The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Synopsis: Graham plays a game of Billiards, not knowing the table has special powers.

A Bad Game of Pool

CHAPTER 1

I placed a set of quarters into the tray and pushed it home. The balls rumbled deep inside the table and found their way into a nook at the front. When I fetched them out and started placing them onto the table the first thing I noticed was that the balls were completely different form the last game I saw. They were marbled slightly. But that didn’t make any sense. Maybe I was seeing things?

While setting the balls into the triangle I noticed that more people were starting to look towards the table. A man tapped on another’s shoulders and pointed at me. My girl grinned at the attention. She loved people ogling me for a change, which is why sometimes we run off to bars like this one.

“Looks like we’ve got a special guest.” Someone said from behind me. I turned around and saw a gruff looking man in a leather jacket and jeans. He extended a hand and I shook it. “My name is Cort.”

“Graham.” I answered, feeling the length of the hand shake go just a little longer than it ought to. “Nice to meet you.” He picked up a cue from the rack. “What do you mean by special guest?” I asked, grabbing my own.

“This is a special table. Those balls only drop once in a while.” He said, chalking the tip and suddenly whipping the piece at me. I caught it from across the table and his thick black beard was split wish a ferocious, eager smile. I pretended it was nothing. “Fancy table” I smirked, setting down the chalk. “You play a lot?” I asked, and the people watching laughed.

“I play some” he said, and another chuckle followed. “Especially when they’re such cute little things.” I gave him a cheeky smile, and imagined his face when I beat him and walked out with an arm wrapped around my girl. Glancing at Steph, she had a hand thoughtfully over her mouth which was smirking gleefully. She loved this.

Cort gestured for me to start, and I grabbed the cue ball. It was incredibly warm—hot even. I was leaning forward to take the shot. “Care to make it interesting?” I asked. Cort moved to the other end of the table and placed a 50 on the edge. I stood up and set the same down when he put his hand over mine. “That and a kiss.” He said winking. I glanced at my girl. She knew this was about the end of my comfort zone, and slowly licked her lips to egg me on. “And when I win?” I said, eyes lingering on her as she let the opening of her beer bottle glide across the corner of her mouth. “Boy, if you win you and your girl drink for free the rest of the night.”

I glanced at the clock. Half past 9, this would be fun. I lined up to break, and winked at my girl. I loved when she smirked with that cute little dimple. Cracking the cue ball, the oddest thing happened.

The sound of music and boisterous conversation vanished in a whoosh and every light apart from the overhead lamp on the table seemed to wink out. I stood up as the balls clattered about the table and looked around. Squinting I could barely make out the room, dim and withdrawn. Everyone was perfectly still, even Steph with that adorable dimple, was frozen.

“This is a very special table.” Cort said, a hand caressing the felt. “Once in a while when a straight boy like yourself sets up a game it drops these balls.” I looked at them and noticed words written on them that weren’t there before. A solid orange with ‘will’, a stripped yellow with ‘flesh’, a solid red with ‘lust’.

I moved to my girlfriend and tried to touch her, but my hands passed through her as though she was a ghost. “You’ll need to finish the game.” Cort said, lining up a shot. “Every ball you sink, lets you change one thing in that category in your opponent.” My eyes raced over all the balls. A purple with ‘love’, and ‘morality’ carved into a green.

He had an easy shot on a solid blue, but the ball was turned in such a way that I couldn’t read it. “Bad luck... Sorry, boy.” He said, striking the cue ball and sinking it effortlessly. I found the striped blue ball and saw “talent”. My heart sank.

Cort’s eyes fell on me and I felt something lance into my mind, invading me, making me gasp. It was the strangest thing being ‘aware’ of someone else in your mind. You’re so used to being alone in there, but here he was. The man’s eyes narrowed as he focused, and I could feel something in my brain click like the gear shift in a car. Cort grunted, his presence withdrew, and I was acutely aware of something being very wrong inside me.

