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My Best Friend's Dad

by abyguy

My Best Friend's Dad

Here are four chapters from a great story from 2002 on the Erotic Mind Control Story Archive. You can imagine why I love chapter 4.

Kyle and I were best friends. We'd met each other in the 4th grade and instantly had that "best friend vibe" which stayed that way all through grade school and even into high school. It was in high school that we sort of went our separate ways socially. Kyle was more into school, and I was more into sports. I was the QB on the Varsity football team and worked hard to develop my physique while Kyle didn't care about much of anything besides the next test. But we remained friends, and even our different social cliques didn't change that.

From the very beginning I had a thing for Kyle's dad, Mr. Simpson. He was 6'1" with short jet-black hair in a Caesar cut, and the guy was always in shape. He didn't jog for exercise -which was the fad back then---he lifted. He sported the thick neck, the square shoulders, and calves that were absolutely rock solid. The man worked hard and it showed.. He was smart too, which is probably where Kyle got his brains. Mr. Simpson was a lawyer, and a very successful one at that, with his picture appearing in the paper every so often.

All through our friendship I loved being over at Kyle's house, because he was my bud, and because of my crush on his dad. It was probably the latter which helped to keep our friendship going as we both neared graduation. I had started school late so I was already 18 when I became a senior. I liked school, and I liked guys, but managed to keep that a secret. Every day at school seems just like the one before it, and then finally it was Friday, the end of the week..... and I was definitely ready for the weekend. It was a normal day, and yet I remember everything so clear.....as it was the day my life changed forever.

I was hanging in the hall with some of my teammates from football when I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Kyle. Someone in the group let out a snicker as everyone turned to look at him. Kyle was all about 5' 7", thin as a rail, with a bad complexion that got noticed before he did which was too bad as he really was a nice guy. A nerd sure, but a nice guy too.

"Hey Mike, can I talk to you a sec?" he asked?

"Yeah , what's up?" I said turning away from my other friends.

"My Mom's Aunt died last night and I'm leaving with her after 2nd period. Can you do me a huge favor?"

I sighed. Knowing Kyle, the 'favor' probably had something to do with picking up his homework". "Sure", I offered. "What is it?"

"Can you pick up my science project from the Vice Principal's office after school and take it to my house? They canceled the Science Fair and I can't let my project just sit around the school. Can you help me out?"

I knew it. Kyle was my friend, but c'mon! He really wanted me to lug his science 'thing' to his house after school? I had plans, and that wasn't on the list.

" I thought you were leaving. You want me to keep that thing at my house all weekend?"

"Nah, take it to my house. My dad's gonna be home and Mom and I'll be back Tuesday. Will you do it?"

Suddenly it didn't seem like such an imposition since I knew I'd get to see his Dad. I grinned, "Yeah I'll do it. But you owe me".

Kyle sighed, "No prob bud. One thing though, Dad's been up all friggin night every night this week, working on a case, so you might have to knock kinda loud. Just please don't leave it outside. I'll see you Tuesday, Okay?"

I waved him off, "Tuesday". And he disappeared down the hall. Suddenly I was even more excited than before for the weekend to begin.

"Two more blocks to go damnit! And this thing is freaking heavy", I thought. This time....Kyle really did owe me as I struggled to hold on to both my back pack and his stupid box of .....stuff. I managed to set my pack down and shifting the box to the left rang the doorbell with my right elbow. I knew Mr. Simpson was home because his Ford Expedition was in the driveway. The minivan was nowhere to be seen which meant Kyle and his Mom were well on their way out of town by now. There was no answer, so I rang the bell again and then remembered what Kyle had said about his Dad ---that he was probably passed out from exhaustion, so I knocked.....loud.

Finally I heard the sound of approaching footsteps followed by locks being turned. The door swung inward and there was Mr. Simpson, still wearing his navy suitwhich fit him perfectly. The jacket looked a little rumpled like he'd been sitting for a long time while wearing it. His dark hair was tousled and his 5'oclock shadow really set the picture. This guy was a stud even when he looked like hell. I could feel my cock starting to twitch.

"Hey Mike. Kyle's not here, he's going to be gone all weekend." Did I mention his voice? He had that strong baritone sound that sort of made the very air resonate when he spoke.

"Uh yeah, he asked me to pick up his science project and bring it home for him. Can I come in?"

He stared at me with his bleary eyes for just a second ---man this guy was tired! "Sure", he smiled. "Come on in". And he extended his arm to hold the door open for me.

