The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Bryce Dawkins held the weird metal cap with the antennae and stared at it. Having been fully briefed by Master Ginger on how to operate it, he considered the evil thing he was about to do. It was his job to mentally transform an old friend and cherished teammate, Chris Wells, into a mindless puppy eager to play at his Master’s feet. If Bryce refused to mindfuck his friend, then Bryce’s younger brother Owen, the real academic and athletic superstar of the family, would become permanently enslaved to a little nerd in his high school class, who would treat him as a personal servant and sex toy, destroying Owen’s future. Bryce couldn’t let that happen at any cost. And anyway, it’s not as if he was going to kill or injure Wells, just change his perspective somewhat, rationalized Bryce. Yeah, right. It’s just survival of the fittest, he thought.

The conversion would take several days, he had been told. He knew how far he had to get that first day, without Chris realizing that anything unusual was happening. Bryce watched as Chris came out of the locker room onto the field. Bryce had told him to come half an hour early to practice, knowing they would then be alone on the field. Chris fully trusted Bryce, and didn’t even ask why he and Bryce were going to start early.

As Chris walked onto the field, he noticed that Bryce’s baseball cap was not sitting flat on his head, as if there were something under it. He’s probably having a bad hair day, he reasoned.

He felt a brief wave of dizziness as he approached Bryce, who was holding a frisbee in his hand.

“So how’s it going today, Chris?”

Chris? Oh, yeah, Chris was his name, wasn’t it. He was starting to forget, since everyone in the dorm knew him only as Master Bieber.

“I thought we’d start by testing our reflexes,” said Bryce. “See how well you can catch this frisbee without knowing for sure the direction I’ll be throwing it in.” Bryce tossed the frisbee just over the head of Chris, who caught it easily.

“OK, let’s try it a little higher,” said Bryce, tossing it high enough to force Chris to jump as high as he could to grab hold of it. “Not bad,” said Bryce. “Let’s try it again.”

As the frisbee approached Chris, Bryce directed a strong thought-stream at his buddy, who leapt up and caught the frisbee—in his teeth!

“Good boy! Now bring it here,” said Bryce, directing another strong stream of thoughts. Chris dropped to his hands and knees and approached Bryce. When Bryce reached to pull the frisbee out of his mouth, Chris-pup growled playfully and tried to keep a grip on the frisbee with his teeth. Bryce finally managed to extract the frisbee from Chris’s mouth, at which point Chris’s eyes lit up in astonishment. It was as if his sense of smell had just been magnified 50 times! A strong manly aroma was coming through from Bryce’s crotch, and Chris couldn’t get enough of sniffing around there. Then he caught a scent from behind Bryce, and was soon sniffing eagerly at Bryce’s bubble butt. In his increasing excitement, he then got a whiff of the strong smell emanating from Bryce’s shoe. While he was savoring that, he noticed how comfortable he felt walking on all fours at Bryce’s heel. It seemed such a natural place to be! And that shoe, my God! If he could just pull that odiferous shoe off Bryce’s foot and carry it off to somewhere quiet, he would love to chew it to bits!

Next Bryce put down the frisbee and tossed a stick, and Chris-pup ran off to fetch it, bringing it back to drop it in front of Bryce, mostly to please Bryce, but also partly to get back to the sensational new aromas emanating from his captain that now filled his thoughts and desires. After letting Chris sniff around him to his heart’s content, Bryce saw that the rest of the team was starting to arrive, so he quickly had Chris stand up.

“Good work, guy,” said Bryce. Chris was a bit puzzled; he didn’t remember much of the last half hour. But something had changed, he just couldn’t figure out what. It seemed as if a new dimension had been added to his life somehow, if his mind could just grasp it. Later in the practice, Chris collided with another player at second base and they both went down. Chris instinctively seized the opportunity to discreetly get a good long sniff of the other player’s crotch before they both got up. He strode away intoxicated by the complex, exciting smell coursing through his mind.

Professor Merk’s undergraduate psychology course had been hijacked by the professor himself. Instead of going through the standard beginning psych curriculum, the now all-male class had been divided into several groups in an attempt to learn as much as possible about the metal caps the professor had discovered in a cabinet in his lab.

While the reverse-engineering group was probably doing the most important work, the professor found the device capability analysis group far more entertaining to watch. After several demonstrations of cap usage, the ten students in the group were given five caps to see how far and how permanently a subject’s behavior could be modified. The five who grabbed the caps first were the lucky ones, who were to give the commands, emotion and personality modifications to their partners, who were then mostly helpless in the hands of their controllers. Professor Merk reasoned, if one of the subjects accidentally became a permanent mindless cock-sucking vegetable, well, that was acceptable collateral damage for the advancement of science.

