The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I woke, in bed, in my bed, confused to be in my own apartment, a dream? No I knew it had been no dream and besides I’m still in the bodysuit, I find that out the hard way as I leap out of bed and land in a heap on the floor, feet slipping on the unwashed plates forgotten two days ago. And its weird, sitting on he floor nursing my foot through the moulded boots of the suit, I have wrestling suits of course, but to be covered like this somehow feels more right more complete. I find myself lost as my hands explore my firm body beneath the tight fabric.

Fucking get up. What the fuck am I on. Get your head cleared. Now I’m awake again, but this time I walk, determined, to the fresher. I fill the bowel with cold water, ice water, while averting my eyes from the slick skinned distraction of the mirror, full, I plunge my head in, under the water, like knifes, cutting my skin until numb, 30 seconds under, the cold now ache working its way in 60 seconds and hold, my skull bare and raw, my head pushes deeper, a ribbon of ice, a noose around my neck, sound cut out as my ears scream with the cold which rushes in to fill them, two minutes and 30, .... more. Fuck this for a game. I rip my self from the water. I feel like I’ve left my skin in it, half expect to see my face like some impression moulded into the surface, but its just water, and I dry my shock of blond hair roughly with the nearest towel.

Fuck that’s cold, trying to rub life into them, my ears that is, half expecting them to come off. But my heads clear, at least I think it is. I’m used to being certain, to being in charge, to being on top, but now this, and I’m not sure, I can feel the want of it, the want of him, the need to obey him, eating through the back of my head. I have to go to him, to face up to him and be sure about my fate. It’s time this came off for a start, walking back to the bed, reaching behind me to pull down the zip on the bodysuit.

- What the... -

I can’t explain what happened, I could feel my fingers touch the zip and then nothing, nothing happened at all, no pain no struggle, my arm simply stopped moving. Confused I tried again, same result, nothing, and I’m still trapped in this suit.

Enough! Fucking face up to it, get my self psyched up deep breathing, sprint up the stairs, taking three at a time, arriving with a thump on the top floor and then hammer on his door. Waiting cools my temper, a little, as he opens the door in his own time to find me glowering at him.

He smiles, confident, certain and I’m unsure of myself for the first time in my life. He looks me up and down slowly.

- Well Ben, to what do I owe this pleasure -

- I want it off! -

- Do you want out Ben, you don’t have to go any deeper-

- No but.. I can’t wear this all day .. I’ve got essay to finish -

And he waits for me to run down.

- Be still boy -

And I couldn’t move I just stood there.

- I think its time you went to the library. Time to finish your essay boy. Time to hand it in, and, keep the bodysuit on boy. You won’t be able to take it off. You won’t be able to cover it over. You’ll be out all day, in public, showing your stuff, now make your master proud and if your asked ...—

And that’s how I found myself in the college library after walk-in there on automatic a brown leather satchel for my notes, slung over my shoulder, like some handbag. Walk-in through the town being stared at, and sniggered at, a whistle from a building site, as I wait for the lights to change and to be told to walk in green.

- Nice suit girlie—and—Nice ass—from above, shit I want to crawl into a hole and die, but can’t, eyes up straight ahead, a puppet crosses main street. At least the library was empty, as usual. The librarian just raised one of her eyebrows at me, hope she thinks its some frat thing. At least I’ not seen anyone else from the team, that I had been dreading. Being gay is one thing, but being like this in public. But in the library I’m safe, they’re a rear sight in here, only to be caught near books on the odd days of panic before deadlines. I reached the Latin text section, glad to be hidden by the tall racks of books. I breathed out deeply, hoping that this was a sign that some control had returned to me.

- Ben what are you wearing? -

I turned, spun, to find Wesley standing there, looking down at me with a wide grin. I had a cover story ready, a bet, a team bed, lost and.. I heard myself speak.

- My master commands me to wear this slave suit -

And it just came out, I didn’t need to be made to stand still, I was rooted to the spot.