I carried the box into the living room and glanced around for a place to set it down.

"Just put it on the table in the Kitchen, Mike".

"Sure thing" I said lugging the box to the table. Once my arms were free I took a second to glance around and catch my breath, and then I noticed how quiet it was. Funny how a house can get that special brand of quiet when the people who bring the life into it's walls are away. It was kind of creepy, because when I say it was quiet, what I mean is there was literally no noise. No T.V,, no stereo, not even the sound of an incredibly hunky man puttering around. I walked back through the kitchen, past the dining room and peered into the living room. There he was sitting back in an overstuffed brown leather recliner with his eyes closed. The guy was asleep! At least that's the way it looked. I started to head back to the front door to let myself out, and something made me want to take a closer look. After all, what could it hurt? Right? I turned around and walked very softly toward my best friend's dad. In his hand was an empty tumbler resting on the arm of the chair, and on it's side next to his feet was an empty bottle of scotch. He wasn't just tired, even though he looked exhausted.....he was stone cold drunk as well. I knelt down to feel the carpet next to the bottle and it was completely dry. Mr. Edwards was one hell of a drinker! My heart was beating faster as I looked him over....and as I continued to let my eyes wander over this dark haired stud of a man......I began to form a plan.

Maybe the plan began to form ME. I don't know, it was like I was on auto pilot or something.....all my sexual fantasies and urges sort of screamed for action and my brain and body were working to satisfy them. I went back in the kitchen and opened up the box I'd lugged home for Kyle. I'd listened to him drone on and on and on about his gizmo for the science fair for what seemed like forever. It was a HSLE projector. "HSLE" stood for High Speed Learning Enhancer. It was designed to help unmotivated students with their class work by projecting data at high speeds through a focused strobe. According to Kyle, it worked subliminally, which of course everyone knows about, but his tinkering had refined the whole process. It was really very simple. Electrodes were attached to the subjects head and connected to a lap top which in turn was connected to the strobe projector Kyle had practically invented. He had spent all summer writing the code for the program to read the signals from the electrodes, which worked to match or rather synch those signals from the subject to the strobe projector. The strobe then worked it's magic by inducing a sort of underground link or pipe line to the subconscious transmitting whatever data you wished to learn. Theoretically you could learn every detail of your history class in 15 minutes the night before the big test and ace the whole thing.....it was every students dream. I paused for a minute, re evaluating the circumstances before me. I knew there was a good chance this could work. Mr. Simpson had been surviving for days without much sleep, and when he was finally able to be alone and relax in a quiet house all alone for 3 days, he'd helped himself to at least a half bottle of scotch. The real question was....did I have the guts to do this? My heart was beating so fast I could practically hear it. Then, taking a deep breath I lifted my best friends science gadget out of the box and headed for the living room.

I sat the projector on the coffee table and adjusted it so it faced Mr. Simpson, tilting the reflector lamp up so it pointed directly toward his face. The electrodes stretched easily and I paused just a moment before gently licking each one and ever so carefully sticking them to the three points on the forehead. He didn't move a muscle. The beauty of it all was that the subject didn't have to be awake to receive the data, in fact it was more effective while they were unconscious.

Sitting down on the small couch, I powered up the laptop. I knew exactly what I was going to write. My fingers began typing and after a couple minutes I was ready to proof the info I wanted to go into Mr. Simpson's subconscious.

" I need to obey Mike. Mike is strong. Mike is gorgeous. I want to obey Mike. I need to obey Mike. When I obey Mike, I am happy. I am gay . Mike is gay. I am weak, and gay and must obey Mike who is strong, sexy and gay. Mike is a very wise Man. It is good to obey Mike. I want to obey Mike. I am happy when Mike is happy. I will obey Mike".

I looked at the words on the screen. The message was simple, direct and short. Now, it was all or nothing. I was almost shaking as I sat the laptop back on the coffee table and reached for the connecting cable. Plugging it in, I gazed at Mr. Edwards. He was snoring slightly, and looked so relaxed, innocent, and so ruggedly handsome. I wondered if my idea would actually work, and how things might change if it did. As I clicked the enter data key....it sounded like a steel door in the quiet room. The projector began to power up, and then.... it began. The light was really bright, and Mr.Simpson reacted, only slightly furrowing his brow because of the sudden stimuli. However, he didn't move and the rapidly blinking light clicked away sending my message directly into his brain.

