The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“What kind of lame arse name is that? Luke was asking Mark. “I don’t know” Mark replies defensively, “It’s meant to stand for ‘Brilliant Nautical Week’s Orientation’ or something like that.”

“Look that’s not important. What is important here” Mark tries to plough on, “is that BNWO Cruises are a new start-up based right here in Brunchester, and they are looking for people to go on a free maiden voyage to test the facilities and help raise awareness of their new brand.”

“You all saw the flyers around the gym!” Mark continued, waving one at them in his right hand, the large words ‘prize draw to win a free cruise for you and your mates’ printed clearly on it.

“They’re gonna have to change that name if they want brand awareness” Luke said, still lagging one step behind in the conversation. Mark tried to resist the urge to throttle him.

“Anyway” Mark carried on exasperated, looking at Jake and Matt. “What I am trying to tell you is that I actually bothered to enter their prize draw, and my name was one of those picked. So the four of us are going on a free cruise. And you my friend” Mark added putting his arm around Luke, “can spend the whole week telling them how shit their name is.”

Mark, and his three gym buddies, had been best mates now for more than five years, having joined the fitness centre around the same time. The four white, middle-aged managers had all independently decided they had reached that point in life where fading youth and office jobs meant they needed to do something to stay healthy.

Their efforts over those five years had certainly paid off, each sporting a lean, well-muscled and chiselled physique that was the envy of many of their peers. And because by chance, all four career focused guys were still bachelors, their gym friendship quickly developed into a strong social friendship too.

Their good looks and fit bodies meant that more than a few women’s heads would turn their way on team nights out in the local city bars after the gym. A situation all four single guys were more than happy to exploit to the fullest.

The nearest docks to Brunchester City were actually well over an hour’s drive away down on the coast, but that was a small price to pay for their free cruise week of all-inclusive food, drink, fun and relaxation.

Unbeknownst to all the prize draw winners, including Mark and his three gym friends, excited as they boarded the luxurious cruise liner for their free maiden voyage on BNWO Cruises, the entire ship had been carefully designed as an elaborate hypnotic conditioning chamber.

At first, Mark thought it was odd that all the prize winners appeared to be white men from city gyms, while all the ship’s crew were Black men. The later he took to be a sad reflection on modern maritime practises, flags of convenience and minimum wage laws. The former, he was reassured was just an initial misconception, when he saw a group of four hot blonde gym bunnies all come aboard in an excited flap.

In many ways Gloria, and her three gym girlfriends were the female mirror equivalent of Mark and his group.

Like Mark, Gloria had actually bothered to read the gym fliers and apply for the prize draw, won some free tickets, and invited along her three friends.

With many more men aboard than women, Mark’s group had naturally made a beeline for Gloria’s group at the captain’s welcome drinks before they had even set sail. And introductions made, they agreed to bond some more over a shared table at dinner.

Little did the group of eight strapping, athletic, gym obsessed men and women know that they would soon be exploited to their fullest potential. From the moment the guests had stepped aboard, they were all being discreetly assessed, their unconscious vulnerabilities catalogued by the crew of imposing, well-endowed, Black Men who would soon become their hypnotic Masters.

The first night’s dinner at sea proved to be the point of no return for the hapless white test guests aboard. As they raised their wine glasses to toast the captain and crew, they activated a potent cocktail of mind-altering drugs and hypnotic suggestions laced into their beverages.

The boisterous laughter on Mark and Gloria’s table slowly dissolved into a trancelike daze, eyes glazing over as the indoctrination gripped them all in its vice like hold. Imposing Black crew members circled their guests like predators around prey, beginning to issue commands in low, authoritative voices. Their words sinking deeply into malleable minds, reshaping desires and programming to obey without question.

The next morning, all the guests woke feeling utterly refreshed, and eager to hit the ship’s extensive state of the art gyms.

Everyone seemed pumped to hit the gyms super hard, with a personal trainer, one of the imposing Black crew, for every guest. The trainers also made sure everyone drank plenty of the delicious pink BNWO Cruises branded energy drinks to stay hydrated and help improve muscle tone.

