The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Christopher & Craig

Part 66: So Many Men, So Little Time.

I was seated at my desk when Craig galloped down the stairs. He hopped up on the desk beside my chair, a grin on his face. He had showered and dressed in jeans, sneakers and a Henley shirt. His blond hair was freshly spiked. He looked at me expectantly.

“Can I help you?” I asked, glancing up from my computer screen.

“What did you think of Donald?” he asked eagerly. “Did you see how much different he is?”

I laughed. “Is that what you’ve been waiting to hear?”

He nodded vigorously.

“You’ve done a fine job, Craig. I especially like that submissive pose he always stands in. Nice touch.”

Craig’s grin ran from ear to ear. “He only does what he’s told now. And he doesn’t try to get away.”

I nodded. “You worked really hard with him and it shows.”

Craig maneuvered himself off the desk and into my lap. “So you think I’m as good a hypnotist as you?”

I smiled. “Maybe not as good as me...”

Craig smothered my mouth with a kiss. “So what are we doing tonight?”

“That all depends. What do you feel like doing? I told Wade we’d all go out to dinner. After that my night is cleared for you.”

Craig licked his lips. “The whole night?”

I shrugged.

“I’d better go down and check on Donald before we go.” Craig swung his legs off me and moved to stand.

I pulled him back into my lap. “Not so fast.”

He looked surprised. “What’s up, Chris?”

“I told you I was with Donald this morning. He’s fine.”

“I just want to check on him—”

I didn’t want Craig to see what I’d done until it was complete. Without an explanation I had only one option.

“My shoes are tight.”

Craig went limp in my arms.

I shifted his weight toward me, then reached for the bottom desk drawer. It was a struggle to balance 140 pounds of dead weight and rifle through the contents of the drawer, but I did it.

I pulled out the leather collar and fastened it around Craig’s neck, then affixed the leash to it.

“1...2...3.”

As soon as Craig’s eyes opened his body underwent a change. He dropped out of my lap to the floor, landing on all fours. His fingers curled under into paws and his head tipped back.

I stood and mussed his hair. “Good boy, Craig. Let’s go up to the bedroom.”

I tugged on the leash and Dogcraig followed beside me down the hall, up the stairs and into the bedroom.

I shut the door and removed the leash. Then I knelt down. Craig nuzzled my face with his.

I moved around him and pulled off his sneakers, tickling the soles of his feet as I did. He swung around in a circle on all fours. I reached around his waist and pulled the Henley shirt up around his neck. His head popped out of it and his mouth dropped open as he began to pant. I tugged it down over his arms and pulled it free of his hands.

Dogcraig panted happily, still clad in his jeans. I didn’t see a way to get them off of him without removing the collar, so I decided to leave them on for now.

I tousled his hair. “You’re a good boy, Craig. And I’m sorry to do this to you, but you would’ve tried to hypnotize Donald if you’d seen him, and I’m not finished with him. Now, I’m going to take Wade to dinner and you’re going to stay here. When I get home we’ll still have some fun like I promised.”

I got to my feet and walked to the chest of drawers. I pulled a sweater on over my T-shirt and headed for the bedroom door. Dogcraig followed on all fours.

“Sit!” I commanded.

Dogcraig sat on his haunches, his arms extended in front of him.

“Stay!” I walked out the door and shut it.

Just then the doorbell and the telephone began to ring.

I hurried down the stairs to the front door. Mike was leaning against the doorjamb with his hand, sweating and catching his breath. He looked good—in a sweaty, sexy sort of way.

“Mike, come in. Give me a second, the phone’s ringing.”

I picked up the phone on my desk and watched as Mike walked in, removed his running shoes, and shut the door.

“Hello?” I said into the phone.

“Christopher, old boy? It’s Lee Phillips. I got your message. How long has it been?”

“Lee!” I said in surprise. Of all the lousy timing... “Too long. I’m glad you called me back. Can you hold for just a moment?”

“Sure.”

I set the phone down and met Mike at the door. “Queer Pizza Boy.”

He lapsed into his suggestive state.

“Mike, I want you to go into the bathroom, shut the door, and wait for me to come get you.”

