The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Damn,” Dave Sanders thought to himself, “I’ve got a pretty fucking awesome job.”

He kicked back in his chair while rubbing his crotch with his free hand. The other hand held his mouse as he clicked through the photos of the students in his health ed class. High school seniors, they ranged from the hot jock studs to the flabby nerds, but Sanders couldn’t wait to see them all naked.

His perversions were no secret, far from it. Every single administrator found out about them, one by one. Sanders told them himself. He made a point of telling each and every one of them, one on one, in his office, while he was showing them in lurid detail the dirt he’d gotten on each of them.

None of them were clean. He had some fond memories of those little meetings—and some even fonder video clips from the cameras he hid in his office before each one. That little worm of a principal was especially great, how quickly he went from faux-offended to squirming in discomfort when he saw all the photos Sanders had of him.

And now Sanders had his run of the school. He got a new class of seniors every year and if they suffered at his hands, nobody was the wiser. One or two of them disappeared every year, and Sanders had to deal with the parents, but then they’d just disappear and the problems went away. Or were, at least, brushed consensually under the rug by the whole school staff, all of whom lived in utter terror of Sanders and what he could do to them.

His daydreaming was cut short by the first student entering the classroom.

“Hey, Mr. S,” the kid greeted him, clearly uninterested in health ed, Mr. Sanders, and school in general.

“Hey, Frankie!” Mr. Sanders called back, a bit overly cheerful on purpose.

“It’s Frank, Mr. S, not Frankie.”

“Oh yeah, sorry Frank,” Mr. Sanders laughed. Frank was as nerdy as they come, pocket protector and everything. A steady diet of Twinkies kept his waistline formidable, and his belt barely held his pleated khakis, tucked-in polo shirt, and large gut in, and was itself showing signs of wear. Sanders felt bad for the poor thing, just a leather strapped asked to do so much.

Next came the swim team. They paid him no heed as they chatted and joked among themselves all the way to their seats.

And so it went, every boy in the high school graduating class of 2008. Just under a hundred of them filed in and took their seats.

“OK, guys, now that everyone’s here,” Mr. Sanders began. In the back rows—hell, in every row—most of the guys were ignoring him, throwing spitballs or passing notes or just openly chatting with each other. On most days that would have annoyed him. Today he just smiled.

“We’ve got a little demonstration today, guys. On your desks,” Sanders raised his voice here to try to draw their attention, “Half of you, randomly chosen, will find a little red pill and a glass of water. I want you to take the pill and use the water to swallow it.”

A chorus of objections, laughter, groans, and skepticism swelled up from the class. Sanders rolled his eyes.

“You trying to drug us, Mr. S?”

“I ain’t takin’ no pills unless they’re from the nurse!”

“No way man!”

Mr. Sanders waved his hands for silence. “The nurse approved these, I’m the health educator at this school, you’re going to take these and I don’t want to hear the bullshit, guys. Yeah, yeah, real funny, it’s a pill. It’s no big deal. You’ll see. Now take the pill, drink the water, and no more funny business.”

Sanders heard a few more comments from the crowd, but general silence as the half of the class with the pills took them and swallowed the water. He smiled. The doors had locked from the outside. Now it was fun time. Just a few minutes of bullshitting so the pills could kick in.

“Alright, guys, so we’ve had a rash of teenage pregnancy at this school and I want to talk about that today and why it’s no joke.”

A chorus of laughter and snickering rose from the assembled guys.

“Yeah, it’s hilarious, right? Knock up some girl and then she’s stuck with it but so are you. They know who the dad is, these days, those tests are good, you’re saddled with child support payments, all sorts of responsibility you don’t want, I promise you.”

“What’s the fuckin’ point, Mr. S?” someone yelled from the back.

“First of all, watch your fuckin’ language”—that got a round of laughs—“And second, here’s the point. I know a lot of you are probably concerned about knocking up your girlfriends but you still want to get it on, and so...”

Dave Sanders took a deep breath. He loved this part every year. He’d spent the whole school year building up his image as a fraternal, coach kind of guy, gruff but affable, one of them. All so he could shatter it—and shatter them—in the blink of an eye.

“... and so a lot of you are probably thinking about turning queer.”

The room exploded in protests.

