The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Christopher & Craig

Part 97: Kampas.

Wade was now in the employ of a bar near the college called Kampas. I didn’t really want to know how he secured a job at a bar at his age. He’d said he told them he was 21. Either he had a fake ID or someone thought he had a cute ass. Maybe both.

I had called Andrew and asked him to meet me for a drink at eight. The bar wouldn’t be overly crowded at that hour. The Christmas shopping season was in full swing, and that meant college students would be home cramming for finals. At least until ten.

I parked two blocks away on the street. This was not the best neighborhood in town, but it also was far from the worst. Truth be told I would’ve rather met at Leatherman’s and inquired if he’d ever heard of Professor Damian Edwards. This research sounded up Leatherman’s alley. Then I remembered that the Leatherman who might hold the answer was currently Bootboy. It wasn’t worth it to me to change him back to find out.

Maybe someone at Kampas would know about Edwards.

I pulled my coat around me and thrust my hands deep in the pockets. It was a cold night and a brisk wind was blowing. It smelled like snow.

I reached the door to Kampas and entered. The place was maybe half full; not really a large bar, but smoky as all get out. The one drawback to bars is the smoke, in my opinion.

Now I understood why Wade always showered as soon as he got home from work.

Craig had another theory. But somehow I couldn’t picture Wade having hot casual sex every night like Craig suggested. Without the memories of his rape or subsequent life as a ‘ho, Wade was a sweet, innocent kid who was a little on the shy side.

I searched around the room. No sign of Andrew or Wade. Maybe they were together? I shrugged and walked to the end of the bar. I hopped up on a stool. From this vantage point I could watch the door.

A bartender moved toward me. “What’s your pleasure?”

I saw him and smiled. Dark eyes. Glossy black hair. He was wearing a white shirt open over a wife-beater. “That all depends,” I said.

Wade’s head popped up from behind the bar. “Chris!”

I nearly jumped off the stool. “Geez! You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

The bartender was looking at Wade.

“Scott, this is Chris.”

Scott offered me his hand and I shook it. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said.

“None of it’s true.”

He grinned. I wasn’t sure which sparkled more—his white teeth or the small gold hoop at the top of his right ear.

Wade set a soda in front of me. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“I thought it was time to check up on you. See where you’re working and how they’re treating you.” And Scott, the cute bartender.

Scott was still grinning. “Wade’s doing great. He’s really starting to get the hang of bartending.”

I pasted on a smile.

“I understand why he can’t just take a class.”

My smile faded.

Scott shrugged. “We all lie about something, right?”

I had known Scott five minutes and I liked him already. “Scott, do you go to SUNY?”

He nodded.

“Ever hear of Professor Edwards?”

“Edwards? Yeah? He does that gender class. Says that men and women are forced into behaving certain ways because of society.”

“What’s he like?”

“Is that who you’re meeting?”

“No. But I’ve recently heard of his research.” I paused. “How’d you know I was meeting someone?”

“You keep looking over at the door.”

“Very observant.”

“It’s my job.”

“Well, what have you observed about Edwards?”

Scott gave a small shrug. “I haven’t taken his class. I don’t need to hear that stuff. Campus rumor says he claims if a guy was born and raised without being told he was supposed to be macho and like girls that he’d probably end up seeking the company of men instead.” Scott’s lip curled. “I was told that shit and I’m gay anyway.”

Cute and gay. And nice to Wade. Hmmm.

Something caught Scott’s eye. He looked surprised. “Check this guy out.” He nodded toward the door.

Wade and I both followed his line of sight.

Wow.

Dressed in washed out jeans, a leather jacket and biker boots, Andrew had just sauntered in. He caught my eye and smiled.

As he neared me I noticed the small diamond stud in his left ear.

Andrew sat on the stool beside me. “Hi, Christopher.” He turned his attention to Wade and grinned a wolfish grin.

Wade returned his smile, then busied himself behind the bar.

Scott looked at us expectantly.

I introduced them.

“What’s your pleasure?”

“Beer, please.”

Scott grabbed a mug and filled it.

“Andrew, you got your ear pierced?” I asked.

He nodded, turning his head toward me to show it off. “Always wanted to. Finally I thought what am I waiting for?”

“You look good.”

“Thanks. I feel good. Looking forward to some time off when class gets over. Between work and school I’m not getting to see Wade much.” Andrew drained half of his beer.

Wade was leaning on the bar across from Andrew. He was smiling.

They began discussing what time Wade would get off tonight and whether they could grab coffee.

Maybe this was the personality for Andrew? Here he was: calm, sexy, confident, relaxed. The earring had momentarily surprised me, but there was no reason why he shouldn’t have one.

This was good. Maybe my work with Andrew was wrapping up. He’d settled into a self-assured persona. I’d keep my eyes and ears open, but I didn’t think I’d be putting Andrew under again for a while.

Scott was grinning at me from across the bar.

It just so happened I was going to be freeing up some time. I wondered what Scott’s hidden desire was. I could help him achieve that...

I shook my head. No more boys. Although there was really no reason I couldn’t have a new friend. We’ll see.

Scott’s attention was at the door again. His eyebrows were knit in puzzlement.

