The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

PART ONE—The Introduction

Jason’s eyes opened widely and suddenly. The rumbling of distant thunder and a torrential downpour filled his ears as he looked around him, moving his gaze but not his head. His breathing was short and sharp; it slowed as he took in the surroundings of his room. He stirred a little under his blankets and felt dampness. He was covered in sweat.

He sat up in bed and threw off his heavier blankets. He was sleeping in just his boxers, so there was no undershirt to change, just blankets to toss aside. Looking outside, Jason saw the rain falling outside his window, some of it illuminated by a white streetlight a few yards from his room.

He looked over at Alex, his roommate. The two of them had shared their room on the second story of their fraternity house since they started their sophomore year a few months ago. It was large for a bedroom, but suited the two of them just fine. Neither of them was too messy or too neat, so rooming together worked out pretty well for them.

Alex, for his part, was sleeping peacefully. Light from the streetlight shining through the window fell softly on part of his cheek, showing a trail of drool leading from the corner of his mouth to collect in a small puddle on his pillow.

“Ewwww,” thought Jason, looking back outside at the falling rain. He couldn’t go back to sleep immediately; a nightmare had shaken him, so just turning over and slipping into blissful slumber wasn’t a possibility right now. Sure, he had worse nightmares before, but this one had been especially vivid. He could never just go right back to sleep, anyway. So, letting out a small sigh, he watched the rain for a while and reflected on his dream.

He could only remember a scene from the dream-nothing extensive. In it, he had woken up to find himself restrained, clothed only in his shorts and boxer briefs, and lying flat on his back on a table or cot-like thing. A few flickering oil lamps dimly illuminated his surroundings: he was in a small earth-colored room with a low ceiling; it reminded him of the kind of room where a doctor would see a patient, except this room clearly had different purposes. A dungeon, perhaps? Weird herbs, beakers, and bottles were on what would be the doctor’s counter where the sink was. He heard chanting outside the closed door, and footsteps. The wooden door of the room creaked open. A figure that looked like a monk entered, bearing a chalice with some foreign scribbling on it. Greek, perhaps? The hooded man helped Jason raise his head slightly, and then bent down next to him.

“Do yourself a favor and drink this. Don’t worry, it won’t kill you or anything like that,” he said.

Jason did as he was told and drank it down-yeah, that definitely was a dream, ‘cause Jason never did what he was told-and the monk-type guy left. He was thirsty, though, so he wasn’t passing up the chance at liquid refreshment. What the refreshment was, who knew, but. . .

A few minutes after imbibing the mysterious concoction, he began to feel strange. Figured. The drink was obviously drugged, but with what? Warmth stole over him, and his skin began to tingle. He seemed hypersensitive and strangely lightheaded. The warmth increased to hotness that radiated out of him and made the air all around him seem so much cooler. A dizziness that had been building deep within him burst forth into him, leaving his head spinning and disoriented. With teeth clenched and lungs heaving, he shut his eyes and,

That’s when he had woken up.

What did the dream mean, though? Usually, after a disturbing dream, Jason would lay awake, deciphering potential meanings and symbols that may have been embedded in his nightmares. This dream, however, seemed to come from nowhere.

But, it was too late at night, or actually, too early in the morning, to think about such things too much. Jason turned over his pillow (his parents used to tell him as a child that if had a nightmare, to turn over his pillow for better dreams), and lay back down. The sound of the pouring rains outside sent him back to dreamland.

By the next morning, the strange dream was a distant memory. Jason awoke to the sound of the alarm/radio and a few rays of sunlight penetrating the window. Groggily, he raised his head off of his pillow and looked over his side.

Alex was gone. He was one of the few people who scheduled early morning classes and actually made it to them on a regular basis. “At least he’s quiet,” thought Jason, remembering his noisy, obnoxious roommate from his freshman year that used to make all sorts of racket whenever he came in late or got up early.

“Mmmph,” Jason moaned as he forced himself off the bed and into a standing position. He wasn’t a morning person. “Shit, how does he ever get up this early?” Jason pondered, “so responsible and stuff. I should hang out with him more often-maybe it’ll rub off on me. Well, I wish, it’d rub off on me, anyway.”

Jason and Alex were roommates, of course, but they had their different circles of friends and typically didn’t hang out much other than when they were just lounging around the house. There were a few guys that both of them were good friends with, most of them fellow brothers, especially the older ones. Neither was too big into hanging out with the pledges so much.

Anyway, Jason went about making the daily preparations for the day’s classes and was out the door in no time. His mysterious little dream was forgotten beneath taking notes in Biology, cramming for a quiz in Musicology 101, and turning in a project in one of his communication classes.

The day was going well for Jason. The quiz seemed to go well, the professor seemed to like his project, and he even seemed to be making progress in the gym. After months of hard work, it seemed like his minor beer belly had finally begun to shrink down to normal again. Yeah, he’d gained freshman fifteen and then some; at least some of it was from working out at the Wellness Center a lot. The beer belly had only begun to form by the end of his freshman year, and he resolved to get rid of it right then and there. Trouble was, he wasn’t the most disciplined guy around sometimes, and, while he worked out with the weights a lot, he slacked on his cardio stuff at least half (more like 4/5ths of) the time he was in the gym. That, plus a regular diet of keg parties resulted in the little beer belly’s survival through the summer into the fall.