“QUIET! QUIET!” Sanders shouted, “I wanted to warn you about a new medical advance—just a few weeks ago a lab not too far from here announced they’d successfully impregnated the first man.”

His class just stared at him, utterly baffled.

“So now you have another thing to worry about. Let’s say you decide you don’t want to do the nasty with your girlfriend, maybe you’ll just get yourself a fuck bud to pass the time. Well, bad news—now you can both get pregnant too.” Sanders was so fucking hard in his pants right now he was surprised he hadn’t already blown a load in his underwear.

The class of seniors stared at Sanders like he’d gone totally mad, which wasn’t so far from the truth. Finally someone spoke.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Mr. S?”

Sanders just laughed. “Yeah, you take it in the ass like a fag, now, and you’re riper than a bitch in heat, boys, those fertile guts of yours will swell up with babies all your own.”

The room was mostly just quiet, now, confused and repulsed. The same student asked again, tentatively, “Uh, I’m not sure what you’re talking about but... how would that happen to us anyway? It was some lab that did this?”

Sanders smiled. “Oh yeah. Because the drug they used to get the guy pregnant? It was in all those red pills.” Then he started laughing.

A murmur ran through the students assembled, already utterly confused by Sanders’s inexplicably bizarre behavior, but now concerned at what they might have ingested.

Mr. Sanders continued, “Yeah and I knew you wouldn’t believe me if I just said that. So I also made sure those pills had a little something extra so we can see it in action!”

The room remained silent, still confused. Mr. Sanders stared out at the hundred boys with a shit-eating grin on his face as he grabbed the TV remote and hit the button. The moment of truth.

Every plasma screen in the auditorium came on all at once. There must have been thirty of them, huge ones paneling the rear of the stage. The students didn’t even react for a moment. It took their brains that long just to confirm what they were seeing, and to wonder if they were awake.

Hardcore gay porn criss-crossed the screens, each one looping a different clip. Each of them showed a different guy—or guys - getting plowed in the ass. On one screen a hairy dude in military gear had his pants pulled down and three other marines had him shoved up against a gym locker and were taking turns plowing his loose, dripping hole and pumping loads up inside him. On another screen a muscular black guy with a foot-long cock was pinning a latino twink to a couch by his face and just brutalizing his hole, reaming him out. On yet another a group of frat boys were gang-banging one of their own on a pool table.

The auditorium was a total cacophony; half was the chorus of grunting and lurid moans coming from all the televisions, and the other half was the incoherent screaming of the high school seniors living out what seemed like a waking nightmare. Most of them had gotten up and were running for the doors, but already Mr. Sanders noted maybe ten of them were sitting, stunned, staring at the screens.

“Guess I could have given it a few more minutes,” he said aloud, to nobody in particular—nobody heard him over the din, anyway—“But oh well, more fun this way.”

The boys trying to flee all piled up against the auditorium double-doors. The first ones there discovered they were locked and panicked; the subsequent boys just piled against them in a mob, frantically shoving and pushing and trying to get out. Mr. Sanders just sat quietly on the desk at the head of class and waited.

As the minutes passed the screaming quieted down some. About half the class was still desperately trying to escape, but the half that had taken the pills were calming down significantly. Maybe not quite calming down, but they seemed less interested in escaping the room and more and more interested in their fellow students.

And the ten boys who hadn’t even stood up? Forget it. They had their eyes glued to the televisions and their hands down their pants, openly stroking their cocks to the massive wall of gay porn before them.

“OK, boys, looks like those pills have kicked in. Lemme spell it out for you: those of you who took pills? You’re all faggots now. Welcome to it. The rest of them aren’t but they’re your... test subjects. Think of them as hot catches, ripe for the breeding.”

One of the boys sitting at his desk stroking his cock spoke up. “God Mr. S my cock is on fire! It’s so fucking hard, I’m so fucking horny!!”

“Of course you are, you horny little ass-hound. Tell you what—see all those guys trying to get out? Pick one you like and go fuck him right in the ass. You have my permission.” Sanders grinned a cruel grin as the boy stood up, raging erection throbbing in his hand, and stumbled towards the crowd at the door. As he did the students nearest the outside screamed and fled. But one of them—Seth, the swim team captain, at that—stumbled and fell as he ran, and the horny boy lunged for him and fumbled with his belt before the boy could get up.

