The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

We have now examined many aspects of life at the Academy and its sister institution, the St. Peter Claver school. Let’s now take a last look at what is going on with the people whose lives we have explored.

We began by looking at several students, their family histories and how they arrived at the Academy. Let’s see how they are doing now.

First there was freshman Gary Taylor, who was experienced in using his cock to enslave helpless SQs before he even got to the Academy. Once there, he upped his game and took control of two young faculty members, forcing them to spend evenings at the home of one of the teachers, acting as sex puppets performing perverted acts on each other for his amusement. He rewards them by coating their faces and hair with his powerfully aromatic supercum, which they are not allowed to wash off but ARE allowed to clean off each other with their tongues. Sometimes they intentionally leave a little supercum on behind their ears so they can proudly carry around olfactory evidence of their ownership by the dominant little guy.

Gary has his eye on several other attractive young SQ members of the faculty, and hopes to someday get a bed installed in the faculty lounge for his personal use and that of his teacher toys. The non-SQ faculty, and the less attractive SQ ones, will just have to make do with their own offices, while Gary works to get them replaced.

Then there was Brazilian love god Cezar Pereira, who continues his impregnating rampage with the ladies who flock to him from around northern New Mexico. He doesn’t neglect the guys, either, and has been known to “do” a husband and wife in the same session. He enjoys capturing their souls inside his deep, penetrating gaze, and teaching them to respond instantly to positioning orders given in Portuguese in his resonant, sexy voice. When the session is over and they’re on their way home, the husband and wife are sometimes jealous of each other, each wishing he or she could have been the only one to capture the love god’s attention and follow his orders into sexual paradise.

There was former master gangbanger and now totally broken, weak-willed Juwan Wilson, six-nine, 280 pounds, tattooed on his bulging biceps and muscular legs, and desperate for a dominating master of any size, although he really would prefer a physically small one since the “new Juwan” truly craves humiliation. He wishes there were some kind of brain wave helmet that could put him directly under the control of a small, sadistic teen master who enjoys forcing him to become erect to his full 13 inches at the snap of a finger, then torturing his helplessly exposed genitals until he howls in pain, then punishing him for howling by stroking him with a cane and slapping the soles of his size 20 feet with a paddle. He wants to be led through a shopping mall on a leash wearing just a loincloth, then have his little master snap his fingers and force his giant, useless cock to tear through the loincloth in front of everybody. Juwan hopes to find the owner he needs by crawling to the dormroom door of some small-dicked SPC punk, positioning himself on all fours like a dog, wearing a collar with the leash held in his mouth, and eagerly barking, while his immense cock drips a lake of precum onto the hallway floor.

The problem is that as soon as the little SQ sees Juwan’s supercock, his eyes will glaze over, his pimple prick will come to full attention, and his mind will immediately empty, awaiting commands from his new absolute master. (Meanwhile, his SQ roommates will literally fight each other for the right to slurp up the precum lake being churned out by those superballs.) Juwan is hoping he will be able to use the hypnotized kid’s fully suggestive mind to insert commands that will rewire the little guy into wanting to own, control, humiliate and punish Juwan. It’s a gamble, but Juwan is getting desperate to find someone to totally dominate him.

Finally, there was the formerly painfully shy, now powerfully sadistic redheaded freshman Johnny Ledbetter, who has refined his training techniques as well as the commander’s outfit he wears during training sessions. At the gentle suggestion of his slaves, Johnny has added several pairs of boots with chains to his usual modified cub scout uniform, and he uses them to kick around his slaves when he feels like it. It is also the slaves’ job to keep those boots spit-shined at all times. Failure to do so can result in serious cage time for the offenders. And the cage is used as a toilet by all the slaves, and especially by Johnny himself.

Also, Johnny’s collection of uniformed slaves has now grown beyond the ex-marine coaches and phys ed instructors. It happened like this: Johnny had just gotten his driver’s license and was speeding up I-25 from Albuquerque when he was pulled over. This being the very first time this had happened to him, he was a bit scared, and the outline of his thick, limp cock, now shrunk to a mere nine inches, was showing clearly through his tight pants.

