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Phil’s new boy is so beautiful.
Pale thighs, round ass, pretty pink pussy, perky breasts; the body of a young girl, hidden under the baggy clothes Phil had found him in. It hadn’t taken long to get the boy to trust him. He found the kid dumpster diving while taking out his trash one night. Invited him in. Fed him, bathed him, clothed him….and while he was sleeping, drugged to unconsciousness by a pill dissolved into his soda during dinner, Phil carefully tied his arms up and strung them to a bar in his special room. He’s had other boys in here before. Tubbo, Wilbur….and others before them.
He’d been genuinely surprised to find a pretty little pussy under those clothes, but he wasn’t put off by it. Tommy was still a boy, young and sweet as a flower, with milky skin and sparse hair and a perfect hole just waiting to be filled. And unlike the other boys….no one was waiting for Tommy to come home.
Tommy wakes up after a few hours. He doesn’t scream when he fully processes the situation. He just stares at Phil, sitting in a chair across from him, then starts crying.
“Oh, Tommy, don’t cry,” Phil says, standing up and walking over to cup the boy’s face in his hands. Tommy stares up at him with those wide, trusting eyes. “You’re so beautiful, baby boy.”
“What..what do you want from me?” Tommy cries, sniffling. He chokes out another sob. “I just wanted—”
Phil kisses his forehead. “Shhh, baby. It’s okay. You’ll be okay. I won’t hurt you, okay? You can stay here forever and ever, but I need you to promise to do whatever I say.”
The boy sobs again, his whole body straining against the soft ropes keeping him restrained. “Wha—whatever you say?” he asks. His voice is so full of confusion and pain—it’s beautiful. He doesn’t know why Phil is doing this, he doesn’t understand what Phil wants from him. It just makes Phil want to make Tommy feel good. So good he won’t remember anything else, just Phil’s touch, Phil’s care, Phil’s love. He’s the perfect little toy, ripe and ready for the picking.
He’ll make a perfect pet. Phil saw the way he perked up, ever so slightly, when Phil called him ‘baby boy.’ Perhaps he’d expected Phil to call him a girl after seeing his body—he likely hadn’t been accepted as a boy anywhere else. Phil just has to dig a little deeper, and find every tiny little pressure point to press and exploit until Tommy is completely in his control.
“Yep. All you have to do to get everything you could ever want or need is to follow every order I give you. It might sound difficult, or frustrating, but I promise you’ll find it’s very easy.”
Tommy stares at him, unresponsive. His eyes are blank, devoid of emotion—it’s hard to say what he’s thinking right now.
Phil smiles, and holds up a water bottle with a straw. “Drink this, Tommy,” he murmurs, holding it to the boy’s lips. He looks hesitant at first, obviously thinking about how Phil must have drugged him last night—but then his shoulders slump, and he leans down to drink it. It seems he’s very thirsty, because he sucks up every last drop.
“Good boy,” Phil praises him, putting the empty bottle aside. He steps back and sits back down in his chair, crossing his ankle over his knee and clasping his hands in front of him. “Your first order is to stay here, just like this, for eight hours. You are not allowed to sleep, eat, or speak. I will give you water once every hour. If you can do that for me, I’ll give you dinner and start preparing a bedroom just for you. How does that sound?
Tommy looks at him with dead eyes for a minute before he opens his mouth to answer.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Phil says, cutting him off before he can say anything. “You are not allowed to speak; the timer has already begun. Nod your head, Tommy.”
Tommy slowly, hesitantly, nods.
Phil smiles.
By the sixth hour, Tommy is visibly trying not to piss himself.
After all that water, his bladder must be full to bursting by now—exactly as Phil planned. He sits in his chair across from Tommy and watches intently as Tommy squeezes his thighs together, trembling with the strain of holding in his piss. He looks like he wants to say something—to beg Phil to use the restroom. But Phil just shakes his head with a smile, and reaches out to rest his hand against Tommy’s crotch and presses his thumb to Tommy’s clit.
Tears roll down the boy’s face, but he says nothing. The complete obedience sends a shudder of excitement through Phil.
“Let it out, Tommy,” Phil says, gently rubbing Tommy’s clit. “I’ll clean you up after, I promise.”
So Tommy does. He silently sobs in relief and starts to pee, the hot liquid splattering all over the hardwood floor and flecking up onto Phil. The stream seems to last forever , but eventually, it tapers off and then stops completely. Phil, still rubbing Tommy’s clit through that entire time, leans down and spreads Tommy’s legs so he can nuzzle up between them and lick a fat stripe from Tommy’s pussy all the way to his clit, holding the salty taste on his tongue for a moment before suckling onto Tommy’s clit and basking in the pretty sounds that whimper out of Tommy’s throat.
