The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

When he awoke, Burt was removing the shackles from his feet and then his hands. Greg felt so tired. His ass was sore but also felt empty. His glutes ached from the workout he’d given them during his fuck training. His body was tired from his morning workout and his mind was tired from what he’d witnessed when he’d seen the man-cow that had been Ted. When Burt released the shackles, Greg slumped against the post and would have sunk to the floor had Burt not grabbed him. “Come on boy. Let’s get you back to your stall. You need to rest before tonight’s show.”

Greg lay in his stall, nursing a bottle with energizing drink in it. Burt had instructed him to take it slowly so that his body could better absorb it. So he lay there sucking on the bottle with a teat shaped like a cock. Out of habit, he ran his tongue around the crown of the cock-head as he pulled the warming fluid through the piss-slit. And like a baby, as he sucked, his eyes grew heavy and he slept.

Greg awakened with a start. Handlers were moving through the stable, rousing napping man-cows in preparation for the night’s activity. Harry, whom Burt had called to take Ted away, came into Greg’s stall. “OK boy. Time to get ready. Let’s get you set to go.” “Yes Sir. Thank you Sir,” Greg answered and got up on his hands and knees. Harry snapped a leash on his collar and the fell in with the rest of the herd as the handlers herded them down the hall to the bathroom. When Harry had removed his collar, Greg rose and showered. As he leaned over and spread his ass cheeks, one of the other man-cows inserted an enema nozzle into his rectum, filling him with warm water. Since he’d been cleaned earlier in the day, this was just a “fresh up” douche to wash out the spunk Burt had deposited in his ass. Greg held the liquid for the prescribed period, then squatted over the drain hole and released it. The expelled fluid was slightly cloudy from the semen, but essentially clean. Harry nodded his approval and handed Greg a towel. After the cows had dried themselves, they stood in a line facing the wall. When Harry ordered them to bend, they all bent at the waist, reached back and pulled their butts open. Harry and the other handlers went down the line, inserting the nozzles of grease guns into each man-cow’s ass and filling him with lube, telling him was finished with a punctuating slap on the butt.

Greg, feeling the nozzle pulled out and the swat on his ass straightened and started back toward the stalls. But Harry stopped him. “Hang on boy. One more thing we have to do.” Greg stopped, looking quizzical. “Sir?” “Burt wants you ringed and you get a new collar tonight.” With that, he took Greg’s already firm cock in his hand and pushed back the foreskin, holding the head between his thumb and forefinger. He took what looked to be a mini-cock ring and placed it on Greg’s penis. It was just slightly too small to slide easily over the corona so Harry squeezed and kneaded the firm flesh, pulling it through the ring, making Greg groan from the pressure and exciting sensations of having his dick man-handled like this. Finally, his corona popped through the ring and it was seated behind the head of his dick, gleaming in the bright lights. “That’s your ‘no milking’ ring. It tells customers that you’re temporarily off-limits for milking. Now, here’s your new collar.” And with that, Harry wrapped a stiff leather collar, very much like his previous collar, around his neck. But Greg could see that instead of a single “hash mark”, there were now three thin, diagonally mounted metal bars glinting on either end of his collar. “Congratulations. Burt was so impressed with you skills at taking a fuck that he recommended you be promoted two levels. I don’t remember that ever happening before and I’ve been here quite a while. You’re a full-fledged Milk Bar man-cow.” Greg blushed and looked at the floor. He was thrilled and embarrassed at the same time. He’d found his gift. He could please a man. He was a man-cow! “Thank you Sir,” was all he said.

“OK boys, line up. Time to get this show on the road,” Burt was shouting from the stairs leading up to the Milk Bar proper. Greg fell in line with the other members of the herd, shuffling forward. When they reached the stairs, they closed ranks so that Greg’s ringed cock was rubbing against the cheeks of the cow in front of him and he felt the dick of the cow behind him poking into his own hard buns. “OK. We’re going to start tonight’s show with a ‘Go Fuck Yourself’ Now I know that Barber’s a new-comer to fucking, so I’ll explain it briefly. You’ll hear the rules again upstairs, but I want him to look like he knows what the hell he’s doing.” Burt laughed at his joke and some of the other, more experienced man-cows and the handlers joined in chuckling along with him. “Here’s the way it works: The five of you with three bars will join our customer’s lying on benches on-stage. You’ll notice right away that the customers are naked. They’ll be in various states of arousal, from rock hard to only firm. Your job, as the self-fucker, is to get your man hard, straddle him over the bench and mount his dick. Then you fuck yourself on his cock until he comes. The goal, of course, is to get your man off before anyone else. Questions?” Greg considered what Burt had said and felt a little nervous. He’d only just learned some basic skills, yet here he was with three bars and being asked to get a man off in a contest. But Burt thought he had a chance, so he’d give it his all.

