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At forty three years I considered myself retired. A wealthy family and a generous trust fund makes that sort of audacious attitude actually workable. Sure, I'd done various odd jobs in my twenties or thirties, but fairly early into my forties I decided that what I really wanted out of life was to lounge about my overly large home and read books.

I hail from a long line of powerful and influential polar bears. You'll notice I didn't say famous because my tight knit clan works very hard to stay under the radar. The reason for that is largely the same reason we've been able to accrue so much wealth over the generations. To this day it remains a closely guarded secret that my family would be mortified to learn that I've discussed it so openly here but most members of my clan have a form of mental ability, to a lesser or greater extent. In my case a bit less than merely lesser, regrettably.

It would be too generous to call it telepathy. That word conjures mental images of comic book heroes and villains. Let's call it "mental sending." Or perhaps "mental projection." Only the very strongest among us even approach the capacity to get a glancing look at the inner workings of another person's thoughts. That's not to say that my father couldn't drop someone unconscious with the barest effort. But extracting information was a whole different ballgame. Say, "reading" a bank account number or a safe combination. Regardless of how this kind of power tends to be portrayed in popular media, that sort of thing just wasn't realistic.

I had just enough of "the gift" (as my family liked to refer to it) to be tutored its ethical use. But honestly that decision had less to do with the pathetic scope of my power and more about being a son of the current clan patriarch. In terms of raw power I had about a tenth of the strength of my older brother who in turn had about a fifth the strength of our father. That's right, on a good day I'm one-fiftieth the strength of my own dad. Genetics are a bitch, aye?

As it turned out, this ended up being a pretty sizeable blessing. I got the benefits of being a member of the Barton clan while at the same time none of the power brokers and clan meddlers gave a shit what I did. In that sense, mental strength cut both ways. Yes, you gain some degree of influence over non-family members but along with that boon, you were actively "guided" by the self designated advisors of the clan. No free meal, right? These powers should come with a warning label: Please Note, Strings Attached.

Take my brother for example. He has a fraction of our dad's aptitude and yet he constantly has to fend off "friendly advice" from the family's ever-present elders. Me on the hand, well I'm just Dante Barton, the inconsequential non-talent. Believe me when I say that I don't suffer from the neglect. I'm perfectly happy to be left alone with my books.

This is all building up a story I'd like to share with you. The story of how a non-talent such as myself committed what is likely one of the most egregious violation of our clan's rules in modern times.

It all started with the housing crisis, if you can believe it.

My custom built home resided in an out of the way neighborhood populated with plenty of supposedly well off, successful people. Except as it turned out, my neighbors were all so busy charging things to their credit cards in an effort to "keep up with the Joneses" that when the economy imploded they promptly went under water with their mortgages.

It was ugly cycle of layoffs, bankruptcies, and mounting debt but to sum up what would end up being a lengthy explanation as briefly as I can, my neighborhood became a ghost town. There were empty houses all around and with the local job market in shambles, no one to buy or lease these overvalued homes. So I did what any wealthy introvert would do. I bought all the land around me for pennies on the dollar, empty homes and all.

All except one, as it would turn out. It was a family of otters who, like everyone else, could no longer afford the cost of opportunity to actually live in the house they were still paying off. But as the wife explained to me in exasperated tones, no, they would not consider selling to me because no matter what they were "going to have something to bequeath to the children." Okay then, whatever. It didn't make much difference to me for a singular piece of property to elude being subsumed into my financial portfolio.

Or, that was what I had originally thought at the time.

As it turned out, yes, it made a difference. A big difference. Because the only way they could afford to hold onto the house was to lease it out. And who did they lease it out to?

None other than Levi Shepard, the dashing famous country singer.

Okay, no problem right? So I have a world renown country star as my only neighbor. Before that wolf had come along I'd been able to keep friendly relations with two dozen neighbors. How hard would it be to keep things civil between just two person? As to that, I'd refer you to my above statement on the impending egregious violation of our clan's rules.

Things started out decent enough. I introduce myself. We shook hands. I even bought a couple of his albums just so I wouldn't be caught completely flat footed should a future conversation touch on his work. Can't say I especially cared for his music, but hey, it was alright for what it is. I just think that all country music more or less sounds the same. Just one man's opinion, so don't get your underwear in a bunch.

As for the man himself, what's is there to say? He was young and handsome. Mid to late twenties, I'd say. I'm sure you could find his exact age on his wiki page. He wore boots and sometimes even a cowboy hat. His fur was a combination of tan and light brown that made his dark eyes appear striking in comparison. So yes, I thought he was cute. According to his many fan blogs, this is apparently not an uncommon opinion. But compared to my hefty polar bear frame, he might as well have been a ballerina rather than a cowboy.

Our relationship started going downhill not long after he realized that he was very nearly alone in this place, as far as the eye could see. I was secretly hoping this fact would bother him enough that he'd pack up and leave. Instead, he loved it. I did as well, so we must have found something in common, right?

Wrong.

I loved the isolation for the peace and quiet it brought me. But Mr. Levi Shepard? Wolf country star extraordinaire? He must have taken this good fortune as a sign from his god that he could turn his backyard into his own music studio.

It wasn't long before the still tranquility of my home was shattered the amp-boosted sounds of guitar. Then came the microphone broadcast singing. Followed by endless practicing at unpredictable hours of the day. Cripes did that wolf have some pipes on him. Noisey fucker. And I couldn't help but hear every second of it. Sad songs about love, loss, and life. And drinking. He loved to sing about drinking.