I could've watched him for hours, he was so handsome, but I needed to get home and start the next phase of my plan.

I sprinted down the block to my house and skidded to a stop at the back door. My mom was inside cooking dinner, and I new I'd better act casual. If I was too excited she'd get that 'mom vibe' and know something was up...which it actually was but I held my backpack in front of me to hide that. .

I opened the door and stepped into our kitchen.

"Hey mom, I'm home"

She turned around and looked at me with that look we all get from time to time. "Well it's about time" she said, Where've you been?"

"I had to help Kyle lug his Science Project home, and we got to talking."

She smiled. Mom had encouraged Kyle's friendship with me from the beginning. "How's he doing?" she asked

I did my best to act nonchalant. "Oh he's fine. He was wanting me to come over and spend the weekend, but I've got other plans". I lied.

She raised an eyebrow. "Really? Like what?"

Her voice had 'that tone' to it which was really saying "Oh so you have plans? Plans that I know nothing about and haven't ok'd " ?

"Yeah, I was going to hang out with Bill and the guys from school. We're going to break in the car he got for graduation." I knew she couldn't stand my friend Bill. Truth is neither could I, but he was an effective button to push.

She chuckled. "That sounds interesting. But I don't think so."

I looked up, widening my eyes for effect. "But I told the guys I'd be there!".

"You really thought I'd ok your spending time with a kid like that who just got a new car? She shook her head. " I thought you knew me better than that Mikey".

Inside I was doing that little dance the kid in "Home alone did when he outsmarted the adults". I sunk back in my chair trying to sulk. "There goes my weekend". I mumbled just loud enough to be heard.

She stopped what she was doing and turned to face me. "Not necessarily. I believe you have an invitation to spend the weekend at Kyle's house don't you?" she asked.

"Well, yeah.....I guess so".

"There you go. I'll have dinner ready in a minute and when you're done you can have the whole weekend to spend at Kyle's house". She smiled and lightly snapped the dish towel at me. "You'll have plenty of fun. You'll see." She offered turning back to dinner.

My face brightened just a little. "Yeah mom, I think I will have fun this weekend".

Did I know my mom or what?

Dinner was good. It's always good, but I didn't really taste a bite as I fought to contain my excitement. While I was at home eating dinner with my parents, passing the rolls, using too much ketchup and making small talk.....just down the block the man of my dreams was having a few new dreams of his own.

After dinner I quickly packed some clothes in my workout bag and saying my goodbyes, headed over to my best friend's house.

I went around back where I could just see through the window in the back door. Mr Simpson was just where I'd left him a couple hours ago, and from the flashes of light reflecting off the walls, I could tell the machine was still doing it's work.

Quietly opening the door I went inside. The house was still quiet as could be except for the clicking of the projector. I went over to the table and pulled out the paper that Kyle had authored on his new invention. It was too bad about the Science fair, I'm sure he would've won a prize. The paper was more like an instruction manual. It listed the schematics...which I already knew, and a whole bunch of useless information, and then I got to the last page. It read:

"This unique delivery method of data dictates that it should only be used for no more than 10 minutes at a time with a rest period of 30 minutes between sessions. Pro longed exposure could quite possibly affect the user in extreme ways, and would pose a high risk of modification or injury to the brain"

"SHIT!!!" I half yelled. Glancing at the clock I figured Mr. Edwards had been exposed for 3 hours and 35 minutes. I started to sweat. If this turned out badly I could be doing some serious jail time. I ran into the living room, banging my knee on the coffee table. His face was twitching, but his eyes were still closed. I pulled off the electrodes which stopped the strobe. The empty glass he had been holding when I left earlier was in pieces on the floor and his hand was bleeding. He'd shattered the glass! I knew I was done for as I turned to switch off the equipment. As I turned off the power I heard him moving and groaning slightly. I turned around and he was sitting forward, rubbing his eyes.

I swallowed hard. "Mr. Edwards.....are you okay?" I croaked.

He kept rubbing his eyes for a second and then looked up at me. He was still bleary eyed, but he kept looking at me as if he was trying to remember something. "Yeah, I'm fine. Must've dozed off for a second, Mike. Sorry about that".

That was a relief. "You look like you feel better" I offered, "That nap must've done you some good".

.His face brightened. "You know you're right Mike. I do feel better" He shook his head, surprised at the thought. "That nap must've done me some good". Running his hands through his hair he kind of sat there collecting himself.