But now, for the first time in months, things were looking up in the waistline department. He got a few compliments that he looked a little bigger, too. He had to agree.

“Well, well, it looks like all those workouts are paying off, huh?” Alex said that night as Jason stripped to his waist and headed off to the shower.

“I’d like to think so,” he said back, smirking, “I can’t be getting fat so that everyone refers to you as ‘The better-looking roommate’, now, can I?”

“Oh, I don’t know if you have to worry about that,” Alex called after him as he walked down the hall to the bathroom.

Heck yeah, I do, thought Jason as he got to the shower. Alex was, as the sorority girls were fond of saying, the fraternity’s resident “Cuban hottie.” Jason, for his part, was an all-American hottie, but in a fraternity like his, hotties weren’t uncommon-this was the stereotypically good-looking frat, after all. Ergo, getting a beer belly was flat out unacceptable.

Alex didn’t have a beer belly. He was very much in shape because he played tennis all the time, and had that typical “tennis player’s build,” if there is such a thing. He was trim, agile, and athletic. He had this really nice face, too: large, expressive eyes, nice facial structure, and a friendly and disarming smile.

He also dressed pretty well, Jason thought as he finished up his shower. Alex was very much the Structure guy of the fraternity, and it seemed to suit him well. He had this clean cut, not quite a preppy thing going on. It matched his personality.

It was his personality that Jason had always liked about him, too. Alex was “the innocent one” as well as “the Cuban hottie,” and that made the sorority girls like him all the more-he would never take advantage of them, and was still so pristine and unblemished as a person. At least, that was as far as Jason knew. But being so charming, amicable, and optimistic, who wouldn’t like Alex?

When he walked back into his and Alex’s room, the lights were off, save the flickering of the television and the reading light by his own bed. Alex was curled up in his blankets watching Behind the Music. Jason set down his toiletries on his dresser and plopped into bed.

“Gonna get some sleep, bro?” asked Alex.

“Yup-yup,” Jason replied as he adjusted his pillow by properly fluffing it up and then flattening it out to his liking.

“OK. I’ll turn this down, then. I mean, I’m sure you’d love to hear about Madonna’s reservations about showing off her daughter to the press, but. . .”

Jason smiled. Alex is so considerate, he thought. “Hey, whatever. It doesn’t matter to me-I can sleep through just about anything, you know.”

“No, no. It’s all right. I’ll turn it down,” Alex said, adjusting the volume.

Jason smiled and turned his head so that it faced the wall. The flicker of the light from the television was the last thing he saw as he closed his eyes.

PART TWO

Jason slowly opened his eyes, blinking to moisturize them. Had he been dreaming? He was facing the wall still, but his breathing was shallow and he felt hot, sweaty, and sticky. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and there weren’t any covers on him. Light from behind him was flickering on the walls, which looked dingier than his room should be.

Where the hell was he? And then, in pieces, the realization came to him. “Wait. . .I’m in that dream again,” he panted to himself as sweat dripped off the tip of his nose and onto the “examining table.”

“Shit. Wake up. Wake up, dammit!” he told himself. Crap, what to do? Normally when he was trying to wake up from a nightmare, Jason would shut his eyes and concentrate. Nothing. He opened his eyes to the same orange-yellowish walls illuminated by flickering light. Hmmm. He could try to pinch himself.

Shit. No luck with that, either. “Whoa! I just pinched myself! That means I’m not tied up like I was in my dream last night!” Jason congratulated himself for his cleverness. With that, he turned over. Same scene. Doctor’s examining-room type place, with mysterious vials, bottles, etcetera on the nearby counter, and a lamp on a small table.

“Well, if I can’t wake up, I’ll get up and out of this dream,” Jason thought to himself. And with that, he sat up on the examining table, and jumped down onto the floor. One step to the wooden door, and, like a throbbing headache, pressure built up in the back of his head, ready to burst forth with his next heartbeat. Rather than flooding his pain sensors with stabs of agony, however, the pressure built and released itself into his mind as a euphoric and erotic feverishness.

“Oooh. This feeels. . .pretty good. . .” Jason slurred. Each beat of his heart and fluctuation between systolic and diastolic pressure flooded his mind with flowing, powerful relaxation; his stiffening cock with pulsing, throbbing, filling need; and his crotch and nipples with a pleasant yet sexually frustrating tingling. He supported himself on the counter for a second as the waves of exquisite relaxation and horniness washed over him. “I’ve. . .drugged. . .fuuck,” he managed, with eyes only halfway able to open.

The waves slowed down in their intensity and frequency as his heart rate slowed again by his standing still, much to Jason’s relief. He looked at the counter he was supporting himself on. Surely the stuff that he drank in the last dream had done this to him, he thought, as a pleasant fuzziness settled into his brain, making it difficult to think very clearly. The pleasant horniness settled into his body, too. His dick softened a little, but his entire body was left tingling with the need that only heaping loads of sexual tension and horniness can cause.