The state policeman came to his window and began, “Sir, do you know why I pulled you o—” and froze, his head lowered and his eyes riveted to Johnny’s lap in disbelief. Seconds of silence passed by, and a few drops of sweat formed on the policeman’s face. As an experienced cockmaster, Johnny recognized the cop’s involuntary SQ reaction, and there was an immediate power shift from 100%—0% to 0%—100%. Johnny’s monster cock, excited by this display of its power, began to firm up and grow towards its true size, draining the last of the cop’s ability to respond coherently.

“Impressive, ain’t it?” said Johnny, reaching out of his window to grab the policeman’s head by the hair and slowly pull it in for a much closer look at the hypnotizing power phallus. The cop offered no resistance whatsoever, as his will evaporated in the onslaught.

“I think I know why you pulled me over, officer,” purred Johnny. “You saw me, an incredibly superior male, drive by, and you were worried that my boots might not be shined to perfection, and you recognized your boot pig responsibility to do that job. Right?”

The last time the mind-fucked latent-SQ cop had thought about the critical importance of boots being shiny was seven years ago during boot camp at age 17 when he joined the army. But in his current suggestive state, something in Johnny’s voice resonated with commands from his drill sergeant from back then, so the nonsense Johnny was spouting began to make perfect sense to his subconscious. Johnny knew his triumph was complete when he heard a weak “Yes, sir” emanate from his victim.

“Well, good news, officer. As it happens, my boots DO need some work. Twenty minutes ago I stepped into a pile of something, not sure if it was dirt or dogshit, and I’m sure you know you’d better get it off, right, you disgusting pig?”

The truth of everything Johnny was saying was solidifying in the enslaved policeman’s mind, as his attention shifted from Johnny’s lap to his booted feet. Another “Yes, sir” emerged from the cop’s mouth.

“Well then, open my door, drop to the ground, and get to work, pig! I don’t have a rag handy, so we’ll have to use some combination of your tongue and your uniform to get the crap off.”

The cop rushed to comply. And as his tongue lovingly and respectfully worked on Johnny’s crusted boots, his mind could not rid itself of the image of the outline of the superhuman cock that had somehow enslaved him. He had never experienced anything like this before, in reality or fantasy, and had no idea how it happened.

To impress his master, the newly-minted boot pig did his job thoroughly and diligently. When the last tongue-licks and uniform-buffings of the boots were complete, and the policeman was standing at attention outside the car awaiting further orders, Johnny sealed the capture of his new cop toy. “Officer Bootpig, you’ll report for slave training every Saturday at 1600 hours up at the Academy. You’ll come in uniform, and you’re not permitted to clean the dogshit off your sleeve until I allow you to. This first Saturday, you’ll report to the Academy tailor to have your uniform modified to my specifications. Do you understand?”

“Yes, SIR!” This was said much louder and more emphatically than the last few times. As Johnny drove away, the cop knew he would be forced to obey his new master. But how would he explain his new Saturday afternoon slave training obligations to his newlywed wife?

After learning about the students in our case studies, we examined the lives of several faculty members, who consider it such an honor to teach at the Academy that they are willing to pay for the privilege. As SQs, they are occasionally pulled aside by the students and forced to perform acts that they might not otherwise have wished to perform, but there is not much an SQ can do when presented with an eleven inch cock and given a firm set of commands.

We learned that much of the unskilled labor around the school is performed by otherwise professional people who feel the need to serve these exceptional boys. The mayor of the town can often be found in a janitorial uniform cleaning the boys bathroom—floors, walls, toilets and urinals—with a toothbrush. Observers believe he is cleaning this way in order to obtain the shiniest possible results, but in fact his real motivation is that he gets to clean off the toothbrush by using it later... as his actual toothbrush.

We heard about the highly coveted jobs working in the school laundry. The bidding to obtain those jobs sometimes goes quite high, but in addition to yielding many prized sweaty, stinking objects of worship for personal use, the job can also be profitable if one is willing to give up some of the raunchier stuff and auction it off on the internet.

We met the school tailor, whose job includes modifying normal clothes for safe and comfortable wear by the superhung Academy students, as well as designing and making special athletic gear that reduces the natural disadvantages that Academy athletes have in contact sports. He also did his best to repair the swimsuit damage done by the infamous Viagra incident. Also, Johnny Ledbetter uses him to “modify” his slaves’ uniforms to provide him access to all necessary warm orifices.

