The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Christopher, Craig & Co.

Part 7: Two Weeks Later.

The past two weeks were a busy blur. Amid the shopping and decorating for Christmas I was faced with the task of cleaning up the mess left by Professor Edwards’ untimely demise. The local newspapers had reported his passing as though it were a simple, quiet death in the privacy of his own home. I knew better.

Without going into too much detail, I did manage to accomplish quite a bit in two weeks. The highlights:

Marty moved back to his apartment in town. His family was apparently so relieved that he had returned that no one questioned too closely his prefabricated response to inquiries of his whereabouts during the time he was unaccounted for. Though his memory was much like swiss cheese, he was functioning in society, and returned every other night at seven o’clock for a hypnosis session. So far I hadn’t done much by way of alterations; I was simply putting him back together so that missing memories went unnoticed.

Nick was a problem. He had been unresponsive to the first drug I tried to use on him, and my second choice wasn’t completely legal and therefore more difficult to acquire. On the upside, the passing days had allowed his body hair to grow back and the hair on his head was nearly grown-in enough to pass for a military-type cut. When I did finally manage to break through his monkeyboy persona at least he’d look “normal” again.

Craig had been a little quieter and more introspective since coming to terms with his role in Alan’s downfall. He was working with Alan to remedy the situation, and assured me things were going okay. Though part of me felt I should be monitoring his actions with Alan closely, I felt I had to trust him and give him the room to resolve his own predicament in order for him to grow as both a person and a hypnotist.

Andrew had let the stubble on his chin grow into a full-fledged beard. He was known to wander around wearing his biker boots, tight jeans, sleeveless shirts which displayed his tattoo, and his earring. If I didn’t know he was Andrew Brooks, I ‘d never recognize him. Unfortunately, with his new persona he had apparently let his grades fall off and was in danger of failing the semester. Biker Andrew wasn’t concerned with getting his Master’s degree. I put him under earlier this week and made it imperative that he study and pass his finals.

Wade was still after me to teach him hypnosis. I couldn’t decide whether or not it was a good idea. Aside from that he was on me to stop by the bar he worked at. He seemed eager for me to spend some time with his new friend Scott, the bartender at Kampas. Wade seemed to think we had a lot in common and would make great friends. And since Wade was spending nearly every night working in order to save to buy a car, it was getting to the point that if I wanted to see him I’d have to visit Kampas.

Anyway, tonight was Saturday and Leatherman was hosting his annual Christmas bash at the Club. I dressed in my leather boots, jeans and a red sweater. Craig met me downstairs decked out in a tight green T-shirt and jeans. Apparently Wade and Andrew had already headed out, so we sped off for the Club.

Bootboy answered the door when I knocked. He ushered Craig and I into Leatherman’s private office. Bootboy was dressed festively in a red thong with white fur trim. He hurried off to inform Leatherman of my arrival.

Leatherman appeared in short order, clutching a cocktail glass. “Christopher, I’m so glad you made it.”

“I love a good Christmas party as much as the next guy,” I said.

Craig was busy watching the wall of video monitors which surveyed all action in the Club. The place was packed.

“Well, if you want to know what to get me for Christmas there’s a new bouncer I want you to meet. I’ll take him on his knees!” Leatherman toasted me with his glass and drained it. “What are you drinking?”

“Nothing yet. Who is this new bouncer?”

“You’ll see him—he’s the Guatemalan hottie near the front door. Name’s David.”

I rolled my eyes as Craig and I followed Leatherman out to the Club. The place was festooned with garlands and twinkling lights. And men in tight little outfits.

Leatherman draped an arm around David proprietarily. “This is the newest member of my staff. David, I was just telling Christopher how I’d like to find you under my tree wearing a bow and a smile.”

David smiled what looked like a pained smile and reddened a bit. I studied him. He wasn’t what I’d expected from a bouncer. He was probably about 5′6, and a bit on the small side. He had dark hair that was combed forward, and green eyes, which I suspected were contacts. His nose was a bit large for his face, although it was not unattractive. He was dressed in black slacks and a black T-shirt, with highly-polished black shoes on his feet.