I glanced at the entryway. Mike Taylor and Nick Phillips had just walked in together. Mike wore a coat over a sweater and khakis. Nick wore blue spandex pants and a white shirt.

It was freezing out. Was he nuts?

I caught Scott’s eye. When he finished filling some drink orders he moved toward me.

“You know him?” I asked, gesturing over my shoulder with my head.

“We’ve had a couple classes together.”

“What’s with the get-up?”

Scott did a palms up. “You got me. When school started he looked like everybody else. Kind of cute. Now all he ever wears is that stuff. Used to come in with a couple straight guys.”

“Used to?”

Scott shrugged. “Haven’t seen him around much for a while.”

“What do you think’s going on?” I knew his answer would be mostly speculation, but he seemed to know things he was holding back.

“I see a lot working here. I’d have bet he was a straight arrow when I met him. Then he came in one night and gave me his number. Next time I saw him after that he was wearing spandex.”

“So what are you are trying to tell me?”

“He’s getting queerer by the day. I don’t know what exactly is going on. Maybe he’s just decided to throw the closet door wide open.”

Scott moved off down the bar to take a drink order.

Hmmm.

To be continued in Part 98...

Christopher & Craig

Part 98: FMPs.

How perfect was it that Chris decided to go check out the bar that Wade’s been working at? Yeah, and I believe they hired an eighteen year old to work at the bar without him either dancing half-naked or blowing the boss on a regular basis. Every night when he gets home he runs upstairs and showers before coming to find Chris and talk.

Whatever. Not my problem. Let him be a gogo boy for all I care.

It’s not that I’m jealous. I’m really not. It’s my white socks Chris wants to see. Not to mention the rest of me. But Chris has a big heart and now he’s adopted Wade. He wants me to stop giving him a hard time. I don’t know. We’ll see.

It’d be easier to be nice to Wade if he wasn’t living here. Much easier. Because then Chris could tie me to the kitchen table without worrying about Wade walking in on us. Hunh. The basement had been sitting empty since Jose had joined the carnival. Maybe we could set something up down there. I mean, Wade didn’t ever go down there. And that way Chris could leave me tied up sometimes.

Thinking about it made me wish Chris hadn’t gone to the bar.

Alan was on his way over. I was on pins and needles to see if he had slept in lingerie last night. This hypnotizing a guy and sending him out into the world with post-hypnotic suggestions was harder than it looked. I wondered if Chris had lost sleep wondering what I was doing in between when I used to visit him. Probably not. Chris was a master hypnotist and pretty much expected his suggestions to be followed. I was still surprised when I got it to work right. So far it seemed to be going okay with Alan.

I had been on the internet on Chris’s computer this afternoon doing a little research about transvestites. I may be gay, and I may have spent time as Chris’s slave, and I may even like to be tied up, but what the hell do I know about straight men dressing in women’s clothes for sexual thrills?

I found this really interesting article about transvestite hookers. Apparently men were willing to pay a lot of money to fuck a guy in drag. Especially Hispanic men, according to this article. I didn’t really see how that was relevant or even traceable, since it wasn’t like white men and African American men were probably volunteering information about how many transvestite ‘ho’s they had paid to go down on them.

The article went on to say that a lot of these transvestite hookers got breast implants and everything. I wondered what Alan would look like with breasts. I shuddered. That was a scary thought.

Anyway, turning Alan into a ‘ho seemed a little drastic, even for revenge. Then again, it might be a good career move for him. He could apparently take in a good chunk of change for working a corner. But then I’d have to find him a pimp. And where exactly do you find a pimp willing to take in a good-looking white guy who likes to wear lingerie?

I had kind of fantasized what it would be like though. I could just see Alan in full-on drag hustling on a corner and then going home to his pimp with a bra stuffed with cash. Maybe I would hypnotize him into thinking he was totally devoted to his pimp. Maybe he’d be so totally in love with the guy that he’d hand over all the money he made and keep none, so that even though he was selling his ass he wasn’t making any money from it. That’d be pretty good revenge. Maybe I’d even make him like it.

But it wouldn’t get back at him for being cruel to me. The only reason I’d ever even started this was so that he would know what it was like to have a guy use you and then treat you like dirt. Somehow I had gotten way off track.

It’d been really easy to get off track. I mean, having Alan on the couch, helpless, mind open to any suggestion I wanted to make was damn tempting. He was still as cute as ever. And sometimes when I sat looking at him I could almost forget how he had told me he never wanted to see me again. What if I just suggested that he wanted to suck me off? Or maybe he wanted me to fuck him doggie-style? I could get into the idea of fucking Alan. He’d totally fucked me over when we were teenagers. It’d only be like returning the favor, right?

Plus I’d get to find out what it would be like to be held in his arms, and kiss his lips, and feel his body pressed to mine.

I had to stop thinking like that! I already knew what I was going to make him do tonight. And I knew how to make sure that I’d get my revenge.

I heard a car pull into the driveway and stop. Moments later the doorbell rang.

Alan stood in the glow of the porch light, looking not happy, but not unhappy. He had a brown leather coat over a green sweater and khakis, and his brown hiking boots on his feet.

