The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Christopher & Craig

Part 95: Sunday Lingerie.

“Chris,” I said, “What are you doing this afternoon?”

He looked up from his computer. “I don’t know. Nothing?”

“Oh.”

“Why? Did you have something in mind?”

I grinned at him. “Yes. But I was thinking you looked tired and might want to take a nap.”

“I look tired?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at me. “Is that your subtle way of saying I’m getting old?”

“No! But we were out late last night at Leatherman’s and you tossed and turned all night.” I slipped my shoes off and walked around the desk.

“I don’t really feel like a nap,” he said.

“Look at my white socks.”

His face tipped down toward the floor.

“Look at my white socks. You’re tired, Chris. You want to go upstairs and take a nap. Understand?”

“Yes, Craig.”

“Picture my white socks in your mind. See them?”

“Yes, Craig.”

“Great. Go upstairs, shut the door and lie down for a nap.”

I watched him slowly lumber upstairs and waited to hear the bedroom door close.

Great. Alan would be here any minute. I was dying to see if he was wearing a bra and panties.

I giggled. Studly Alan Jacoby wearing a bra and panties. Just the idea of it was enough to make my day. But it wasn’t enough. I mean, yeah, I knew he was doing it. But nobody else did.

I had to do more.

I just didn’t know what. Chris never really talked much about what to do to a guy. I mean, I knew what he’d done to me and Mike and Wade, but that wasn’t really a help.

It might be fun to take over his body from him and make him do stuff. Chris has done that to me. It’s kind of scary when your body won’t do what you tell it to but reacts to everything someone else tells it to do. I love Chris, and deep down I know he’d never hurt me, but when I’m like that he could do anything to me. I wouldn’t ever try it with Chris. He knew too much more about hypnosis than I did.

But I wondered if having that power over Alan would be as exciting as it seemed. This was the guy who lied to me regularly and manipulated me in order to use me all throughout high school. It’d be a blast to play with his head! It would probably freak him out, too.

Wait. I didn’t want to freak him out. I wanted to pay him back. Controlling him wouldn’t affect him once he left this house. And embarrassing him would be a much better way to get to that out of control ego of his. I’d already shrunk his dick down to nothing. Now he was wearing panties and bras. What next?

What I really wanted was somebody he loved to break his heart like he’d broken mine. Maybe I couldn’t have the exact same circumstances, but I bet I could set it up for one of his girlfriends to discover what he’s been doing.

There was only one problem: what if Alan had never truly loved anybody other than himself?

I heard a car in the drive and opened the door before Alan could ring my bell. Shoot. Now I had that song stuck in my head.

“Hey, Alan. What’s up?”

“Nothin’,” he sighed.

“Geez. No hot date last night?”

“Nah. I stayed home.”

“Wow. How come?”

“Didn’t feel like going out.”

We sat in the den. I leaned back in the chair. “I thought you alwas felt like going out.”

He didn’t look at me. “My girlfriend’s pissed at me.”

“How come?”

“I’ve kind of been flaking on her a lot.”

“Bored with her?” Alan had the attention span of a flea when it came to girls.

“Nah. I really like her. But I don’t want to see her right now.”

More to the point, he didn’t want her to see his Needledick in panties. “Needledick, are you wearing your bra and panties?” I snapped.

His chin drooped forward. “Uh-huh.”

“Great! You must everyday. How do you feel when you put on your bra and panties?”

“Ashamed.”

“Good boy.” I grinned. Now I knew how Chris must feel. I could do anything I wanted to Alan. I suddenly knew what I wanted to do next.

“Alan, what do you wear to bed?”

“Nothin’.”

I wrinkled my nose. “You sleep nude?”

“In the winter I wear pajama pants.”

“Not anymore. Beginning tonight you will sleep wearing lingerie. Do you own any lingerie?”

“Uh-uh.”

“When you leave here today you will go to the mall and buy lingerie. Buy something pretty to sleep in. Understand?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You will buy frilly, pretty, lacy lingerie to sleep in. And you will like wearing your lingerie. In fact, wearing it will make your Needledick hard. Understand?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What will make your Needledick hard?”

“Lingerie.”

“You must WEAR the lingerie, Alan. Repeat it.”

“I must wear the lingerie.”

“That’s right. You will like wearing lingerie and want to buy more because it will make you feel pretty. And you want to feel pretty. Even though you know men shouldn’t feel pretty. Men shouldn’t wear lingerie. This will make you feel even more ashamed. You will look in the mirror at yourself wearing lingerie. You will see that your Needledick is hard and you will feel pretty. Then you will feel ashamed. Understand?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Great. 1...2...3.”

After I showed Alan out of the house to start his life as a transvestite I climbed the stairs.

Chris was lying stretched out on the bed.

“Chris, can you hear me?”

He opened his eyes. But he wasn’t awake. For that matter, he’d never been asleep.

I climbed up on the bed. “Look at my white socks, Chris.”

He was staring at them.

“You want to suck my cock, don’t you, Chris?”

“Yes, Craig.”

I unzipped my jeans. Great. After that session with Alan I was hard as a rock. “Go for it. And when you’re done you’ll tell me all about how to deepen a trance.

“Yes, Craig.” Chris’s head bobbed down to my waiting cock.

To be continued in Part 96...

Christopher & Craig

Part 96: There’s Something About Nick.

Mike had finally called back late this afternoon. Three days since he said he would, mind you. It was Monday, I had had a lot of catch-up at work, and I was tired and just possibly ever-so-slightly bitchy.