He was alright. Thank God. Suddenly I was so relieved I hadn't injured him, my diabolical plans seemed a far away fantasy. Almost like they'd never even happened. "If you're okay sir, I guess I'd better head home."

As he looked up he had this expression on his face like he was seeing me for the first time. He just kind of looked at me, but remained quiet.

"Mr. Edwards? You okay".

He smiled. "Yeah I'm fine. I guess you'd better head home if you have to Mike. You're a very wise man".

'A very wise Man'? That was a weird thing to say, it was just like what I.........what I.....programmed the ESEL with." My heartbeat quickened. Maybe just maybe........

"Well I could always hang out here with you and watch some TV or something." I said as casually as possible.

His smile broadened showing off his perfect white teeth. "That would be great! I'd like some company. Let me find the remote". He stood up and gestured toward the couch. "Go ahead and have a seat". I sat down on the couch and just watched. My fantasy stud was suddenly full of energy. He quickly crossed the room to a big armoire, opening the doors and revealing a big T.V. Quickly, he took off his suit jacket and tossed it on the floor. As he was searching for the remote I had a great view of him from behind. Thick, jet black hair cut short at the neck, broad shoulders with a tapering back inside a rumpled but still crisp white shirt and a bubble butt you could bounce quarters off of hidden in his black dress pants. What a view! He grabbed the remote off of one of the shelves, and turned back toward me. He started to head to where I was sitting but paused, kind of confused. Not sure what to do myself.....I sort of half nodded beside me, and he responded with a smile and came over to the couch. He sat down heavy, and really close. Not touching, but close enough so that I could feel the heat of his body next to mine.

He turned on the T.V. and started flipping through the channels kind of fast. He seemed a little nervous, but in good spirits. "Anything you'd like to watch?" he asked.

I thought I'd try an innocent test. "I don't care" I said. "I never get to touch the remote at home" I lied.

He stopped flipping the channels immediately, and paused for a second. Then, offering me the remote he said, "Here, you deserve this then. Besides, you're such a good kid, you should be happy'.

There it was again! It was looking more and more like he had absorbed my commands". I took the remote and began flipping. As I got to the higher channels, the programming changed, and it was obvious these were the 'adult' channels. Now normally that wouldn't have flown well. After all, even though I'm eighteen, I'm still a kid, but he never said a word, just sat there watching the T.V. as I paused on some of the more 'Adult' programs. I settled on an HBO documentary on sex, waiting to see if this brought any reaction at all. It didn't. He just sat there beside me, watching the television. He might as well have been watching the Home and Gardening channel because there was no reaction at the content on the screen. And content is was! The segment was dealing with a dominatrix and she was directing her slave, a man wearing a leash and dog collar to lick her boots and crawl around on the floor while she spat obscenities at him. Pretty heavy stuff for anyone let alone someone who'd just turned 18.

"So what do you think about that"? I asked.

He cocked is head a little. "I think it's.....interesting" he said. "Not really my cup of tea though".

That "now or never" voice came back in my head. And I said, "I like it". In fact I think all men should want to be like that guy with the collar and have someone treat them that way."

"You know, you're right", he said, "I do too." and getting up, he disappeared down the hall.

He was only gone a few moments, but I was sure he was calling my parents or a medical professional to come get me. Then he was back. He had grabbed a dog collar and leash from the front hall and stood in front of me. He looked confused as if he was trying to sort something out, but then he held them forward. "Kyle and Linda took sport with them so I wouldn't have to have a dog underfoot all weekend.". Again he paused, and then, "Would you mind putting these on me?" he asked, "You're right Mike. I think all men should want to wear these. Would you treat me that way? " My mouth fell open. The sight of this stud lawyer wanting me to put a collar and leash on him was too much. His thick fingers were sort of rubbing the leather collar, and it almost looked as though he was getting 'excited' if you know what I mean. His face was totally innocent though, as he stood and waited for me to take the leash and collar, and treat him like a piece of shit, but what did I do? I laughed out loud........ more out of shock and nervousness than humor. Without a doubt, I now knew my plan had worked.

He looked concerned. "Is something wrong"? he asked.

"I don't think you need to wear those, Mr. Edwards. Why don't you just sit down. You and I are going to have a talk".

