The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Christopher & Craig Part 5: Christopher Takes Control

Craig’s training has been progressing remarkably well. And the incredible part is that he honestly seems not to realize what is happening to him. I’ve been wanting to pursue other avenues of his training, while deepening his obedience. Tonight I’ve decided to pay him a visit at his apartment and experiment. Until now I’ve only put him in a trance in my den. It’s time to expand Craig’s horizons.

Craig opened the door with a look of surprise on his face. “Christopher? What are you—”

“My shoes are tight.”

At the mention of his trigger phrase his face went slack and his eyes relaxed. His entire body seemed to shift subtlety.

“Invite me in, boy,” I said quietly.

“Come in, sir.” He stepped out of the doorway, allowing me to enter.

I looked around the apartment. Somewhat typical college student’s loft. I sat on the sofa and turned to Craig, who was awaiting instruction near the door.

“Shut the door and come over here, boy.”

He did. I had to smile. His compliance with my commands was a good sign that he’d be pen to suggestion anywhere.

“Slave, I believe I’d like to have a pet today. And you will be that pet. And since pets don’t wear clothes, you will have to remove yours. Undress, pet.”

I watched as Craig quickly pulled his T-shirt over his head, mussing his hair. His smooth chest rose and fell rhythmically with his breathing. He unbuttoned his jeans and stepped out of them. Next he slid off his briefs, dropping them on the crumpled pile of clothes.

Standing there in only his white socks I was struck again by what a find Craig had been. A true innocent, with a trusting nature and a curiosity about hypnosis, the day we began chatting on the Internet was a lucky one for me. I wanted him as a permanent slave, but I had to be sure no one would miss him. This week I’d find out.

I opened the duffel bag I’d carried in from my car, retrieving a studded leather collar. I displayed it for him. “Slave, do you know what this is?”

“A dog collar, sir?” He sounded a bit uncertain.

“Yes, slave. Good boy. And who wears dog collars?”

“Dogs, sir!”

“Right. Now, slave, you don’t want to be a boy anymore, you want to be man’s bet friend. Don’t you? Say it an know that it’s true.”

“I want to be man’s best friend.’

“And who is man’s best friend, slave?”

Craig looked confused.

“Who wears a dog collar, boy?”

“A dog, sir.”

“And is a dog man’s best friend?”

“Ye, sir!”

“Would you like to be a dog, boy?”

He nodded. “Yes, sir.!”

“Say it.”

“I want to be a dog, sir!”

Amazing. Everyone thinks you can’t make anyone do something they don’t want to do with hypnosis. The truth is you just have to make them realize they want to do whatever you ask. I grinned. If I handled this correctly I could have a pet whenever I wanted one. I’d have to go slowly. That was okay, I had as much time as I wanted, and a boy in a trance standing naked in front of me, with his cock standing ready. My own was fighting to escape the confines of my pants.

“Boy, think about all the dogs you’ve ever seen. What were they like? What did they do? Keep thinking about dogs. Wait for me here.”

I walked into Craig’s bedroom. It was rather small, with a bed and dresser. I opened the top drawer of the dresser and found dozens of white briefs and white socks. Gotta love a boy who follows instructions. I took a pair of socks and returned to the living room.

“Slave, soon you should find that your fingers are curling into your hands like fists.”

I watched as they did. Then I pulled a sock over each of his hands, up to his elbows.

“You can feel that your hands have become paws. Dogs don’t have fingers, do they, slave?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you have fingers?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Wiggle your fingers, slave.”

He tried valiantly, but he couldn’t make them wiggle.

“Do you have fingers, slave?”

He slowly shook his head. “No, sir.”

“That’s right. Dogs don’t wear clothes and they don’t have fingers.” I stood directly in front of him and ran my tongue over his lips. Our faces were inches apart, and I spoke softly. “You know what else dogs don’t do, slave?”

He shook his head.

“Dogs don’t speak English. Do they, slave?”

Craig’s face contorted in confusion.

“Relax. It’s all right. You cannot speak English, slave. Language no longer has meaning for you. Your tongue cannot form words anymore. You can understand my words, but cannot reply. Nod your head, slave, if you understand.”

Craig nodded.

“Dogs can communicate. Dogs bark, and yelp, and whine. So you can bark, and yelp, and whine. Because you told me you want to be a dog. So speak, slave. Speak.”