As the swim team captain, though, Seth put up a good fight. Fists flew but the horny boy managed to wrench the belt off with one hard tug and yank the swim team captain’s pants down around his ankles and give him a good, solid shove.

Seth tripped again and went down, face first.

His mindless, horny assailant grinned, spat in his hand, rubbed it on his throbbing cock, and dove for the boy’s prone form.

An animal scream cut through the general havoc as his dripping cock penetrated the boy’s virgin asshole mercilessly. Seth stumbled back to his feet, trying to throw the boy off his back, but the horny boy now fucking him wrapped his legs and arms around the boy like a parasite clinging to him, humping his ass, his hips thrusting in time. The swim team captain moaned in pain and stumbled around, the weight on his back throwing his balance, trying to dislodge his tormentor.

But with the giant wall of porn blaring and the aphrodisiac pills coursing through the other boys’ systems, it didn’t take very long. The boy on his back let out a primal yell and then another and another as his throbbing, painful cock let forth inside the lithe swimmer’s colon, filling it wiith ungodly amounts of his sticky spunk.

The change didn’t take long. Sanders grinned—this was his first chance to see it in practice—and watched in rapt fascination.

Seth felt it, too. His face went from fear and anger to a more muted look, one of mild nausea. He frowned and looked down. Then he groaned and clutched his stomach with both hands. The horny boy had slid off him and was lying, panting in recovery, on the ground. Seth stumbled forward and grabbed a desk for balance.

“What... what the fuck is happening?”

“I heard it was fast but I had no idea,” Sanders muttered, less to the boy, more to himself, staring, fascinated.

Seth stared at Mr. Sanders, his eyes pleading with him for help. “Make this... make it stop, please!”

His eyes closed and mouth opened in a mask of pain as he dug his hands into his stomach. His smooth, flat six-pack swimmer’s abs, visible through his tight shirt, began to fill out. Slowly, at first, but then faster, they swelled outwards like an inflating balloon. It wasn’t like flab, though; his belly was round and taut, a swollen gut as tight as a drum. Seth groaned as his gut kept growing, now spilling out over his underwear, the elastic waistband immediately ripping open. His shirt stretched, first out, then up when his gut became too large, and finally it tore with a long, loud noise of tight, ripping cloth as his whole torso surpassed its containment.

Dave Sanders stared, mouth agape, at the sexiest sight he’d ever imagined.

Seth, now-former captain of the swim team, stood before him, jeans around his ankles, otherwise naked, with a belly that looked like he was nine months pregnant with triplets. It was huge. You couldn’t see his cock, you couldn’t even see his crotch. His huge, round belly hung out and down to mid-thigh.

Perched atop his huge drum-like gut were two inflated boy-tits, also swollen up like balloons, the nipples stretched out like saucers, the nipples sticking out like pencil erasers.

A treasure trail still led from his massively-distended belly button down under the nether regions of his belly into his now-hidden crotch. He still clutched his gut with both hands, like trying to hug a huge beach ball.

Seth stumbled forward, trying to sit down on a chair, and Mr. Sanders caught a view of his backside. His hips had widened to accommodate the huge belly, and his butt had apparently swelled up to match. His cheeks, already quite attractive in the first place, were now puffed up like he’d stuffed pillows down them, only he was bare-assed naked so it was clear it was just his naked ass, full and comically plump and inviting.

And just then, as if waking simultaneously from a dream, every boy in the classroom realized he’d been staring at Seth, mouth agape, totally silent.

The boys who hadn’t taken the pills resumed trying to break through the doors with a newfound terror. The boys who had taken the pills, on the other hand, were now drooling openly, cocks in hand, running for any boy foolish enough to expose his ass. The ensuing turmoil was just a mess of limbs flying and pants tearing and screaming, punching, tears and lust. The drugged boys leapt upon the sober ones, taking their cues from the screens of violent porn, taking their victims by any means necessary. Sanders just sat, jerking his dick furiously, watching the scene unfold, knowing all his cameras were catching every angle of the action.

