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SugarBrain.

At first the music was merely calming. It was something to work to – something unobtrusive in the background. Like wallpaper, the music was something you never really noticed but was always around while you worked. Tosh found The SugarBrain Easy Listening stream while working on a major coding project for a client. The music seemed to massage his brain and helped him focus on his work. The tracks were never distracting, but always a pleasant accompaniment to the work he was doing.

On his daily commute Tosh discovered the SugarBrain stream helped him ignore the bustle of humanity on the train. With earbuds fortifying against the clatter of humanity while reading his book Tosh drifted on the soothing music while the train rocked and juddered around him. While the music on his commute was almost dreamy, as soon as Tosh got to his office the beats and melodies changed to something more focused and uplifting. The music always seemed perfect for the situation.

In the evenings to accompany his dinner preparation Tosh began to listen to the SugarBrain station while he cooked. During the meal preparation the music was a stronger, driving techno steam. But as soon as Tosh sat to eat the tempo and tunes shifted to a lighter candle-lit, classical themed mix. Tosh's apartment never seemed lonely despite living alone so long as he filled the rooms with music.

It wasn't long before Tosh discovered the SugarBrain late-night playlist was the perfect way to fall asleep. Drifting waves of ethereal ambient sounds were the ideal way to forget all the stresses of the day and get carried into a deep and peaceful sleep. At night the motif was sleep, peace, and pleasant dreams.

Then at precisely 6:30am the music would morph into an inspirational and motivational tempo. The change eased Tosh out of his slumber with a positive mental attitude ready to take on the whole new day. Although his coding job hadn't been his ideal choice when he left college, starting his morning with a positive mindset made him more eager to get into the work.

The music seemed so perfect for every facet and moment of Tosh's life that before long he was listening to the SugarBrain online radio station for 24 hours a day, every day of the week. Sleeping, working, commuting, watching TV – the rhapsody was always the perfect companion.

Even the weekend mixes appeared to be perfectly tailored to the life a young man feeling his way in the world. Ambient mixes let him sleep in later, then woke him with the suggestion of possibilities for his day. Threads of natural themes wound into his musical feast and Tosh realized he hadn't been on a hike in months. Just the thing he needed to shake the dust of the city from his clothes. A track called Bellissima sparkled a light and joyous feeling of needing to go out and DO something. Such a simple repeating riff, but so full of bounce and delight it was impossible for Tosh not to spring from his apartment. The anticipation in the music was palpable. Every new track was the perfect accompaniment to his hike. Choruses and glissandi promised beautiful scenery just over the next ridge. An allegro showed him a laughing brook wending through the valley.

Tosh returned to his apartment tired but reinvigorated. His muscles had been worked and felt taut. It was a good feeling of being well-exercised. A slice of nature was exactly what he'd needed.

Light and lively tunes through his earbuds sustained Tosh while he ran a hot bath. Soaking in the tub while the music changed to the ebb and surge of the ocean helped ease the good ache in his muscles. A combination of warm water and flowing musical themes almost felt to Tosh as though hands were massaging the tension from his muscles. He closed his eyes and could practically feel skilled hands playing over his body.

It just seemed natural to stroke his hardening cock while he lay in the blissful embrace of warm music. Oddly no specific images were playing in his mind. Tosh considered himself a normal, heterosexual guy and often fantasized about the latest hot video influencer. He didn't currently have a girlfriend but, you know, work, stress, life was always in the way and girls seemed too unapproachable to warrant the effort.

So his usual mental imagery while he masturbated was breasts and vulvas, women who yearned for his cock, him dominating or being dominated.

Except this time as he lay in the warm bath and idly stroked his cock the movie screen of his mind was more abstract. Colours and patterns drifted across his vision themed to the sounds in his ears without resolving into anything specific. And yet it was intensely arousing, as if the rhythm of the shapes and music was directly caressing his mind.

The tempo increased with deeper tones providing a counterpoint to the feather-light touches playing over his flesh. Tosh's breathing increased to match the accelerating sequence of chords. He pumped his fist over his cock, building his orgasm to the crescendo of the music. With a clash of cymbals and a burst of trumpets Tosh's body jerked in the tub and he sprayed ropes of semen over his belly. Turbulent water splashed over the edges of the tub. Timpani drums gave him a moment to draw breath before the crest of brass, woodwind and cymbals forced another wave of pleasure from his orgasm.

A lone oboe held him, sustained him, for several beats of his heart before a sliding crash of percussion and violins squeezed out the last of Tosh's reserves. The final strings of semen drifted away into the water.

In the afterglow of his orgasm Tosh felt he could drift off to sleep in the tub, embraced by the soft ambient music his SugarBrain channel segued into. But there was a tiny discord in the melody. There was this nagging idea that he really should get out of the tub before the water got cold and ruined his experience. Of course the music was right, he really should get out of the bath, dry off, and make his way to a real comfortable bed. And yes, he should grab a bite to eat as he passed the kitchen – thankfully the music reminded him.

