The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Christopher, Craig & Co.


My name is Christopher Boldt. Today is Wednesday. It’s December. This is upstate New York, and it’s cold as hell.

Today has been one of those days where you wish you hadn’t gotten out of bed. Or at least that you could crawl back under the covers and hide.

Let me explain.

You probably need a few personal details about me. I’m 5′10″, brown hair, green eyes, fit, but not overly buff, and pretty easygoing as a rule. I learned the art of hypnotism from a man I served under. I have begun to pass that knowledge on to my lover, Craig Matthews. We live together. He’s pretty damn adorable, with bleached-blond hair which is usually spiked all over his head, blue eyes, and a toned body.

Rounding out our happy family at 1326 Greenhill Road is Wade Thompson. I helped him recover from several traumatic experiences and now he thinks of me as a big brother. He’s a good kid. He looks very much like a kid, too. His freckled cheeks, deep-set brown eyes, and mop of dark hair give the illusion of someone much younger than his eighteen years.

So far today I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time on the phone. Some days are like that, I guess.

The first call was from Lee Phillips, an old friend who hails from Britain. He’s loosely associated with a carnival in which another ‘friend’ of mine has found employment. Jose Sanchez is a Mexican journeyman boxer traveling and fighting. Lee isn’t aware that Jose used to be Irish, used to be rich, and used to be an abusive bastard. Sometimes karma catches up with you sooner than expected.

Next up was Leatherman. Well, Leathermitch. You see, way back when Craig and I first got involved Craig was reported missing. Detective Mitch Driver began investigating undercover. Long story short he became Leatherman’s faithful servant Bootboy, living to lick his Master’s boots. Leatherman abused the privilege of having a slave, so I switched their roles. Now Mitch is Leatherman, proprietor of the Club. Anyway, Leatherman is trying to persuade me to hypnotize his staff into being more subservient. I turn him down regularly. I’m not in the business of providing slave labor.

Then I talked to Michael Taylor. Our association began when he delivered pizza to my house and accidentally saw Craig and Mitch hypnotized to behave as dogs. Turned out Mike harbored a desire to be a stripper. I helped him realize that goal by finding him a weekly gig at the Club. Recently he appeared in a low-budget porno. Threatening letters began arriving with alarming regularity referring to my work with Mike. They concern me, only slightly more than Mike’s current love interest.

Mike began seeing local college guy Nick Phillips a while back. Nick’s undergone some drastic changes lately. Since coming out, he’s begun dressing in spandex and shaved his head. His friend Marty Jones went missing last week. Suspicious, to say the least.

A visit to the college today cleared up a few of the questions plaguing my thoughts lately. It’s become apparent that the Gender Class Nick is enrolled in, and its Professor—Damian Edwards—are not what they seem. Nick tells everyone he is Professor Edward’s Research Assistant. I’d bet the plantation he’s actually the research. To make matters worse, the author of my threatening letters appears to be Edwards.

Which opens up a whole new set of questions. Namely, why is he writing me? What exactly is he working to prove with his so-called research? And does Nick know he’s actually an experiment?

Plus I haven’t had any luck finding a clue to Marty’s whereabouts. I can’t seem to shake the feeling that something bad has happened to him.

And just when I thought things couldn’t possibly get more complicated, Craig called me on my cell. It seems he’s been hypnotizing a former friend of his behind my back. In his quest to get back at Alan Jacoby he almost got the ultimate revenge. Alan attempted suicide last night. Now Craig is asking for my help to fix things.

You’re probably wondering in the midst of all this going on, what do I want? I can answer that very simply. I want it to be like it used to be—back in the good old days when it was just Craig and me and a lot of passion. Somehow I don’t see that happening before a lot of issues get resolved.

Christopher, Craig & Co.

Part 1: Wade.

Now what?

I needed to find Nick and see if he knew what was happening to him.

I needed to confront Edwards and discover what the threatening notes were about.

I needed to get more details from Craig about his sessions with Alan.

I needed to figure out a way to see Alan.

And I needed to pick Wade up from the DMV.