He walked past me through the den.

I opened the front door and looked outside. I don’t know why, but I had the feeling somebody was watching. Probably just lingering paranoia from receiving that photograph.

I sat at my desk and picked up the phone. “Still there, Lee? Sorry about that. I had someone at the door.”

“Not a problem. What can I do for you, Christopher?”

“You’re still promoting fights, right?”

“Yes, of course. But I’ve never known you to take an interest in the sport.”

“Well, recently I’ve met someone who piqued my curiosity.”

“A new boytoy, Christopher?”

I forced a laugh. “No, nothing like that. I’ve come across a promising young boxer.”

“Really?”

“Yes. He’s in sort of a bad way.” I rolled my eyes. That was actually true—living in a cage in my basement was far from being in a good way. “He’s Mexican, came here for a better life. But he doesn’t speak any English and his only skill seems to be boxing. I was wondering if you have any connections that may be able to put him to use.”

“Is this on the level?”

I shook my head. “Completely.”

“I just may know someone who’d be interested in him. Let me make a few calls and get back to you.”

“That’d be terrific.”

“Will you be home this evening?”

“I have a dinner engagement, but I’ll be home later.”

“Right. I’ll be in touch.”

“Thanks, Lee.” I hung up the phone. Talking with Lee always made me want to lapse into a bad British accent. No time for that now. I had to find out why Mike was here. I walked to the bathroom and opened the door. Mike stood, waiting.

“Mike, have a seat on the couch in the den.”

He walked past me and sat. He had stopped sweating, and was breathing slowly and evenly.

I walked to the window and looked out. What was I expecting to find? Get a grip, Chris. I sat in my chair.

“Mike, what brings you here?”

“I need help.”

“What seems to be the trouble? When I saw you last night you seemed happy. You certainly looked impressive in that sailor suit.”

“After I left the Club last night I went to Stephanie’s.”

I really wasn’t interested in hearing about his straight sex-capades. “What happened?”

“When I got there I was feeling really good. I’d been at the Club and everybody always seems to like it when I take off my clothes. I like that. I like when men watch me dance. It makes me horny. But Stephanie was tired when I got there and mad cause it was late.”

“So you two fought?”

“She wanted to. But I wanted to go into the bedroom. So I kissed her. I was really horny. My cock had been hard since I left the Club. But every time I kissed her I thought about Nick. I kept seeing his face. And his blond hair. And his bike shorts. And I was really hard. But it was wrong to be thinking about him. I kept trying to make out with Stephanie, but the more we did the more I wanted to be doing it with Nick.”

“Did Stephanie know this was going on?”

“No, sir.”

“How did it make you feel—thinking about Nick?”

“It made me horny. But it was wrong. I was naughty for wanting to be with Nick instead of Stephanie. So I ran into the bathroom. I needed cum really badly. I jacked off. When I went back to Stephanie she was pretty pissed. I tried kissing her, trying to get hard again, but I couldn’t. I didn’t think I could cum anymore anyway.”

“What happened then?”

“Stephanie asked me what kind of fairy couldn’t even get it up for his girlfriend. She called me all sorts of names. She was really upset.”

“I can imagine. Did you make things right with her?”

“No, sir. She threw me out.”

“What did you do after you left her place?”

“I drove around awhile. I felt bad about hurting her. I love Stephanie. But I kept thinking about Nick. So this morning I went to his apartment. He was getting ready to go for a ride on his bike. He was dressed in a black riding suit. He has the most amazing body.”

Mike’s entire body underwent a change as he spoke of Nick. The tension he’d had as he talked about Stephanie melted away. Interesting.

“Did you talk to him?”

“Yes, sir. I invited him to lunch tomorrow. He asked if we could do it Tuesday instead.”

“So you made a date with him?”

Mike’s shoulders tensed. “It isn’t a date.”

“Relax, Mike. Breathe in and out. You want to date Nick, don’t you? Isn’t he the most perfect boy you’ve ever met? Each time you think of him you realize how much more perfect he is for you. You love everything about him—every detail of his face, every note of his voice. Isn’t that right, Mike?”

