Sam scribbled through the test before him, hand gripping his hair as he did. Every question requiring his full attention and taking longer than they should. Painstakingly, he finished every question as best he could before starting the next without a moment to pause. Finally, as the instructior was walking towards him to college the test in its current state, Sam finished the last question.
Despite nearly running out of time, Sam was confident he would receive an acceptable grade. The next week as the graded test was placed into his hand, his heart dropped. Dread filled him as questions of what he’d do next pounded his conscious mind, screaming in unison preventing any one from gaining dominance.
In fat red letters across the top, Sam could read ‘Unweighted: 15% Weighted: 59% Grade: F’. Sam had just fucked himself, royally screwed himself over. Not only was this his first ‘F’ ever, but it came from the worst possible class. This was the hardest class in the major, the one class that separated the boys from the men, those who would graduate from the program and those who would drop out or change majors.
Looking up at the instructor before she’d moved away, Sam recognized a shake of regret. She knew Sam couldn’t recover from this blunder. This momentary flash of non-verbal communication did nothing but heighten the already overwhelming feeling of dread that held him hostage.
Walking into the apartment, Sam was exhausted. He’d given himself no time to process what he would do next, just focused on getting through the day and repressing all emotions.
Inside, Sam found Roger sitting on the couch in a pair of boxers. Stumbling forward, the zombified Sam plopped himself down on the couch next to Roger.
Without a hint of knowledge regarding Sam’s current position, Roger spoke. “How was school? Ace that big test?”
Dread, remorse, and depression boiled up in Sam as he struggled to maintain control. “Not really.”
“Sorry to hear. You know what they say, Cs get degrees…” Roger was cut off before he could finish his sentence.
Roger’s attempts at comforting Sam had the opposite effect. Hearing those words was enough to break him. Sam’s eyes burned as his vision grew watery, breathing became difficult as his chest painfully contracted. A tear escaped his eye, then another, and another as each tear harpooned his resistance.
In disgrace, Sam darted from the couch and into his room, slamming the door behind him. A cry escaped his lips before he could grab a pillow to muffle the disgrace. Face buried in the pillow, Sam curled up into a ball and let it out.
Roger was shocked by the recent turn of events. He knew that Sam had clearly failed the test, that much was obvious. He even knew that a day would come where Sam was unhappy about his slipping grades, not fully able to understand the change as he became the dumb jock he secretly desired to be. The part that left Roger shocked was the complete emotional break.
Roger knew he was going to have to comfort Sam and help him through this. If only he knew how.
Sam laid curled up in a ball on the floor of his room. He’d stopped crying a couple hours earlier but lacked the energy to get up. Dread and depression still dominated his emotions.
By this point, he was mentally grasping at straws. He knew he’d have to drop the class, else tank his GPA, but his mind was focused on what else he’d have to drop. Workouts to spend more time studying? Roger’s cum? Roger all together? The list was growing and getting more extreme with every entry.
A knock on the door lulled Sam out of the inner workings of his mind as he meekly gave permission to enter. Roger entered the room and sat down next to Sam.
“Test went that bad, huh?” running his fingers through Sam’s hair as he spoke.
Sam was in no place to speak and merely nodded his head.
“That’s a shame. I’m sorry to hear bro. What’re you going to do now?”
Voice muffled by the pillow still pressed to his face, Sam finally spoke. “don’t know.” As all he could manage. The two sat in silence for a moment, Roger still playing with Sam’s hair before Sam spoke up again. “Is your cum making me dumb, like permanently dumb?”
Roger was taken aback by the question. While it was true, he though he’d programmed Sam not to know or even make the association. Feeling trapped in a corner, he responded “yes”.
“Why? Why do this to me? I thought you just wanted to help me get fit?”
Roger inhaled sharply before responding. “Because…because you asked me to.” He spoke the truth but knew Sam would be confused. “When jock Sam is in control, you’re much more honest about your wants and desires. You begged me to make you a dumb jock covertly and I agreed under the condition you stay with me. I put the programming in place to help you get there but clearly I fucked up somewhere. I’m sorry Sam.”
Sam laid there in silence, unable to fully process what Roger had just said. Somehow, Sam knew that Roger was being honest. He did like feeling like a dumb jock, more than that he longed to feel Roger’s cum numb his mind. He was conflicted, torn between to equal but opposite desires. Unable to choose, he was frozen.
Roger took the lead and picked Sam up and carried him to the couch. Once seated, Roger grabbed him a beer and some food.