There was no real dividing line – no single moment in time – when the music changed from being an accompaniment to Tosh's life, to Tosh becoming an accompaniment to the music. Where once the music was a pianissimo theme in the background of Tosh's day, it had taken more prominence until Tosh was a harmony to the music's melody. Where a lively tune used to lift Tosh's spirits and inspire him, now the music could directly change Tosh's behaviour.

Stanzas passed.

Has a man ever been as free, ever had such Joie de vivre as when he's dancing and spinning, clad only by the rain while Night on Bald Mountain twirls his soul in fire.

Tosh danced naked in the streetlights, leaping to the clash of woodwind with brass. Lightning and thunder were a counterpoint, water on flesh, music in the storm. Tosh was a movement of power and triumph, a dervish flung through the maelstrom with arms outstretched. He'd never felt so alive with a distilled quintessence of joy in his veins. His music player flicked around on its lanyard following the movements of a conductor's baton. He twirled with outstretched arms flinging away the droplets of rain.

There was a sudden lull in the music. Tatters of strings and brass whipped into the darkness. A hush fell as one track ended. Tosh stopped his dance, stumbling to regain his balance. An ominous deep string bass growl full of foreboding slunk into the musical interlude. Something new heralded by French horn and a rumble of cymbals was approaching.

The ebony beast strode into the rain-blurred halo of streetlight. Rivulets of water etched molten tracks of lava down the flanks of the monster. The passage was relentless and full of dark purpose.

Perhaps it was a wolf, or a large dog, or even a demon slinking through the night.

The beast's leitmotif became dominant, projecting strength and commanding submission. The music demanded Tosh should become a sacrifice as his theme diminished. The entire definition of the music was formed around the demon, where Tosh was a minor thread. The human must give himself to the beast, so the young man fell on to his knees before it. The dog was huge – something of a Mastiff or Great Dane – escaped or wandering from his home. His music was deep and masculine – the dog's muscles defined the bass notes. And like the music, the dog was enthusiastic to use the man. Tosh's role was diminutive, submissive to the powerful movements of the beast on top of him.

The dog's rhythm was staccato. Powerful thrusts drove the dog's cock forward until its stabbing tip sunk into Tosh's butthole. For a moment the tune was discordant, painful, too sharp and sudden. The structure was unfamiliar – Tosh was trying to play a progression he'd never practiced and was unprepared for. He gasped with pain. For a brief moment the music almost lost the man. Wet, hot fur pressing against the man's back felt more real than the confused jumble of sounds in his head. He struggled against the grip of the dog, but the monster easily outweighed and overpowered Tosh.

And the music was changing. The staccato beat still defined the rhythm but a smoother tone of warmth was coming through. Tosh could feel the dog's cock growing larger with each thrust but it was no longer a discord. It was becoming a pleasant harmony. Instead of stabbing violins the tune was richer bassoons. Large and challenging, certainly, but no longer unpleasing. Tosh stopped struggling against the music and instead let it take him again. And again. Yes… he was supposed to play a subordinate counterpoint to the dominating beast. Now he could feel the rich tones flowing into him. A huge bass note throbbed in the music, but Tosh wouldn't let it take him. The dog pressed forward but its knot was gigantic – much too large for the diminutive man beneath him. The dog would have to be content with a mere eight inches of cock surrounded by man without burying his knot. Warmth filled Tosh – the dog was at a crescendo and its semen squirted in bursts.

Tosh was full, but not fulfilled and the music was transposing again. The man's theme morphed into the more dominant melody while the dog's anti-climax softened into quieter, periodic liquid flows.

The dog's cock slipped free of Tosh as he stood. For a moment in the haze of the streetlights Tosh marvelled at the phenomenal size of the instrument. The dog's cock was still fully engorged. At its base the knot was as big as a grapefruit. The shaft was as thick as Tosh's wrist and easily eight inches long. The pointed tip of the dog's cock jerked and sprayed watery cum onto the pavement.

But Tosh's theme was dominant now as the dog's harmony subsided. The musical bridge had transformed the powerful motif of the beast and entwined it through the lesser themes of Tosh. The man stood and moved behind the dog. Rain indistinguishable from dog semen ran down Tosh's legs. It was unimportant, the tune had moved on. Tosh's theme had been built up and filled out with the refrain of the dog. While the tune was still unfamiliar Tosh would improvise and play his part as best he could.

The dog's tail had been docked short so its clenching butthole was plainly visible in the sodium lamp glow. And the dog was so tall that with the merest crouch Tosh's cock lined up perfectly. The caressing of the music while being dominated by the beast had left Tosh leaking precum. Okay… he'd never played this tune before but the composition was familiar. In his mind the sensation felt like his visions of his cock in imaginary women's vulvas. The rain mixed with his arousal so his cock slid forward easily, enveloped by the squeezing warmth of the dog's butt.

