The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

As with any high school, college admissions are an important consideration for Academy upperclassmen. In the early days of the school, all it took was locating a SQ admissions officer at a prestigious college, and the pleasurable squealing heard in the evening outside the college’s office signified a guaranteed early admission and full scholarship awarded to even a mediocre Academy student. And of course, once at the college, NO ONE would ever notice whether the student was keeping up with the work. There were always “certain” fellow students and faculty members more than willing to help him through. He would almost always get his degree, often with (11-plus) honors or (12-plus) high honors.

However, these days, college admissions decisions are made more by committee, and financial awards are usually made by yet another committee. And the automation of standardized college admissions tests has made finding a SQ test proctor much less valuable. So the old methods don’t work anymore, and a new approach is called for.

This is what Academy senior Chad Lonsdale is currently working on. Chad has short blond hair and piercing blue eyes, and is sitting in the living room of the Woodson family, his nicely muscled left leg up on the couch, the head of his cock poking out just beyond the edge of his shorts above his knee. The three Woodsons, father James, mother Lisa, and son James Jr., SQs all, are staring helplessly at the giant emerging cockhead, like rabbits frozen in place gazing into the hypnotic eyes of a cobra.

“Thanks for letting me come by,” says Chad, although he is of course thoroughly familiar with the effect he is having on the unfortunate Woodsons. “There aren’t that many families in town that are, you know, as totally APPRECIATIVE of us Academy students as you guys are.” And it’s true. In cases where just one parent has the SQ curse, he or she has to hide it from the rest of the family by providing assistance to the graduating Academy student under the table. But in this case, Chad has a whole family willing to sacrifice for his benefit.

Chad explains, “I was an okay student, but not incredible. I did better at athletics most of the time. My baseball skills got me admitted to _____ College. But I didn’t get a big enough scholarship. I can’t afford to pay the rest of the tuition and expenses. That gives YOU guys a big opportunity to help me. And I’m prepared to show my gratitude to you right here, right now.”

The dad, James Woodson, makes a nice living as a lawyer, and his wife as a real estate agent. They are well off, but not truly rich. Their son, James Jr., is a senior at the local public high school. He is an excellent student, and they have saved enough to send him to a top college out east. But now that they have been presented with the incredible opportunity to financially support superhung Academy jock Chad, they realize they must rethink their priorities.

Chad continues his pitch. “I could certainly thank two of you today. Mrs. Woodson—Lisa—you’d definitely be one of them. I’d be happy to fuck you senseless and fill you with high-quality Academy sperm.” Mrs. Woodson feels herself going moist at the prospect. In fact, she feels a full-on orgasm coming on just at the suggestion, and she concentrates to prevent it. After all, if it happens too soon, she won’t have a chance to be impregnated by that demanding cobra twitching impatiently in the blond jock’s shorts. Being a repressed SQ, she married her husband in part because of his near-9-inch endowment, but this incredible student was in another league altogether, and triggered an immediate and irrepressible need in her to be fucked and pussy-enlarged by him.

“And you, Mr. Woodson, you’re an accomplished professional guy, and you look a lot younger than 39. I’ve always wanted to top a smart, athletic older guy, and have him beg to be mine. You want that too, don’t you?” A quick glance at the growing tent in Mr. Woodson’s pants makes a verbal answer unnecessary.

“As for you, Jim, you’re at the top of your class over at the high school, you were captain of a couple of your sports teams, you’re incredibly good-looking. Say, why didn’t you go to SPC?”

James Jr. blushes. “I applied over there, but I didn’t get in. I think it’s because, like my dad, I’ve got nearly nine inches down there, and I think the admissions folks at SPC prefer small-dicked athletes. I hope that doesn’t make me repulsive to you.”

Chad shifts his position slightly on the couch so his left sneaker can reach over and stroke the sizable bulge in James Jr.’s pants. “Hey, don’t worry. To me, you ARE a small-dicked athlete!” Chad smirks, and James Jr. blushes even deeper.

“But I think I can only ‘thank’ you OR your dad this afternoon. I don’t know that I can recharge TWICE after doing your mom. So who’ll it be?” James Sr. and James Jr. eye each other warily, wondering who would earn the right to serve as cum depository for the giant cock twitching on the couch.

Chad goes on. “By the way, if you guys do help me out, it puts you on the inside track to help my younger brother next year when HE’s ready for college. He may be younger, but he’s not my LITTLE brother by any means. He’s the real freak in the family. His cock is more than an inch longer and fatter than mine. And the way he goes, I’m sure he could do all three of you in one session, with almost no time in between.” You can tell that both of the Woodson men are picturing that scene and trying desperately to avoid shooting involuntarily into their pants.