Danny, a rugby player, grabbed a little drama dork named Julian by his shoulder-length blond hair, ripped the seat out of his tight jeans with one fist, and started tonguing Julian’s ear as he stabbed his throbbing man-meat between the much smaller boy’s ass cheeks at his tight hole. When he found his mark he shoved it forcibly in, relishing the boy’s cries, and lifted the small drama geek fully off the ground with his two hands holding his midsection and his cock impaling the lad. He looked sidelong in a mirror and laughed a loud, coarse laugh as he saw the hapless smaller boy speared on his dick and thrust just a couple times before grunting and snorting and filling Julian’s ass up.

Julian started groaning and crying. “No, no, no, please, this can’t be real...” but then it was real, and the waistband of his skinny jeans snapped like a taut rubber band as his stomach ballooned outwards, fold after fold of new flesh swelling over his waistline, his tight vintage t-shirt instantly peeling off his voluptuous form, his concave hipster chest filling in and swelling outwards into two big, soft boy-tits on top of his huge gut.

But Danny didn’t stop. He saw Julian filling out in the mirror and grinned and nodded. “OH FUCK YEAH,” he shouted, and just kept fucking the boy. In just minutes he pumped his second load into the boy.

By the time Danny pumped that second load in, Julian’s transformation had nearly stopped. Julian was sobbing and looking at his new form and trying to think what he was going to do. But when that second load of cum got up inside him, he felt funny all over again.

“Oh my God, no, not MORE!”

More, indeed. Julian’s gut started gurgling all over again and swelled out even further. If he could barely have stood after the first time, now there was no hope. He couldn’t even see his own belly button anymore, his gut was so big. And his boy-tits inflated even more, so that now they sat up right in front of his face, nearly smothering him, obscuring his vision.

His butt kept filling out, too, and when Danny dropped him he just fell with a wet plop, cum running out of his ass and his two absurdly swollen ass-cheeks cushioning his fall. And there he sat, looking like a horrifying caricature of a balloon animal, just two legs and arms sticking out and a head nearly completely buried in a cartoonishly-huge belly and two giant boy-tits sticking out from on top.

Sanders gawked. “Oh, YEAH! Put as much as you can in ‘em, boys!! Don’t just stop at one—fill those little sluts up with your babies! Get those boys big and fat and preggers with your seed!”

They didn’t really need much encouragement. Boys were plumping out left and right, filling up like they were hooked to air pumps, swelling up, clothes shredding right off their swollen, pregnant guts and tits and butts. Sanders just sat and jerked. He’d blown at least five loads by now. God, this was so fucked up, just watching all these boys fucking and swelling up like this, so fucking hot.

Against a wall, five members of the band had wrestled each other down and were chain-fucking, one on top of the other. All but the last one swelled up as they came inside each other, but just kept going for a second round. By the time they’d filled out each other’s asses with a second load their bellies had gotten so big their cocks were totally buried and so they couldn’t fuck anymore. That is, except the last one on the chain, who hadn’t gotten fucked yet at all. He managed a third load into the ass of the boy in front of him, who after the third swelling-up was completely and utterly immobile, like a blob with hands and feet.

Striding through the center of the class was the captain of the football team, Casey, a tall, beefy senior who had taken the situation to heart. He was a natural alpha and was seizing every boy who came near him, snarling at him as he flipped the would-be assailant handily and plunged his rock-hard cock into the boy’s tight, virgin asshole. Casey was one of the ones who’d gotten a pill—Sanders had made sure of that—and so he was walking around like a Greek god, leaving moaning, swelling preggos in his wake.

It took several hours—and tens of loads blown from Sanders’ cock all over the floor—but finally the fucking abated. That was only because every boy in the class but one was now lying on the floor, moaning, caressing his newfound massive, fertile, pregnant, swollen belly on the floor, cum leaking out of his loose asshole, tits puffed up in preparation for breast-feeding.

The one remaining boy was Casey. Just like Sanders had planned. And now for the final act. It was all going perfectly. Sanders had swallowed his own dose of the drug an hour before class, so he was all ready to pump a load of his thick, creamy jizz right up into Casey’s tight, virgin asshole to make Casey into the buffest, biggest, burliest pregnant sow of a faggot the world would ever see. Sanders lifted the taser from his bag and pointed it at Casey’s plump, juicy ass just as the fooball captain was lifting himself off his final victim.

He pulled the trigger. The leads shot out. Sanders’ mouth curled into a twisted grin. He could just about feel his throbbing cock wrapped up in that hot high school asshole already.