It was perfect harmony. It was right, and it was good. The slow rhythm of the dog's anus clenching around his cock was pure delight. Tosh clasped the dog's hips and pushed forward until his balls pressed against the taint of the dog. He held there and savoured the feel of the dog's muscles squeezing Tosh's cock as the dog squirted cum into puddles below. The slow tempo of the music began building again. Tosh pulled back until his cock slipped completely free of the dog. But before the dog's hole clenched Tosh pushed forward again. The cooler sensation of the rain was replaced by the hot flesh of the dog around his cock. The beat of music was deep, powerful and increasing in speed. Tosh matched his thrusting to the driving bass.

As the tempo of the music increased the subtle tones of bells and zills began to tingle in Tosh's midriff. He pounded his cock harder into the dog – his theme was dominant and driving. The pace was quickening, building toward climax. The music had him, he was just an instrument, or a minor musician playing a part in a huge orchestra. Yet he played with skill. As the wall of music built Tosh became more confident in the tune – it felt more familiar. The man was lost in the rhythm of pumping his hips forward and driving his cock in and out of the dog. Each alternate beat was cold rain or hot flesh on his cock. The music was getting louder with overwhelming sensations. The tempo increased. Jarring stabs of high notes and cascading bells brought Tosh to the brink of orgasm.

Then he came. He orgasmed. He squeezed his essence through his cock deep into the beast. Tosh groaned and gasped. His bursts of sound were whipped away by the tempest and became part of the orchestra. White pleasure flared as his balls pulled up against the butt of the dog. The pulses of music bridged the melody of Tosh into the harmony of the dog. Their duet defined the theme for the symphony of rutting music.

And then it fell away. The crash of orchestral notes echoed into the night air. The toccata was done, this was the respite before the next movement.

Rain fell on Tosh's face. He lay on his back in a puddle looking up through the fog of streetlights. His music player rested against his shoulder still tethered by its lanyard and Bluetooth. He'd been wearing the earbuds for so long they felt like a part of him. Without the music he'd be nothing. The dog had left him – gone back perhaps to its home. But the music stayed and sustained him, drifting for a moment in the night. Letting him recover his strength.

The next piece was a composition about becoming a god.

It started with a nudge. Just a bit of disharmony to get Tosh back on his feet. Rain flowed over his naked flesh and a thin drool of semen oozed from his penis. Tosh felt used up, done, fulfilled. Surely the music could let him rest.

But the tune was insistent, picking at his mind. The music had shown Tosh how to be human, and then more than human. It could show him how to be a god. There was so much potential in the composition ahead. The tune gave forbodings of greatness to come. This had all merely been the introduction to the great work. Intermission was over – now the orchestra was preparing for the major performance.

Tosh's limbs moved with the progression of the chords. The tower, there, that radio mast. We could climb to the sky.

Thunder rumbled with the darker notes. But the melody was climbing. With each rung the low notes gave way and higher notes drifted into the theme. Grunting tubas gave way to trombones, gave way to trumpets. Bassoons and oboes faded out while the clarinets and flutes picked the notes higher and higher. Each bar grasped with wet hands lifted Tosh's song upward. Yes, he could feel it. The music was elevating him, lifting him. Now cellos were gone from the sound and violins pitched the music ever higher. Bar by bar, rung by rung Tosh climbed with the music.

Lightning plucked the sky with pizzicato strings that made shrill notes in the darkness.

This tune was relentless – there were no rests in the piece. The crescendo would be a steady climb of ever higher notes. Tosh shrieked into the wind with the harsh notes.

At the top of the tower Tosh had depleted his reserves of strength. But the music insisted, cajoled. Just a little more, just a tiny bit further. All the notes were shrill and insistent. So close to the coda. Flurries of rain swirled with the violins. So close and so filled with the yearning to reach out. The dark clouds seemed almost within reach. Tosh leaned out from the tower. One hand gripped the wet rail of the ladder while the other quested toward the night. Yes, he could feel it. The music was lifting him, raising his soul. The barest thread of humanity still weighed him to this world.

A piccolo held him by a thread. One lone note – the last note of the whole composition – held him. If the note ever stopped, if the music ever ended Tosh would be gone. All the human vestiges were sustained solely by this one cry of the wind. It held. But the vibrato meant the note would have to end.

The attending officer wrote suicide as the cause of death. Why else would anyone strip naked and jump from the top of a radio mast. _Christ, what a mess. Poor kid. Still in his twenties. _

Wan morning light dripped from the steel frame of the tower into a stained puddle. Eerie calmness ushered away the mist after last night's tempest.

The office plucked an earbud from the corpse. Indistinct sounds came from the device – the music player was a robust solid thing that had survived the fall. But the sound was just a vague hiss of static. There was no music. The display on the music player listed SugarBrain as the streaming station but the noise was meaningless.

Wait, it wasn't just a hiss. It was more like the ocean heard in the distance. Really, it was kind of soothing. The officer thought about how difficult it was to forget the horrors of his work and sleep at night. Perhaps a bit of white noise from the SugarBrain streams while he slept would be just what he needed to help him drift away.

Yeah, definitely more like the sound of ocean. And perhaps the faint hint of music far over the waves.