As he pulled himself up, resolved to do his utmost, the door at the top of the stairs opened and the announcer was rousing the crowd, exhorting them to welcome the herd of the Milk Bar. The spotlights shone on the door and the line of man-cows moved up the stairs and through the door into the highlighted darkness and noise. They were a diverse lot, this herd of man-cows. A few were smooth, either naturally or having been ordered to be kept smooth by Delaney. Some were slightly furry in several colors, ranging from blond to light brown to dark brown, like Greg, to black. There was one with red fur covering his pecs and running down his rippling abs. Most were around six feet tall and well-built, but a couple were a little shorter and more slight. All were, however, well-hung with heavy cocks and balls that hung to at least just below the tip of their cocks. If they hadn’t been naturally endowed with low-hangers, they’d been stretched. A heavy milk-bag was a must for a Milk Bar man-cow. They moved across the floor and mounted the stage where, indeed, there were five low benches laid out perpendicular to the edge of the stage, each with a nude man sitting on it. The line of cows filed behind the benches and halted. The benches were spaced some three steps apart and the three-bar man-cows were situated in the line so that each was aligned with a bench. Greg was lined up with the fourth bench and, as he turned toward the front of the stage, he was facing the back of the man he would be fucking himself on. His fucker had broad shoulders and a wide upper back that tapered to a narrow waist. He could see the muscles rippling under the man’s skin and there was a patch of brown fur in the small of his back, just above his ass.

The announcer was speaking: “Gentlemen, tonight ‘Go Fuck Yourself!” Cheers, whoops and applause broke from the gathered men. “Let’s go! Get it on!” some called out. The announcer continued: “You know the rules; each competing man-cow has to get his man hard. Anyway he can! Then, he’ll mount his man’s pole and fuck himself until his man comes. The first one to get his man off wins the prize for him.” Another cheer rose from the crowd. “Men, get ready!” Each of the men spun around on their benches so that they were facing the line of man-cows. Greg got his first good look at his fucker. He was quite handsome and very-well built, with good muscle definition. His nipples were quarter-sized with cones rising high, poking through the soft brown hair on his chest. Their eyes met and he flashed a bright smile at Greg, his dark brown eyes sparkling. Then he winked at Greg and lay back on the bench as the announcer set everyone up for the “race”. “Men, down! Man-cows, take your positions.” Greg moved forward with the other cows and hiked a leg over his man, straddling him. “Ready, set, go!”

Greg reached behind his back and grabbed his man’s firm dick as he reached forward with his other hand and stroked his tits. He felt the flesh in his both his hands rising as blood began to flow in. Then he noticed that some of the other man-cows were turning to perform mouth music. He quickly saw the advantage and turned around so that he could do what he did best. He took the man’s heavy cock in his mouth and began to sing. He was quickly rewarded as the firm pole began to stiffen and throb in his mouth. Greg vacuumed and sang until he tasted pre-cum leaking from the tip. He knew his man was ready! Quickly, he pulled off him, turned around and moved back, lowering himself until he felt the tip of his spear against his pucker. He held the shaft in his hand and pushed himself down, pushing out as he went to relax his sphincter. The head of the man’s cock was larger than any he’d had to this point and the stretching went through him like fire. But he pushed on. Then he realized his man was talking to him. “Breathe deeply. Relax. Breathe. In, out. In, out. That’s it.” The fire was lessening and changing into that feeling that he’d so recently come to hunger for. He was being filled again! As he felt his inner sphincter relax and accept the penetration, he sat down until he felt the man’s soft pubes against his ass cheeks.

