The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Against Gay Marriage

My name is Walt Ross, and I’m against gay marriage. Why? Because being against gay marriage is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Three years ago, I was nothing but a skinny, lonely thirty-something with a pot belly. Every day I worked nine-to-five at a menial job, went home to my empty apartment, and plunked down on the couch with a pizza carton. And then it happened... I was walking down Main Street when a local news crew was filming an “opinion” piece about gay marriage, and the reporter just happened to stick a microphone in my face and ask me how I felt. I guess the sanctimonious spiel that came out was pretty damned eloquent, since the next day I got a call to appear as a panelist on the local talk radio. Then the national talk radio. Then a national news network... you know which one. Three years later, I’m a syndicated columnist, a regular news commentator, and a 50-grand-an-hour speaker at think tank dinners, political junkets and all that. And although my appearance hasn’t changed much (I probably gained a couple of more pounds eating out all the time), where fame and money go, women follow. God, I love gay marriage! I love hating it.

So one fine spring day, I had just finished a live TV panel discussion in Florida and was walking down the boardwalk on a beautiful sunny beach in my Hawaiian shirt and beach shorts. It’s been a couple of days since my last sexual encounter, and a few minutes strolling down a beach teeming with hot and insecure college girls wetting their panties at the sight of a TV personality—well... you can guess how the story usually ends. But this time, a guy noticed me first. I saw him walking over... It looked like he towered by a foot over my 5′8 frame. His arms bulged out of his black tight muscle shirt, and the outline of his massive chest protruded clearly through the fabric. The calves emerging from under his shorts were similarly large... this guy looked like he could intimidate... or seduce... anyone.

“Hey, aren’t you Walt Ross?”

For a second I thought he was a homo looking for a fight... but he’s way too big and strong to be one of them, I thought.

“I am,” I replied.

“Man, I love your show!” He reached out to shake my hand.

“Thank you,” I replied, giving him my hand to shake.

“I totally hear where you’re coming from,” he continued, taking my hand in his. The skin of his palm felt rough, but very warm. “All these gay guys are so annoying”. He was still holding and shaking my hand. “They stare at me all the time. Like when they see my arms...” His arm, the one not shaking my hand, rose and flexed. The mass of muscle that assembled into a taught huge bicep punctuated by a thick vein was at once captivating and intimidating. I wanted to step back but couldn’t—his other hand was still grasping mine.

“They try to hide it,” he continued, “try to turn away... but they can’t. It’s like there’s this power in my arms that just has them transfixed”.

Now he was flexing his tricep. I didn’t catch myself watching it intently, my mouth slightly open.

“And that’s just the arms, dude... when I take off my shirt it’s like this power I have over them just explodes...they becomes so lost, so helpless, so entranced... check it out dude”

I almost caught myself hoping he doesn’t take his shirt off, that he wouldn’t take me in with this “power”. But when he let go of my hand, I found my eyes following his forearms as as his hands reached down to his waste, grabbed the bottom of his shirt...

And then he did it. His enormous pecs sat above a perfectly chiseled eight-pack. I felt the power of his broad upper body as if it was reaching out at me, as if heat was emanating from it and touching my skin. I could not utter a sound. My tongue and my will had turned to jelly. I was just standing... staring.

“Hey Mikey, I think he likes it,” the guy joked to himself. “Let’s see what this does to you”. He flexed his left pec. Then his right. Then his left again. With every twitch, I felt the power of his body hit me, overcome mee.

“Haha... look at you, you’re totally hard for me. They always are...” Hard? I suddenly became aware of my erection—I couldn’t look down, couldn’t look away from his mesmerizing chest, but I could feel it now... my cock throbbing and pressing against my shorts.

“Is that all, dude? That’s like what, five inches? You gotta be able to grow bigger than that!” And with that, he raised his arms and as his pecs erupted in another shock-inducing flex, his biceps gathered into the thick veiny bulges that had entranced me in the first place. My throbbed harder and faster than I thought possible—it was as if a jet engine has lit up inside it... it felt as if it was a foot long and about to puncture my shorts. But...

