“W-who are you?” the half-naked stud muttered, cautiously backing away.
“Aw, baby, did you forget already?” I grinned, “I’m the man who takes care of you. I’m your Master. Don’t you remember?”
“M-Master? I…I…” he stammered, frowning. I could see the painful confusion on his face, the desperate search for any memory at all, anything that could help him make sense of the present. But as per usual, there was nothing.
I took a step toward him, and the hunk nervously stepped back, almost tripping over the little table.
“Calm down, boy,” I sighed.
“No, s-stay away from me,” he spat, “I-I… w-what’s going on? Why c-can’t I remember anything?”
“Let me help you remember. Everything’s going to be okay.”
I took another step, and he stayed put this time. His beautifully beefy chest was heaving up and down, his pretty face contorted with frustration. His mind was in shambles, and the harder he tried, the more confused he’d get.
Carefully, like approaching a wounded animal, I placed a hand on his shoulder.
The stud winced a little, but didn’t push me off.
“Do you remember how you got here?” I asked, and he shook his head.
“How old you are? Where you were born? Where you live?”
The boy closed his eyes, and shook his head again. Poor thing. He looked so distraught, so lost. My questions weren’t helping in the slightest.
“Do you even remember your name, boy?” I whispered. and he looked up at me with gorgeous, watery eyes. Again, he shook his head, and the first few tears silently slid down his face.
“I-I don’t remember anything,” he sobbed. “A-anything at all.”
I took the muscular hunk in my arms, and rubbed his head affectionately.
“Aw, it’s okay, baby,” I whispered, while he cried into my shoulder. “Everything’s gonna be okay. I’m here to help you.”
My dick was already rock-hard in my pants, pressing against his slutty speedo, but the stud must’ve been too upset to notice. Right now, I was all he had, the only person in the world who was there to help him. His every instinct was telling him to trust me.
“Your name is Tug,” I said. He pulled his head back, and frowned.
“That’s right. Tug. You always loved it the most when Master tugged at your fat cock, hence Tug. Suits you perfectly.”
To illustrate my point, I slipped one hand into his tight speedo, and grabbed his big tools. Before he could push me off, I tugged at Tug’s dick - and a loud moan escaped his lips. His entire body shuddered at my touch.
“See?” I chuckled, “Feels familiar, doesn’t it?”
With two or three more tugs, his massive cock was stiff and leaking. I pulled it up, so that the beast was poking out of the speedo, and I let the hunk enjoy the sight of himself for a moment.
A part of him was trying to argue how wrong this was - but another, much louder part realized this did feel familiar. Being groped by Master, Master tugging at his cock… it was all still hazy, but familiar.
“So… m-my name’s Tug?” he muttered, “And… y-you’re my Master?”
“Good boy,” I said.
The stud suddenly gasped a little, seemingly out of nowhere - but I knew better. Even though he still didn’t remember anything, his programming stuck. And my boy was programmed to enjoy receiving praise from his Master.
Hearing me call him a good boy automatically bombarded him with a whole bunch of endorphins.
One of my hands had already found its way down the back of the hunk, grabbing those cakes with vigor. Tug was still on a major high from my two words, so he allowed it all.
My hand slipped into the speedo, and another loud gasp escaped the boy as my finger found his hole.
“W-wha… what’s happening to me?” he stammered, instinctively bucking into my fingers, essentially fucking himself on my hand. His brain might still have been a mess, but his body remembered.
I laughed, and let my other hand play around with his tits.
“You’re starting to remember,” I said. “Doesn’t this feel good?”
I slammed two fingers all the way into his cunt, and his words were cut off by a loud moan. Tug’s enormous cock was begging for attention, but the boy was too well-programmed to reach for it.
He was aching for relief, but unable to provide it himself.
I took him with me to the next room, continually finger-fucking his tight ass, and showed him the king-sized bed. Without another word, I threw the muscular slut onto it, and unbuckled my belt.
“How are you feeling, Tug? Anything coming back to you yet?”