Of course he had removed my ability to play, but how would that work? I eyed the board and could still see what needed to happen, so my sense of strategy wasn’t gone… He had sunk the blue, but buried the cue ball in my stripes. He didn’t have another shot, and when he did it scattered the balls. My turn.

“What does the 8 ball do?” I asked, trying to buy time. Cort paced on the opposite end of the table. “The 8 ball means you win. It lets you control anything you want. As many times as you want. Then the game is over and we go back to the real world.” I had an easy shot on flesh, yellow. “Physical changes in the body.” Cort said, predicting my target. “You could make me blind.” He took a sip from his beer, apparently not worried at all.

I lined up the shot. Blindness would win the game. I put my hand on the table and paused when I realized I didn’t know how to articulate my fingers to stabilize the cue stick.

Cort chuckled as I stared at my hand dumbly and felt my stomach begin to twist in a panic.. Wait, how did I do it earlier? I had forgotten. I knew vaguely how position my hands, but every time I felt like I was going to figure it out the knowledge vanished. “Like I said,” Cort started, arms crossed proudly over his thick chest “You’re really unlucky to lose blue first.”

I held the cue stick in front of the whiteball and saw it wobble in the air. Dread filled me as I glanced the ball sending it in a completely different direction. “This isn’t fair” I said.

“It’s not, is it?” he said, smirking. I saw him aiming for the red ‘lust’ ball, and considered flipping the table. But that would mean losing the game, wouldn’t it?

The red ball fell into the corner pocket. He glanced at me and smiled, then turned his attention back to the table. Another shot, and he sunk my yellow ‘flesh’ ball.

I wanted to run, but somehow I knew that running into the shadowy area around the pool table was pointless. “Boy.” Cort said, and when I looked towards him I was hit again. That familiar sense of the man rummaging in my mind, and then another shiver as I felt my belt tighten around my waist.

“Mmmm.” Cort said eyeing me from across the room. “I love a nice thick boy.” It was so tight it actually hurt, and I unbuckled my belt and unbuttoned my jeans to relieve the pressure. My ass was rounder, fuller. He used the yellow ball to give me a bubble but. “Turn around for daddy.” He said smiling.

“Fuck off!” I roared, and saw him leaning against the side of the pool table. Wait what was the second ball he pocketed? “Flesh is nice, but lust is my favorite one.” He said answering my question. “I only get to change one thing you lust for, so it’s always been interesting which one to choose.” He finished his beer and set it down before walking to me very slowly. I took in the sight of him, wondering when ‘lust’ would register. But nothing happened. Not until he was close enough to smell him.

Cort stood in front of me, and as I breathed him in my dick filled my pants. A rumble rose out from Cort’s giant chest. “mmmm yea you smell that, boy?” he grinned. And I did. It was deep, and musky, and… fucking hot. I let out a breath and felt my heart racing. Cort rose an arm over the back of his head and stood there. He eyed me again. “Go on, smell it.” The scent curled around my nose.

I wanted to. My mind was divided between the defiant part of me and the newly discovered desire to take in more of that delicious scent. “Well, well.” He said, lowering an arm. “You’re a strong one. That’s fucking hot.” He said, rubbing a finger against his pit and grazing my lips with them. The smell hit me again, and I wiped my mouth as though he had put dirt on my face. He laughed.

“Still my turn.” He said, turned back to the table. I noticed I was still breathing deeply, taking the smell of him in. I fucking loved it. I heard the crack of the cue ball, and he sunk the purple ‘love’ ball.

“It’s fucking over, isn’t it.” I said, grimacing. Cort moved towards me and I took in his scent, feeling dizzy. “It was over the moment you came here to play.” I looked up at him, and felt another shiver. His eyes seemed to soften, and when he smiled my heart fluttered. Resigned, I asked “So now I love you, is that it?”.