“Yes, sir,” he said dreamily.

“Good. Now it’s time for you to leave. I have plans for dinner. You may return here on Tuesday night to talk about your lunch with Nick and not before. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“In the meantime you will find that you may only cum when you are thinking of Nick. You must picture his face in order to cum. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good boy. I’ll see you on Tuesday. 1...2...3.”

Mike tipped his face up to look at me. “You’re always here for me when I need you. How come I always feel better after I talk to you?”

I shrugged and flashed him a smooth grin. “It’s a gift.”

He stood and followed me to the front door. After pulling on his running shoes Mike jogged down the driveway and out of sight.

I shut the door. Isn’t Sunday supposed to be a day of rest? “Wade?” I called. “You ready for dinner?”

* * *

Dinner with Wade was a lot of fun and just the type of vacation from responsibility I needed. The cute waiter who flirted with him gave him just enough of a shot of confidence to be relaxed and happy. We attended a movie afterward—one of those romantic comedy chick flicks that we both love but don’t admit to liking—and then stopped for coffee on the way home.

In the back of my mind all night was the fact that tomorrow he was going to have to call his parents. However, since he was now eighteen he really didn’t have to go home with them. The more time I spent with him the less anxious I was to see him leave. Then again, a teenager would complicate my life in ways I wasn’t sure I wanted to be complicated. I’d think about it tomorrow.

Wade dozed off in the car on the ride home. It had been a long, emotional day for him, whether he remembered or not, and he was exhausted. When I pulled into the driveway and nudged his arm I had a strange sense of déjà vu. The only difference was that the first night he’d come here he’d been a skinny, beaten kid who was afraid of every sound or raised hand.

I roused him from his sleep and he mumbled something unintelligible on his way up the stairs to his bedroom.

I checked for messages, but there had been no calls. Lee must not have tried to reach me. Oh well. As Scarlett would say, “Tomorrow is another day.”

I climbed the stairs. When I pushed on the bedroom door I met with resistance. I poked my head in. Craig was lying on his side against the door.

I pushed against the door. He woke and got to all fours, scampering around in a circle. He whimpered. I mussed his hair. “Yes, boy, I’m happy to see you, too!”

I walked to the closet and retrieved several lengths of rope. I felt guilty about leaving Craig home for dinner, and I wanted to reward him.

“Up on the bed, boy.”

Dogcraig climbed up onto the bed and stood in the center of it on all fours. I pulled him by his right arm up to the head of the bed and tied his right wrist to the bedpost. Then I climbed over the bed and bound his left wrist to the other post. He remained kneeling, his arms pinned to the head of the bed, mouth open, panting.

I reached up and unhooked the dog collar.

Craig’s body shifted. He stretched out his fingers. His back straightened. He closed his mouth, then licked his lips. He craned his neck to look at me.

“What happened?”

I was still holding the dog collar in my hand. His eyes rested on it.

“You turned me into a dog?”

I nodded.

“Why?”

“Do you really want me to explain now?” I asked, reaching for the button on his jeans.

“For how long?” he asked.

“A few hours.” I unzipped his jeans and pushed them down his legs, I pulled his legs out from under him and he landed on his belly on the bed. I dragged the jeans off his legs. He lay there in briefs and socks. I reached for the briefs.

“Did I do something wrong, Master?”

“No, not at all, Craig. This wasn’t a punishment. And now is your reward.” I pulled of my sweater, then stepped out of my jeans.

“We were down at your desk...”

“Shhh,” I said. “Don’t worry about it. You’re my good boy.” I climbed onto the bed.

To be continued in Part 67...

Christopher & Craig Part 67: Donald’s Curse.

The phone was ringing. Why was the phone ringing? I forced my eyes open. Craig was in my arms. It was dark. What time must it be?

I shifted to reach for the phone on the bedside table. “Hello?”

“Christopher! It’s Lee Phillips.”

“What time is it?”

“Did I wake you? I thought you’d still be up with some young stud.” Lee chuckled.

“No,” I said, feeling groggy. “What’d you find out?”