For a while I simply gritted my teeth and put up with it, hoping against hope that he'd tire of it or better yet, go on tour or whatever country stars do. When it hadn't abated or even diminished after a week or so, I took it upon myself to knock on his door and politely explain that while I appreciated his love of music, that my personal tastes leaned towards preferring relative peace and quiet. I suggested that we find a compromise. Perhaps there were set hours he wouldn't mind limiting his musical practice to?

The cheeky fucker gave me his most winning smile and explained that he was a follower of "the muse" and that he just had to play when the spirit took him. He was obviously the sort of rich celebrity that took for granted that others would want to do everything in their power to accommodate his needs and desires. He even thanked me for my understanding. I tried to emphasize my commitment to finding a mutually acceptable arrangement but he cut me short letting me know that he was in the middle of a new song and needed to get back to work.

His tone and demeanor never faltered from unfailing polite even as he excused himself, softly closing the door in my face. My annoyances were many and they compounded upon themselves, fanning my irritation into something approaching rage. I could have punched the fucker. I was irked at his dismissive attitude as well as his sense of entitlement. And most of all I was pissed off at myself for finding him outrageously attractive. He was several steps beyond handsome and even a notch or two above merely beautiful. Simply put, he was gorgeous and his effect on me only magnified the closer I got to him. Which only made me resent him more.

I tried a few more times to settle things peacefully. Truly I did. Every attempt was rebuffed with the most carefree of smiles, and if he found my complaining endearing. But I can pinpoint the moment when he pushed me too far. Standing on his front porch with that cocky body posture, he listened to me explain my position for the fifth time.

To which he replied with twinkling eyes and a coy smile, "Well, I hear ya partner. I certainly don't want my joy of music to become a sore spot between us. I tell ya what. Maybe I could be convinced to give it a rest for a spell if you could be convinced to... well... I got a throw rug in front of my couch that your knees would look just perfect on."

His tone was light and his demeanor jocular, but I could tell he was entirely serious. World famous country star Levi Shepard was bargaining a blowjob for a few hours of peace and quiet. It's a bit embarrassing to admit just how fast my pants grew tight around my crotch at the thought of sucking off this supremely vexing stud. He must have noticed my tenting crotch because his smile grew even more cocksure as he closed the distance between us. He moved up so that our chests were practically pressing up against each other.

His breath was hot and I smelled a whiff of alcohol on it. I was too shocked to respond so he pressed the advantage, leaning in close to my ear to softly confess, "Maybe I'm not the only one who has been thinking about that tongue of yours wrapped around my fat knot?"

I might have given in right then and there but the brazen celebrity took things too far by saying, "That's it, big bear... let's go inside so I can give you want you really want. A taste of Levi Shepard."

I'm not sure what snapped me out of it. Maybe it was the intolerable arrogance of his self-importance. Maybe it was how he referred to himself in the third person, like he'd bought into his own hype. Or maybe it was the shock of finding the wolf suddenly cupping my heavy, needy balls through my pants with that smug look on his face.

Taking his shapely frame's smaller shoulders in my larger bear paws, I gently pushed him back while saying, "Perhaps another time, Mr. Shepard. For now, I just ask that you consider limiting your private shows to the daylight hours. Good day, sir."

He seemed genuinely surprised to be turned down, a look of faint shock coming over his face before he masked it with his patented hyper-charming grin. Giving me a quick wink, he adjusted his large shiny belt buckle and then turned on his booted heel to head back inside.

Before the door closed he called back out, "Guess that gives me something to look forward to then. Don't be a stranger now, ya hear? I'm just a short walk up a sun-baked driveway away. I'll be keeping that throw rug laid out for ya."

Equal parts horny and annoyed, I jerked out an absolutely massive load just minutes after getting back home. But in my fantasy he was the one on his knees, being put in his place. As my fist pounded over my long, girthy length I imagined using my superior strength to bend his pretty, lithe frame so that his own lips were forced around his modest sized knot. In my lusty vision he predictably tried to use that silver tongue of his to talk his way out of going down on himself, but was made impossible by his own precum streaming cock jammed between his mumbling lips. I blew my load to the image of how messy his muzzle and chin would look as his much smaller balls seeded his own celebrity throat. A taste that would be quickly chased down by my own far larger spew, needless to say.

That was just the first of a long series of jerk off sessions were I imagined putting the narcissistic younger man in his place as my personal ball polisher. Singing and strumming would be replaced by regular throat stuffing as he learned to take my deepthroating lessons seriously.

In the real world, communication between us had effectively broken off other than a few polite nods and some smirks on his end. But in my private life I'd turned him into something of an obsession of mine.

This wheels us back around as to why I bothered to bring up my family's unique abilities earlier. Remember those lessons I got in the use of my virtually non-existent mental power? Well, after many months of ethics lessons, the very first practical exercise we're taught is how to "establish contact" with the target of our sending.

And how do we do that? If you guessed "by visualizing them in our imagination" then you get a gold star. You might have already caught on to the fact that I was "visualizing" country star Levi Shepard a great deal in those days. Hell, how could I not? The fucker barely gave me a moment's peace. Plus, I just couldn't get his sexually explicit offer out of my head. The beautiful bastard was ready and willing to blow his salty load over my tongue, if only I was willing to swallow my pride. It turned me on something fierce to picture his smug smile as he casually wiped his cock clean on my white fur, totally ignoring the clean handkerchief I offering up to him.