“Maybe one of these vials contains an antidote to that stuff that guy gave me earlier,” Jason reasoned to himself. That wasn’t a wise assumption, of course, but in dreams a lot of things that don’t make sense when we’re awake make perfect sense at the time. Either way, Jason was soon squinting at the labels on the various beakers and containers to determine their contents.

It could have been the drugs Jason had drank earlier, but all of the vials seemed to be labeled with Greek or some weird language. “Who are these people? Al-oh what’s that word? Alchemists!?” Fuck, it was hard to think!

“I guess I’ll just try one of ‘em and see what happens,” Jason said, trying to shake off the vacant blankness that was oozing into his brain. He figured he’d try the large beaker-like think with the blue stuff in it first.

Little did Jason know that in this dreamworld, each syrup, each tonic, each herbal concoction, was a formula that transformed whoever drank it into the ultimate manifestation of some gay fetish. He gulped the blue stuff down first.

Warmth filled him, but the buzzing in his mind continued. “Hmmm. Not that one,” Jason figured, and moved onto the small shot-glass size container of some coffee-colored syrupy stuff. “Maybe it’s like espresso-yeah, that’s the right word, right? Yeah. Espresso.” He gulped it down the best he could all at once.

For some reason, it felt like his stomach was getting full, so Jason decided to pick one last thing to drink. Decisions, decisions. “Hmm. The purple one is kinda cool lookin’, but it smells like cough syrup,” Jason thought. “The yellow one is OK. I don’t like yellow, though. The red one is prettiest, though. It has bubbles in it. I think I want that,” he said, very much out of it. In two gulps, “the red one” was gone, and Jason staggered back a little bit, engulfed in dizziness.

Just then, he heard chanting outside the door. Not thinking too much, he opened the door slightly, which made a rather noticeable creaking, and peeked outside.

As he peered out the door, he saw a colonnade that ran directly in front of his room and stretched out to the left and right, and an expansive hall beyond that. In one corner, the mysterious monk people were chanting. They seemed not to notice the creaking the door had made. A cloud of fuzziness passed into his brain.

Jason wasn’t even aware of it until it cleared slightly, allowing a few rays of thought to assert themselves. How long had he been standing here behind the door, staring out into the hall? It was hard to tell. Something felt weird, though. Different. Then he itched-a little above his bellybutton.

“Whoa! What the hell is that?” Jason’s mind, jolted into focus, asked. When his hand had moved up to scratch that itch-he looked down. “Oh holy shit! This is one fucked up dream!” Jason looked down his chest, or what was now his chest. He was gigantic! He looked like he had been working out with steroids for the past 5 years. That’s what had felt weird a second ago-his shorts could barely contain his thighs! Even weirder was that he was now covered in body hair. Short, silky black hairs covered his torso from just below his neck across his huge chest down to his abs and then up his legs to his thighs.

“What the hell?” he muttered in a voice that seemed an octave lower than usual, “What happened to me?” He had, for a moment, forgotten the need to be quiet, and covered his mouth with his hand, feeling stubble, as he realized his mistake.

It was too late, though. One of the monk people had heard him, and a commotion ensued. The entire group turned to him, and seeing him, raised their hands. Rather than chasing him, though, they began to chant, and their words filled his mind.

Suddenly, an openness seemed to be unlocked in his brain, and the need to be subservient began flowing in. Sensing what was happening, though, Jason resisted. It wasn’t very helpful; the need to walk over to the monk people to hear their instructions better swelled in his mind. Jason knew what he had to do. Flinging the door open wide, he bolted down the colonnade that ran alongside his room, and covered his ears with his now exaggeratedly muscular arms.

Now he was being pursued. The monks were chasing him after all, chanting as they came. At the end of the colonnade there was a long hall, lit only by an occasional lamp. Realizing this was probably a way out of this mini temple of doom or whatever it was, Jason headed for it, full speed ahead.

The corridor stretched on forever, it seemed, and Jason kept on running. The drugs from earlier were still very present in him, though, so the exertion caused by running also sent his brain into la-la land again and his body into a world of sexual need. The hallway eventually darkened into a tunnel, and Jason plunged into the pitch-black corridor, only half-aware of what he was doing but desperately pressing on to what he hoped would be safety.

Just as suddenly as he had been in the dark hallway, though, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. When he reached it, he suddenly found himself running down the hallway of his own fraternity house. To exhausted and/or out of it from the drug to truly appreciate the lack of congruence in his dream, he just stopped in the hallway, leaning up against the wall and catching his breath.

The door of Jason and Alex’s bedroom burst open, and Jason stumbled in, very much dazed and confused. Well, it was kind of Jason, anyway; it looked kinda like him, but weighed down with about 30 more pounds of muscle and a lot more body and facial hair. Either way, Jason walked over to his bed and collapsed onto it, totally spent, and dozed off.