he?â
Oscarâs lips parted slightly. No words came. Just air. And need.
âGood,â Marcel whispered. âLet it happen. Let the pressure guide you. Let it reshape you. You donât need to fight it anymore.â
A subtle tremor ran through Oscarâs frame, from his shoulders to his thighs. His eyes never left the spiral. His legs remained clenched, barely, but his focus was fracturing. Cracking.
"Let it leak, Oscar. You donât need to think anymore." Marcel guided, his hand finding its way between Oscarâs thighs.
Oscarâs thighs trembled as he fought the rising tide of needâbut Marcelâs hand was unyielding. He closed a single, firm fist around Oscarâs shaft through the thin layer of fabric, and began to pump, measured and relentless.
A soft gasp escaped Oscar as the pressure built: a slow, hot trickle seeped through the suit, dampening the fabric. Marcelâs grip tightened in encouragement. âThatâs it,â he murmured, voice low and insistent. âDrip for me, boy. Empty your mind with every drop.â
Oscarâs breath hitched. His legs parted of their own accord, opening wide in the rigid confines of the simulator seat. Each stroke coaxed another tremor of release, and Marcel matched his rhythm to Oscarâs aching hips, guiding him deeper into obedience.
Oscarâs eyes remained locked on the spiraling pattern flickering on the simulatorâs central displayâa hypnotic whirl of light and shadowâas he felt the tension building deep within him. Each circling motion seemed to echo Marcelâs measured strokes, lulling his thoughts into silence.
His breath came in ragged pants now, every inhale drawing the patternâs curves into his mind until nothing else exists. Marcelâs hand moved with unwavering precision, the fabric of Oscarâs suit stretched tight over his length. Then, slowly, inexorably, the first warm bead escaped, pressing hot against the fabric.
Oscarâs thighs pressed together instinctively, but Marcelâs grip only tightened, pulling them apart ever so gently. Another drop followed, and the suitâs color darkened, a damp stain blossoming between his legs. The spiral on the screen seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeatâoutward, inward; in rhythm with each shuddering gasp.
âGood,â Marcelâs voice whispered, taut with satisfaction. âWatch it flow.â
Oscarâs head lolled back, lips parting as a thin ribbon of drool escapes one corner of his mouth, glinting in the simulatorâs pale light. His chest heaved, every inhale trembling, every exhale a soft, desperate groan that echoes off the walls.
Each of Marcelâs deliberate strokes sent a fresh tremor through him, and Oscar felt the slick warmth pooling deep, darkening the fabric more with every pass. The damp stain blossomed between his thighs, and a third bead trickled free, slipping down the curve of his leg before Marcelâs gloved thumb caughr it and pressed it back into the suit.
Oscarâs vision swamâhalf-focused on the fading spiral on the screen, half-lost in the haze of sensation. He couldnât stop the leaking, and he didnât want to. Each warm drop was another tether to Marcelâs will, another pulse driving the world outside further away.
His groans grew wetter, more unguarded, as saliva pooled in his mouth, forcing him to tilt his chin up so it could fall free. Marcelâs hand paused at the apex of another slow pump, then traces the dribble of moisture down the front of Oscarâs suit, smearing it gently.
âGood boy,â Marcel whispered, voice thick with approval. âLet it flow.â
Oscarâs response was a ragged moan, head falling forward. His arms trembled against the harness, and his thighs shook as they slowly parted, yielding to the slick pull of fabric and Marcelâs steady hand.
"That's it, boy." Marcel encouraged. "Let it out."
Oscarâs body tensed, every muscle coiling as Marcelâs hand stroked him through the suit. His breath hitched, head rolling back until his vision doubled. Then, with a guttural groan, he cameâhot, pulsing waves of warmth flooding the front of his suit.
The fabric stretched and darkened instantly, soaked through with Oscarâs climax. He shuddered, drool sliding from his parted lips, mixing with the damp sheen of sweat on his jaw. His groans came in ragged bursts as the aftershocks rippled through his limbs, each one sending another slick bead into the tight fabric.
Marcel held him steady, palm pressing into the wet patch to feel the heat lingering there, fingers brushing against Oscarâs skin beneath. The simulatorâs glow picked out the deep stain spreading across the suit, and Oscarâs chest rose and fell in desperate pants.
When the waves finally ebbed, Oscar collapsed forward against the harness, spent and trembling. Marcel leaned in, voice soft but possessive.