Early on in our vexing relationship I encountered what my tutors refer to as "the wall of the mind". It's hard to describe to someone who doesn't share my clan's gift, but I'll try.

Picture a brick wall in your head. Imagine placing your hand against it. Feel its rigid, unyielding texture against your illusory fingers. You know the wall isn't "real" but you have a pretty specific idea how it feels, yes? It's rough. A bit porous. Parts of it flake away under your finger. But you understand that no amount of pushing will ever cause the wall to fall down or give way. Walls just don't work that way, right?

Well walls of the mind work precisely that way. Depending on the mental fortitude of the subject in question, the mental wall might feel as brittle as dried clay or as durable as steel. How the subject's mental defenses feel is largely depending on your strength for sending. For me, all walls felt like polished, indestructible metal. I barely had enough strength to feel them at all, much less push against them. But my father described mental walls not as being made of solid barriers, but as mere wire fences. And he was born armed with heavy duty bolt cutters.

This distinction is important because I want to make it clear that never in my wildest dreams did I ever consider Levi's mental defenses as anything approaching "breachable". Had I understood that given enough time and effort, the weakest Sender could break down the mightiest wall, I never would have even started down this path.

Instead, confident that no harm could come of it, I undertook a secret campaign to use my puny power to knock against his iron wall. In a way, it was profoundly meditative to funnel all of my internalized exasperation towards a harmless goal. I knew from my tutors that the wolf would never feel a thing, non-Senders being utterly unequipped to sense this sort of intrusion. Recall that the brain itself doesn't even have pain receptors. The brain itself is not a sensory organ. It's an organic analytical machine. And like all machines, it can be adjusted.

Skipping ahead, it's sufficient to say that this went on for several weeks. Levi played his guitar. I pressed against his mind. He had his hobbies, I had mine. But having never actually breached a subject's mental defenses before, I was entirely unprepared for my eventual success.

I had assumed that my brother or father felt some evidence of progress as they pressed their way into another person's head. And maybe for someone more powerful in the gift than myself, there is a sensation of the mental walls gradually "giving way". But in the case of Levi and myself, one instant his mental walls felt as strong as ever, the next I found myself invading his most intimate self.

I was in the kitchen at the time heating up some popcorn when I had to catch myself against the wall. Alien thoughts and information rushed into my wall like a river dam giving way and in my panic I manage to throw up some barriers of my own, a trick taught to me during my mental training. They were weak, but they got the job done. After all, Levi wasn't trying to invade my mind, so there was little force behind the mental backlash. My barrier would have been quite useless against someone of my father's caliber, but the country star was no Sender.

In those following minutes I was equal parts amazed, ecstatic, and horrified. My clan had very strict rules regarding the appropriate application of our power and this broke about a dozen of them. I wasn't at risk of being found out since all members of my family had long since given up hope of using me as some kind of pawn in their clan politics games, but our ethical code had still been drummed into me early and often during my formative childhood.

Yet here I stood, wading into another man's mind as if I owned it. I had never experienced anything like this before, and my senses I didn't even know i possessed came to life. I remembered my teacher's lessons regarding what to look for and how to "visualize" my control.

An hour later I managed to cobble together a rudimentary approximation of a nuclear power plant control room. Not exactly original but I thought it might get the job done. I "felt" myself walk around the space, letting my hand touch on consoles... monitors... controls. It felt so real and I understood that the reason for this was because specialized clusters of my brain were making it "real" for me.

How to explain this to someone who doesn't have the gift... Hmm...

Okay, imagine you're in two places at once. One consciousness, two bodies. Now consider how you couldn't simply walk forward with both bodies at the same time, or one might walk right into a wall, causing you to react poorly and then both of your bodies might well collapse. Both rooms are real, understand? There isn't a "real" body and a "fake" body. The metaphor isn't great, I know, but it's the best I can do for someone who will never experience the sorts of things I'm trying to get across. My point is, from my perspective that control room was just as real as the kitchen I was still standing in. Certainly the things I did in room would have consequences for both me and Levi. As it would turn out, especially Levi.

Also a side note here, it didn't need to be a fancy nuclear control room. It could just have easily been a radio broadcast station or even just an office with a computer terminal. I just prefer the ambiance of a modern day power plant facility. From this point forward I'll spare you the details of specifically how I moved around in this "room" or what particular actions I took. Instead let's focus on the results.

Caught up in the exuberance of victory, it didn't take me long to establish my place of dominance in Levi's mind. The best part was, he had no idea he'd been unseated as the sovereign of his very identity, not to mention his motivations, wants, needs, and yes, even fetishes. And guess who just came down with a bad case of polar bear lust, with a special focus on yours truly. I chuckled deeply at the thought of pretty-boy Levi Shepard suddenly obsessed with my body while jerking off to images of bear-on-wolf porno action.

Again, I had no direct way of knowing how he was reacting to these changes in real time because "sending" is not the same thing as "reading". But I was fairly confident that I had just shot to the top of his list for fantasy sexual partners and the thought made my ample member firm up in my shorts. I imagined him catching himself on a wall in his house, much like I had earlier in the day in my kitchen. The slutty wolf would be getting all hot and bothered right about now, thinking about me.

