The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

There’s a certain grieving process after a relationship ends. Books have been written about it. Movies laugh and cry over it. Songs fill the airwaves on it. Talk show hosts make livings off of it. Of course, each individual reserves the right to handle the loss of a loved one in his own way. Some people get drunk. Some people eat too much. Some people go out and have meaningless sex with a beautiful stranger.

I didn’t do any of those. Instead I threw myself into my work. Which was good for keeping me busy during the day, but not so good for the nights. By the end of the week most of Craig’s clothes and belongings had disappeared from the house. Sure, there was his dog collar in my bottom desk drawer, and a pair of old and forgotten loafers at the back of the closet, but the house had taken on an odd stillness in his absence. I found myself leaving the TV or radio on to combat the quiet.

And, of course, inviting over boys who needed conditioning.

Armed with my new jaded outlook on love and devotion I decided to focus more on personal betterment. Who among us couldn’t use a bit of self-improvement? To begin I rectified several of my own recent errors in judgment...

Marty was seated on my couch, his long frame looking fantastically tanned and toned today. He had arrived only moments ago, removing his boots and settling himself on the couch before I gave his trigger. Now he sat quietly awaiting my instructions. It was funny; as attractive as he was to look at, I no longer wanted to see him involved physically with Nick Phillips. Or emotionally. School friends and sex no longer seemed like an ideal mix. Wives might always be lovers, but there were certain lines in old friendships that shouldn’t be crossed.

Of course, as much as friends and lovers were an abomination, friends and slavery were another matter.

“Marty, can you hear me?” I rolled my eyes even as I’d said it.

“Yes.”

“How do you feel, Marty?”

“Good.”

“That’s good. What did you do today?”

“I went to the gym.”

Not really an exciting day for Marty. Then again, not really an exciting way to start off a hypnosis session with a regular subject. But that was okay. I’d be spicing up his life a bit tonight.

“Marty, I think it’s time we refocus our sessions a bit. It’s time to increase the role of leather in your life. And to begin that, tell me, did you buy the leather jock?”

“Yes.”

“Have you worn it?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It looks kind of—gay.”

I lowered my eyebrows. Funny he’d mentioned that. For the past day or two I had been deliberating whether or not to delete any suggestions that may have brought into question his sexuality being anything other than a straight arrow. Looking at him tonight in his jeans and pullover, with his somewhat shaggy hair and beard, I could recognize a classic breeder when I saw one.

I sighed. I should really just reinforce his heterosexuality, bury any thoughts of Nick servicing him at Edwards’, and send him home for good.

The good angel on my shoulder was smiling. It was the right thing to do. I would have used hypnosis to improve a life again, thereby proving that not all hypnosis need have a disastrous outcome.

Okay, I’ll send him home.

Self-improvement was my goal, right?

But wasn’t self-improvement what Craig had supposedly been doing with Alan after his suicide attempt? Wasn’t he supposed to up his friend’s self-esteem while restoring him to his original personality traits?

Fucking him had been an unfortunate side-effect.

I heaved a bigger sigh. The bad angel on my other shoulder wore an evil grin. Fuck him.

“Marty, you like the leather jock. You like the way it looks, and the way it feels on your skin. Wearing leather makes you feel strong and powerful. Doesn’t it, Marty?”

“Yes.”

“How does leather make you feel?”

“Powerful.”

“Good boy. You are a good boy, Marty. You do as I tell you. Because you want to be a good boy, don’t you, Marty?”

“Yes.”

I smiled. “They say in Spiderman ‘with great power comes great responsibility.’ And if you’re walking around feeling powerful, I think it will be important for you to take on some new responsibilities in the coming weeks. We wouldn’t want your days to be boring like today, now would we?”

I didn’t expect a reply. Marty sat still, waiting for me to continue. “Today I want you to picture in your mind the leather-clad woman of your dreams. Envision her entire body standing before you. Can you see her, Marty?”

“Yes.” The bulge in his pants seemed to grow even larger.