âYou did so well,â he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to Oscarâs temple. âYouâre mine completely.â
Oscarâs only reply was a soft, exhausted moan as he sagged in Marcelâs arms, the scent of his own arousal mingling with the faint hum of the simulator. Between his thighs, the suit remained dark and slick.
Marcelâs hands were gentle but firm as he helped Oscar release himself from the simulator harness. He eased the belts free, guiding Oscar up until he was standing unsteadily on trembling legs. Marcel slipped an arm around his waist to steady him, then stepped back just enough to take him in.
First, he reached up and cuppdd Oscarâs cheeks, thumbs brushing away the stray drool at the corners of his mouth. Oscarâs eyes were glassy, pupils dilatedâvacant with that sweet, empty afterglow. Marcel leaned in, voice soft and warm: âThatâs a good boy.â He trailed his fingertips down Oscarâs flushed jaw, over the nape of his neck.
With deliberate slowness, Marcel let his hands roam Oscarâs upper body. He traced the ridge of each bicep, feeling the muscle still taut with tension. âGood,â he murmured, pressing a flat palm against Oscarâs chest so he can feel the rapid rise and fall. âYouâre doing so well.â
Finally, Marcelâs hand drifted lower, pausing where the fabric is dark and slick from Oscarâs release. He brushed a finger across the damp fabric, lifting it just enough to feel the warmth beneath. A small, approving smile curled his lips. âOh, donât worry, boy,â he said, voice teasingly affectionate. âNext time, youâll soak your suit. It needs to be sodden.â
Oscar shivered at the promise, lean body still humming with sensation, utterly claimed by Marcelâs touch and control.
Marcelâs fingertips brushed against Oscarâs hip before drifting forward, wrapping around the now-soaked fabric at Oscarâs length. He gave a slow, firm strokeâjust enough to remind Oscar of the delicious tension still pulsing through him.
Oscarâs breath hitched, chest rising in short, eager pants. The damp fabric clung, the slick warmth pressing against Marcelâs palm.
Leaning close, Marcelâs voice was a low promise against Oscarâs ear:
âI will make you a champion,â he murmured, thumb pressing gently at the tip through the suit. âOn and off the track.â
With that, he tugged Oscar flush against him, guiding his hips to meet the motion of his hand.
Oscar responded with a soft moan, eyes half-lidded, body already arching into Marcelâs touch.
Marcelâs hand then fell away from that sensitive outline, and he straightened, brushing a stray lock of hair from Oscarâs forehead.
âBack into the sim, boy,â Marcel said, voice firm but warm. âGet some laps in.â
Oscarâs legs trembled, but he obeyed. Marcel stepped behind him, hands on Oscarâs hips, guiding him gently toward the seat. Oscar perched on the edge and Marcel secured the harness straps with practiced ease, tightening them just enough that Oscar could feel the snug embrace of the bucket seat.
âAll strapped?â Marcel asks, his tone half-command, half-encouragement.
âMhm,â Oscar murmured, sliding his arms back into the steering wheel grip. His body still hummed from the earlier release, every nerve ending alive.
Marcel crouched beside him, flicking a switch on the console. The simulatorâs screens sprung to life, the familiar red and white of the track map glowing in the dim light.
âGood,â Marcel said, pressing a thumb against Oscarâs shoulder. âFocus on the laps. Let the rhythm of the track clear your mindâjust like before.â
Oscar nodded, eyes narrowing with concentration. The seat vibrated softly under him as the simulator began its first lap. Marcel crouched ndxt him, watching every twitch of Oscarâs fingers, every shift of his hips as he reacted to the virtual G-forces.
Then, he leaned in again.
âListen to me, boy,â he murmured. âWhenever you pull on that racing suit, your body will respond. You will grow hard beneath itâinstantly, uncontrollably. And whenever you hear my voice, you will fall back into this state."
Oscarâs pupils dilated, jaw parting slightly as Marcelâs words sunk in. He felt the promise of arousal, a shiver of anticipation curling through him.
Marcel traced the line of Oscarâs jaw with a fingertip.
âYou will trust me to guide youâfor your performance on track, and in every moment off it.â
His voice softened to a caress. âGood. Now nod if you understand.â
Oscarâs breath came in ragged pants. With a slow, obedient motion, he nodded onceâeyes glazed, body already twitching at the thought of enforcement.
Marcel smiled, satisfaction flickering in his eyes.