He was so lost in his daydream he almost didn’t notice when Casey’s football reflexes kicked in, and the boy spun around, slapping the taser leads away with his hand. And he was only starting to recover when he saw the leads stick harmlessly into the back of a nearby chair.

Sanders threw himself backwards, towards the desk, to try to grab something to shield himself with, but his reflexes were no match for the 18-year-old football team captain’s.

Casey landed on top of him, pinning him to the ground, and the boy made eye contact and never once broke it thereafter. He stared deep into Dave Sanders’s eyes and grinned.

“That all you got, Mr. S?”

Sanders struggled with all his might as the burly high school senior tore his pants clean in half and spread his legs beneath him. He yelled, loud and pleading, whatever he could think of, but Casey just kept staring him right in the eyes and grinning.

Sanders noticed, in spite of himself, how little resistance his own asshole offered to Casey’s monster cock, and couldn’t help but think how lubricated Casey’s cock must have been by all the asses he’d been in already, all the cum he’d sprayed out.

It still hurt, going on. It slipped in wetly but as it did it felt like it split him in half. Sanders started screaming now just from the pain of it. But Casey stared him dead in the eyes as his nostrils flared and his top lip curled back and he panted his hot breath onto Sanders’s face.

“You ready to be my big fat pregnant sow bitch, Mr. S? You ready to blimp up like a big fat cow?”

“No, no, no, Casey please stop we can work something out—look how many other boys there are! You can have any of them! You can have all of them!”

“But I don’t want them, Mr. S. I want you. I want you to be my big fat pregnant cunt-boy, Mr. S. You ready?”

Sanders opened his mouth to protest one last time but then, still without breaking eye contact, Casey bellowed and his roar filled the whole auditorium.

“TAKE IT YOU BIG FAT BITCH!”

Sanders felt Casey slam his cock balls-deep into his ass, felt the huge head of his monster cock digging deep into his bowels, and then felt the heat deep inside him as Casey filled him with his impossibly potent seed.

And he came, in spite of himself, Sanders blew the biggest load of his life all over his stomach just as it started to swell.

He felt like he wanted to burp really badly but he couldn’t no matter how hard he tried. He felt the pain and aches of his organs moving and guts making way for the enormous mass swelling up in his guts. He watched his shirt stretch tight and rip off. He stared as his well-developed, muscular pecs ballooned out into comical hairy F cup breasts. He watched his nipples swell up and stand out on his newfound tits. He felt his hips split and widen, and his ass fill out underneath him, the cheeks spreading against the cold linoleum floor.

And then he felt Casey come inside him again.

“Oh, no,” Sanders said, to nobody in particular.

The pain grew more intense but there was something delicious about it, too. He craved it. Something was happening to him. He saw his belly ballooning up over ominously and something in his head felt warm, felt happy.

“Yeah,” Sanders muttered flatly, eyes glazed, “Fuck me. Fuck your babies into me.”

He didn’t say it anywhere near loudly enough for Casey to hear but the boy didn’t need any encouragement. Sanders pressed his ass back against the boy’s cock as he felt the boy’s third load go right up his colon.

His belly spread out from him now in all directions, nearly covering his legs and arms. Sanders couldn’t have moved if he’d wanted to. He was immense. He wouldn’t have fit through even the double doors. His monstrous, hairy tits spread off to either side. He held one arm in front of his face just so he wouldn’t be buried by his new burgeoning flesh. And he couldn’t help himself. He loved it. He loved these new feelings. And he wanted more.

“Keep FUCKING ME,” Dave Sanders yelled, “NEVER STOP FUCKING ME!”

Casey heard him that time, and laughed, behind his impossibly large gut.

“I wasn’t planning to, Mr. S.” And he kept laughing. “Hey, Mr. S?”

“What?”

“Nighty-night.”

Sanders heard Casey grunt a primal grunt, over and over, and felt the boy’s cock pumping load after load into him, rapid-fire.

“Oh, yeah,” Sanders mumbled, and somewhere, deep beneath his towering, wobbly gut, now nearly rubbing the ceiling, his rock-hard cock dumped another load of jizz out into the folds of his sweaty, sticky flesh.

Dave Sanders smiled a dumb, goofy smile and licked his lips with wanton need just as his belly drowned out the last of his vision.