As soon as I said that, he immediately sat down on the coffee table facing me. His eye's were clear and he just waited to hear what I had to say. Leaning forward slightly, and looking him directly in the eye, I said, "Why don't you recite your lesson"

Without missing a beat he began, "I need to obey Mike. Mike is strong. Mike is gorgeous. I want to obey Mike. I need to obey Mike. When I obey Mike, I am happy. I am gay . Mike is gay. I am weak, and gay and must obey Mike who is strong, sexy and gay. Mike is a very wise Man. It is good to obey Mike. I want to obey Mike. I am happy when Mike is happy. I will obey Mike". I was so excited I thought I was going to squeal. Not only did he recite the reprogramming perfectly, he did it so casually! His deep voice spouted his 'lesson' like he was reading a grocery list. My face had to be red from my exhilaration, but he just looked back at me, patiently waiting for our talk. I had the stud of all my fantasies sitting before me, and all of those fantasies were about to come true. He would do anything I told him to but.........I didn't want a robot. I had an idea.

Mr. Simpson, everything you just said is the absolute truth, and of course I know that because, well....I'm a very wise man. Don't you agree?" He nodded enthusiastically. I'm going to count backwards, from three to one, and when I say 'one', I want you to relax and go to sleep. You will concentrate on the sound of my voice and be able to hear me perfectly do you understand? He shook his head and as began to count, his eyes drooped, and as I reached 'one', his head hung down. "Mr. Simpson, in just a moment I am going to count to ten. When I reach the number ten, you will be completely awake and refreshed. You will also be your normal self with no memory of this afternoon......other that what I am going to tell you now. Do you understand?" I asked.

"Yeth" he answered thickly.

"Good. When you wake, you will believe it is normal for me to spend the weekend with you alone. In fact you'll believe it was your idea. You like me, you always have. You will regard me as a very strong, incredibly attractive, and wise man---a friend of yours rather than your son's. You will have limited free will. If I disagree with you about something, and use the words 'In my opinion' you will defer to my point of view no matter what it is, knowing and believing that it is absolutely correct and true. Do you understand?"

"I underthand" he replied.

"Mr. Simpson, If I ever say 'you're such a baby', you will instantly become a three year old baby. You will talk, walk and behave exactly as a three year old would, until I tell you otherwise. Do you understand?"

"Uh huh".

"Now, this part is very important. If I ever say 'my feet are hot', your own feet will begin to grow hotter and hotter. You will then realize that you do not know how to untie your shoes, and you are unable to get them off your feet. As they continue to grow hotter you will realize that only I know how to get them off. No one else can help you. You will finally ask me to get them off for you, and I will explain what is involved for me to do that. You will accept whatever I say as the complete truth and you will believe and follow that truth. Do you understand"

"I will believe....and follow".

This was going to be fun. As I counted to ten he grew more alert and finally, he opened his eyes, and slapped his hands on his knees. "Well bud, looks like we've got a whole weekend to fill. We'd better get started before time gets away from us don't you think?"

"I sure do, Mr. Simpson". I smiled. 'Let's have some fun".

CHAPTER 4: "A Bite To Eat"
"Well I don't know about you Mike, but I'm hungry. Are you ready for dinner?" He had a big smile on his face and was rubbing the palms of his hands together as if he had something in mind, but dinner? That was the last thing I wanted. I'd already eaten at home, but it did make sense that he would be hungry especially considering the afternoon he'd just had. Glancing at the clock I couldn't believe it was already eight forty-five.

"I'm not all that hungry Mr. Simpson." I confessed, " But you go ahead. What did you have in mind"?

He thought for a second, absentmindedly scratching the stubble on his chin (God that made him look so hot!) and he snapped his fingers, "I've got it! There's some chicken risotto leftover from last night, I'll reheat that and nuke some veggies. It'll taste great".

Chicken? Veggies? God, why do all adults think the same way? I shrugged. "Why not some Pizza?"

He shook his head, "Pizza? No way, this'll be much better. You'll see" and turning to the fridge he stuck his head inside, and began searching for the chicken. As I mentioned before, he looked great from behind, and what a 'behind' it was! I was transfixed by his bubble butt kind of waving itself in front of me. In fact it was all I could do not to grab it and squeeze like there was no tomorrow. Of course I knew I could grab it and do whatever else I wanted with it, but I had a little time to play.

"I still think a Pizza from the Pizza Shack would be better". I said.

"Nah, you'll like this!" he said rummaging around inside the refrigerator. "Besides, eating at the 'Greasy Pizza Shack' will slowly kill you with all that fat! I think they have the worst pizza in town, and Betty makes the best chicken you've ever tasted. I promise".