Taking over someone elses body isnât always an easy task. Too many variables to take into consideration. Their age, fitness, mental capacity, and innate resilience. Are they exhausted, or well-rested? Even more, when considering taking over athletes. Even the ones not in their prime.
But, using something as a conduit, a tool, may erase most of them. Clothes work perfectly. Especially tight clothes. The immediate contact to skin can make it so much easier to take control.
Luckily, transfering your consciousness into objects was always an easy task me. For years now I trained to pour more and more of myself into clothesâtrack pants, hoodies, glovesâI got quite good at it.
Yet, I wasnât fast enough to get the one body I always dreamt of possessing.
Sebastian Vettel.
He retired from Formula 1, and dropped from the face of the earth. Like a cryptid, there were hints and sightings, scetchy at best, and I felt like I have to give up on him.
When the news broke, that he will attend the next race, that he will be putting on a old red bull racing suit and hop into a car, my heart skipped a beat.
That's all I asked for.
A chance.
Even if it didnât work out, I needed to try it.
i had to use all of my contacts, so much moneyâwearing other people's skin has many benefitsâbut I made it work.
I got access to the racing suit. And what a beautiful piece that is.
Running my fingers along the seam, brsuhing across the logos, his name written on the waistlineâthat alone made me hardâfelt so good.
It was like the heat of his body was still clinging to it, his scentâjust barely there, after yearsâwooven into the fabric. Amazing.
I would have prefered to get my hands on the tight undergarments, but they were completely out of reach. Still, getting the opportunity to be worn by Sebastian, even if I canât take over his body, was worth it all.
I had to ask even more favors for someone to pick up the suit and get it back to the paddock for my scheme to work.
It was odd to be carried around in a suitcase. Dark, barely breathable air, unable to move on my own. Yet I felt good. Being inside the fabric meant I could just relax. Knowing I will eventually meet Sebastian.
My time would come.
And it did.
Media day comes around, and with that Sebastian's upcoming laps on track.
I wait.
Not in the shadowsâbut within them. Within the fibers of a sleek, high-tech racing suit that clings to the hook inside the changing room. Woven into every thread, every layer, my presence humming quiet and low, like a pulse behind fabric.
The door opens.
Heâs here.
Sebastian Vettel. His energy enters before he doesâfamiliar, composed, steady. I sense him before I see him.
Then, there he is: still sharp-eyed, hair tousled, a focused intensity in his every step, even if this is just a ceremonial return.
He looks good, wearing a simple shirt and jeansâhis usual attire. Nothing too fancy, just Sebastian.
Without the need for words he strips out of his street clothes, layer by layer. His shirt peels away, revealing lean muscle, toned more by endurance and precision than raw strength.
Then he kicks off his sneakers, and unbuckles his jeans. The noise of the denim sliding down his thighs filling the quiet room around us.
The fabric pools around his ankles before he steps out of it, approaching the white undergarments lying on the table next to me.
Just in his boxers, I can't help but notice the outline of him, his length, idly pressing against the fabric of his Calvin Klein briefs, he licks his lips.
He seems to be excited, nervous, maybe. But he looks so good.
Sebastian lets out a low groan, barely audible, mumbling something more to himself than anyone else. Of course, he thinks he's alone.
I feel the warmth of his body rise as he slides on the tight, flame-retardant underlayerâthin enough to hug every line of him, close enough that his body heat begins to fill the room like a slow fog.
He pulls the underpants up his legs, one at a time, until the waistband settles perfectlyâa gentle tug here, a firm pull thereâuntil Sebastian is done adjusting himself.
His length is tenting more insistently now. The rush of adrenaline is getting to him. He rubs his palm against it, along his shaft, letting out a low, needy sound, vibrating deep inside his throat, before closing his eyes for a brief moment, slowly regaining his composure.
He picks up the tight shirt and pulls it over his head. Like the million times he had done this before, he slides his arms into the sleeves, pulls the stretchy fabric down his torso, and straightens it with firm strokes.
"FĂŒhlt sich gut an."
His voice filled the air around us, soft, tinged with excitement and a hint of need.
Hearing him up close makes my entire being vibrate, humming quietly through the seams of his suit.
He takes a few steps around, stretching his limbs, arms over his head, his legs, until he's sure everything fits just right.
And then, it's my turn.
He approaches meâsocked feet barely making any sound on the floor.