This was just the first day of having the master key to the singer's mind and ego, so I didn't want to do anything too outrageous. The only other change I made initially was to give him a strong preference to go about without shorts or underwear on, whenever he felt he could get away with it. But just to prove my control I made sure he'd keep his cowboy boots and shirt on. Oh, and I made him lose the silly hat.

He wouldn't go out in public without being fully dressed but while in the house or out in the yard, Levi wouldn't think anything of his casual nudity. Not until his new found lust for me resulted in the cute younger man putting on a show for me. Grinning as I poured myself a glass of water, I tweaked the country star so it wouldn't occur to himself to cover himself or attempt to hide his privates when he inevitably exposed himself to me. Then, satisfied with my changes, I went back to my current book and settled in to wait for our next chance encounter.

As it turned out, this took place three days later when I was out back mowing the yard. He'd caught my eye as he was working on his back porch, tinkering with his musical equipment. I experienced a sharp thrill of victory when I saw that the country star was wearing his usual boots, but had an unignorable lack of undergarments on. His soft member flapped about, whipped to and fro by the inertia of his body movements.

I decided to play coy and appear to not notice him. Starting up my mower I got to work, but not before I took my shirt off. Might as well give the horny boy a little eye candy, I figured. I also had sunglasses on so that I could keep an eye on him without him noticing how closely I was observing him. Sure enough, when I swept the mower back around so that I was facing the rear side of our two houses, I saw that I held Levi's exclusive attention. He was trying to be subtle but since I was looking for it his reaction was unmistakable. The pup wanted to get himself a piece of this daddy polar bear.

Pretending to see him for the first time I waved a warm greeting. This must have been all the excuse he needed to come over and talk with me because he walked right on over. I cut off the mower's engine and adopted a body posture of polite disinterest.

"Hey, Dante! How's it rollin', partner?"

Levi was smiling like a randy fool and his fully exposed cock twitched as it rose to half mast.

"Good morning, Levi. Not bad. Weather's looking good. Thought I'd get some housework taken care of. Are those new boots?"

Looking down at his footwear, he nodded and confirmed, "Yes sir! Cost me a pretty penny but my latest album is doing pretty well so I suppose I can afford it."

Thoroughly enjoying this game we were playing I deepened my voice and said, "Well, they look cute on you."

Levi blushed at the compliment as his cock continued to grow without him noticing.

"Mighty kind of you to say, sir! You're looking pretty good yourself! I mean, your clothes do. Well, not your shirt. You're not wearing a shirt."

Flustered, he shut himself up as his unit fully stiffened, becoming horizontal with the ground.

Deciding I might as well play my ace card, I gestured at his crotch and said, "Now I know why you got into show business. Nice to have an appreciative audience."

And just like that Levi realized he was pointing his rock hard erection directly at me. Seeming to understand his compromising nudity for the first time, the wolf appeared to be aghast at his exposed position. He looked down at his bobbing shaft and then back to me, his eyes wide with concern over what I must be thinking of him. But due to my earlier tweaking, he didn't run or cover himself up. He just stood there with his dick hanging out for all to see.

"Shit! I am so, so sorry about this Mr. Barton! I swear this has never happened to me before. I just don't know what I was thinking. Please don't take offense, I--"

Cutting him off, with a no-nonsense tone I told him, "Don't play dumb, Levi. You knew exactly what you were about. This isn't the first time you've come onto me in such an unmistakable fashion."

Levi's mortified look transformed into panic. Shaking his head he earnestly tried to explain.

"I didn't! I promise! This is all just a big misunderstanding! Really it is! If I could just explain--"

Interrupting again I instructed, "Enough. Get on your knees." He looked at me blankly for a long moment and I followed up with, "You deaf? Hurry up, boy."

The singer had not been expecting this and was stunned by my words. Seeing that he could use a hand, I gripped his shoulders for the second time and pushed down firmly. Unable to find his voice he sank down on his knees so that his muzzle was at crotch level. He just stared up at me, mouth slightly open as if in some form of mild shock. But his dick was still hard and it twitched in anticipation.

Taking his hand in mine I made him cup my testicles through my shorts and said, "Remember these? This isn't the first time you've played with 'em. Why don't you unzip me and get to know them better. Suck on them good and maybe I'll have something else for you to taste."

His days worth of vivid fantasies catching up with him, he didn't stop at just unzipping me and in short order he'd yanked my trousers down around my ankles. Kicking them and my shoes off I proceeded to rip my underwear clean off, not bothering to tug the delicate pair down.

Now Levi was nose to cock getting his first view of my substantial equipment. His breath caught in his throat and I read sudden apprehension on his face. Likely he was worried he'd bit off more than he could chew. Well too bad, wolf. Should have thought about that before you tried to wreck my peaceful home life.

Adopting a tone of impatience I asked, "Well, boy? You just going to stare or are you going to suck the sweat off my balls? Make up your mind. I got plenty of other places I can spend my load."

Levi looked around nervously and I realized how concern he must be that some tabloid photographer would snap the picture that would end his career in the country music world. But I wasn't particularly interested in cutting him a break so I rested my heavy white furred sack on his nose and said, "You want this or not? Clocks ticking."

Turns out he very much did want it. Throwing caution to the wind he moaned as he engulfed my family jewels, wrapping his lips around the base of my sack. His eyes closed in sheer pleasure as his tongue got to work lapping at my low hangers.