“We’re in quite a bit of luck, Christopher. A friend of mine on the carnival circuit is willing to take on your friend as a journeyman. It doesn’t pay much, room and board and a small living wage, but I thought your boy might be able to learn English traveling with the carnival and then possibly move on to better things.”

I rubbed my eyes. Not very likely, since I’d permanently removed the ability to ever speak or write English from Donald’s mind. “That sounds terrific. When can we arrange a meeting?”

“The carnival is out in Ohio this month. But I’m not far from you. I could come and get your friend and take him out there with me.”

“When would that put you here?”

“I could probably make it by early evening.”

“Wow. That soon?”

“Too soon?”

“No! Tonight’s great. I’ll have him all set to leave.”

“You never did mention his name, Christopher.”

“Didn’t I?”

“No, you did not.”

“Sanchez. Jose Sanchez.”

“I look forward to meeting him. And to seeing you. Too bad I won’t have enough time for us to get properly reacquainted.” Lee chuckled.

“That is a shame,” I said. I sounded genuine.

“I shall see you this evening. Until then, Christopher.”

“Goodnight,” I croaked. I hung up the phone.

Craig had pushed himself up on his elbows and was eyeing me. “What was that all about?”

“Donald’s exit.”

“You said something about tonight?”

“He’s out of here.”

“But he’s not ready to—”

I nodded. “He will be. There’s something you should know.”

“What?”

“The reason I put you back in dog-mode wasn’t to punish you. It was to keep you from seeing Donald. I made a few, well, changes.”

“Why couldn’t I see him?”

“Because I need another session with him to finish and I didn’t want you to be upset when you saw him.”

“Why would I be upset?”

“I did promise you could have him.”

“Chris, I’d share with you.” Craig was smiling playfully. He traced a line with his finger down my nose.

“Well, you seemed to want my approval for your work with him and I didn’t want to give the impression that I didn’t think you’d done good work.”

Craig kissed me. “I love you. You know that?”

I pulled him toward me. “I love you, too.”

“So can I have another boy sometime to play with?”

“First let’s clean up the mess we have. Then we’ll talk.”

“Okay,” he said reluctantly.

* * *

Early Monday morning I pulled on last night’s clothes and crept toward the door. Craig was still asleep, and didn’t notice as I slipped out of the bedroom. I wandered down the hall to check on Wade. He must’ve passed out as soon as he’d hit his room last night. He was asleep on top of the covers, still dressed. I walked in, pulled off his sneakers, and wrestled him under the comforter. He was really out of it.

I ventured down to the basement and found Donald/Jose sleeping in the cage. I unlocked the door.

He crawled out and assumed his submissive stance.

“Good morning, Boxer Boy.”

I circled around him, admiring my creation. It was time to finish him.

“Look how the mighty have fallen, Donald. Excuse me, Jose. Your life will never be the same now. I control you. You will do only what I tell you from now on. It’s a shame, too. You had it all—white-collar job, new BMW, an expensive wardrobe, nice home—but you didn’t appreciate it. You spent your time inflicting abuse on other men. You even had your own boy to serve you. What you did to him is unspeakable.”

I reached down and tugged on his balls. “No longer will you enjoy the perks of your position as Vice President at First National Bank. You’ve gone from VIP to nobody. The affluent lifestyle you were so comfortable with is gone, taken from you by force. You will scrape by with barely enough money to cover your necessities. You see, Donald Sullivan will never be found. Jose Sanchez will join the fair circuit as a boxer. A dear friend of mine is coming for you tonight. He’s arranged for you to travel with a carnival. In exchange for room and board you will work as a boxer. You’ll live your life on the road, sleeping in a tiny trailer rather than your spacious house. You will eat carnival food rather than expensive cuisine. You will speak only Spanish in an English-speaking country. And you will never be able to relearn your native tongue of English.”

I pumped his seemingly permanently hard cock. “Your Irish looks have been replaced with dark skin and dark hair. You will have fulfilled the path of a Mexican journeyman boxer, Jose. Not the life you expected, or were born into, but the life you deserve. Your body will take abuse as you fight; making up for the years of abuse you caused. And as your body becomes more battered with each successive fight you’ll remember the life you had and could’ve continued. Your curse, Donald—Jose, is that you cannot communicate about your former life. You will not be able to form the words to tell anyone that you were Donald. You will not be able to write about it. If you attempt to tell anyone you will speak gibberish; you will write unintelligibly. You’ve forgotten the name, but you will not forget the life.”