I had been following the story of Marty’s disappearance in the newspaper. To be honest, after the first day the stories had grown quite small, often relegated to the back of the paper. It seemed like the police were chalking it up to the lost weekend of some college kid.

Poor kid. Could be some man he met at the Club. Some bear could’ve kidnapped him for all I knew. He might be chained to a wall wearing only a leather hood right now, ass red from being whipped. He might be tied spread-eagled on a bed with an electrified buttplug up his ass sending jolts through his body the likes of which he’d never experienced before. Then again it could have been something completely nonsexual. He could have been mugged and dumped in an alley. He could have been run off the road. Hell, he could have been beamed up for all I knew. People disappear all the time. Not all of them are hypnotized into becoming boxers and leave their cushy bank jobs under mysterious circumstances.

I rolled my eyes.

But it couldn’t hurt to talk to Nick about it.

Really I was more interested in talking to Nick about himself. I had enhanced Mike’s infatuation with him, fostering deep feelings of love, devotion, and sexual attraction in the boy. If Nick was not on the up and up I wanted to correct that pronto.

I also wanted a copy of Mike’s video. Had to remember to pick one up. It wasn’t like there was much to watch on TV this time of year. The Christmas season starts and the networks switch to reruns. Something told me an understated film about the life of a young doctor would be entertaining. A porno starring Mike as a resident who treats his patients especially well would be even better.

Craig finished straightening up the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. Wade was at work. That was another thing—I wanted to see where Wade was working. And how Andrew was behaving. I hadn’t crossed paths with him since he bought his biker boots. How would they affect him?

When I opened the door Mike was dressed in his usual khakis and button-down shirt ensemble. Nick, however, wore what looked to be spandex pants and a spandex shirt. And he was bald as Kojak.

“What happened to your hair?” I asked in surprise. Christopher Boldt, the soul of tact and grace.

“I shaved it,” he replied.

“So I see. Come into the den. Craig is making coffee.”

Mike kicked off his sneakers and led Nick to the couch.

I sat in my chair.

“What made you shave your head?” I asked, suddenly acutely aware of the full erection Nick had.

“Society prefers a smooth man,” he replied.

“Ah.” That was a cryptic answer. Not altogether untrue from this particular standpoint in time. But also not a sound reason for shaving one’s head. “Do you like it, Mike?”

Mike grinned. “Nick’s beautiful no matter what.”

Mental head slap. I had set that one up. “So, guys, tell me, any news on Marty?”

“He’s fine,” Nick replied.

“He is?” I asked. “Did you hear from him?”

“He’ll return when he’s ready.”

“So you haven’t heard from him.”

Mike spoke up. “Nick seems to think Marty went off on his own and will be back any time.”

“Oh. I was under the impression Nick was worried.”

“I know,” Mike said. “He was.”

Nick seems to change his mind a lot. I couldn’t help thinking something was off about Nick. Really off. Like crazy make my friends disappear off.

Or something.

“Nick,” I asked, “Did Marty know you’re gay?”

“He said I was.”

Another strange answer. “Do your friends know? Have you told them?”

“No.”

“When did you come out?”

“This semester.”

“Really? When did you realize you were gay?”

“It’s like what Damian says: sexual attraction is a result of social expectations. It all boils down to the gender roles that society has impressed upon itself.”

“Do tell.” Sounded like a bunch of hot air to me. “Who’s Damian?”

“Professor Edwards,” Mike interjected.

“Oh. The Gender class.”

Craig carried a tray with coffee and cups into the room. He nearly dropped it when he saw Nick. He stared at the bald, spandex-clad boy.

“So you came to terms with your sexuality while taking this class?”

“Damian is a very intelligent man. I’m his research assistant.”

“You’ve mentioned that before. What exactly are you helping him research?”

There was a long pause.

“Nick?” Mike asked.

“Damian’s field is Gender and Communications.”

“Okay,” I said. “I get it. You don’t want to talk about it. What makes you so sure Marty’s all right?”

“He’s fine.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“He’ll return when he’s ready.”

Why did I have a feeling of déjà vu? “Mike, why don’t you help me in the kitchen for a moment?”

“Okay,” he said, getting to his feet.

“So, you shaved your head?” Craig asked as we left.

In the kitchen I turned to face Mike. “Queer Pizza Boy.”

Mike waited.

“Mike, do you think Nick knows where Marty is?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you think Nick is acting strangely?”

“Nick is great.”

That was my fault. Skip it. “Mike, I want you to keep a close eye on Nick. If anything happens about Marty or just something weird, call me. 1...2...3.”

I had a bad feeling about Nick tonight. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something about his behavior was bizarre.

Could he be the person sending me the notes about Mike?

I froze. I hadn’t even thought of that before. But it added up. He was the only new person in Mike’s life. I had briefly considered Stephanie, but I doubted she’d bother sending notes. Mike hadn’t heard from her since their breakup, and if she was bent out of shape enough to write, she’d have shown up at the pizza place and confronted Mike by now. She never had a problem speaking her mind when they were together.

No, I was going to concentrate on Nick. Even if he wasn’t the person sending the notes something about him didn’t add up. He wore spandex and dated Mike, but his best friend didn’t know he was gay. A friend who was concerned enough to follow him to a gay bar. A friend who had since disappeared. Three days ago Mike had convinced me that Nick was terribly concerned by Marty’s disappearance. Tonight he couldn’t have cared less. So what was the deal?

After Nick and Mike left I got on my computer. I wanted to look up Professor Damian Edwards. I had a lot of questions about Nick. Maybe Edwards could help me.

To be continued in Part 97...