“Damn... you really can’t grow more than five inches! You are so weak, man! Gay and weak!”

The words stunned me as they hit. Me? Gay?

“Oh, you’re not gay? You mean that tiny cock trying to pierce your shorts isn’t going insane at the sight of my muscles?” He flexed his arms again and my cock gave a very large, visible twitch.

“I thought so. Do you want me, faggot? Are you in love with my body?”

I tried to say no, but the words wouldn’t come.

“Can’t bring yourself to say it? Or do I need to make it even more obvious?”

And with that, he flicked the button on his shorts. Then the zipper. Then they fell. My eyes helplessly followed them down. And my gazed crawled up... past meaty calf and his thick knees and landed on his thighs... I’ve heard the phrase “thunder thighs” before, but this... They were huge, thicker than tree trunks, with muscles slithering like pythons against each other as he shifted his weight. And just a little higher, a black speedo barely concealed his enormous dick. Completely flacid, it was already longer than my throbbing five inch hardon and about twice as thick.

He kept shifting his weight from one leg to the other, flexing each thigh in turn as I watched helpless, enthralled by the power of those quads.

“Take out your dick”

People were starting to gather, but I barely noticed them. I hesitated for a moment, then...

“Take out your dick”. He shook his left thigh and then gathered it into a thick thunderous protruding bulge. The shock almost sent me falling, and though my knees did not give way, my will did. I barely felt my fingers hurriedly unbuttoning and unzipping my shorts, before the small protrusion that was my dick emerged. I barely heard the whispers around us.

“Come closer”. Having frozen to the place I was standing when he first addressed me, I took a frightened baby step forward. I could detect the scent of him and feel a hint of the heat emanating from his skin.

“Closer”. My feet made the step while my brain was still processing. The first thing I felt was the pulsating tip of my cock touch the rock-hard mass of his flexed quad. The heat of his skin seemed to be burning a flame in the tip of my cock as it oozed a trail of precum across his leg. His hand reached into the collar of my shirt and with one swift downward motion ripped the buttons off my shirt. Plunging through the last button, his fingers grazed the tip of my cock sending a spasm of desire ripping through my body.

Before I could recover, his other hand reached around my body under my now unbuttoned shirt and pulled my exposed upper body into his embrace. I was surrounded by the mass of muscle in his abs and chest and his arms reached around me from the back. The heat of his body was burning into mine as his body enveloped me. He was taller, so my cock never touched his crotch, resting instead between his thick blazing thighs. My chin came to rest between his mountainous pecs, looking up past his massive shoulders and into his deep but stern blue eyes.

“You can’t resist my body,” he whispered, twitching his thigh to send an electric spasm through my cock. I couldn’t even muster the strength to nod.

“My body’s so much stronger than your pathetic mind. All you want now, all you can think about is my muscle.” He tightened his abs as he moved his leg against my cock. An even bigger spasm of desire enulfed me. My whole body was shaking against his skin together with my cock.

“If I twitch my muscles again, you’ll come. Do you want me to make you cum?” I nodded feverishly.

“Too bad. You said in your program you didn’t believe in premarital sex.” What? What program? Lost in his eyes and adrift in his embrace I had forgotten that anything existed before I met him.

“I guess you’ll just have to ask me to marry you,” he smiled mischievously. My mind was in no capacity to process his words. His muscles around my torso and thigh touching my cock were all I knew. My voice had broken through in spite of me.

“Marry me, please marry me”, I heard myself begging.

“I can’t,” he said. With hardly a twitch in his shoulder, he pushed me away. I found myself falling backward away from him even as every cell in my body seemed to be vibrating from his touch. I barely felt the wooden boardwalk sharply hit my back.

“It’s illegal”.

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