Once he realized what was going to happen, Mason tried to grab a helmet as quickly as he could, but he wasn’t quite fast enough, his lab partner (and roommate) Jerry grabbed it first. Jerry was one of those totally antisocial geeks that had no concept of personal hygiene, and living with him was hell. But there were no other rooms available for a freshman, so he was stuck. Mason was short but very handsome and quite athletic: he wrestled in one of the lower weight classes and was quite good at it. Jerry on the other hand was somewhat pudgy and out of shape. Although he had a somewhat cute face, it was not enough to compensate for the persistently greasy, messy hair, the unwashed clothes, and the untaken showers.

Mason had hoped that, by grabbing a helmet, he could modify his roommate into having more acceptable social habits, like washing once in awhile, cleaning his hair, and wearing clean clothes. However, when Jerry grabbed the helmet first, the scenario changed. Over time, Mason became more appreciative of Jerry’s slovenliness, and even grew to enjoy sniffing Jerry’s dirty clothes left strewn around the floor. Especially the underwear and socks.

In fact, anytime Mason complained about anything, Jerry would just wave a hand and Mason would walk over and stand naked on a pedestal on his side of the room, frozen with an empty smile on his face, and cock either limp or erect at Jerry’s preference. So soon Mason stopped challenging Jerry on anything. Even so, at random intervals Jerry would send him to his pedestal just for fun.

Back in the lab, the students with the caps were informally referred to as “players”, and their capless subjects were called “toys”. The players were instructed to see how far the toys would go to obey them. The toys were punched and kicked, used as furniture, humiliated in public, physically and mentally abused by friends and family (unknowingly under the influence of their players), and used in all sorts of creative and perverse sexual ways, for the purpose of finding the limits of the caps. The professor found it hot to watch the toys being helplessly experimented on, unable to stop the process, obeying horrifying command after command. Even after the lab closed for the day, some players would bring their toys home for ‘further experimentation’.

At the end of each day, Professor Merk would detach his lab slave Jonas from his cock and go home, where his two well-built home slaves, who had worked naked all day cooking and cleaning, waited to please him. Their parents think they’re taking a gap year, thought the professor with some amusement. The only gaps being filled are the ones in their asses and faces. Next year they would have their memories of the year removed and replaced with fake ones, and they would be sent back to resume their studies. They would then be replaced at Merk’s house by two new stud-slaves, after a comprehensive class ‘beauty contest’ that nobody but him would remember.

At home, the professor contemplated the progress made by his reverse-engineering group, while Rocky (he had renamed his musclebound home slaves Rocky and Arnold, they had no idea what their original names were) gave him a loving pedicure that included a lot of mouth action. The professor began to see how improvements could be made to the design and power of the caps, and wanted to set up a group to try these out right away. Since he had no more students, the easiest way was to divert a few of them from the group whose job it was to find out who made the caps in the first place. That group didn’t seem to be getting anywhere fast. But if the professor could out-design whoever the original cap creators were, it might not matter anymore. In a battle of the minds, the better-designed device would control the others. With that contented thought, he had Rocky and Arnold wrestle each other desperately for the right to suck out and consume the professor’s evening load.

As troubled baseball captain Bryce Dawkins made his way across the quad, he crossed paths with a somewhat pudgy ordinary-looking young guy with messy hair that Dawkins had seen around campus, although he didn’t know his name. As the guy passed him, Dawkins caught a serious whiff of body odor, and thought, wow, some people need a refresher course in personal hygiene.

Dawkins noticed that the student was wearing a baseball cap, but it wasn’t sitting flat on his head; clearly there was some other kind of cap hidden underneath it. As he continued to follow behind the freshman, the thought suddenly struck him that the kid was smokin’ hot, and that even a totally straight senior jock like himself should feel compelled to offer him a blow job, no, in fact would be HONORED to be ALLOWED to give him a blow job. Dawkins fought off this strange feeling successfully for awhile, but when he should have turned left at the end of the quad, instead he found himself following the freshman, at a distance so he wouldn’t be noticed.

The freshman entered his dorm and walked down the hallway. Dawkins, intentionally trailing behind, entered the building and got to the start of the hallway just in time to see the freshman go into a room and close the door. He walked down the hall, stood in front of the door, and, now what to do? He couldn’t knock, how could he possibly explain himself?

The door opened, and standing there in the room, smiling, was the freshman. The body odor pervaded the room, but now it seemed somehow different to the baseball player, as an indicator of intense masculinity. In the far corner of the room stood what looked like a very realistic statue of a small well-built student with a shock of black hair flopped over one side of a model-quality face, which was frozen in a not-very-realistic smile. A long limp cock hung down from the statue’s crotch.

The pudgy kid walked over to a recliner and sprawled down onto it, spreading his legs and grinning. Dawkins knew what he was expected to do, and felt a wave of gratitude come over him at being offered the opportunity. At the same time, he realized that it would be disrespectful to wear any clothing while performing his task, so he stripped while he contemplated his next task.