I smiled. "She does huh?" and then louder "Well, "In My Opinion', you'd enjoy a pizza at the Greasy Pizza Shack a whole lot more! In fact," I continued, "that's your favorite food in the whole world isn't it Mr. Simpson! You hate your wife's chicken! You said it sucks ass!"

The rummaging stopped abruptly, and closing the door he turned with the oddest expression on his face, somewhere between bewilderment and remembering.... and then: "I can't believe......." he began "I was going to have that chicken"! He made a face as if the very thought of his wife's chicken now made him sick to his stomach. "Hey! How would you like to go to the Greasy Pizza Shack and get one with everything on it?" There was this kind of goofy grin on his face, and in a hushed whisper he added, "My wife's chicken sucks ass. Do you want to go?"

My smile must've been from ear to ear, and my dick shot up. "Absolutely! Let's go."

It was a dark night with lots of traffic on the roads, but the drive to the restaurant was comfortable as the Simpson's had a nice car. It was a silver Mercedes sedan, gray Leather interior and the smoothest ride you've ever experienced. 'I was busy thinking about all the fun I was going to have, and Mr. Simpson just talked on and on about his day, and the big case he'd finished. Adult stuff. Boring. On a more important note, I noticed that the reprogramming was working it's magic and given his choice of subject matter.... he now regarded me as his peer, rather than as an 18 year old friend of his sons.

As we arrived at the restaurant, there was only one car in the parking lot. With the dinner rush over for the evening it was pretty empty, which was perfect for me. Looking around, I walked up to the counter and noticed a young couple sitting in a corner booth against the far wall. Mr. Simpson was busy reading the menu (probably trying to figure out just what in the world his favorite food at this place must be).

"Can I help you?" asked the girl at the register, her bored voice breaking the silence. She must've been in her early twenties and showed all the typical pride of working in a pizza parlor someone her age must obviously feel. Her nametag read 'Cindy', and she was sporting that hubcap sized "Ask Me About Our Specials" button pinned on her apron, she just stared at us and waited.

"It all looks so good!" said Mr. Simpson nodding in her direction. "What's the "Pies' de resistance"? He asked.

She looked at him blankly. "The what?"

"What do you recommend?" he explained.

"Look Mister, it's Pizza. Do you want something or not?"

I laughed out loud, I was starting to like this girl. "Two Cokes, one with no ice, a medium combination, thick crust, extra sauce, heavy cheese .....and," I paused.... an idea forming.


"Can you do half and half?"

"Sure, what do you want?"

"On one half, triple anchovies ......uncooked. The other half regular "

Sighing and putting her pen down, she looked me straight in the eye. . "Look kid, I don't have time for games here."

Jeez! I thought. She must've had a long day!

"No, he's serious. Make it like he ordered" said Mr. Simpson, and then with a really big smile, "It's my favorite".

First she looked at him, then back at me, and finally with a "Whatever", she pointed to the dining area. "Have a seat we'll bring it right out'. And shaking her head disappeared into the kitchen.

Mr. Simpson smiled, and extended his hand, gesturing toward the empty booths. "Wherever you want pal. Just lead the way".

I slid into the booth on the opposite wall of the other couple. I wanted a little privacy, which didn't appear to be a problem as it looked like they were either newlyweds or on a date because they were really into each other, laughing and eating and enjoying each other's company. I shrugged inside. I guessed I was on a 'date' of my own but with the hunkiest dark haired stud lawyer in town. I pitied them.

Mr. Simpson slid into the seat opposite me and leaned forward. His eyes were deep blue, with little flecks of gold around the iris. Captivating. "Hey Mike, let's drop the "Mr. Simpson" thing okay?" he said. "After all, I've known you since you were a little kid, and well...now that you're such an adult, and one of the absolute smartest men I've ever known, I'd feel more comfortable if you call me Bill. Okay?"

Talk about a sexual turn-on! "Sure Mr. Simp--- I mean "Bill". No problem." Good thing I was sitting down, as I was suddenly rock hard.

He smiled back at me. "Good. I sure hope they get that done soon, I'm hungry".

So was I, but for fun... not food. Looking over to my left I saw the table next to us hadn't been cleaned yet. There were half empty glasses, dirty plates and something else. A family must've eaten there before we arrived because pulled up to the table was a high chair, and a couple of plastic bibs and a box of crayons with coloring on the placemat. I got up and grabbed the items I was interested in quickly. Bill had started discussing another court case, and just looked at me as I sat back down with my nefarious bounty.