Slowly, Sam ate and drank. Each bite giving him more strength, Sam started to feel vaguely like a man again. Once completed he looked to Roger, eyes asking what he should do next.
“You still want to be a dumb jock?”
“Yes” Sam managed to squeeze out. Somehow, being with Roger felt like a greater reward than the success he could have achieved as a physicist. With that in mind, he consciously chose Roger, emotionally breaking the tug of war in his mind.
“Ok. I can help with that. Lay back and let yourself drift off to the sound of my voice.”
Sam knew what Roger was doing, taking him into yet another trance, and let him. Laying back, he felt himself drift off.
Slowly Sam returned to consciousness. Excitement filled his mind. Looking over, he saw Roger seated next to him with a look of worry painted across his face. “Hey coach! Did I till you what happened today?”
“No, what happened?” Roger’s voice lacked any emotion. Anxiety coursed through his veins as he awaited to see if he’d fucked up Sam’s programming again.
“I got an ‘F’! My cock chubbed up seeing it written across the top of my test right next to my name. Made me feel so dumb and stupid coach!”
Roger gave a sigh of relief. He’d finally gotten it right. “Great to hear Sport. Knew you could do it.” Some warmth had returned to his voice as the emotional exhaustion began to wane. He’d just taken complete responsibility for Sam, something he’d have to get used to. “Ready for your reward boy?”
“Fuck yeah coach!” was all Sam said before crawling between Roger’s legs and releasing his cock.
“Hold on sport, I’ve got an extra special reward to celebrate your first F.” Roger returned Sam to his seat and turned on the TV. On it was a spiral spinning off to infinity. Roger handed Sam a pair of headphones. “Sit here and stroke your cock while you watch. Try to hold off cumming for as long as you can.”
Sam nodded and sat back. In very little time the spiral had consumed his vision, the words ‘Dumb’, ‘Stupid’, and ‘Jock’ imprinting themselves on his brain as he did. Roger’s voice in his ears consumed the rest of his attention as his cock sprang to life. Roger opened Sam’s pants to let the beast out. Slowly, Sam began to stroke.
Roger left Sam to the custom hypnosis he’d made previously. Relief washed over him with every step. He’d finally fixed his fuck up from over a month before. Excitement quickly trailed as his cock grew happy. It finally got what it always wanted, a fine piece of ass and deep wet mouth hopelessly addicted to it. Roger entered his room and laid down for a nap.
Roger was awoken by the sounds of someone stumbling into his room. Opening his eyes, he saw Sam. Before he could fully process his surroundings, Sam spoke.
“Duh, coach. I, uh, cum to video like you, duh, told me to.”
More awake, Roger took in the changes in Sam. He was standing there in his normal baggy street clothes, a thick trail of cum running down his face and across his shirt. His cock was still hard and poking out of his pants. Roger could see the empty glare in Sam’s eyes as his mouth hung open.
The sight was perfect to Roger and his cock quickly rose. Sam noticed and climbed into the bed, drool running from his mouth. Without another word, Sam pulled Roger’s cock out and started sucking.
Roger couldn’t control himself and grabbed Sam’s head. He forced the cock down Sam’s throat and began fucking, using Sam’s mouth like his own personal hole. In a way, that’s exactly what Sam was now. In to time at all, he came down Sam’s throat.
With a fresh injection of dumb juice, Sam rolled back from Roger’s cock. Euphoria danced across his brain as he let out a dumb chuckle. Noticing Roger was still hard, he began ripping his clothes off. He pulled his legs as far back as he could and looked at Roger with his dumb smile.
Roger knew what Sam wanted and he wanted it to. Using Sam’s throat slime as lube, he lined up his cock and thrust in.
Sam’s ass was perfect as Roger thrust in hard. A fire burned in him that could only be quenched with Sam’s ass. As he thrust, he started getting verbal. Calling Sam stupid, a dumb jock, a complete moron, and most importantly, his personal cum dump, he plowed Sam’s ass with vigor.
Roger held out as long as he could, pulling back when feeling close and waiting just long enough to ease the line before pounding again. Eventually it was too much. Roger came deep into Sam. The orgasm was intense, making his hole body weak as he looked down at the jock he’d created.
In that moment, watching Sam gaze up with lust for more, Roger knew everything would be all right. The future was dark and tumultuous, but he’d figure it out with Sam right by his side being the perfect dumb jock of his dreams.
Magic Fable 