I whistled under my breath and encouraged, "There's a pretty wolf. You clean those up good for me, yeah?"

If I'm being honest, I knew then that I was far from done "tinkering" with Levi. His mouth on my sack just felt too damn good. At that point I wasn't sure what form these additional modifications would take, but I knew they'd be more impactful than a simple preference to relax around the house without pants on. I decided I'd put more thought into that night and instead focus on fulfilling the wolf's recently discovered polar bear fetish.

"Hey boy. Eyes up here."

Seemingly embarrassed, the younger man's shy eyes opened and met my shades, my own expression unreadable. He continued to nurse on my balls as he struggled to keep his eyes looking upward as he'd been told.

Playing into his not so secret fetish for polar bear daddies I told him, "Let's see those hands rub my belly. Be a good boy and run those guitar strumming fingers through my stomach fur. As for that mouth, well, you just keep on doing what you're doing. No need to change a thing."

That pressed his buttons something hard and Levi moaned again as his hands got to work worshipping my polar bear bulk. As he settled into paying homage to both my sack and gut I reminded him to keep his eyes looking up at me. I could tell it made him uncomfortable to humble himself like this while watching my stern expression, which I loved. After all the headaches this starlet stud caused me, it was just fine that he found himself a bit distressed.

After a few minutes of this I shook things up again and instructed, "Alright cutie, let's keep this moving. Reach your arms around and get you two fistfuls of bear ass. Get some kneading action going, I want every inch of my ass massaged. Don't be shy now, work those glutes. And keep those eyes up on me. Yeah, there ya go. Keep making Daddy happy and you'll get a salty treat."

Despite a strong undercurrent of shame, Levi was getting off on this in a huge way. Which came as no surprise to me given that I'd retooled him so that I was his own personal sexual idol. The wolf lusted over me similar to how high school kids ache for their favorite swimsuit supermodels. If I'd chosen to I could have moderated my tweaking and only given Levi a crush on me. But I'd gone much further than that and established myself as his permanent personal aphrodite, goddess of love.

And permanent is precisely the correct word. In the natural order of things, crushes, flings, and obsessions come and go. But I'd flipped an invisible override switch in Levi's head and the younger singer had no way to toggle it back. Given a week, a month, or even a year the country star would crave my body just as desperately as he did now. Levi didn't realize it yet but I was now at very center of his universe, his entire life beginning to revolve around me.

His hands cupping and squeezing my sizeable posterior, I gave him a small nod to let him know I acknowledged that he was indeed following my instructions. It looked like he wanted to say something but that wasn't going to happen with my nuts filling up his mouth. My stiff member lay draped over his muzzle and he looked over it to keep his eyes trained on me as he'd been told.

Choosing to throw the pup a bone, I moved my right foot so that the root of his cock was held gently between two toes. Then I squeezed his rod between them, rested my heel on the ground and said, "Hump my foot, pup. Don't cum and don't look away. I want to watch you enjoy this."

'Enjoy' was a massive understatement. The way Levi's eyes glazed over as he grinded his member between my toes you'd of thought I'd just given him a dose of endorphins or dopamine. It didn't take long before I felt his knot start to form up just below my foot's grip on his pole. What a slutty pup I'd leashed.

I was having a fairly good time myself and was just getting ready to feed the wolf my cock when I felt something unexpected. Looking down I saw that Levi's dick was spewing its load, making a sopping, sticky mess out of my foot paw. Apparently the starlet didn't have much in the way of self control but I figured that wasn't too surprising considering how much this sexual encounter of ours must have been straining his ability to hold back. Much of the blame lie with me for pegging myself as a solid ten in his esteem of my looks. Not that I was going to let him know that.

Frowning down at Levi with a severe expression on my face, I didn't even wait for the pup to finish cumming before I laid into him.

"You can't be serious. Are you really creaming all over my foot when I just told you to keep yourself in check? We haven't even gotten started yet, boy. Hell. And are you still fucking spewing? Unbelievable. Hurry up and finish, then get me a towel. If I'd of known you had a hair-trigger I'd of left you hanging until after I got off."

Allowing my spit soaked balls slip out from between his lips he tried to apologize but I cut him off, letting him know I wasn't interested. He looked absolutely wretched from humiliation as he dashed off to fetch me a towel, his still hard cock swing swinging about as he ran.

In moments he was back, patting down my foot with the plush white towel as he cleaned up his own mess. Again he tried to stammer out a sincere apology and again I cut him off.

Irritation clear in my voice I said, "It's fine. Let's just forget about it, yeah?"

Wiping away the last of the mess he'd made over my toes, he blushed furiously as he made another attempt at damage control.

"Thanks, I appreciate that. Maybe... we could try again sometime? I'll do better, I promise. Really."

I pretended to mull it over and he continued to pat the towel over my already clean foot paw. His anxiety increased as I dragged out the moment.

Finally I said, "We'll see. I'll have to think about it. If there is a next time, understand that I'm going to have to be far more strict with you. If you can't handle that, then I suggest you go find yourself some young sweet thing like yourself."

I could tell he didn't necessarily like the sound of 'stricter' but Levi wasn't about to let a little apprehension get between him and his private sex god.

"I can handle it, promise! I was having a great time before I messed everything up. Next time will go much better. Really, I swear!"

I shrugged nonchalantly and answered, "Maybe. Like I said, we'll have to see. Alright, give me a goodbye kiss then I got to get back to mowing."

