The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Spring break week at Master Gorilla’s house was going very well. Master Gorilla and his family were all now equipped with the new chestplate version of the Slave Compliance Device, so Slave Billy could take off his metal cap. Master Gorilla and Billy played video games sitting on the large furry carpet once known as James Griffith, who was convinced he was still trying to complete the “transition” back to human. Every time Master Gorilla or Billy lost a point on the video game, they would take out their frustration by kicking the carpet’s large gorilla balls, or slapping the immense ape cock that pointed towards the ceiling and refused to go down.

Slave Billy was testing the relay function on the new compliance devices. The former Alpha Silverback, now turned into a giant submissive punishment-craving ape-like floor covering, was in mind-programming mode, with his green LED lit brightly. And Master Gorilla was transmitting all sorts of nasty thoughts directly into his father’s brain.

“I think dad should stay in the cage for the rest of the week, I think he’d feel more comfortable in there until he becomes more human. And of course he can’t actually speak while he’s in there, just ape sounds. And naturally if he gets angry in there, we’ll have to use the electric cattle prod on him until he calms down. Maybe we can help speed up his transition if I wear my spiked shoes on him—I’ve got some in my closet upstairs. You want my extra pair?”

“No, Master, I couldn’t nearly fit into them anyway, your feet are twice the size of mine. I think it’s best if I leave my totally hairless fully-evolved feet naked and visible, so your dad has something to admire and try to evolve towards.” The giant ape carpet gasped and stared as Billy rubbed his perfect little hairless toes across the huge mushroom head of the once-proud powerstalk that formerly dominated the household, but that now lusted only after torture and teasing. Only a swift, strict thought transmitted from Master Gorilla prevented an eruption that would have reached the ceiling. The ape-carpet knew that relief would only come with permission from the more-evolved creatures sitting on top of it.

Meanwhile, spring break was developing nicely for the other Masters that decided to bring their slaves home. Master Stubdick ordered Slave Jamal to come home with him, not only to provide him with his regular chocolate protein injections, but also to whip the rest of his small-dicked family into shape. Now that Jamal had equipped them all with the new chestplate devices, he strode back and forth in front of a frozen lineup that included his Master Stubdick; his Master’s younger brothers, 18-year-old high school twin bodybuilding champions who (thanks to Jamal) now thought of themselves as the Pimple Penis Twins; and their father, who went from being proud of them to being deeply ashamed of them with just a few powerful directing thoughts. Daddy Dickless, whose cock was actually only a bit short of normal at five inches, was now furious at his wife for producing such a sorry set of half-males. And she, feeling waves of deep guilt and shame about it, cowered in the bedroom upstairs.

Although Daddy Dickless worked out regularly, his physique was not even close to that of his three sons, who had been obsessed with working out and sculpting their bodies their whole lives. Virtually every spare minute had been devoted to developing and improving their physiques. But now these handsome giant-muscled champions standing at attention were feeling humiliated and inadequate compared to the short, skinny black kid in front of them sporting the fat eight-inch hard cock that for some reason they were unable to take their eyes off.

Slave Jamal paced back and forth commandingly in front of the worshipful musclegods frozen in line before him. Actually, “minced” more closely describes little Jamal’s stride. “My Master Stubdick has ordered me to come here to make you more masculine. He believes that only a program of near-constant humiliation will motivate you to achieve this masculinity. Plus, in the week ahead, I intend to fill your mouths, asses and faces with my hypermasculine powercum. This will help you become more manly, more like me, which you want more than anything.”

Jamal smiled. He had other activities in mind as well. For example, he intended to favor one of the teen twins over the other with his chocolate cum injections. He would then cause this to provoke an intense wrestling match between the obscenely-muscled twins for access to his cum. The idea of these teen titans at war with each other for his favor turned him on completely.

“OK, here’s how we’re going to begin the program. From now on, you will all dress in tight pants that clearly show your pitiful endowments. You will find yourself forced to bring up in conversations all the time, with colleagues, fellow students, and even strangers how inadequate your bitty cocklets make you feel, and how you wish you could be like those full-dicked guys you deeply admire. You’ll redouble your body development efforts, because displaying your super bodybuilder physiques make your little weenies look even more ridiculous.

“You twins, you’ll go online and order custom T-shirts in your huge size that say, ‘Pimple Penis Twin’. You’ll drop your girlfriends immediately, which won’t be hard since they’ll leave you pretty quickly when you display your new attitude, and you’ll feel compelled to offer yourselves as cumdumps to the normal and large-hung guys you see in the gym showers. After all, you’re going to need continuous masculinity injections even after I’m gone.

“Also, Daddy Dickless, you’ll make sure everyone at your office and around town knows how ashamed you are of your tiny-dicked sons, so the others can spread the word to THEIR kids and help keep the humiliation going at school and all around town.”

One of the supermuscled twins, shifting from big foot to big foot, said “I gotta pee, can I go for a minute?”