He paused just a moment to allow his body to adjust to the intrusion and then he began to work. Up and down, up and down, push and pull, push and pull, working the way Burt had taught him. His man closed his eyes and moaned, rolling his head back and forth as Greg rode him. Greg leaned forward and grabbed his furry pecs, twisting his nipples and pulling on the hair surrounding them. The faster he fucked, the harder he pinched and twisted those tits, urging the man higher and higher. Greg lost awareness of everything else. He knew there was crowd noise and the sounds of other men’s sweaty ass cheeks slapping against sweaty pubes. But the center of his attention and focus was the man-flesh filling his fuck chute and the man it belonged to who lay beneath him, breathing hard and fast now; as hard and fast as Greg himself was breathing. Still Greg grasped and pulled as he rose and fell on his piston legs: he grasped and pulled the cock; he grasped and pulled the tits. His man was beginning his “call” now; calling out unintelligible noises that still conveyed meaning: he was getting ready to come. Greg’s legs were aching by now but his man’s calls pushed him on and he picked up speed, even as his legs were beginning to tremble from fatigue. Up and down, up and down, push and pull, push and pull, grasp and twist, grasp and twist. Suddenly, he felt his man’s hips convulsing as he cried out and jerked against Greg’s butt, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Again and again he smashed into Greg’s ass as he came, spewing spunk into Greg’s gut as Greg squeezed the throbbing pole in his ass and pulled against it with all his might, milking it to the last drop.

Finally, his man’s cream was exhausted and Greg collapsed on top of him, his chest heaving against the heaving chest beneath him. His man was gasping and whispering in his ear. “Oh God. God, what a fuck. God, you’re good. Oh my God!” “Thank you Sir,” was all Greg could gasp as he tried to catch his breath. He’d lain there for only a few moments when the announcer came over and pulled him off his man. “The winner! Gentlemen, have you ever seen anything like it? What a show!” The announcer was holding Greg’s arm in the air as though he were a prize-fighter. His man had raised himself from the bench and had risen to stand beside him. Once again, Greg appreciated his good looks and well-framed body. “And for our winning man, our prize tonight: a free session with the man-cow of your choice. You can let Mr. Delaney know which one you’d like, but I have an idea I already know.” The announcer was laughing and Greg turned to see that his man was staring at him with lust in his eyes. He was sure he’d have another opportunity to be with this man. The man smiled at him and Greg returned his smile. “Thank you boy,” the man murmured. “I’ll be seeing you again.” “Thank you Sir. I’m always happy to be of service,” Greg responded.

Just then Greg looked across the room and saw a familiar face: it was his first Master, “Master Steve”, the one who’d given him the ring in his tit. He reached up and felt the ring and smiled at him as the man smiled back and waved. Greg nodded to him and beamed. Somehow, he felt a connection with the Master, but he wasn’t sure why. Then the handlers were guiding the contestant off the stage and down to the floor. They were toweled off by the handlers and then instructed to mingle with the customers and help them to feel “at ease”. Greg knew what that meant and so he moved to where his man sat at a small table, wrapped in a robe. Greg stood beside the man, his hands clasped behind his back, his head bowed. The man looked up at him and raised his hands to Greg’s tits. He fiddled with the ring in Greg’s right tit, grabbed it and twisted it while pinching and twisting his other tit with his other hand. Greg shuddered and felt his cock squeezed by the ring seated behind its head.

“You can call me Mr. Herrick, boy. I understand you’re a cop.” “Yes Sir,” Greg answered. “That excites me a lot. I guess you know that a lot of men are excited by the idea of using a cop or being used by a cop?” “Yes Sir. I know that. Which excites you Sir, if I may ask?” Mr. Herrick twisted Greg’s ring viciously and pinched his left cone between his nails, causing Greg to hiss. “That should tell you boy. Don’t be impertinent or I’ll give you something really memorable as a momento.” “Yes Sir,” Greg gasped as Herrick continued torturing his nipples. “I’m sorry Sir. No excuse Sir.” “That’s better,” said Mr. Herrick, relaxing his grip, but still keeping his hands on Greg’s chest. As he gazed into Greg’s face, he flicked the roughened cones with his thumbnails. “Yes, it’ll be very interesting to work you over. But I must say, I do want to milk you and your ring tells me I can’t do that tonight. But I’m willing to pay for more of your mouth music. Paul!” Mr. Herrick called one of the handlers over. “Yes Mr. Herrick?” “I’m going to have this cow milk me. Have it put on my tab. I’ll claim my prize next week when this cow’s eligible for milking as well. I want the full value of the prize.” “Yes Sir, Mr. Herrick. I’ll see to it. Would you like a private room, Sir?” “That won’t be necessary. He can do me right here.” “Thank you Sir. Whatever you wish.” Paul nodded courteously and moved away.