- Looks like you suit it Ben -

And he walks off, still with that fucking grin on his face. That was it I knew the books I wanted and then I was out of there. I worked harder and faster than I had in my life. Like a machine to finish that last essay and then take it across to the lecture block and slide it under my tutor’s door. Only a few cleaners to be seen in the empty halls, they pay me little attention, there have been stranger things seen on campus. At least now I seemed to have control of my body back, which if anything is worse, as I moved awkward, self conscious across the campus, trying hard to be cool with being out in public like this. At least it was getting dark early now, and cold, very cold. I run back to the apartment as much to get under cover quickly as to stop my balls from freezing.

I get back, its dark and of course the front door is locked with my keys, on the inside. I stand there shivering, with only one choice I press the buzzer for his apartment and wait. It crackles to life as I am trying to breathe warm air into my cupped hands.

- Ben you’ve finished your paper then -

- Yes sir -

- Come up Ben -

The door clicks open, I find myself thinking that my intercom never worked. I walk slowly up the steps my hand tries the zip, it moves slightly. I know that I could undo it now, but I know better than to try. He is waiting for me at the top of the stairs.

- Come in Ben I have something to show you -

I followed him in. I had expected to be in a narrow garret room, tight under the eaves, instead I found myself looking into space, standing on a small platform above a large dimly lit room. I could make out a number of dust sheets below, covering furniture no not furniture, I..

The door closes behind.

- This way Ben -

He leads me down the staircase to the floor beneath. I can see that the whole the house on this side has been opened up to leave the skeleton of the structure exposed and the missing tenants explained, its the apartments which are missing.

An artist’s studio, heavy bench tables are laid out with pots and paints, spray heads and compressors. I was wrong about the dust covers, there is no furniture, I can make out the figure of a man posed beneath, a grey silhouette through the fine cloth, standing on a low round platform, so still, but alive. He leads me through them, two more of them on each side, each hidden under the translucent cloth, only there presence, their line visible. He stops, a spotlight shines down on an empty platform, a bare circle, four foot across, the sheet draped at the side over a small wooden, waiting to cover, to cover.

- Me, wait- my hands out forward as my body backs away—I, wait -

- Ben -

- Ben -

- I don’t abduct people from the street, it has to be your choice -

- But you could hyp.. -

- Hypnotise you Ben, yes I could, but are you hypnotised now, no.You walked through the door all my boys are willing. But don’t take my word for it -

With that he pulled the sheet from the nearest figure and I was stunned, made silent by the sight.

- I’d like you to meet Zak -

It was the man, the stud from the website. The man I had seen enter the apartment below, this apartment. The man, the statue I had seen last night at the party. A models face, angular, square set and tall a foot on my height, and the body, lithe, tensed with frozen muscle. My age, I had I suppose being expecting marble, but his flesh gleamed, a natural tone but an oiled sheen, like a store mannequin, and the cock 7″ straight out like a ram rod; and I could feel mine again, rising, swelling to match it.

- Why don’t you touch him Ben -

I still think I expected something solid, but the skin gave naturally beneath its waxy coating, but he was cold, very cold.

- He’s cold—I have a talent for the obvious.

- Yes, deep hibernation, a combination of hypnotism and the chemicals on his skin, how else do you think anyone could stand still for so long-

- How long? -

- Zak, with that much coating on, a month safely -

- A month! He’s been like this a month -

- No, in Zak’s case it’s only been three days now, I had to respray him for the party -

- So he wasn’t stone—I knew it was stupid as soon as I said it.

He just laughed.

- No Ben, I’m a painter not a sculptor -

- But a month what does it feel like? Can you see what’s happening. Do you get bored? -

- Ben I think I can do better than that, but as to rest of your questions why don’t you ask him yourself -

He takes my hand and leads it down over Zak’s chest, wrapping my fingers around Zak’s ice cold erection.

- Boy, Zak, Wake -

And I can feel it, imagination and then real, a faint pulse, and then his cock twitches, my hand on his chest feels the warmth spreading through him, his cock hot in my hand, as my precum drips into the suit I’m still wearing.

- So your Ben, I hope your going to join us Ben—a new voice.

I look up into his eyes and I can’t break free, held by the gaze. My hand still around his cock, his hands pressing into, kneading my crotch, a low moan, a whisper escapes my lips. I can feel his hand on my neck, a brief tug and then he begins to peel the fabric from my body.