He got up like a shot and leaned forward, ready to put his lips against mine. I grabbed his shoulders and held him in place before he could close the distance.

"And just what are you doing?" I asked.

"Umm, I thought... you know, the kiss?" Levi stammered.

Pointing down to my half hard cock I used my other hand to waggle my member at him and said, "That's cute. But we're not boyfriend and boyfriend. Now, get on your knees and give me a proper goodbye kiss. Make it a wet one, with plenty of tongue. I'll let you know when you're done."

Realizing what I was demanding of him, his arrogance finally reasserted himself as he struggled to justify debasing himself in this way. I helped him along by pushing him back down towards the ground until he was once more eye level with my cock. Then I gripped his head with both hands and pulled him in until his clenched lips met my preslicked cockhead.

My voice as hard as iron I instructed him, "Make nice and kiss."

His balls recently emptied Levi had a hard time convincing himself that he needed to put up with this but eventually he gave in. Perhaps he figured he owed me this, given his disappointing performance just moments before.

For the next several minutes I instructed him in the proper execution of french kissing a polar bear's cockhead. The techniques I showed him involved lots of tongue and plenty of soft moans. When he tried to take my glans into his mouth I corrected him with a firm word and explained that kisses weren't blowjobs. I'm sure he found the whole experience rather humiliating but clearly part of him liked this as his dick had regained its earlier rigidity.

Eventually I pushed him away saying, "Okay, that's enough. Time to get back to my yard work."

He was flustered but said nothing as I put my shorts back on, shoving my ripped underwear into one of the pockets. Shoulders slouched, he was about to walk away when I grabbed his arm and yanked him in for a deep, passionate kiss.

I used my superior strength to hold him close as he instinctively resisted, trying to pull back as my thick tongue invaded his mouth. It wasn't long until he relaxed against me, giving into the kiss and trying his best to kiss me back. He tried to slip his tongue into my mouth but I easily push it back, making sure to shovel a generous portion of hot saliva into his mouth and down his throat as I did. After I forced him to swallow several mouthful of our combined spit I pulled back and gave him a warm smile.

"Later, toots" I said, turning away and walking towards my lawn mower.

Panting to catch his breath and grinning like a fool, he called back out to me and asked, "I thought you said only boyfriends kiss?"

I didn't bother turning around but right before I started the motor back up I said, "Maybe I decided we are. I'll let you know. Now go play your guitar. I got work to do."

I'm sure he was profoundly confused which was just how I wanted it. And look, I'll be straight with you. I had no notion to turn the country-album-of-the-year Levi Shepard into my boyfriend. My plans for him were far less dignified.

That night I manifested the control room once again and got my bearings. Pulling up an office chair in the imaginary space I lounged back, propping my feet up on one of the many polished dashboards. In the real word I was laying in bed so I let myself focus entirely on the visualization I'd created.

Having achieved this level of control over Levi, there were few limits to my influence. Were I the twisted sort it would have been a simple matter to have him take his own life after writing a suicide letter. It would have never occurred to him wonder whether or not this was his decision. I mean, how often have you asked yourself that question? But I never seriously considered that option. I already viewed the wolf as my most valuable possession and had no intention of letting physical harm come to him.

I was in no hurry to affect any drastic changes but there were a handful of tweaks I went ahead and took care of. I encouraged him to start thinking of me in a more romantic light, though stopped short of making him fall outright in love with me. In addition I made sure he blamed himself for his premature ejaculation problem. Nothing like a dose of self-shaming to get someone in the submissive mindset.

Then I seeded a secret fetish for chastised wolves and left him wondering about how it might feel to have something firm and unyielding locked around his member. My last change for the night was a purely practical adjustment. I fostered in him a sudden interest in learning how to cook. From now on he'd find it a joy to work in the kitchen, which I planned to take full advantage of. Then I went to bed, after confirming that my "no pants at home" rule was still in place.

I left the singer to his own devices for a few more days, knowing full well that he was obsessing about me the entire time. Eventually he couldn't take it anymore and with a ring of the doorbell I found him at my front door.

Keeping my face passive but not unkind I said, "Well if it isn't Levi the cowboy. What can I do you for?"

Blushing like a kid picking up his date on prom night he asked, "I realized that I cooked too much food for one person. I was wondering if you'd like to stop by for some dinner? My treat."

I nodded noting his lack of pants and exposed privates, then smiled. "Oh, is that all? You sure you aren't hoping that it might turn into... something a bit more intimate?"

His blush intensified ten fold as he stammered, "Well, umm, I wouldn't want to... ahh, presume. You know."

I reached up and put my hands behind my head, interlocking my fingers and pinning him with a considering look.

"I tell you what. While I think it over, why don't you give Daddy bear a kiss?"

Looking back over his shoulder at the empty road, he bit his lip. Then he turned back to me and hedged, "Please, Dante... Someone could see us. Don't make me... Please!"

I frowned at him and replied, "I'm not making you do anything. You're gonna decide to kiss Daddy's johnson all on your own. You know it. I know it. But take as much time as you want to figure that out for yourself."

"But if there's someone from the media out there--"

"Then they'll get pictures of you paying me proper respect. If you're ashamed of me then you can just turn your shapely ass around and step off my property."

I knew there was no one else around for miles because I'd of felt the borders of their mind. It's really hard to get the jump on a Sender. But Levi needed to learn that I had no patience for a bad attitude.