Mark and his friends usually spotted for each other at the gym, but with the luxury of a personal trainer, Mark found himself mindlessly doing bench presses, his face just inches from the trainer’s crotch. He couldn’t help but notice and admire just how well hung the Black guy was, even as the heady, musky aroma of a dominate alpha Black Man made his head spin with each press.

The second night’s entertainment was a film night, with different screenings for the men and the women. Mark watched as the lights dimmed and a short video came on first all about relaxation, with a swirl of vibrant colours and pulsating images, quickly captivating the viewers, and drawing them deeper and deeper into trance. The entranced men were shown a series of videos, each one more immersive and hypnotic than the last. Subliminal messages flashing quickly on the screen, barely perceptible to the conscious mind but sinking deep into the subconscious.

In the days that followed, the white guests were subjected to a meticulously orchestrated gym and hypnosis regimen that stripped away and rebuilt their identities layer by layer.

There was a dance show put on by the crew as the third night’s organised entertainment. Their personal trainers stripping off, revealing toned and oiled bodies in tiny lycra pants that shimmered in the stage lights. Each Black Man possessing a physique that was both intimidating and alluring, their Big Black Cocks straining against their pants.

The smoke and the strobe lights swirled around the room, music pounding through the air with a hypnotic rhythm that seemed to seep into your very bones. The dancers had a magnetic pull, their eyes locked onto the crowd like hungry beasts. The energy in the room was palpable, the air thick with lust and desire.

Suddenly, one of the dancers broke away from the group, his eyes focused on a petite, blonde woman in the front row. She blushed as he reached out, his eyes never leaving hers, gently cupping her face in his strong, Black hands. She could feel the heat radiating from his touch, the power and raw masculinity. He leaned in close, their faces almost touching, and whispered, “You belong to me now.”

The audience all roared with approval, a surge of collective lust and submission responding to the dominance of these Black Gods. Men and women alike slept soundly that night through endless dreams of being that petite blonde, of reaching for the big bulge in those shimmering tight pants.

By the fourth morning of the cruise, the physical changes to the white passengers from the relentless training, and effects of the BNWO pink energy drinks, were starting to become as obvious as the hypnotic mental conditioning.

But while minds were becoming malleable canvases for their Black Masters to inscribe their new sole purpose to serve and worship, it was clear that the physical changes were very different for the men and the women.

All around the ship, women were seen with platinum blonde hair, their once natural tresses now bleached to a uniform golden hue. Heavy makeup and plastic surgery enhanced their features, giving them a generic and almost doll-like appearance.

They tottered around on sky-high stiletto heels, with short skirts and low-cut tops barely covering their surgically enhanced curves, pumped up lips coated in bright pink sparkly gloss. An overpowering scent of cheap perfume and fake tanning lotion hung in the air, filled with the sounds of bimbo giggles and high-pitched squeals.

It was as if a fairy had tapped her wand and sprinkled a sparkly dust of blonde hair, bronzed skin, and bouncy curves onto every woman on board, transforming them into perfect, glossy bimbos.

For the hapless white bois on the ship, the effects were almost the opposite, becoming smaller, weaker, softer. Mark’s chiselled jaw line had softened for example, and his once piercing gaze had become doe-like and submissive. His muscles seemed to shrink as he took on a more delicate and feminine frame, more slender and curvaceous. His body hair disappearing to reveal smooth, hairless curves.

All the white men’s wardrobes had transitioned from rugged athletic gym wear, to what could only be described as unisex at best, if not bordering on the downright feminine.

Tonight’s entertainment was a straight forward disco, albeit one with deeply hypnotic lights and music. Mark had seen the blonde bimbo sex goddess that Gloria had become. He was desperate to chat her up at the disco, and get him, and his little white dicklet, invited back to her cabin.