“Look at her closely,” I said slowly. “Notice her broad shoulders, her firm chest, her flat stomach. Look at her bulging arms, her big hands. Her strong thighs, her big boots. Look at her strong jaw and piercing eyes. Look closer... Closer... She’s a he, Marty. Look at him in his leather. Look again. The leatherman in your dreams is you, Marty. Can you see, Marty?”

“Ye-es,” he sighed.

“You will find that you want to wear your leather for the sheer power you feel when you wear it. You are in control in your leather, Marty.”

Marty’s expression was serene.

“Of course, you’ll need someone to control. But we’ll save that for next time. For tonight why don’t we end on an ‘up’ note? Stand up, Marty.”

Marty got to his feet, rocking slightly.

“Take down your pants.”

As he unzipped and pushed his jeans down to his knees, I crossed to the desk. In the drawer of toys I’d bought for Craig I had several items I’d never played with. It didn’t look like I’d be using them with Craig, so I might as well share the toys. I selected the leather ball stretcher. I had wondered when this would come in handy.

I walked to Marty and snapped it on his big balls, lowering them from his long, hard cock, and separating them with the strap.

A grimace passed over his face before relaxation settled in again.

“Marty, you will not be allowed to remove this ball stretcher until the next time you return here. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“You will enjoy the sensations as your balls are stretched, Marty. You have those big balls, but just like you can never be too rich or too thin, you can never be too big. Stretching those suckers will make the bulge in your pants look even bigger! You want to look big, Marty. You’re proud of that big cock of yours. You want people to notice it. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“You will not be allowed to masturbate while you are wearing the ball stretcher tonight. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good boy. Pull up your pants.”

Marty refastened his pants, an obscene bulge tenting the front.

“Be seated, Marty.”

He sat on the couch.

“It’s time for you to go home and think about that leather jock of yours. 1...2...3.”

Marty blinked and looked at me.

“See you tomorrow?” I asked.

“Sure. Let me get out of your hair, man.”

I couldn’t help smirking. Next time I’d address how shaggy his hair was getting.

I followed Marty to the door and watched him pull on his leather boots. He slipped on his jacket and smiled at me.

I glanced at the bulge in his pants. If he’d noticed the ball stretcher he hadn’t let on. But the smile he wore with those boots and jacket told me he was feeling powerful already.

Once Marty was gone I returned to my desk to check my email. The drawer of toys was still hanging open. That gave me an idea. I picked up the phone and punched in Nick’s number.

Within twenty minutes he was at my door kicking off his sneakers and stashing his coat on a vacant hook. I led him into the den and smiled. “Beach boy.”

Nick stopped walking as his eyes slid shut.

“Nick, I seem to recall reading in Professor Edwards’ notes that you were a gymnast. Is that true?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How’s your flexibility?”

“Excellent.”

“Can you demonstrate for me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You may open your eyes and move freely to do so now, Nick.”

Nick squared his shoulders, then kicked over his head with each leg. He jumped in the air and landed on his hands before doing a split. On the floor he twisted both legs behind his head so that his ankles were crossed behind his neck.

“Wow,” I said. “In that position can you suck your own dick?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

I laughed. That had been a rhetorical question. “Have you tried?”

“No, sir.”

Hmmm. “Perhaps you should begin trying. I’d like to see you able to blow yourself, Nick. That would be quite entertaining. I bet people would subscribe to cable to watch that: a cute blond boy sucking himself off. Not something you see every night. You will begin practicing after you leave here tonight, Nick.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you know how to juggle?”

“No, sir.”

“You will learn to juggle this week, practicing whenever you have a spare moment. You may start with three small balls. We’ll work up from there. Now, one last thing. Get on your feet, Nick.”

He untwisted his legs and hopped to his feet. I crossed to the desk.

“Pull down your pants, Nick. Then bend over and grab your ankles.”

By the time I returned from the desk Nick was bent over, securely grasping his ankles. I looked at his virgin ass on display.