The country singer fought against himself for a solid minute before falling down on his knees, a look of raw hunger on his face as he unzipped my trousers.

"That's a good boy," I cooed. "Do it just like I showed you. Tongue and lips, focus on the head, and keep your eyes up here. I'll let you know when you're done, just like last time."

Given that he couldn't be sure we wouldn't be caught in the act at any moment, the wolf was justifiably nervous. But he was also sexual ravenious, practically starving for another taste of my polar bear cock. I'd done my work well on this point. Having settled on what what he had to do, Levi launched himself into the task and it didn't take long for me to firm up while the singer passionately made out with the tip of my meat, all the while desperately wishing he could fill his mouth to capacity with my pole.

I in turn decided to give him a little oral action of my own, in my own way. Taking his left hand in mind I pulled his palm up to my muzzle, only to take two of his fingers into my mouth. And he licked and slurped on my cockhead I expertly felated his digits, giving him an explicit preview of how good it might feel to have his affectionate attentions rewarded.

My ministrations were certainly having an effect on him too, because the country boy got hard in a hurry. I ran my tongue between his two fingers and sighed contentedly, letting him know how good he tasted. I let this go on for the better part of ten minutes until he relaxed somewhat, apparently making his peace with the risk he was taking upon himself.

Spitting out his fingers, I placed a heavy hand on the top of his head and said, "That's enough for now, boy. Give it a rest."

He looked up at me with a needful fire in his eyes as he pleaded, "Please, Dante... let me suck you off. I'll do it real nice like, I promise. I'll make it good for you."

I chuckled in genuine amusement and shoved his nose into my weighty balls which he promptly set to licking and sucking. As he did I set something straight for him saying, "You think you deserve a go at my dick? Can't rightfully say I think you've earned it yet. Plus, this ride has a steep admission fee. It's rare that I find a boy horny and kinky enough to pay it."

Nervousness sparkled in the wolf's eyes and he stopped nursing on my low hangers long enough to ask, "What...what would I need to do?"

I stroked his head kindly and shook my head, then explained, "Nothing like what you may be thinking. I don't really go in for grim or gross. But before I show you what I can do with this thick fuckstick of mine we're gonna need to put that modest weiner of yours behind lock and key. This may strike you as odd, but I view jerking off as a form of adultery. And since I can't see a pampered music star like you committing to be Daddy's chaste boy, you best make your peace with tip kissing and ball slurping because that's all you're gonna get."

Levi was silent for a while as he pondered my words, his tongue doing wonders on my sagging sack. I admit that what I was demanding of Levi was deeply unfair, but you should know that this didn't bother me too much. The arrogant prick had come into my neighborhood and disturbed the peace. I'd tried to settle things civil like but he wouldn't have it. He'd brought this on himself. Next time the pretty-boy country star wolf went on tour, he was going to do it with his cock locked up tight.

Not much longer and he betrayed his interest in taking things further, pausing his ball polishing to ask, "...How long would I have to wear it?"

I shrugged and said, "Dunno, so I can't say. But the smart money would be on, for as long as we're together."

His eyes lit up and he hurried to say, "So, we'd be together? Like... together-together? An... item?"

I grinned down at him fondly and replied, "Sure, kid. If that's how you'd like to think of it. I'd say having the key to your chastity cage in my wallet is pretty 'official' as far as those things go. You'd be Daddy's special boy."

"And... boyfriends, too?"

My smile deepened and I nodded.

"Aye. If that's what you'd like. But just because you'd be my boyfriend doesn't mean I won't put you in frilly dress if I'm in the mood to fuck a wolf done up in lace. My boy needs to be willing to do what it takes to get his Daddy off, understand?"

I could tell that mister ace-stud cowboy didn't much care for the idea of getting drilled while forced to cross-dress, but that just made me all the more eager to try it out.

"You... wouldn't make me go out in public like that though, right? I have fans is all, see?"

Again I shrugged and said, "The only promise I'll make you is that you'll be free to call this off at any time. You say the word and I'll hand the key to your dick-cage over to you, no argument. But until you end things between us, you're Daddy's boy and you'll be treated as such. And if you're not willing to go so far as to call this quits then you need to understand now that pouty boys get firm spankings. I want you to be one hundred percent clear what you're getting into."

He thought this over and finally said, "But what if--"

I interrupted him by pulling him up into another amorous kiss. Grabbing him by the waist I pulled him close so that our cocks grinded up against one another. Cupping his as in one hand I encouraged him to hump up against me and then broke off the kiss to speak softly into his ear.

"You're obsessing over the negatives, Levi. There's plenty to love about being Daddy's special boy. About giving up control. You'll know just how much you're cherished when I got this fat log jammed up your backside. Daddy's got a lot of love to give and you're going to take every inch. So how about it? Want to be Daddy's naughty locked boy?"

Given his retooling, Levi really never stood a chance of resisting me. Panting and grinding against me he practically whimpered, "Oh god, yes. Make me yours, Daddy. I want to be your boy!"

Kissing the side of his neck I reached my hand down and gripped his erection. He moaned and bucked against me as I began to stroke his member.

"Then be a good boy and cum for Daddy. We need you nice and soft for your measurements. And after the custom ordered cage arrives in the mail you won't be able to perform like this, so best you enjoy this while you can. Hear me, boy?"