"What are those for?" he asked.

"Oh, I just hate to see stuff go to waste." I lied.

"I see," he continued. "Anyway, the judge told opposing counsel that kind of behavior was out of line, and if it happened again he was going to be in contempt!" he laughed.

I laughed too. "Gee, Bill you sound kind of pleased with yourself."

"I am!" he admitted. "That law firm is extremely unprofessional. It's nice to see them get a kick in the ass every once in awhile!"

"I'll bet it is," I continued. "But it sounds to me, like "You're Such A Baby" Bill".

His expression changed instantly. Gone was the alertness in his eyes, the complex expression, the furrowed brow and articulate conversation, it was now replaced by a relaxed and slack-jawed wide-eyed innocence. His head tilted to one side and he just looked at me for a moment, then he did kind of a gurgling laugh and said, "Uh huh. Ima Babee!", followed by another laugh.

I almost shot a load right then and there! "And what's the baby's name" I asked as if I was actually speaking to a child.

He took a deep breath through his mouth and said "Babee's name ith......Babee!" He'd said it so loud the couple across the room turned to look, and then quickly turned away.

"Nooo." I cooed to my big strong 'toddler'. "The baby's name is..... Billlly. That's your name: Billy".

He gurgled again. "Bihhhllly. Th' babee's name ith Bihhhlllly". And then another laugh and a hiccup.

Looking around I stood up and leaned over him fastening the bib around his neck, and then sat back down, pleased with my work. Now Mr. Simpson was picture perfect. Jet-black hair, crystal blue eyes, strong defined jawline, a starched white shirt (somewhat rumpled)..... and his bib. He just kept looking at me with those big eyes of his and a sweet smile to match. I noticed he was breathing through only his mouth, and that he had in fact adopted all the mannerisms of a little boy. He looked totally relaxed, innocent, and hot!

I have to admit that the sight of a forty something, dark featured, physically fit, college educated family man in the prime of his life, sitting across from me wearing a bib with a ducky on the front was at once both amusing, and the most erotic sight I'd ever seen. He was totally at my mercy. I sat there for a minute and marveled at my situation. Earlier today I was just a regular good kid in high school, and tonight? I'd brainwashed my best friend's sex stud dad into my instant plaything!

'Little Billy' let out a sigh, and then noticed the box of crayons. He shyly looked up at me. "Kin Bihhlllly color?" he asked.

"Sure" I cooed. Billy can color the paper."

He giggled and reached for the crayons, studying the little box.

"Draw me a pretty picture okay?" I said


Mr. Simpson's tongue came out of his mouth as he began to concentrate. Those thick fingers of his had apparently lost some of their dexterity now, as he had to work at grasping each crayon just right, and that was no easy task for such a 'little' guy. I turned over the placemat so he had a clean canvas, and he began to make large circles, smiling and giggling every so often.

He was having such a great time coloring, I didn't even hear the waitress come up from behind us, but suddenly there she was. Cindy sat the tray on the table covering 'Little Billy's' art. He looked up at her about to protest, but she didn't even notice what was going on in front of her. Setting the pizza on the table, then the drinks and Parmesan cheese, she stood up and glanced at no one in particular and said, "If you need anything else, let me know." and then with a heavy sigh for good measure, "and we close in twenty minutes. Here's your ticket" and she walked away.

Little Billy watched her go and then realized he had a glass full of soda in front of him. He took hold of the glass with both hands and began drinking. He sucked through the straw for as long as he could and then would come up for air with a "Ahhhh", smack his lips and resume his drinking again. Between that and his coloring, my 'little Billy' was a happy 'baby boy'. I offered him a slice from his side of the pizza-with the raw anchovies, but he scrunched up his face and pursed his lips, so I wrapped up a couple of his pieces of the pizza in some napkins, and fishing a twenty out of my wallet, left it on the bill holder. The food came to 19.45, so I guess Cindy wasn't going to get much a tip!

"Hey Billy, are you ready to go home?" I asked.

He shook his head 'no'. "Bihhllly wanna color".

"Billy...." I tried my best to sound firm, but the big.... er I mean 'little' guy was so adorable it wasn't easy. "You can take the colors with you, and we can go home and watch some T.V.! How's that?"

He shook his head again, this time harder. "Bihhlllyyy wanna stay here!".