Well, one of those problems was easily solved, so I trekked to my car and sped to the DMV. Wade was standing out front, hands thrust deep in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels, apparently trying to keep warm.

He scrambled into the car, his face brightening. “I got it!”

“Congratulations,” I said, but it didn’t sound very enthusiastic.

Wade swiveled in his seat. “What’s wrong?”

I pasted on a smile. “What could be wrong?”

“I don’t know. Something.”

I shrugged, pulling out into traffic.

“Chris, a lot happens at the house that you think I don’t know and we never talk about, but I can tell something’s really wrong.”

I almost drove into oncoming traffic.

Horns blared.

“Chris!” Wade yelped.

“What do you know about?” I asked, more concerned than panicked. I mean, there was no way he could know about the threatening letters. Craig and I had been careful to leave no trace of them where Wade might stumble across them.

Wade sat straighter and looked out the windshield. “Well, nothing, really. I’m still trying to figure it all out. But I know something weird goes on and I know you and Craig change the subject when I’m around sometimes. You guys are okay, right? I mean, you’re not breaking up, are you?”

I felt like my head was spinning. “No, Craig and I aren’t breaking up.”


I raised an eyebrow. Craig had a tendency to tease and snipe at Wade. Though he denied it, I know he was jealous of having another guy in the house. “How do you feel about Craig?”

Wade shrugged. “He’s all right, I guess. I mean, sometimes I think he’d be happier if I disappeared in the middle of the night, but mostly he’s okay.”

I smiled.

“Andrew knows what goes on at the house. Doesn’t he?”

Andrew Brooks is a grad student at the local college working at a shoestore to pay for his Master’s Degree. I had introduced him to Wade not long ago and they were seeing each other. And, yes, Andrew knew some of what goes on at the house. I’ve been hypnotizing him for several weeks to fulfill his request to be ‘somehow different.’

“Since you’re not answering I bet I’m right. I wasn’t completely sure if you knew. I saw Craig with that other guy and he was telling him what to do and it took me awhile but I realized it was just like watching one of those cheesy magicians on TV. You know, the ones who hypnotize people and make them do funny things? That’s what it looked like Craig was doing.”

My knuckles were white on the steering wheel. My God. How stupid of me? Wade had been living among all the insanity at my house and he’d pieced together some of what was going on. I didn’t know whether to be proud or terrified.

Terrified was winning.

“Wade,” I said, concentrating on keeping my voice normal, “I think perhaps we should discuss all of this once we get home.”

Wade swiveled in the seat. “Wait a minute! That’s why you always offer to talk to Andrew when I tell you he’s acting weird! You hypnotized Andrew. Didn’t you?”

His tone was accusatory.

“Wade, really, I’d rather we talked about this when we got home.”

“You did! Wow. It’s kind of cool. I mean, can you make him do neat stuff? It’s kind of weird though. I mean, you’re hypnotizing my boyfriend.”

I made a resolution right then to never reveal I’d hypnotized Wade.

“It must be neat to be able to tell a guy what to do like that. I mean, Andrew’s changed a lot the last couple of weeks. Is that all you?”

I turned onto Greenhill Road. “Some of it.”

“Wow. Could I do it? I-I mean, could I learn how to hypnotize somebody?”

I parked in the driveway and shut off the car. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Hypnotism is not something to be taken lightly. It’s not a toy, Wade. There’s a tremendous responsibility involved. One wrong suggestion can cost you.” Just look at the mess Craig had created.

“So did you, like, study hypnotism?”

“I was trained to use it, yes.” I angled out of the car.

“And you taught Craig?”

“He’s still learning.”

The front door whipped open and Craig met us. “Thank God you’re home. I’ve been going out of my mind! What are we gonna—” He stopped when he saw Wade.

I frowned. “Wade tells me you’ve been hypnotizing some guy.”

Craig looked at Wade with murder in his eyes. “Have you been spying on me?”

“Knock it off!” I snapped.

Craig looked surprised.

“You’re not going to turn this around on him, Craig. Due to your irresponsible behavior Alan Jacoby’s in the hospital. Now, the question is, what do we do to prevent him from telling the doctors that it was your influence that landed him there?”