Once again my good angel reared his ugly head. It wasn’t too late to stop Nick from trying to become a human pretzel who can suck his own dick and send him home no worse for the wear. I had broken him of his dependence on spandex. All he really needed was a healthy outlet for his sex drive and he could return to college in order to live a normal life as a productive member of society.

Then the bad angel reminded me that Lee was depending on me to provide a boy for that television show he was connected with and that by sparing Nick any additional training I would really be hurting Lee. And I did promise myself I would use hypnosis to improve the quality of people’s lives. I mean, Lee could really be in a bad place if I didn’t provide a normal guy with a fetish for his show, right?

I shrugged.

I squeezed some lube onto Nick’s ass. According to Edwards’ notes Nick was completely a virgin, if you didn’t count whatever sucking he’d done while under the influence of spandex.

I heard Nick suck in air, but he didn’t move.

The only thing that had been in this ass was Nick’s own finger. Oh well.

“Nick, you will stand perfectly still until I tell you to move,” I commanded. Then ever so slowly at first, and then with greater pressure, I shoved the small buttplug up his virgin ass.

Nick made small whimpering noises in his throat.

“You may stand and pull up your pants, Nick.”

As he straightened up I saw his raging hard on. He fastened his jeans. Small beads of sweat glistened on his forehead.

“Nick, when you get home you may masturbate and enjoy the feeling of the buttplug up your ass as you have an intense orgasm. You will leave the buttplug in tonight and remove it tomorrow morning. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You will return here in two nights. In the meantime, you will continue to need something in your ass in order to masturbate. Remember, Nick. You are no longer a man. You are a toy to be used for pleasure. And as such you need to get used to the feeling of something in your ass. You will find that you begin thinking about having a hard cock up your ass now. You will begin to miss the feeling of something in your ass and crave it more and more. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Whose cock will you think of in your ass, Nick?”

“Marty’s.”

“That’s right, boy. You remembered that you must think of Marty’s cock. Good boy. Now go home. 1...2...3.”

Nick looked around. “I guess I should be going?” He turned and took a step toward the door, then stopped. He tugged on his jeans and took another step.

“Beach boy,” I said. “You will find that the sensation in your ass is a pleasant one that you enjoy. And you will know that it’s the reason you’re sporting that erection. 1...2...3.”

Nick strode to the door, then slipped on his sneakers and coat. “Goodnight, Christopher,” he said.

“See you soon,” I replied.

Life has a way of evening out the rough patches with something good that happens. Unfortunately today was NOT that day. Today was one of those days that causes you to do things you probably wouldn’t normally do. Not that you necessarily regret them later, but had your day been better to begin with your mind probably wouldn’t have gone to such a harsh place.

Last night I felt a bit down, then Marty and Nick came over. Tonight I was lonely, and there was David.

He arrived at seven, looking like his workouts were really paying off. He kicked off his sneakers, exposing a pair of white socks that were stuck to his feet and caked with dirt. He dropped to his knees and quickly inhaled each sneaker before standing and exchanging pleasantries.

“Anything new and exciting in your life, David?”

He looked a little guilty.

Maybe there was. I walked into the den and he followed, seating himself on the couch.

I sat in my chair and took a long look at those grungy white socks of his. Maybe I should let him change them. It had been about two weeks.

He looked at me expectantly.

I smiled. “Closet Cop. What’s wrong, David? You look guilty.”

“I did something today. A-at the gym.”

“What did you do?”

“It was after I had finished my workout. But I really wanted to sniff somebody’s shoes. So I waited in the locker room. And this really hot guy came in all sweaty and took off his clothes to hit the showers. He just left his sneakers on the floor with his socks stuffed in them. Just out in the open.”

“What did you do, David?”

“I waited for a minute to make sure nobody was around. Then I went over and sniffed his sneakers. They smelled really great. Then I heard somebody coming so I dropped the sneakers. But one of the socks fell out of the shoe so I grabbed it and stuffed it in my pocket and got out of there.”

“Then what did you do, David?”

“I smelled the sock when I got back to my car. It smelled so good,” he said dreamily.