“I…I…” the stud muttered, breathing heavy, “I… n-need more…”
“My ass… I-I need more…. I..I… need your d-dick… p-please… please f-fuck me…”
“P-please… please, Master.”
“Good boy,” I grinned, and I dove onto the gorgeous hunk. I tore the slutty speedo off, yanked his legs up, and pushed inside him with ease.
He didn’t remember, of course, but there was still a load that I’d shot up there earlier, which now acted as a much needed lubricant.
Tug threw his head back and moaned like a bitch as I finally fucked his desperate pussy again. With every thrust, I saw the memories flooding back to him. Memories of sucking cock, licking cock, worshipping cock. Memories of bondage sessions, gangbangs, dungeons. This was his life, his purpose. Getting fucked by Master like the perfect fag he was.
How could he ever have forgotten?
Watching the muscular stud squirm underneath me, his big tits bouncing up and down like Jell-O, his enormous boner swaying around like a tail, made me want to pound his fat ass harder and harder.
I dug my nails in his pecs and slammed all the way into him, battering his prostate and driving the bitch insane in the process.
He was so tight, so goddamn beautiful. No matter how much longer I wanted to tear his cunt to shreds, I felt myself getting close after half an hour or so.
“Want Master to breed you, slut?” I growled, clawing the beefy chest.
Tug nodded furiously, no longer able to produce any human sounds. He could only moan and whine like an animal in heat as I split his tight hole open. I grabbed his fat rod, and groaned victoriously.
All it took was one last tug at his swaying cock to send him over the edge.
Tug’s beautiful, ripped body contracted, his back arched, and a loud, devastating howl rose from his throat as he sprayed a big load all over his sweaty torso.
At the same time, I buried myself completely inside him, filling his cunt with my semen. Once again marking his perfect ass as mine. I clung onto his sculpted body until my orgasm subsided, and I crashed next to him onto the bed.
Out of sheer instinct, Tug crawled over me and started licking my cock clean.
“Such a good boy,” I grinned, petting the obedient slut. “You finally remember, don’t you?”
He nodded, tasting his own pussy on my cock as he cleaned me up.
Once, in a previous life, Tug had been a straight, smart, successful alpha man. A girlfriend, a job, a house, the whole package. But that was a long time ago.
Those memories were forever gone.
These days, Tug was my bitch.
It had been a risk, abducting the muscular stud at the gym. Normally, I’d only take cash-hungry, desperate college jocks, who’d willingly meet me thinking they’d only have to get their cocks sucked for a couple bucks.
But when I saw this one, shirtless after his workout, I just had to have him.
It was a bit of a hassle, but in the end, I had him naked in my basement, tied to a chair and strapped into the machine.
The machine took care of the rest. It destroyed his memories, all the useless ones, and replaced them with filthy ones instead. For almost 72 hours, the poor hunk was bombarded with imagery of guys getting fucked, sucking cock, eating ass, and a whole lot more. At the same time, his dick was constantly milked, keeping him on edge to ensure these new images would be associated with arousal. The machine planted an entirely new set of programming into the stud, effectively turning him into a brainless, horny fag slut.
But the best part about the machine was that it installed a kind of ‘reset’ feature. Not a complete reset, of course - the alpha man who had once been was impossible to get back - but a reset of his most recent memories.
If I activated it, the stud suddenly forgot about all those months of serving me, serving cock. In fact, he forgot pretty much everything.
I loved pushing that button, just to see him as confused as he had been the first day, fresh out of the machine.
“You should really stop doing that.”
“Erasing all his memories.”
“Why would I? It’s my favorite part! I love seeing him so helpless and confused, every time. Can’t get enough of that.”
“I know, but you do it more than once a week. Almost every day, actually. It’s gonna start messing with his programming, soon.”
“So what? I’ll just throw him back into the machine. Give his brain another good fry.”
“And if that doesn’t work?”
“Oh, well, then I’ll keep him with the others in permanent storage. Not much damage he can do there. He can spend the rest of his life in chains and leather, 30 feet underground.”