I decided to try another of my triggers. I didn't know if using multiple triggers would work, but I had a 40 year old 'baby' giving me attitude! "Billy, 'In My Opinion' you want to go home now, and be a good boy about it'

Little Billy lowered his head. "Ohhhkayyyy." And sliding out of the booth stood up. I didn't know whether it was the trigger or my tone of voice, but he was finally in agreement, so I grabbed his suit jacket and pizza, and he grabbed his colors and we headed for the door. Apparently 'Little Billy' was excited to be up and around, as he started running ahead of me, and then back around me as we headed for the exit. He was doing that thing kids do with their lips kind a 'blblblblblbl' sound, and was still wearing his plastic ducky bib. It was too funny! The couple across the room had just finished their meal and were staring at him and laughing. Even the restaurant staff had stopped what they were doing to watch the show. I noticed Cindy wasn't laughing at all. That girl needed a drink! Have you ever seen an adult behaving like an impetious three year old? It was priceless!

As we walked past the counter toward the door, 'Little Billy' had decided he was now an airplane and was holding his arms straight out for wings, and soaring down the hall. I paused and looked at the wide-eyed pizza workers. "What?" I said, and just kept on walking. This was one memory I planned on keeping.

Once we were outside, little Billy (still in his airplane mode) kept running up and down the sidewalk. I was just ready to turn him back into his adult persona when he stopped on his own. He had this 'deer caught in the headlights' look in his eyes, and appeared rather panicked. I hurried over to him as he started bending at the knees and kind of whimpering....loudly.

Alarmed, I put my hand on his shoulder. "Billy? What's wrong?"

He kept bending at the knee and whining, and then he reached down with both hands and grabbing his crotch, began crossing and uncrossing his legs back and forth. "Bihhlyy have.....to...to....go.....PEE!" he yelled. The sound echoed throughout the empty parking lot, and I started laughing .....hard, which only seemed to increase his problem. "Bihhlllyyyy have to PEE now!" he yelled again. "I'm gonna have an Axxsidennnt!" At this point he was almost in tears, and I was almost crying myself, but somehow.... managing to free one of his hands from his crotch, I pulled him to the back side of the building. His hand easily engulfed mine, but he followed willingly. Since it was dark I felt we'd be safe, so I tried to sooth him. "Okay, it's alright now. Pull your pants down and go pee right over there Billy. I'll keep watch."

I turned around to be the 'look out' and when I glanced back at him, I saw he had his pant's pulled down to his knees and a huge stream of piss was now hitting the backside of the building. Guess all that scotch and soda had finally caught up with him as it took a long time to empty his bladder. Poor lil guy. When he was through, he turned toward me proudly, "All done!" and I froze. This guy had the hottest fucking dick I'd ever seen. To me, it was just right! It was 7 1/2 inches long ...flaccid, thick and cut with a nice vein on the underside leading to the plump mushroom head. Complimenting the whole 'package' was a nice big set of balls hanging semi low. I think I might've been drooling a little.

Billy broke the silence. "Bihhlly need help" and he looked down at his pants and then back at me. Apparently pulling them up was more complicated than pulling them down for the 'little' 40 year old guy. (Actually I think that's a problem ALL men have no matter what their age.) I knelt down part way grasping his underwear and suit pants at the same time. Of course I wanted to do more, but in this location, and while Mr. Simpson was in this particular state of mind...it wasn't a good idea. I could smell his musk, but then in one fluid motion he was fully dressed again and ready to go with his plastic bib and all. Okay he was almost ready to go. As I stood up he looked at me and quickly wrapped me in a full body bear hug.

"Thank you" he said holding the hug awhile longer. Then he let go and skipped over to the car, his black dress shoes scraping the concrete. I picked up his slices of pizza from off the sidewalk (still wrapped in the napkins) and walked over to the drivers side where 'Little Billy' was now playing the drums or rather pounding on the roof of the Mercedes. Ouch! That was going to leave a mark! I patted him on the back to get his attention. "Hey my little guy, did you have fun tonight?" I asked.

"Uh HUH!" he answered smiling broadly.

"That's good! When I snap my fingers, you're going to be Mr. Simpson again. You'll be your real age and act completely normal. Do you understand?"

He shook his head and said "Yeth".

And snap! You could almost literally see his faculties return. The innocent three year old expressions and mannerisms melted away and he smiled at me as his regular personality took over.

"Man that was a great dinner Mike, I had fun! You ready to head home?"

"I sure am Mr. Simpson" I said.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "I mean...'Bill'."

He grinned. "There we go. Let's go home". And climbing back into the car we did just that.


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