He emitted a bark.

“Good boy.” I caressed his cheek. “There is something you forgot, slave. Dogs don’t stand on two feet. So you can’t stand on two feet.”

He suddenly pitched off balance, but I caught him and helped him to the floor.

“You will walk on all fours from now on like the dog that you want to be. Now sit. Sit, boy.”

He leaned back on his haunches and supported himself on his hands.

I picked up the studded collar and held it for him to see again. “This collar is very important, slave. Once you are wearing it you will be a dog. And you will remain a dog until I remove the collar. From now on whenever you feel the leather of your collar around your neck you will return to being a dog. Do you understand, boy?”

He whimpered.

I fastened the collar around his neck and stepped back. His mouth opened and he began to pant. Incredible. I hadn’t even suggested that. God, he looked cute in leather and socks. I should pursue that.

“When I count three you will live as a dog. You will only do what dogs do; act as dogs act. You will stay a dog until the collar comes off. 1...you’re a dog until the collar comes off. 2...you’ll live as a dog. 3.”

Dog-craig blinked several times. I mussed his hair with my hand and he peered up at me.

“Are you thirsty, boy?”

Dog-craig jumped to all fours and dog-walked into the kitchenette. I opened the cabinet and found a bowl which I filled from the tap and set on the floor before him. Dog-craig lapped water from it.

I patted his head. “Good dog.”

He followed me on all fours back to the living room. I picked up his discarded jeans and removed the keys from the pocket, then sat on the couch.

“Sit, dog.”

He sat on the floor beside me. I pat his head. “You’re a good dog. Your master is very happy.”

He barked.

I glanced at my watch. I had spent enough time here tonight, I still had work to do at home. I stood and walked to the door. Dog-craig scampered after me.

“You stay here, dog. I’ll come back tomorrow to feed you and check on you. You be a good dog until then.”

I grinned. Like he had a choice.

To be continued in Part 6...

Part 6: Christopher’s Puppet

Wednesday night when I unlocked the door to Craig’s apartment I found him sitting on the other side waiting for me. He was panting, and began to whimper when he saw me.

I patted his head. “There’s my good dog. I brought you some food. Are you hungry?”

He scurried into the kitchen after me. I refilled his water bowl from the tap and put out a second bowl with the cut up hamburger I’d brought.

It took him a short while to get the hang of eating from the bowl on the floor, dog-style, but he did it. When he had finished he licked his lips and sat watching me.

“I wonder what you’re thinking, dog.” I smiled. Probably that you’re sorry you said you wanted to be a dog. I stroked his hair. “My shoes are tight.”

Dog-craig relaxed.

“Dog, I want you to remember everything it feels like to be a dog. I am going to remove your collar and you will be slave again. But when I put your collar on again. you will again be a dog. 1...2...3.”

I unfastened the collar. Slave looked slightly disoriented. He stretched a little, painfully.

“You may stand and stretch your legs.”

He did. Slowly and a bit wobbly at first, he drew himself up on two feet.

“How do you feel, boy?”

“Sore, sir.” His voice cracked a little.

“Well, I can fix that for you. You’ve made your master happy. My shoes are tight.” His body relaxed and I pulled the socks off his hands. “Slave, when I count 3 you will discover that the sensations you felt and thought were pain are now pleasurable. 1...2...3.”

Slave’s face lit with a smile. He had the stubble of a beard growing in. I wondered how he’d look with a beard or goatee.

“Slave, go shower and fix yourself up. Don’t shave. When you’re done return to me. You won’t need clothes.”

I sat on the couch and waited for him to return, thumbing through the day’s mail. Bills and junk. No personal letters. And there wasn’t a call on the answering machine. This was a good sign. Craig Matthews spent the last 24 hours living as a dog and not one person missed him.

Shortly he returned, hair still damp, clad only in a fresh pair of socks.

“Sit next to me, boy.”

He did.

I leaned over and began to kiss him. Hungrily. His stubble tickled my face. When we stopped we were both breathless. I needed that.

“Go lie on your bed and make yourself comfortable.” I followed him into his bedroom. Once he was settled on the bed I gave him his trigger.

“My shoes are tight. Slave, let your body go completely limp.”