I invited him in and took his coat. The green sweater was beautiful. I imagined what it would look like on Chris. It would make his eyes glow.

Not that it didn’t look great on Alan. Alan’s eyes were hazel, and the sweater was picking them up nicely.

Don’t notice that!

Once we had exchanged the usual greetings we sat in the den. “Relax, Needledick,” I said.

Alan was under immediately. I ran through a couple of the trance-deepening exercises that Chris had told me about on Sunday. They really seemed to be doing the trick! Not that I doubted Chris. I knew he was an expert at this stuff. I just wasn’t sure how good I was at it yet. Then again, Alan was technically the third guy I had hypnotized. They say the third time’s the charm.

When I was sure Alan was deeply under I decided it was time to get to what I wanted him to do. I didn’t know how long Chris would stay out and I didn’t want to have to explain what I was doing.

“Alan, I want you to stand up and take off your shoes, pants and sweater.”

Alan got to his feet and picked up each foot, yanking off his boots and dropping them on the floor. The sweater was up over his head and dropped on the floor. He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, stepping out of them.

He was standing in boxers, an undershirt, and thick socks.

There was only one way to find out if I was a total failure at this.

“Take off your shorts and T-shirt, Needledick.”

He pushed off his shorts and pulled up his T-shirt.

Alan Jacoby stood in the den dressed in black panties and a matching black bra. They looked like good ones from the Victoria Secret ads.

Why hadn’t I thought to get one of those disposable cameras?

I stared at Alan’s flat stomach. My eyes traveled down his muscled legs. He had the body of a runner. And he had a big bulge in his little black panties.

The telephone rang and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

I ran to the extension on the desk and snatched it up before it could ring again.

The only person I wanted to explain this to less than Chris was Alan. And if he woke up now I had no idea how I was going to explain why he was only wearing a bra and panties.

“Hello?” I said into the phone, my voice sounding high.

“Craig? This is Leatherman. Let me talk to your Master.”

I slapped myself in the forehead with the heel of my hand. Next time I have to remember to take the phone off the hook.

And it wasn’t even anybody important! Just Mitch Driver, America’s newest Leatherman.

I covered the mouthpiece. “Needledick, get dressed and sit on the couch.”

While Alan began reassembling his outfit I turned my attention back to the phone. “Chris is out for the evening, Leatherman.”

“Have him call me when he returns. Be a good boy.” He disconnected.

I set the phone down. Alan was seated on the couch, completely oblivious.

“Needledick, are you wearing men’s underwear?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You shouldn’t be. You aren’t allowed to wear men’s undergarments. You should only wear a bra and panties under your clothing. Understand?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What did you wear to bed last night?”

“A pink teddy.”

I clapped my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. “You did?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Great! How did it make you feel?”

“Ashamed.”

I nodded. “Anything else?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Wearing lingerie makes you feel horny, Needledick. You know it does. It makes your Needledick get hard. Does wearing lingerie make you horny?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Great! And you know what will make you feel even hornier? You’ll feel even hornier if you get a pair of high-heeled shoes to wear. We’re talking four-inch spike heels here.” I momentarily wondered if he’d be able to find spike heels in his size. “What size shoe do you wear?”

“Nine.”

I believe you add roughly one and a half-sizes to a man’s size to get a woman’s size shoe. Which would put him in ten-and-a-halves. That should be doable.

“Alan, on your way home you will go to the mall. You will stop at a shoe store and but black, strappy high-heeled shoes. At least a four-inch heel. You should be about a size ten-and-a-half. Try them on to make sure, then buy them. Understand?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What will you buy?”

“Black spike heels.”

“Great!” In four inch heels he’d be about six feet tall. I imagined his hairy legs with a pink teddy and black heels. I was probably grinning like a village idiot. “When you go home you will put on your lingerie and your new shoes and you will feel all horny. Then you will jerk off. Understand?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You will want to jerk off when you wear your new shoes. Because these new shoes are FMPSs. Do you know what FMPs are?”

“Fuck Me Pumps,” he said dully.

“That’s right. And not only will you want to jerk off when you are wearing your Fuck Me Pumps, but you will only feel horny when you are wearing those shoes. You will have to wear high-heels to get horny. Understand?”

“Uh-huh.”

I laughed. Now for the final touch for tonight. “Have you talked to your girlfriend lately?”

“She left me messages to call her.”

“Did you call her?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Needledick, tonight while you are in your bedroom wearing your Fuck Me Pumps and feeling horny you will call your girlfriend. You will make a date with her. Understand?”

“Uh-huh.”

God, I wished I could be there when his date got over and they went back to his place and he slipped into his teddy and FMPs.

I sighed. I was almost going to miss all this.

I shrugged. Maybe I could still see Alan now and then. I mean, I wouldn’t be able to let this go without seeing him in those Fuck Me Pumps, right?

“Needledick, when I count three you will awaken and leave here. You have a lot to do tonight. Do you have any questions about your instructions?”

“Uh-uh.”

“1...2...3.”

I shuffled Alan out of the house and watched through the foyer window until his car was out of the driveway. The next couple of days were going to be really good.

To be continued in Part 99...