“No. You just love it when I’m happy.” He said lining up another shot. He hit the cue ball, and scattered the table, but he scored no points. Cort frowned and I felt my heart sink at the sight of him losing the chance at another ball. The love felt so alien, so unbidden. I should be hating him and yet that smile…

It was my turn and the cue ball was lined up for me to sink a striped green ‘morality’. Even with my useless aim, I could make that shot. And if I could make him feel wrong about what he was doing, I’d be free.

“Hit the solid brown.” He said, smirking. I looked at him. Solids were points for him. I saw the brown ball and actually considered hitting it to make him happy. My mind rallied for a moment—sink the green and you win—but the thought melted when he brushed a hand over my nose again. “Breathe that in, boy…” he cooed, and god damnit I did. I wanted to. His scent swam around me and I forgot what I was doing for a moment. Wait, I was aiming for the Brown ball for him.

I lined up the shot for the solid brown ‘obedience’, and he smiled. That feeling of butterflies filled me, and I aimed, seeing the tip of the cue stick wobbling again. Before I made the shot I felt him behind me, pressing against my ass. He was hard.

“Like this.” He said, holding my hand. I was lost, swimming in his scent. With his help my hand found its placement on the felt, and I struck the cue ball sinking the brown. He spun me so my back was facing the table and locked eyes with me again, smiling. That familiar bubbly happiness filled me before he entered my head, and I felt another shift.

“You made me very happy.” He said, smiling. I shuddered. “What a good boy you are.” He tousled my hair. The words rattled on in my brain. Good boy. I loved being a good boy. Cort raised his arm again. “Be a good boy and take in that smell for me.” I buried my face in his pit and took in a deep breath, groaning softly on the exhale.

Somewhere far away I heard the distant clink of a glass, and looked around. The lights of the bar were the faintest bit brighter. The world was returning. Cort noticed this too.

He moved to take another shot, but it was the 8 ball, and he would be hitting it prematurely. This would lose him the game. He struck the 8 ball and sent it creeping towards the corner pocket. The moment stretched like a raindrop about the fall off a leaf. But the 8 ball didn’t sink.

“Listen to me…” he said, guiding me by the hips towards a particular area of the table. I forgot the rest of the bar. “It would make me so happy if my good little boy sunk the black.” Cort buried his hand in his pants, and massaged himself.

I eyed the shot he had me aiming at. I couldn’t miss it. I heard someone laughing in the distance.

“Boy.” He said, with the slightest hint of urgency. “Sink the black.” His hand was over my face and I felt the smell of his sex on him. A moan crawled out of my throat and some small part of me rallied in frustration at how pathetic that was. His hand was against my back and I felt myself leaning forward to make the shot

“Sink it. Now.”

I struck the cueball and saw the 8 ball sink.

The pub was suddenly quieted once again and the lights faded. “Atta boy.” He said plucking the remaining orange and green solid balls and tossed them into their holes. “Can’t forget these ones.

You’re a good boy for forfeiting.” He said, grinning and my heart skipped. Cort grabbed me by the low of my back and looked at me. I felt him inside my mind once again. And this time he changed everything.

I felt myself shrinking enough in height that my eyes were level with his chest. My back arched and I felt my chest fill out and hair curl out from my body. Callouses formed on my hands from where I remember working out. A terrible itch on my face as stubble grew suddenly. Something deep and hot tingled in my ass, and I was baffled at how completely Cort was changing me—even turning my insides by design into the perfect hole for fucking. Satisfied with my body he turned to my mind.

Memories were torn away so easily it made me wonder if they were really so important to begin with. He was reckless, like someone who was running out of time, and stripped me of memories with family, most friends, and school. There were painful gaps in my psyche, and the mind, abhorring a void was eager to fill them with anything.

Cort’s body filled my head. His chest, his legs like tree trunks, and that sweaty cock when he worked out. How much I loved to suck it - a flash of blue - how incredible I was at it. I was an expert. Cort’s voice swam in my mind, but it was hard to distinguish exactly what he was saying and what I was thinking.