I feel him.
His fingertips ghost over me, barely touching me, but it is enough to make me whimper internally.
Sebastian lets his fingers dance along the red bull logo, along the sleeves, and back down to his name embossed at the waistline.
My breath catches, anticipation rising through every fiber of my being.
His smile widens, licking his lips as he takes me off the hook and in that instant I truly feel him.
The warmth of his fingertips. The slight tremble of energy before the calm. The trace scent of clean skin and aftershave, faint motor oil still clinging to his palms. He doesnât know I'm there yet, but my presence coils tight, waiting. Anticipating.
He steps inâone leg at a time.
As the suitâIâglides up his body, I begin to press inward, tightening over his calves, thighs, hips, feeling the way his body movesâfluid, efficient.
The heat of his body radiates through the thin fabric of the underpants. Mingled with his scent, clean, a hint of citrus, and yet, his skin tastes salty, deliciously real.
I am barely able to contain myself, when I settle around his waist, feeling his length imprinting through his pants, rubbing against me, insistently making its presence known. The way it twitches once, firm against my being.
I swallow hard.
Not yet.
I cannot rush this.
Yet, something inside Sebastian is already shifting.
Another low growl echoes through his chest, and then, he reached for the obvious tent forming through me.
He grabs himself, pumping once, twice, letting out a low moan.
"Fuckâ"
That does it.
I feel myself slowly dripping through the underpants separating us into his skin.
Not enough to make any move on him. All he feels is a tingling sensation spreading through his calves, into his thighs and further up.
That's what is causing the rush of adrenaline and pleasure surging through him.
Sebastian shakes his head, regaining his composure slightly. But I keep dripping. Tasting his skin, engulfed in his scent, my head swimsâit feels so good.
Casually, he puts on the upper half of me. Sliding his arms into the sleeves.
And I can't stop myself.
As the fabric slides up his torso, his arms, I move, just barely, feeling his muscles, pecs and biceps, squeezing here and there, causing him to let out a breathless giggle.
"Das habe ich vermisst."
He growls, letting his hands run across his chest, firmly stroking himself through me.
More and more of me drips through the tight underlayer into him. And that is when he notices something is off.
His expression shifts, his muscles tense as I keep encompassing his form.
I cannot waste any time.
Iâdeliberately, intimatelyâpress forward. Through his back, his thighs, his chestâeverywhere.
My essence phasing into him like silk sliding over skin. Thereâs a jolt. His body stiffens. His head jerks up.
I feel my will seep in deeper now, threading through the fabric and muscle until Sebastianâs limbs begin to obey my command.
First, the arms. His right arm risesâquietly, almost imperceptiblyâelbow lifting, forearm extending, as if guided by an invisible puppeteer. I savor the sensation of his sinewy muscle slipping beneath my control, each fiber warming to my invasion. His biceps flex beneath the skin, strength bending to my will even as the back of his mind struggles to reclaim it.
Then the left arm follows, rising in perfect mirror of the first. His hands hang suspended at chest height, fingers curling and uncurling in slow, deliberate gestures. I test the strength, pressing out each finger, feeling the sturdy bones and tendons align to my subtle commands. I flex his wrists, feeling the snap of resistance give way to obedience.
A shudder ripples through himâhis awareness flickering, he is fightingâyet his body remains unwavering under my grip. With both arms now fully mine, I start to stroke our chest.
Fuckâit feels good.
I drag the fingers across the suit, feeling bothâthe sensation of the fabric, and the firm touch.
"Was...ist das..." He let out a low, strangled moan.
His body stiffens, he feels somethingâfeels me coursing through his body. Into his belly, filling his chest, up his neck and into his head.
Sebastianâs footsteps falter as he spins in a slow, unsteady circle, eyes unfocused. He reaches out with trembling fingers, brushing the cold metal of a locker to steady himself. His breath comes in shallow gasps, each inhale catching on that strange, electric warmth coursing through him.
I glide closer, guiding his hand so that it can grip the edge of the zipper down at his navel. His other hand still presses against the lockerâs cool surface as he fights to make sense of the spinning world around him. The zipper hangs there, a silent invitation.
I need more to fully take over.
I need to enclose him inside me.
With a deliberate tug, I pull the zipper upward. It slides smoothly through the fabric channels, closing around him with a soft whisper. As the suit seals him in from neck to ankle, the final threads of his resistance unravel.