Master Stubdick’s green LED lit up. “No. I’ve ordered Slave Jamal to provide an intense program of humiliation and masculinity enhancement, and this is too important for us to waste time in the bathroom.” One of his red LEDs lit. “Daddy Dickless, on your knees. All this is mostly your fault, as our father. You’re going to be our designated toilet for the day, so that none of Slave Jamal’s masculinity instruction goes to waste.”

The father’s green LED lit brightly. His eyes opened wide in surprise, but he found himself dropping to his knees and opening his mouth as wide as he could, as the muscular twin got close enough so that his inadequate little baby penis (as he now knew it to be) wouldn’t spill any of its considerable volume of frothy golden bodybuilder-piss. Feeling generous, Slave Jamal directed a thought towards Daddy Dickless, who suddenly realized he was drinking DELICIOUS frothy golden bodybuilder piss. It was the best drink he ever remembered having. He secretly hoped another of his hugely-built sons would soon provide him with another tasty bodybuilder treat.

Meanwhile, back on campus, Master Bigfoot, the junior wrestler with the size 18 feet, was sitting on the couch in the dorm’s break room, with WWE wrestling on the wide TV screen. Actually, Master Bigfoot hated WWE wrestling, since it was totally fake and made a mockery of real wrestling, which he thought should be more respected. But down on the floor between his legs was his little slave Petey, who loved WWE because he got off imagining playing with the huge feet of the overgrown wrestlers. While he watched the show, Petey’s fingers deftly traced his Master’s long toes, and ran his thumb down the elongated sole, causing a tickle. Master Bigfoot suppressed the involuntary laugh, since he knew that hearing it would cause slave Petey to engage in the most elaborate and fiendish tickle-torture of his feet, and he would find himself unable to order Petey to stop. Because his feet seemed to love being tortured and played with by Petey.

In fact, that’s why he was sitting in the break room right now watching that despised WWE. He intended to be doing work up in his room, but his feet insisted on taking him down to the room, where Petey was waiting to be ordered to play with them. Night before last, at midnight Master Bigfoot had suddenly awakened, left his room, walked down to the slave cage in the basement, and ordered Petey to sleep using his feet as a headrest. Then there was the time when Master Bigfoot suddenly had to run across the campus back to the dorm, and order Petey to cum on his feet immediately. He watched helplessly as Petey’s cute little dick rubbed across the top of the giant pods, then lifted the foot so that Petey could cum all over the sole and rub it in.

And try as he might, Master Bigfoot could not wash his feet. He switched from showers to baths so he could leave his huge feet out of the water. He wore the same ratty old sneakers everywhere without socks. When he examined his feet, he could see a few layers of unwashed, crusted Petey-cum between his toes. And yet, he could not seem to stop himself from ordering Petey to cum on his feet again and again.

His feet began to really reek, and his roommate, a preppy golden-haired lacrosse player and an otherwise patient guy, finally complained. That afternoon, Petey came to the room and began to give Master Bigfoot a thorough, long-lasting, reverent tongue bath. The roommate got up to leave at the beginning, but a red LED lit up on Master Bigfoot’s chestplate, and the roommate soon turned around, sat down, and began to watch the oral footbath with increasing fascination. He actually began stroking his cock in time with Petey’s tongue strokes, and found himself wishing it was him lick-cleaning the holy giant feet.

That day changed the relationship between Master Bigfoot and his roommate. The Master’s giant feet, once a source of jokes for the roommate, were now objects of reverence. From then on, the roommate spent less time in the room looking at Master Bigfoot’s face, and more looking at his feet. He also felt obliged to help out Master Bigfoot more often, coming to regard the Master’s suggestions and requests as orders. Although serving at the pleasure of the Master’s feet was all the roommate now dreamt about every night, he knew he would never be allowed the privilege of touching, kissing or licking those holy objects, because that was the exclusive domain of the Master’s personal slave Petey, of whom the roommate was now intensely jealous.

Meanwhile, Master Bigfoot was noticing none of this. All he knew was that his feet now seemed to have a mind of their own, and that they enjoyed being ministered to by Slave Petey. So Master Bigfoot really had little choice but to follow his feet around, and order Slave Petey to pleasure them however they wanted to be pleasured. His intent to go home for spring break was overruled by his feet, which just wanted to stay in the dorm and be admired and played with almost every hour of the day. In fact, Slave Petey was holding the Master’s right foot and using it as a jerk-off toy while the Master called home with a lame excuse as to why he wasn’t going to make it back home for the week. He had to hold a finger over the phone’s mic when Slave Petey exploded in ecstasy, shooting gobs of slave-cum onto his Master’s foot, and even past it onto his Master’s face and chest. The Master’s roommate, who had watched all this, felt a desperate pang of desire to lick the cum-covered giant foot clean. He watched the footcum drip onto the carpet as he struggled to suppress his own preppy prong’s need to shoot.