Jose was beginning to sweat all over. I pumped his cock harder. “You cannot escape back to that life. You are driven now by one goal: to box. Every waking moment will revolve around training or fighting. You can do nothing else. Try to tell someone. Try to stop training. Try to run away from the carnival. You can’t. It is ingrained in you. You will train and fight until you die.”

Jose’s breathing had quickened. Physically he needed to cum. But he was unable to. Good work, Craig.

“Even if you could tell someone of your fate no one would believe you. You are unrecognizable. Gone is the fair-skinned blond man, replaced by a deeply tanned, black-haired Mexican. And you will be forced to maintain this new look. Once a week you will apply two coats of sunless tanning lotion to your entire face and body. Every three weeks you will dye your hair and pubic hair jet black. You must obey. You will use what little money you earn boxing to pay for the tanner and dye that you require. As the years pass your nose will be broken and your brow will calcify from the repeated blows to your head, wiping out the last traces of Donald Joseph Sullivan. Say it and know that it’s true. What will you do, Jose?”

“Una vez a la semana aplicaré dos abrigos de loción de curtido sin sol a mi cara entera y cuerpo.”

“And?”

“Cada tres semanas teñiré mi pelo y el motor de pelo pubiano negro,” he gasped.

“Bueno,” I said. “You will train outdoors whenever possible and wear sun amplifier. That will keep you as dark as possible.”

I let go of his cock. “Jose, people will mock you for your poverty and pity your lack of education, never realizing you were a respected, wealthy college graduate. I would pity you, too, but this is justice. You kidnapped, beat, and raped an underage boy. Repeatedly! You will never again be able to hurt a boy. Now you will feel the pain of being battered and bruised. And you will know that I could reverse all of this and give you back Donald’s life if I so choose. But you won’t be able to escape your constant training to find me.”

I threw the boxer shorts, socks, and sneakers to him. “Put these on.”

He stepped into the clothes and resumed his stance.

“I will count to three and Donald Joseph Sullivan will live only in your mind. The knowledge of who you were and the life you had will haunt you every day of your new, miserable existence. You will live by the programming you have undergone here and follow all of the instructions you have received. You are unable to disobey. In your mind you will remember what has happened to you, even as you are forced to train continually. The outside world will see only Mexican journeyman Jose Sanchez. Do you understand all that I have said?”

“Si.”

“Bueno. 1...2...3.”

Jose opened his eyes. He immediately moved to the stationery bike and began cycling.

I heard the hiss of sucked in air behind me.

I swiveled around. Craig was standing on the stairs, his mouth agape. “I-I was coming down to get him showered and fed, like I usually do.”

Craig walked down the last few stairs and stood beside me. “What happened to him?”

“He’s done. His name is Jose Sanchez. He’s a Mexican journeyman boxer. He’s joining the carnival circuit.”

Craig stared wide-eyed. “Won’t he tell somebody what happened?”

I turned to him. “Did you?”

Craig sputtered a moment. “Oh.”

I grinned. “Besides, he only speaks Spanish now.”

“Geez. All I did was make him box.”

I wrapped my arm around Craig’s shoulders. “Craig, you did a lot with him. All your prep work is what made it easy for me to finish him off in two days.”

Craig’s face lit up.

“What’s with him not being able to cum?”

“You like that?” he asked. “I read that good boxers should be able to stay hard, but not cum. So that’s what he does.”

“I have a feeling that was a metaphor.”

“Not anymore.” Craig laughed. “And he leaves tonight?”

I nodded.

“What are we going to do with the car?”

“I have no idea. I’m not even sure what he’s going to wear to walk out of here. That’s his only outfit.”

“I could hit the mall today.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“What would a Mexican boxer without any money wear?”

I shrugged. “You’ll figure it out. You have all afternoon.”

To be continued in Part 68...