I watched as his arms and legs seemed to deflate a little. “Now you should notice that your toes are beginning to tingle. Now they are going numb. And the numbness is spreading up your feet... to your ankles. All the feeling is leaving your feet... It’s traveling up your calves... over your knees... up through your thighs. Soon your legs will be completely numb... You can’t feel your legs, can you, boy?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. But the feeling hasn’t stopped. It’s still moving up over your stomach... and your back... through your chest... and up to your shoulders. As all the feeling begins to travel down your arms you begin to realize that you are becoming paralyzed. The feeling travels through your elbows... down to your wrists... and into your hands. With the last bit of feeling in your body you wiggle your fingers.” He did. “And then your entire body goes limp and numb.”

I tickled his right foot and caressed his calf. “Can you feel that, boy?”

Slowly he asked, “Feel what, sir?”

I smiled. “Good. Now when I count to three you will be completely unable to move from the neck down. 1...your body is numb. 2...completely paralyzed. 3.”

I climbed onto the bed and knelt over him, gently teasing his lips with mine. I would brush them, then pull my head back. He could barely raise his head an inch off the bed.

I climbed off of him. “Stand up, slave.”

Nothing happened. He strained to lift his head off the pillow.

“What’s wrong, boy?”

“I-I can’t, sir.” His voice sounded panicky.

“Stay calm, slave. What’s wrong?”

“I can’t move, sir.” He sounded calmer that time.

“Are you sure?”

His face showed the concentration and determination he was employing to try to raise himself off the bed. I pitied him.

“Good boy. Your master controls your body like a puppet. My shoes are tight. Relax, boy. The feeling is returning to your body. It begins at your hands, and washes up your arms and down over your body. When I count three, slave, you will awaken fully refreshed. But your body will remember how it felt to be paralyzed. Just like a puppet when no one is pulling his strings. And once you awaken you will be able to move unless I tell you to freeze. When I say freeze, whatever part of your body I have said will go completely numb and limp and you will not be able to move it. Do you understand, slave?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What happens when I tell you to freeze?”

“I will not be able to move.”

“Right. Because you’re my good puppet. But you won’t remember me telling you to freeze. 1...2...3.”

Slave blinked rapidly.

“You may get up off the bed, boy.”

He stood and stretched.

“You may dress, if you wish.”

I watched as he pulled on a pair of tighty-whiteys and a white T-shirt.

“Freeze your left arm. Come here, boy.”

His left arm hung limply at his side as he followed me into the living room.

“What’s wrong with your arm, boy?” I asked.

He tried to lift it. “I-I don’t know.” His eyes grew wide.

“You thirsty? I am.” I led the way into his kitchen. “Freeze your feet.”

I returned from the kitchen. “What are you doing in there?”

He rocked back and forth on his feet. “I can’t move, sir!”

“Unfreeze your feet.” I frowned. “Stop clowning around.”

He walked into the kitchen and I poured two glasses of iced tea from his refrigerator. Slave slowly sipped his drink and set it down on the counter.

“Freeze you right arm.”

Now both arms hung limply. But his cock stood tenting his briefs. Honestly, my own was rock hard in my pants. The feeling of controlling another human being’s every move was an unbelievable rush.

“Wrap your arms around me and kiss me, boy.”

He stepped up, inches from my face, but his arms still hung at his sides.

“Your arms, slave.”

“I can’t, sir.” His eyes pleaded for forgiveness. He really wanted to obey me. It was hard to believe the amout of control this boy had willingly surrendered to me.

“Freeze your legs.”

He toppled to the floor.

“Don’t fall over!” I cringed. I hadn’t expected the suggestion to hit him that hard.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Can you explain to me what’s happened, boy?” I knew full well he couldn’t, but inspiration had struck.

“I can’t move my arms or legs, sir. It’s like they’re not there. They won’t move and—”

“Freeze your tongue to the roof of your mouth.”

He mumbled something unintelligible.

“Unfreeze your body, boy. Stand up.”

He did.

I walked into the living room. “Stand in the doorway.” He did. I pushed his feet apart with mine so they were against the doorframe. Then I lifted his arms so his hands were flat against the upper corners of the doorframe. “Freeze your body like this. Can you move, boy?”

He again mumbled.

“Unfreeze your tongue. Can you move, boy?”

“No, sir.”

“Freeze your tongue. You will wait here until tomorrow, my puppet. Waiting for me to come back and pull your strings.” With that I turned out the lights and left.

To be continued in Part 7...