The next morning, as soon as Master Bigfoot woke up, his feet ordered him down to the slave room, where Petey was waiting with a smile. “I know your feet haven’t allowed you to cum for awhile, and you’ve got a big load built up in there, so I convinced your feet to let me reward you for treating me so well this weekend. How do you command me to do this, Master?”

The thoughts arrived and solidified in the Master’s brain. “Let me get started using your feet, and then I’ll force my load down your slave throat as usual.”

“As you wish, Master.” Slave Petey sighed with contentment, closed his eyes, and stretched out his legs towards his Master. Soon the Master’s eyes were locked onto those beautiful little feet, a fraction of the size of his own. His growing, obscenely fat six inch cock was a good match for the small slavefoot it was about to use as a stroking board. Master Bigfoot’s green LED lit up brightly as Slave Petey coordinated the strokes of the fat cock across his feet, while at the same time preventing the Master from accidentally going over the edge and shooting before Petey could stuff the bloated fuckstick down his tight little gullet.

Petey kept things going a long while, enjoying the friction of the increasingly fast stroking along his sensitive feet. The extended time frustrated Master Bigfoot, who was enduring an insane level of excitement and wondering why it was taking him so long to reach orgasm. At last, he was there, and Petey’s little slavemouth glommed onto the Master’s throbbing fat dick. By now, Petey had learned how to control the pace of his Master’s cumshots, giving him a chance to swallow almost all of the volume of Bigfoot cum instead of spilling it all over as before. As Bigfoot’s cock deflated and slipped out of his slave’s mouth, a pleasant thought crossed his mind: “It is good to be a Master.” Now if he could only exercise some influence over his own too-powerful feet...

A few weeks later, Marine Private Brett Griffith and his three Mindless Musclebot Marine buddies were taking a day of leave together, off in a secluded section of a park near the base. They were lying face-down and naked on a blanket on the grass, except for Brett’s totally straight buddy Jason, who under Brett’s orders was digging his tongue deep into Brett’s ass, thinking, “Must... resist...” then “...Yum!” as his tongue reached a pocket of delicious ass juice. “Must... stop him from... controlling... hmm! Is that a little piece of shit up there? What a complex flavor... What did he have for lunch...” As his tongue probed deeper, his mindfucked state was apparent from his fully extended cock, second in size only to Brett’s own in the group, and on the base!

It was still the early days of the Mindless Musclebot organization set up by Master Gorilla’s Slave Billy at Brett’s suggestion. So far, other than these four “charter members”, there were only a few involuntary “recruits”, all Marines. Brett’s buddy Kevin, for example, had always been gay-curious, but he wasn’t interested in tall hung giants like Brett and Jason. He was more into short stocky well-built types, little guys with bulging muscles who would have to look up to him. So his first “recruit” was Lance Corporal Swanson, a black-haired bundle of muscle only 5′5″ tall. When in Kevin’s power, LCpl Swanson thought of himself as “Private Mighty Mite” under the direct command of “General Bigdick” (Kevin). Soon he was discovering how many pushups he could do with General Bigdick on his back and up his ass. He spent what quiet hours he had keeping Kevin’s boots shiny (a job that kept his 5-inch dick fully erect) and helping Kevin out in other personal ways on command, like a devoted puppy.

Brett’s other buddy Charlie was describing his one-year-younger brother’s joining the Corps out of high school. Brett and Kevin couldn’t believe it. “Little Norm? He’s not Corps material! He’s too small and frail, he’ll wash out during boot camp for sure!” said Brett.

“Yeah, he may be small, but he’s got a big heart. And it would break his heart if he failed trying to follow me into the Corps. So I... fixed things.”

“Fixed things? How?” asked Kevin.

Charlie pulled out his phone and started a video to show to his buddies. There was Sgt. Willis leaning over a cowering Norm, screaming, “Drop and give me fifty!”

Instead of cringing, Norm smiled and dropped ... onto his BACK, opened his zipper and fished out a respectable, fully hard seven-and-a-half inch dick. Meanwhile, the sergeant pulled a flap on the back of his pants and positioned himself over Norm’s dick. In one rapid plunge, the Drill Instructor impaled himself on “maggot dick”. His voice came through loud and clear on the video as he pistoned his way up and down:

“One! I know you think I’m being... Two! Really tough on you, but it’s my job to... Three! Make a Marine out of you! And... Four! You’ll thank me for this someday...” Charlie stopped the video. “I have the whole thing on here, but you get the idea. Not bad, huh?”

“You ‘recruited’ our Drill Instructor?” said Brett with a hint of amazement in his voice. “But what’s gonna happen when little Norm has to hike twenty miles with a fifty-pound pack?”

“Er, well, the DI is currently under the impression that HE has to go the twenty miles with Norm on HIS back. The DI is determined to make a man out of Norm no matter how much effort is needed!”

Brett laughed, and looked over his back. “OK ‘Velvet Tongue’, I think you’ve done enough work on my ass. But with all that running in the warm sunshine, I think my pits need cleaning.” The mindfucked Jason could only think, “No... must get up... run away... mmm, pit stink!” Lap lap lap...