All the bois onboard saw the disco as their chance to get to know the hot women on the ship a whole lot better. But none of the sexy blonde bimbos were interested. All they wanted to do was dance like sluts with the big, strong Black Men, their personal trainers, who were also at the disco. That left little gaggles of effeminate white bois dancing with themselves around the edges of the room, looking like rejects at a gay disco.

Eventually Mark saw an opportunity to make a move on Gloria, just as the disco was finishing up. “A night cap? Oh… No, sorry” Gloria told Mark with derisive laughter. “Ew. No tiny shrimp dick white sissy boi can satisfy a woman. What were you thinking?!”

“Women only want real men with superior Big Black Cocks. Something we can get both hands around. Not some loser white worm we have to try and find with a magnifying glass. Sorry” she added over her shoulder, as her personal trainer led her away to his cabin, a large powerful Black hand coming to rest possessively on Gloria’s sexy bubble butt.

Mark, like all the other rejected and humiliated white bois, went back to his cabin alone. Still feeling horny, and imagining what Gloria was getting up to right at this moment, Mark switched on the ship’s cable porn channel.

Mark, and his gym buddies, had always thought of themselves as well-endowed, confident men on their nights out in Brunchester banging the local ladies. But now he felt sure he had been nothing but a joke, a disappointment to these women, laughing at their inadequacies behind the men’s backs.

The porn channel was showing a huge titted blonde bimbo, just like the whores on this boat, being fucked by a massive Big Black Cock. Mark masturbated, as on screen a series of Black Gods gave white woman after white woman what they needed, what Mark could never give them, until he finally shot his load and fell into a deep sleep.

The next day onboard was a spa themed day. Mark felt refreshed, if still smarting from the humiliation of the night before.

The spa day began with a hot oil massage with his personal trainer. At first, Mark had felt a bit intimidated by the muscled Black brut that was his personal trainer, Isaiah. But as the cruise had gone on, he’d grown to like the guy more and more, as a close friend and confidant, eager to please him by going the extra mile in their training sessions.

So, as Isaiah’s magic fingers massaged his soft, smooth, sensitive skin, Mark decided to tell his friend about his confused feelings of humiliation and rejection, looking at Isaiah for answers with wide-eyed adoration.

“Oh my, that’s perfectly normal. Hasn’t anyone ever taught you about white boi sex before?” Isaiah said gently to Mark. “You see, white women, they can’t help but want to get their hands on this” he explained, gesturing towards the Big Black Cock so clearly visible beneath his small tightly stretched lycra pants. “It’s just natural selection. It’s in their DNA. The beta recognising the strongest alpha male.”

“But what about me and my friends?” Mark asked, unable to now take his eyes off the outline of that Big Black Cock. “Well, that’s where white boi sex comes in” Isaiah continued to explain. It’s the same law of nature. Weak little white sissy bois feeling naturally submissive to their superior alpha Black Masters. You can’t help but feel soft and gurly too, can you sissy?”

“Mmmm…” Mark could only moan in agreement, biting his lip hornily, his hand lovingly caressing the dick bulge tenting Isaiah’s pants. He had always been a proud man, but now she couldn’t help but feel like a complete sissy slut. “So” Isaiah continued with his instruction, “white boi sex is helping white women get the Black breeding they need, playing with other pathetic silly sissy sluts, and of course also being as gurly as you can to worship these superior Big Black Cocks just as much as any woman.”

Markie felt a wave of submissive relief wash over her. It was as if the jigsaw pieces of a confusingly broken world had just been rearranged and fitted together to reveal the picture previously hidden from her. The world suddenly making sense at last.

“If you like” her Black Master said, “we can use the rest of this spa day to get your outside looking just like you feel on the inside.” Markie squealed with delight. “Oh, thank you Daddy” she said, as Isaiah led her towards wardrobe, wig and makeup sessions.

There was no organised entertainment activity that evening, but as Markie stood in her Black Master’s cabin in nothing but her lingerie and high heels, she was filled with not just a sense of shame and embarrassment, but also of horny excitement.