He listens closely as he sucks at Tommy’s clit, until the boy’s moans start to pitch higher; then he stops, before he can come, and stands up, unbuttoning his pants. He lifts Tommy up, easing the tug of the ropes on his arms, and wrapping Tommy’s legs around his waist.
“Have you ever been fucked before, Tommy?”
The boy hesitates, fear creeping into his eyes, then slowly shakes his head.
Phil’s smile widens, and he presses a kiss to Tommy’s plush pink lips. “Good.”
And then he sinks his cock into Tommy’s wet pussy.
Tommy is almost unresponsive as Phil fucks him, almost as limp as a doll. He only reacts to come, just moments before Phil pulls out of his pussy and jerks his cock a few more times, then spills all over Tommy’s belly.
“Two more hours to go,” he whispers, pecking a kiss to Tommy’s lips, then turning to leave the room so he can go clean himself up, leaving Tommy standing in a puddle of his own piss.
He does it for three more days. Three more days of tying Tommy up there for eight hours, giving him water, and nothing else, and fucking him every time he loses control of his bladder.
Finally, it’s time to move onto the next phase of Tommy’s training. Instead of moving Tommy from his bed to the pole in the room the next morning, he wakes him up with a collar snapped around his neck and a tail plug in his ass.
For the first few hours, he forces Tommy onto his hands and knees and leads him around the house, while doing menial tasks and chores.
The first challenge comes just past noon.
“Tommy, sit up,” Phil orders, already unbuckling his belt. Tommy stares up at him, his gaze like a deer in headlights as Phil takes out his cock and reaches out to hold the back of Tommy’s neck. “Open your mouth, puppy.”
Tommy obeys without question, and Phil slides his cock into the boy’s mouth. Tommy starts suckling, but Phil tugs his hair. “No. Don’t move. Swallow every drop, you hear? Don’t let a tiny bit go to waste.”
And then he pisses right into Tommy’s mouth. He’s met with a very surprised look, and then Tommy breathes heavily out his nose and desperately starts suckling and drinking as Phil lets out the piss he’s been holding for hours.
When he finally pulls out, Tommy looks dazed. He’s panting heavily, his eyes unfocused, and his lips smacking as he seems to process what happened.
“Say ‘Thank you, Master’,” Phil tells him, pulling him up by the hair and grinding his cock against his cheek.
“Th-Thank you, Master,” Tommy whispers, his voice hoarse.
“Did it taste good?”
Tommy nods quickly. “Very good, Master.”
Phil coos at him and ruffles his hair. “Soon you’ll be begging for more of Master’s cock.”
A little whine escapes Tommy’s throat, and his whole body wavers slightly, as if he’s gone dizzy. Phil frowns, concerned, but Tommy just blinks sleepily and leans his head against Phil’s thigh. “Tired,” he says.
Phil runs his fingers through Tommy’s hair and gently scratches behind his ears, smiling as the boy’s eyelids flutter with exhaustion. “You can take a nap, puppy. Come here.”
He stands up and leads Tommy across his apartment to his own bedroom, where a large cage—just big enough for a thin teen boy to fit into—is set up with a dog bed inside and a few small blankets.
Tommy stops short when he sees it, looking up at Phil with panicked eyes. He opens his mouth to speak, but Phil yanks on the leash, pulling Tommy’s collar enough to make him choke on his words. “Do you have something to say?” Phil murmurs.
Tommy shakes his head with wide eyes and obediently follows Phil to the bed. Phil pats the bed encouragingly, and Tommy whimpers quietly and crawls onto it, curling up into a comfortable position.
“Good boy,” Phil praises him, running a hand down his cheek and pressing his thumb to the boy’s lower lip. “I have lots planned for you, puppy. Get some rest. You’ll need the energy.”
Another whimper comes out of Tommy’s throat, but he closes his eyes and buries his face in his arm the moment Phil releases his chin.
It didn’t take long to break him, Phil thinks to himself as he rises to his feet and moves toward the door, pulling it shut behind him as he leaves the room.
A good thing, of course—some may like the effort it takes to break people in, to make them obey, but Phil finds more pleasure in what comes after that. Having a perfect, mindfucked little pet that obeys your every word, is desperate to please you, in fearful respect of your power… that is what Phil wants.
Tommy is obedient, but strong. Phil has a feeling he’ll last longer than the other boys did. Wilbur was too old, too angry. He refused to break, and eventually Phil had to end him. Tubbo was obedient—but weak. He lasted about a month. And then he killed himself. Too weak, too eager to escape.
Phil smiles to himself. Tommy, though. Tommy will last a while, he thinks. He’s obedient, but still apprehensive. Phil can see the boy calculating his next move; he knows the boy thinks he’ll be able to get out of this if he bides his time.
He won’t, of course.
But Phil will milk that idea for as long as possible.