He must have, because he immediately set to creaming my hand. I kept up my firm stroking throughout his explosive climax as he turned my hand and crotch into one big sticky mess. Then he collapsed against me, burying his face in my shoulder.

I whispered sweet nothings to him, telling what a good boy he was. How proud I was of him. All the while squeezing down on his cock, encouraging him to get soft for me. He tried to kiss me then but I put a stop to that letting him know, "That's not how a boy kisses his Daddy, Levi. Down on your knees, babe."

Still in a daze, he did as he was told. Only to find that he was staring directly into one hell of a gooey mess. Looking back up at me he complained, "But, Dante..."

I fixed him with a stern look and said, "That's Daddy to you, bub. And I don't want to hear another word about it. I'm not telling you to lick up the whole cream-pie. Just kiss Daddy like I taught you and if you get a little boy-cum in your mouth, it's not a big deal. Shoot, it'll probably never happen again anyway. So get to kissing so we can go inside and put the tape measure to you."

As expected the singer performed as instructed, then we go on with our day. I took his measurements while making a special point of verbally noting the unremarkableness of his endowment. I made sure he had multiple opportunities to see our two members side by side, making him understand by just how much I overshadowed him in the cock department. He blushed and chewed his lip when I made him sit in my lap facing me so that we could compare his soft pecker to my raging hard on.

The cheeky fucker even had the gall to take me in hand, offering to help me if I was "pent up". I pushed his hand away and let him know we'd be holding off on that sort of hanky panky until his boyhood was safe and secure in its new cage. Then I had him suck my balls while I jerked off in front of him.

Two weeks later the $30,000 custom chastity belt arrived in the mail. It was a state of the art modern masterpiece, and Levi's eyes grew wide when I showed it to him.

It boasted a sleek, polished white chassis that housed a wide array of features. This model was specifically designed for canines and even had a special expandable compartment in case I chose to let his knot inflate. In fact, the whole unit was remotely extensible and could accommodate his entire average sized erection should I permit it. I indulged the idea of waiting until he was in the middle of a live performance to grant him his first hard on in months. Which would then be mercilessly teased as he sang and strummed his guitar, thousands of adoring fans screaming his name as he tried to keep smiling for the cameras.

The unit also housed his testicles which would be automatically denuded, his ball fur serving no purpose. There was even a command to make the denuding permanent, but I chose to hold off on that for the time being. A wide catheter was secured down the length of his unit and fed into the base of his bladder. The device would take care of any urinary needs, producing dry capsules of whatever minerals couldn't be evaporated. These capsules would be stored in a small compartment for later removal.

I didn't explain this next part to Levi, but this feature could actually be configured to only drain his bladder when it neared dangerously full levels. I suppose some Masters get off on making their slaves feel like they're about to piss themselves or even explode. I had little interest in this but it might be amusing to pretend that the drainage function was broken and to slowly "tinker" with it while the cowboy bit his tongue and did the 'pee dance'.

Needless to say the cage came with a full suite of teasing and punishment options. Rhythmic squeezing, vibrations, shocks, stroking, hot and cold temperatures, and even simulated knotting on this model. My favorite was the on-demand push button ball slaps. Nothing cuts through the noise faster than an authenticate simulation of an open-palm slap to the balls.

GPS included, obviously. Also equipped was a high-fidelity speaker for both AI controlled callendar and instruction announcements as well as serving as a handy two-way communication. I believe Levi suspected that I could use the included microphone to spy on him and he was absolutely correct. What he didn't know was that there was also a forward facing camera, and since he wasn't allowed to wear pants around the house, this means that I could always check out his surroundings if I was bored. I used this feature far more than I had originally assumed I would, enjoying the systematic dismantling of his privacy.

I also used the AI speaker combination to add a daily "helpful" reminder to Levi that would call out how many days he'd been 'belted' each and every morning. Upon waking up the AI would cheerily announce something along the lines of, "Good morning, Levi! The weather today is predicted to be rainy, so dress accordingly! Also, please note that your Daddy has requested that you wake him up with a kiss at 9:00 AM, in approximately thirty minutes. You are requested to wear the hood with the ring gag and handle bars! Remember that your hour of mandatory porn watching starts at 2:00 PM this afternoon! Today's movie is titled: Goldi-wolf and the Three Bears, Part 2 -- Goldi-wolf Gets Fisted! Recall that there will be an oral quiz after the movie so to avoid unnecessary ball slaps and squeezing, please pay close attention! Finally, it has been fifty-three days since your last orgasm! Keep up the great work and way to go!"

And then of course there are the additional tweaks I made to Levi's mental state. But that's a story for another time. My boy's porn hour is nearly up and I find that he's especially enthusiastic in the sack right after the movie ends. Today's movie featured a series of teenage wolves jerking themselves off while making seductive eye contact with the camera. A sex act Levi will never again be allowed to partake of.

I think I'll let him bounce on my lap while I lay back and tweak his nipples. Maybe I'll even give him permission to beg me for release right before I hit my peak. It's really something special to fuck-slam your cum deep into a boy while they plead to get off. Then I'll quiet him down with a kiss before I push his head down into my lap to clean me up.

And with that, I'm off to nail my cowboy neighbor. Good afternoon to you, dear reader.

(Note from author: This was written to serve as a standalone one-off but there's a possibility for more if there's enough interest. Feel free to post your thoughts below)