We came across Pete Russo, star senior quarterback of the Academy’s sister school, St. Peter Claver, who has now won his battle to be owned and controlled by his favorite Academy sophomore god Ethan, leaving his competitor for Ethan’s affections, six-eight senior basketball team captain Larry Bonner, without an Academy owner. Poor bereft Larry has taken to sneaking into the gym after hours in order to fuck himself with little master Johnny Ledbetter’s chained boots, always taking care to lick them clean afterwards. He’s afraid that a particular little effeminate nerdy guy named Warren with an eleven incher may be eyeing him as a possible slave candidate, and he knows that, if confronted and claimed by the nerd displaying that cock, his SQ nature will force him to accept his new position in life, and obey.

We saw the dilemma faced by the all-SQ Woodson family, forced to divert money saved to pay for son James Jr.’s college education towards the more important task of paying college tuition for Academy senior Chad Lonsdale and his younger, bigger-hung brother Charlie. Fortunately, it was nothing they couldn’t handle by moving into a smaller house, trading down their car, selling a few cherished possessions, and having James Jr. work in fast food until they could recharge their savings. And actually, with James Jr. giving up his Ivy League acceptance and going instead to Chad’s “party school”, he was able to get a scholarship that reduced the hours of mininum-wage work he would need to perform in order to pay his own way. So everyone is happy.

We learned how the school’s athletic facility expansion plan, which at first sight seems to take much away from SPC and give it all to the Academy, actually benefits both schools when you think about it in an SQ sort of way. Without having to build a single new dorm room, we saw how SPC could gain living space for a slew of new scholarship SQ students by making efficient use of Academy floor and bathroom space for carefully selected members of the genitally-challenged to sleep on.

Next, we heard about the family pressure experienced by Chad Lonsdale to gain admission to—College and take over the frat created more than twenty years previously by his superhung father, where the position of president, and the considerable powers and living space that come with it have been vacant for years, awaiting his arrival. He has now done so, in his inauguration ceremony walking on a path across the naked backs of the carefully chosen LON brothers to ascend to his presidential throne. As each of his sacred feet stepped on a brother’s back, that frat member could not help ejaculating on the carpet beneath him, while being forced to remain perfectly still in order not to disrupt the president’s stately walk up to the throne. (In the cleanup ceremony at the end, each brother lapped away at a different brother’s cum glob, symbolizing that LON brothers have a responsibility to help each other out, once the president’s needs and desires have been fully served.)

And lying at the foot of the presidential throne proudly representing the last step of the inauguration was freshman brother James Woodson Jr., whose near-nine-inch cock has put him second in command of the SQ-filled frat, a position he takes quite seriously, as you can see when he barks orders at the upperclassmen and they call him “Sir” as they are obeying.

Finally, we learned about the revolutionary new urinal technology about to be installed in schools and malls around the world. The first field installation is a stunning success, with the student agent forwarding the few Academy-qualifying students at his school (only one-half of one percent, or 30, of the school’s 6,000 students meet Academy criteria), and programming the rest as he sees fit. Once the new system is installed at a school, the Academy will no longer pay its student agent for his work, thus saving a lot of money, but the agent won’t care, now being allowed to subtly program the student body to fulfill his own personal needs and desires. Besides, the rich kids will be thrilled to give him money and gifts as he deserves, since they will be programmed to feel that it’s the RIGHT thing to do. The agent’s only job will be to do the whole thing in a sufficiently discreet way so that the whole scheme is not discovered.

Meanwhile, the sophomore best friend of the agent at the first fully-operative school is enjoying the worshipful admiration, as well as the full-time personal services, of the short, super-muscular senior lightweight champion wrestler with the high voice, who after a few programming visits to the boys room, found himself beginning to feel that it was only natural for him to serve the deep-voiced skinny teen two years younger than he, but a foot taller and hung bigger.

And the teen mall rats walking, running, and skateboarding around and through the first mall to use the upgraded urinals, will soon find themselves effectively transformed into lab rats performing tricks under the orders of the teen “mall commanders” that will be operating the new system.

In conclusion, as you can see from this document, everyone benefits from the proper structuring and operation of this specialized school system, and the careful implementation of the technology it has spawned. In a separate document, we will explore the ongoing development and deployment of the latest version of the programmable urinal products, and the societal changes that might emerge as a result.