“Why’s he in the hospital?” Wade asked.

Craig answered, his voice still thick with anger, but at a more subdued level: “He tried to kill himself last night. The note was addressed to me.” He handed me a folded piece of paper.

“Craig, you’ve always been my best friend. I’m sorry I have to do this. I’d rather die than live like this. Alan.”

I looked up from the note. “What the hell did you do to him?”

“Can’t we talk about this without him here?” Craig gestured toward Wade.

“I don’t see how it matters. Wade knows you’ve been hypnotizing Alan. He may as well find out the rest now.”

Craig frowned. “All I wanted to do was teach Alan a lesson.”

“Craig, he tried to kill himself.”

“I know! I didn’t think it had gone that far. I mean, it started out really innocent.”

“What did you do?”

“I shrank his dick. He thinks it’s the smallest in the world.”

Wade giggled. “No! You can do that?”

I shot Wade a look and he sobered. “Tell me the rest.”

“Well, he was a little depressed but it wasn’t enough. So I got him wearing panties and bras. And then I told him he had to wear lingerie and fuck me pumps to get hard.”

“You told a straight man he had to dress as a transvestite in order to get an erection?”


“Did you reinforce in him his desire to be a transvestite? Did you assure him this behavior was normal for him? Did you take any precautionary measures?”

Craig stared at his sneakers. “I-I didn’t think—”

“That’s pretty obvious.” I wanted to tear into him about this, but now, with Wade here, was not the time. No, I’d get Craig alone for that.

Wade was staring at Craig. “So you told this guy he couldn’t get hard without wearing women’s clothes? And you can do that? Like, he couldn’t get hard no matter what?”

“Look, if we’re lucky the shame he’s attached to his behavior will be strong enough to prevent him from discussing it with the doctors.”

“I kind of told him he’d be REALLY ashamed.”

I laughed humorlessly. “That just might help save both our asses. When he’s released in 72 hours—if we’re not both in prison—you have to fix this.”

“I will.”

Wade looked from Craig to me. “So what else can you do to a guy? Can you like take a really cute guy and get him to want to do anything you tell him?”

Craig and I both stared at Wade.

To be continued in Part 2...

Christopher, Craig & Co.

Part 2: Professor Edwards’ Boys.

The house was dark. There wasn’t a sound. Or was there?

There it was again. It was soft. A moan, perhaps?

I reached for the doorknob. A key was inserted in the lock, ring dangling in the cold night air.

This was either a gift from God or a horrible set-up. I turned the knob.

Let me back up a few hours.

After Wade left for a shift at Kampas the phone had rung. It was Mike. He couldn’t find Nick; no one, apparently, had seen him since the night before. This was odd, considering he had been shaved bald and clad in a neon green spandex outfit. It seemed hard to imagine that anyone could not see him.

Mike was concerned that the same thing that had happened to Marty had happened to Nick. I promised to look into it.

It did seem strange that Nick had disappeared on the same day Professor Edwards had cancelled class. I decided it was time to talk to Professor Edwards.

Rationalizing that it’s easy to lie over the phone, but hard to dissuade me in person, Craig and I drove to the address listed for Damian Edwards in the telephone book.

Now I was standing on his front porch, doorknob in hand.

Wait. What if the moaning was Edwards having mad passionate sex?

Only one way to find out.

“Hello,” I called, pushing the door open.

I turned and shrugged at Craig. He rolled down the car window.

“Do you want me to come with?”

I shook my head, rubbing my hands together. Even with my scarf and leather gloves I was chilled.

“Professor Edwards?” I stood in the foyer. The moaning was coming from my right. I followed it down the hall.

“Professor Edwards?” I repeated.

No sound.

I felt around for a light switch.

Sudden brightness flooded the room.

I froze.

A young man was bound to a chair in the middle of the room, stripped and unconscious.

Another moan. But it wasn’t from him.

I looked down. At my feet lay another man, clad from head to toe in a lycra jumpsuit. He was moaning softly.