As her Black Master touched her, running his strong hands over her curves and grazing her nipples with his fingers, Markie couldn’t help but moan in pleasure. It was impossible to deny the fact that she was turned on by the Black Man’s dominance.

She obediently sank to her knees before him, and as Isaiah slid his massive Big Black Cock into her mouth, she could feel her lips parting to accommodate the girth, her throat stretching to accommodate the length. She gagged on his cock, relishing the feeling of being completely dominated.

Markie awoke the next morning feeling sad that it was the last full day of their cruise, but super excited for the grand finale Fashion Show gala evening that night.

Still wearing just her pink teddy, she popped into Isaiah’s cabin to give her Black Master a morning blowjob, and with the powerful musky taste of his Big Black Cock still in her slutty mouth, she headed off for a day of pampering with the sissy bois as they got ready for their gala evening.

The final evening was being hosted by the ship’s captain, taking the form of a fashion show being put on by the white passengers for their Black captain and crew.

Markie and her gym gurlfriends laughed and giggled as they tried on clothes, chose outfits and practised their heavy makeup and pouty lips. After all they were competing with the Gloria and her peroxide blonde bimbos to show who could be the best sluts for Big Black Cock.

All the sissy gurl’s posture had changed dramatically, submissive dainty gestures, once defined muscles now hidden under soft curves in revealing and provocative tight skirts and low-cut tops. Downcast wide-eyed looks of adoration for their Black Masters, signalling their mental reduction to mindless sissy bimbos, willing to do anything for their new Black Gods.

At the grand finale Fashion Show that evening, the newly minted white Bimbo Whores and Sissy Sluts alike, were paraded before their Masters in a decadent exhibition, their bodies adorned in the most tantalizing sexy outfits. The Captain watching on approvingly, from a kind of raised dais above the catwalk, two huge titted naked blonde bimbos already kneeling either side of him as they ran their tongues up and down his massive erect Big Black Cock.

Markie sashayed down the catwalk, her exaggerated hip sway and pouty lips a testament to her complete transformation. The Black Masters looked on with arrogance and satisfaction, taking in the sight of their new playthings. Lights danced off the glitter and rhinestones adorning outfits as whore after whore paraded down the runway, their bodies on display for their Masters’ pleasure. The air thick with the scent of perfume, alpha musk and horny lust.

Their Black Masters cheered as the passengers all took to the runway together for the group finale, and then began mixing to offer their congratulations, pairing up, until the ballroom was full of white girls and bois on their knees, all with Big Black Cocks in their eager mouths. The inferior white betas relishing the feel of their superior Black alphas’ swagger and arrogance, the forcefulness of their commands filling a hollow void inside them with pleasure and obedience.

As the ship sailed through the night back towards port, in the ballroom, the Captain’s gala evening turned from kneeling worship of Big Black Cock to full on interracial orgy. “Time to make you a real woman at last” Markie’s Black Master told her, as he pushed her onto all fours, head down, ass up, his superior Black Cum already dripping from her mouth.

Markie gasped in pain and pleasure as the Big Black Cock stretched open her virgin white boi ass pussy, filling her up deeper and deeper. Her moans and cries only adding to the loud cacophony now filling the orgy room.

With each overwhelming thrust, she understood that Big Black Cock was making her permanently the sissy woman she really was. Markie knew her transformation was complete as she felt the twitching alpha male fill her absorbent feminine body with the superior Black Cum it needed. She was no longer Mark, but a willing and obedient sissy gurl, eager to please her Black Masters and the Black New World Order in any way they desired.

The Captain watched the disembarking white bimbos and sissies the next morning from the bridge.

BNWO Cruises’ maiden voyage had been a complete success. The bible said God had created the world in seven days. He couldn’t help but feel the smug satisfaction that their seven-day cruise had gone one better.

As he watched the Black New World Order’s newest slaves getting into taxis, heading back to Brunchester City to spread the word about their fantastic free cruise week, he knew that very soon, BNWO Cruises would have more paid bookings than they could possibly handle. Perhaps he should think about getting a second ship.