I laughed. Here was the police detective stealing dirty old socks from the gym. “Next time why don’t you steal the shoe, too?” I shook my head.

“Stealing is wrong,” David said.

What’s this? The detective’s morals surface? “Oh, not if you need to sniff the shoes to get hard, boy. Did you get hard when you took the sock?”

“I wanted to whack off in the car.”

“Did you?”

“No, sir.”

“Why not?”

“What if somebody saw? It would be against the law.”

There he goes again. Following the rules and not breaking any laws seemed to really be ingrained in him. It was really kind of cute. “David, you worry too much. If you’re sniffing a really good shoe or even a really good sock and you want to ‘whack off’, then I say go to it, boy! If it feels good, do it. Sometimes breaking the rules can be fun. Don’t you think so, boy?”

“Yes, sir?” It was more a question than a statement.

Hmmm. I could see where that might not figure in with what he’d already learned. “You’re right, boy. You want to be a slave, and a slave should always follow his Master’s rules. Right, boy?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, your new rule is that you can break some rules when you sniff shoes or whack off. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now, anything else happen lately I should know about before we continue?”

“The Lieutenant called me in this morning. He wanted to know why I haven’t filed a report on this case. I told him you’ve been helping me on the slavery angle.”

My head snapped up. I stared at him in disbelief. He what? “You what?”

“I told him you’re assisting in the investigation.” David looked vaguely proud of himself.

“You gave him my name?”

“Yes, sir.”

“In conjunction with disappearing boys and slavery?”

“Yes, sir.”

Of all the stupid, asinine, lousy... “How—What—Why would you do such a thing?” I sputtered.

“I thought you’d be glad I didn’t mention Mitch’s name.”

“So you used mine?” I wanted to lunge for his throat.

“Wasn’t that good thinking?”

“No!” I hissed. “No, it wasn’t good thinking. You think this was smart? You’re too smart for your own good!” I spat out.

Too smart for his own good, all right. And for mine! Now I was implicated in this mess. Terrific. First Mitch investigates me for Craig’s disappearance, and now months later David tells his lieutenant that I’m helping investigate this stuff. God forbid anybody make the connections here. David’s smart, all right, but in the way that being smart can lead to big trouble!

Too smart for his own good... That gave me an idea. I began to chuckle. It was something I’d never done before. And wasn’t that why I continued experimenting with hypnosis? To try new things? I rubbed my chin. Yes, this could work. It’d have to be done slowly, and with great care, but hell, why not? I had a lot of free evenings coming up.

I took David through several deepening techniques. Once I was certain he was deeply under I decided to begin my new project.

“David, you’re an intelligent man, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What was your best subject in school?”

“School, sir?”

“Yes. What was your favorite class?”

“Math.”

“You were talented at math?”

“Yes, sir.”

I smiled. “David, tonight when I count to three something strange will have happened to you. All of our knowledge of mathematics will be locked away in a part of your mind you can no longer access. The knowledge will not be gone, but you will not be able to use it until I give you permission. You will find that simple addition and subtraction stumps you. Paying for things with money will be a chore as you can no longer figure out which bills and coins you need. In fact, you will not remember how to count over twenty. And even counting to twenty will entail using your fingers and toes. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How will you count, David?”

“With my fingers and toes.”

“That’s right, boy. You will no longer have any talent for math. Numbers will mystify you. Repeat after me and know that it’s true, David, because everything you say to me is true: You cannot remember how to do math anymore.”

“I cannot remember how to do math anymore.”

“That’s right. Repeat after me: You cannot count without your fingers anymore.”

“I cannot count without my fingers anymore.”

“And do you know when you will be able to do math again, David?”

“When you give me permission.”

“When?”

“When you give me permission...sir?”

“Good boy! You will one day make an excellent slave. And you know you want to be a good slave, don’t you, David?”

“Yes, sir.”

“This is only the first step. You will return here tomorrow. 1...all your knowledge of math is leaving you. 2...you can only count using your fingers and toes. 3.”

David opened his eyes.

Let the games begin.