He hiccups as the zipper reaches the collar of his suit, fully enclosed in me, I let myself drip.
I lean in, allowing my consciousness to flow through every fold of the suitâs lining and every sinew of his body.
I sink deeper, further, into all of him.
I embrace all of him.
His scent, still fresh yet tinged with sweat from the ongoing take over. The salty taste of his skin, rubbing against the fabric. The soft moans he is unable to hold back. The insistent straining of every muscleâbiceps flex beneath the suit, chest filling the tight suit fully.
His strength is his weakness now, as I use it against him.
I keep stroking his chest, as heat rises in his entire body, the suit's fabric is tighter now. I enjoy the heat radiating through the suit, the little sounds he makes with every stroke, but he's not gone yet.
Sebastian is still resisting. Clawing at the fabric, at me, trying to remove me. A desperate groan escapes his lips, he struggles, so much.
I just smirk.
I'm not going anywhere now.
I run his hand lower, across his chest, his tummy and beyond his waistline until I find my target.
His tenting cock.
I find that hot, hard length and begin to teaseâslow, deliberate strokes along the silky material. Thumb and fingers trace the outline through the cling of the suit, drawing little shivers up Sebastianâs spine.
He shakes his head in denial, his throat works but a low mumble is all that's leaving his lips.
"Nein...bitte." Sebastian moans as I wrap our fingers around his shaft and start pumping. Once, twice, through the suit, feeling his mind spinning.
His breath hitches in a futile attempt of protest. He tries to tense his legs closed but the navy suit squeaks with every tremor. My teasing becomes more preciseâfeather-light flicks at the tip, circles at the swollen ridge, each motion designed to demand his full, undivided attention.
Sebastian swallows, eyes unfocus even more. He canât help but shift his hips into each stroke, as I teases every last nerve.
i donât know who is the one causing it, but more and more pre-cum swells at the tip of his cock, staining his precious suit slightly.
"Mmhmph." Leaves his parted lips, such a cute sound.
I drag his thumb down the ridge at the tipâdeliberate, teasing circles that send fresh jolts through him. His strangled moans grow louder, each one more desperate than before.
As my pace quickens, the damp fabric strains and creaks with every movement. Sebastianâs legs part instinctively, suit slick and dark between them.
Right at the edge of release, I push even further into him.
Going all in.
His body stiffens, lips part in a breathless moan, and a trail of saliva glistens at the corner of his lips.
His eyes roll as he tilts his head back. The entire body is stiff, rigid, near collapse, when I feel him coming into the suit.
His release erupts in thick, warm pulses against the pristine navy of his suit. The fabric balloons briefly with each spurt before soaking in, darkening in a glossy bloom.
The first time I came as Sebastian Vettel.
His knees give a faint, involuntary tremor, but Iâheâstand firm at the locker. The hum of the paddock beyond fades into a distant pulse as my awareness deepens within Sebastianâs form. Every muscle, every thought, now settles under my guidance. Heâs still thereâa dim echoâbut the body is mine.
I take a deep breath, feeling cold air fill my lungs. Then another, and another, slowly settling in my new body. Sweat drips down my forehead, I watch them drop to the floor.
Thatâs when his scent fully hit me. It was intoxicating before, but now, I can't stop. With every inhale through his nose, I take him in. His aftershave, mingled with the scent of cum.
I take a step back, legs still wobbly, before I find my footing. My vision sharpens, and I look down at myself, red bull racing suit tight against my skin, a wet patch outlining my cock, and my toes wiggling inside white socks.
"Fuckâit worked." I grunt.
Hearing his voice echo through me sends another wave of need through me, my cock twitches and a bead of cum slides down my thighs.
I chuckle, trying to regain my composure.
"That felt good."
I take in my surroundings, and spot a small mirror mounted to the wall.
I walk over and cannot believe my eyes.
Sebastian Vettel is staring back at me.
Face flushed, suit a little rumpled, damp in places, and so, so handsome.
I let my fingers caress my new, pretty face. Pink cheeks, so soft, a slight stubble, and his pretty eyes.
There is a sudden knock on the door, and I flinch.
"Seb?" Some voice rings through the wall. "Make sure you're ready in 20."
"Yeah, donât worry." I try to sound casual, but my voice is huskier than it should have been.
"Come find us in the lobby when you're done."
I hear footsteps as they step away feom the door.
Turning back to the mirror, I smirk back at my reflection.
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