I scanned the room. A third man, this one older, lie across the room, his face twisted in pain.

“What the hell happened?” I wondered aloud.

I pulled off my glove as I crossed to the naked boy on the chair. I nearly fell over when I recognized him. It was Marty Jones! He’d seen better days, but I was sure it was him.

There was a syringe sticking out of his upper arm.

I reached and felt for a pulse at his neck.

Slow, but steady. Well, he was alive. Drugged, apparently. I pulled the syringe from his arm with my gloved hand.

Judging from the growth of beard on his face and the odor emanating from him, he must’ve been here since the day he disappeared. He looked paler and thinner than I remembered.

I dropped to my knees beside the older man. This, I surmised, was Professor Edwards. I felt for his pulse.

His skin was cool.

I shuddered. This one was dead. There was nothing I could do for him now.

I turned my attention to the moaner. I pulled the lycra hood off his head.

Nick Phillips. I might’ve guessed.

Two options presented themselves. One: make an anonymous phone call to 911, hope the police can sort out this mess, and pray there’s nothing here that ties Edwards to me. Two: get the boys out of here, look for evidence of those threatening letters to me, and get the hell out of Dodge.

But what would I do with Nick and Marty if I took them?

It didn’t matter. I couldn’t risk them telling the police any of my secrets.

And my conscience wouldn’t give me a moment’s rest if I left them both in the thrall of a dead man. There was no telling what damage he’d done to either of them.

I returned to the front door and summoned Craig. “We have a problem.”

He joined me in the foyer. “What?”

I gestured to the room on the right.

He gasped. “Holy shit!”

“It gets worse. Edwards is dead.”

Craig turned pale.

“Do you have gloves?”

He pulled his hands from his jacket pockets and displayed the brown gloves.

“Good. Here’s what I need from you...”

* * *

Two hours later I pulled the car out of Professor Damian Edwards’ driveway and pointed it toward home.

While Craig found clothing for Marty and cut him loose I searched through Edwards’ study. I found a small vial containing the drug I presumed Marty’d been given. I wasn’t certain, but if it was what I suspected Marty might be more of a problem than I’d thought.

I found a duffel bag in the hall closet and tossed the bottle and syringe inside, along with the remains of Marty’s shredded clothes. Closer inspection had shown that his clothes had been cut from his body after he was bound to the chair. I had to wonder what had prompted the forced removal of his clothes. Each scenario I could imagine seemed worse than the last.

I found Nick’s discarded spandex in the spare bedroom and tossed that in the bag, too. Craig pronounced the kitchen and master bedroom clean. We stuffed Marty into a pair of boxers and a T-shirt from Edwards’ bureau. He was still wearing socks and shoes. That would have to do. At least he was decent.

Nick moaned softly now and then from the floor.

There were no files or notes anywhere that I could see. The top of the desk contained absolutely nothing of interest. I looked under the desk. Bingo! A laptop case.

I fired it up and checked the recently accessed files. I selected CAMPUS CASE STUDY. I’d hit the mother lode. There were detailed notes and photos of Nick’s research. I shoved the laptop back in its case and deposited both the laptop and duffel in my trunk. We wrestled Nick and Marty into the backseat, and once I was comfortable there was no trace of our visit I locked Edwards’ door and we departed.

Craig watched me expectantly as I started the car. “Now what?”

I shrugged.

“Are we taking them home?”

“Yes. I need to read Edwards’ notes and see what the deal is with Nick.”

“What about Marty?”

“I won’t know until he wakes up.”

“And then?”

I blew out a breath. “What do you want me to tell you, Craig? We hypnotize everybody else. We’ll see.”

Craig was quiet for awhile. “What are you gonna tell Wade?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet. But it’s too cold to leave them in the barn. For tonight we’ll lock them in the basement. Tomorrow we’ll play it by ear. I doubt Marty will be awake tonight anyway.”

I glanced in the rearview mirror at Marty Jones. I hated to think what hell he’d been through. From the looks and smell of him it hadn’t been at all pleasant.

Nick moaned.

To be continued in Part 3...