Another man flashed through my mind, but I couldn’t make out who. And then another. And another. Men of all kinds raced through my minds. Their packages. Their smells. God, I loved their smells. Orange and brown flashed in my mind and I felt a phantom hand patting my head while I was on my knees in The Eagle. I was leaning against Cort’s leg.

Another flash of red and I felt a tweak on my nipple. Someone was fucking me on my back and tweaking my chest and I was aware of a piercing on my right nipple. The man fucking me pulled my legs up, his cock struck something different and I remember cumming. I remember cumming many times, then hundreds of times with different men, then so many I lost track. I loved getting fucked. I was hungry for it.

A barrage of memories struck and stuck in my mind: the smells of leather and smoke, the sound of a moan, the taste of cum. The moment stretched on as Cort raced through my mind and body, twisting my reality until I could barely remember who I was.

I opened my eyes and felt Cort withdraw from my mind.

“Such a good boy.” He said, releasing me from his grip. I swayed and stumbled slightly, unaccustomed to my new frame. When I looked at the table the balls were arranged in a clean triangle on the table.

“You’re going to experience some wild changes in the next month.” He said, picking up his bottle and noticing it empty, he frowned slightly. “You’re going to forget all of this, and it will return to you over a gradual course of time.”

He walked up to me and positioned me at the end of the table, and placed the cue ball. He was hard, and I backed into him, coaxing him on. He growled and bit my earlobe playfully. “Believe it or not you’re going to want to try to get out of it.” He said, pressing his heat against my ass. “I’m going to make damn sure that doesn’t happen, boy.” And I whimpered. I wanted him to fuck me. Why was he waiting? “Stand still right there.. you’re breaking.” And he handed me the cue stick.

He walked over to my glass just beside where the frozen Stephanie was seated, fished his cock out of his pants, and wiped his precum over the edge of the glass. “A little jump start to your transition.” He said, returning the glass and gesturing for me to take the shot.

A crack, and the balls scattered. Solids for me. My girl hooted at me and I lined up another shot, but missed. While Cort was lining up a shot I grabbed my glass, brought it to my mouth, and froze. Something was mingled with the whisky. I felt my cock stir.

I took a deep breath.

Then another.

What the fuck was that smell? I heard the sound of a ball being sunk, and watched Cort leaning over the table for another shot. My brain was swimming. I took in another whiff, before tentatively putting my lips on the rim of the glass. Salty and.. And..

“Like your drink?” Cort said. I was dumbstruck for a moment. “I can get you another” he winked at me.

My girl was grinning like a fool when I lost. “Serves you right agreeing to bet so much” she laughed looking at Cort who was returning from the bar with a drinks for the three of us. Was his belt slightly undone? “Don’t forget the kiss.” She teased.

“That’s right, how did I forget?” Cort said, but he wasn’t smiling. I hated this. “Just a peck on the lips, Graham you’ll be fine.” Stephanie said, sipping the new drink.

Cort stepped into my personal space and put his hand around the low of my back. I wanted to squirm. He moved close to me and I noticed his lips were wet. Closer still and a smell hit me. It was what was on my glass. Cort was slowly moving forward, our eyes locked, my brows furrowed with confusion. I felt like I was melting in his arms, and when he kissed me I forgot where I was.

Cort’s tongue found mine, and somehow it all felt so familiar. So right. This close I could smell his musky scent, and it felt like he was drugging me. He bit my bottom lip, tugged on it playfully, and held me still, brushing his lips against mine.

A few people were hooting and Stephanie’s face was twisted in confusion. I felt our hardons fighting against our jeans, and the moment stretched on for an eternity. Cort let go of me and winked at my girl.

“I’m going to hit the restroom and then we can get out of here.” I stammered, turning towards the head so she didn’t see how hard I was. What the fuck was that. “Graham are you okay?” she called after me.

Stephanie was waiting for me outside the restroom, worry painted on her face. I grabbed her wrist and we headed outside onto 14th street.

What the fuck was happening to me?