James Sr. comes to his senses first. “Hmm, I was thinking that if we just give Jim’s college fund to Chad, we can still borrow the money or refinance the house for Jim’s college expenses. But if we’re planning for Chad’s brother, too...”

James Jr. interjects. “Look, Dad, it’s O.K. if I have to take a year or two off and earn some money for Chad’s brother. I know the economy’s bad, but I could flip burgers or do retail sales or something until we have enough to pay for both Lonsdale brothers’ expenses. My getting a law degree is less important to me than making sure both brothers are both cared for. Why should guys with cocks like that be denied anything? It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Right, son, and I’m glad to see we raised you with the right values. I could also trade in my Tesla for a used compact car, and we could skip our vacation plans and just stay at home, if it will help the Lonsdale men. After all, that’s what’s important.”

Chad smiles. “All right then, that’s settled. Lisa, lead me up to the bed where you and James made James Jr. Maybe you’ll get lucky and you’ll have a Chad Jr. who’s hung bigger than these two pitiful pimple-hung guys.”

The headmaster of the Academy is John McMahon. He is neither gay nor SQ. The trustees of the school are not idiots; they don’t want someone in charge who can be tempted or blackmailed into doing anything against the school’s interests. Mr. McMahon makes a very impressive salary, commensurate with the generous flows of money into the school from its hordes of SQ contributors and well-wishers. He has to supervise the investment of the money both for future generations of superhung boys, and for the ongoing construction of new and improved academic and athletic facilities.

By contrast, Bill Hoag, the principal of St. Peter Claver School, is, like all his students, a total SQ. Like most of the others working in the two schools, he is paid little or nothing, and took the job just for the honor of being near the Academy. His job doesn’t really matter that much, since virtually all decisions for both schools are made at the Academy. Whenever Mr. Hoag goes over to the Academy for a meeting, as he has today, he has to take an extra blood pressure pill. And he tries hard not to let his favorite fantasy run through his mind, in which he is kidnapped, blindfolded, and tied to a shower pole, and serially fucked by each and every Academy student in increasing size order. Just in case the fantasy jumps into his mind unbidden, he wears two tight jockstraps under his suit pants to contain his four solid inches as inconspicuously as possible.

Today’s meeting is about the need to expand the football stadium shared by the two schools. “I know we grew it just five years ago, but let’s face it, attendance at Academy games is way up as awareness of the school has increased, especially since that unfortunate Viagra incident at the swim center. Which, by the way, we may also need to build out somewhat. I expect ticket scalping at our upcoming home swim meets, until we can knock out the east wall and expand the stands for next year,” says headmaster McMahon.

An Academy student aide comes into the room to hand the two principals copies of the proposed expansion plans. The outline of the student’s long, fat flaccid cock is clearly visible down his pants leg. Principal Hoag undergoes some unplanned expansion of his own, but it stays safely contained under the table.

“But the way both of those facilities are positioned, that’s going to mean taking space away from the SPC campus,” objects Hoag. “And even though we’re usually league champions in most of our sports, our games aren’t nearly as well attended as yours, so we don’t need the added seats.”

“Yes, but think of the extra money the new seats would bring in during Academy games. We could use that money to provide additional SPC scholarships to more needy smart, handsome, athletic small-dicked, I mean genitally-challenged, boys,” counters McMahon.

“But we barely have dorm space for the number of students we have now. Where are we going to put the new ones?”

“Well, we have room for a few more people in the Academy dorms. I’m sure we could start a program where SPC boys who distinguish themselves, academically or athletically, earn the right to stay in Academy dorm rooms, even if it means sleeping on mats on the floor or in the bathrooms.”

Both principals smile inwardly at this suggestion. Principal Hoag knows that any of his students would do just about anything to be allowed to sleep at the feet of the Academy students, or near their toilets, watching in awe as their superiors’ giant hoses swing around as they casually saunter naked around their dorm. Meanwhile, headmaster McMahon knows that the determination of exactly which SPC students are “distinguished” enough to earn the right to Academy dorm floor-or-bathroom residency will ultimately belong to HIS students, who will be able to pick out their most desirable cock-enslavement targets, thus making THEM happier.

“Well, OK then, anything for the benefit of the students,” says Hoag. “Even if we lose some of our school grounds, we’ll enjoy the newer, bigger sports facilities.”

McMahon smiles. “Well, we can afford it. As you know, this school has a considerable endowment. We also have a lot of money,” he says, chuckling at his own joke.