He had never given a blow job before, nor had it done to him, surprisingly. What was the first step? Well, he knew the freshman had to get hard for it to work. So he started flexing his body, doing muscle poses in front of the kid, hoping to get him excited. He twitched each pec, popped his biceps, and caused his muscles to ripple through his eight-pack. His own cock didn’t seem to need any attention; there was something about the whole atmosphere in the room, the temperature, the hypermasculine scent, that had already brought his dick to full attention.

His posing seemed to be working. The freshman was playing with his cock through his pants as he gazed at the naked athlete showing off his stunning body in a private show for his personal benefit. Finally, the kid couldn’t stand it anymore, and with one thought, the jock was kneeling on the recliner fumbling desperately at the freshman’s zipper. When a surprisingly respectable fat seven-inch cock popped out, the baseball player’s mouth was all over it instantly, drooling over the smelly unwashed freshman fuckstick, and then sucking in earnest. Although he had never done it before, guided by the freshman’s thoughts, he was soon doing an excellent job. Soon he was almost choking over the huge load the freshman had obviously stored up for many days. Not a word had been spoken the entire time.

The freshman smiled at the baseball player, who suddenly felt the need to thank his sperm donor in a meaningful way. He had to help the freshman get rid of his body odor by licking every inch of him clean. But that would take hours! He picked his pants off the floor, pulled his cellphone out of the pocket, and phoned a fellow member of the baseball team on his contact list.

“Hello, Jeff? This is Bryce. I need you right away. I’m in Royce Hall room 106. Just come in without knocking. Hurry!” And he hung up.

The jock and the freshman stared at each other silently, but it was not a stare of equals; it was more like the pudgy freshman was a cobra hypnotizing its newly submissive musclejock prey. Then, after what could have been a minute or half an hour, the door banged open, and in barged Jeff Garcia, the super-hunky catcher for the baseball team, and number one hitter. “I got here as soon as I—” began Garcia, until he noticed the bizarre scene before him: his team captain, who had urgently called for his help, sitting naked on the floor in front of a flabby little freshman, whose cock hung limply out of his pants but was now beginning to firm up again at the sight of the studly catcher.

The freshman concentrated his attention on the newcomer, and soon both baseball players were busily at work licking their stinky master clean. Dawkins started his concerted efforts with the freshman’s fat little feet, while Garcia worked from the top down, licking behind his ears and down to his neck. For some reason, Garcia was intensely turned on by the smell of the freshman’s greasy hair, and would stop licking to take a sniff up there every couple of minutes. It acted like a popper to his newly reprogrammed senses.

While Dawkins worked his tongue up the freshman’s legs, Garcia was busily moving down the little dork’s body, licking out his sweaty armpits, moving down his hairless chest towards the prize. The kid was in heaven as the two studly muscled athletes competed with their tongues to clean and pleasure their little master.

Soon, Dawkins’ tongue arrived at the freshman’s little ass, while Garcia’s began teasing the fat head of the sizable freshman cock. Unlike Dawkins, Garcia was no blow job virgin, and knew exactly what to do to maximize the freshman’s pleasure, having had extensive experience in training a variety of ‘bitches’ to satisfy his own BJ desires.

As Dawkins’ mouth busily tried to ‘sanitize’ the freshman’s ass—apparently the kid was no better at keeping himself clean down there than he was at showering or changing clothes—Garcia focused on teasing out the tasty freshman cream treat, using his very skilled tongue and throat to coax out the delicious baby batter. And at the exact moment Dawkins’ tongue stumbled across a rich-tasting pocket of chewy goodness in back, the talented oral servicing of the two muscled jocks on either side of his crotch drove the freshman over the edge, and his hidden metal cap caused three simultaneous frenzied orgasms, sending both hypnotized hunks to the floor in ecstasy.

A few minutes later, the freshman went over to his desk and got dressed, putting on the same unwashed clothes he had been wearing all week. Ignoring the two jocks, he clicked away on his laptop, verifying that the action had all been captured on the webcams he had set up in advance. Meanwhile, the two senior athletes quietly got dressed and left the room. Neither of them noticed that the long cock on the boy-statue on the pedestal in the corner was now fully erect. As they wandered down the hall wordlessly, they both wondered what the hell had happened, although Bryce had a suspicion based on his experience with the metal cap now on a shelf in his room. But of course he couldn’t share his suspicion with Garcia without revealing his own evil use of a metal cap.

The freshman hadn’t bothered to erase their memories, but there was hardly a need to. There was no way either baseball player would ever mention their experience to anyone else. The two jocks couldn’t even really talk about it between themselves without feeling a sense of deep shame and disgust, so they never brought it up. Bryce came to more fully appreciate the power of the metal cap, beyond what he was being forced to do in gradually grinding down the mind of the Bieber lookalike into subservient doghood.