“How would you feel about that, David?” Leatherman continued. “You could be my boy. I’d take good care of you. You’d merely have to serve me in return. Could you be happy doing that?”

Leatherman had a brain the size of a chickpea. I wanted to smack him. I forced a laugh. “David, you’ll have to forgive Leatherman. He’s had a bit too much eggnog. Really, asking you if you’d be happy to serve him...” I shook my head.

David raised his eyebrows. He seemed to be screwing up his courage. “I wonder what that would be like,” he said.

“Anytime you want to find out, boy, you just knock on my office door,” Leatherman said soberly. Maybe he was less drunk than I’d originally thought.

“I see all of these boys leave with men. I wonder what it would be like,” David repeated.

“To leave with a man?” Craig asked, as though he were just tuning into the conversation.

“To serve one,” David said by way of explanation. He seemed emboldened by Craig’s and my presence.

Craig tilted his head, glancing at me. “When he’s the right man, it can be the best time of your life.”

At that moment Mike’s show began. He made one of the sexiest Santas I could ever remember seeing. Of course, soon he was dancing in his boots and a pair of red boxer-briefs. His chest and perfect abs glistened as he moved under the twinkling lights.

I slipped backstage while he danced and was waiting in his dressing room when he finished.

“Christopher, I’m glad you’re here.” He pulled on a robe and sat on the chair in front of the makeup table.

I was leaning against the radiator, surveying him. I didn’t like the serious tone of his voice. “What’s up?”

“You know how I did that video awhile back?”

I nodded. I remembered it well. In fact, there was a copy of it on a shelf back at the house.

“I have an offer to do three more if I go out to California.”

Damn. I didn’t see that coming. “Are you going?”


No hesitation. Just ‘yes.’

“You’re sure this is what you want, Mike?”

He nodded. “There’s no reason for me to stay here. I mean, you’ve been a great friend and I hope we can stay in touch because you’ve been there for me every time I needed you and I’ve never paid you back for all the time’s you’ve listened to my problems and helped me with them...”

If he only knew how I’d created some of those problems by helping him realize his desire to strip and break up with his girlfriend to pursue relations with men I wondered how this conversation might go.

“...But Nick bailed on me and I don’t want to work at the pizza shop forever. My life here isn’t going to change. I mean, Leatherman would probably let me strip here as long as I want, but I want more.”

“Queer Pizza Boy.”

Mike stopped talking as his head nodded forward.

“Mike, I want you to go to California and become a big star. You’re a smart and attractive guy. You’ve been a very good boy. Take with you the self-confidence and pride that you need to help you face whatever rejections lie on the path ahead of you. You’re strong and capable of achieving any goal you set. Start a new life somewhere that will make you happy. But keep in touch with me. 1...2...3.” I smiled as he blinked and looked at me.

I took a step toward the door. “Mike, all the best. When you get there make sure you call and let me know you’re safe, okay?”

Mike stood. He pulled me into a hug. “Thanks for everything, Christopher. I’ve never had a friend who made me feel like everything would be okay like you do.”

I reached up and mussed his hair. “You’re a good boy, Mike. You’re going to be just fine.”

When Craig and I got home the light on my answering machine was blinking furiously. I hit the button. Only one of the messages was important.

“Christopher, Lee Phillips here. I thought you should know Jose was outclassed today and there was, er, a horrible accident. He’s dead, Christopher. I’ll try to reach you tomorrow.”

The machine beeped.


To be continued in Part 8...

Christopher, Craig & Co.

Part 8: Dreams.

I awoke with a start. I was in bed, Chris was beside me, his arm was thrown across me.

He mumbled something drowsily.

I tried not to move; tried not to breathe. I had to think about something else. Anything else. Think about Mike in his Santa suit. No, don’t think about that. Santa should be a jolly old fat man, not a hot guy in red boxer-briefs. What was that about? Although now I could see why people would want him to come down their chimneys.

Forget about Mike. Think about all those cute guys at the Club tonight. That David was completely not my type. But he kept asking me about serving a guy and if a lot of guys really had masters. What made him think I was the expert? I think Chris would like what I said though. I told him if he wanted to find out what it was like to have a master he should volunteer to be somebody’s slave. Then I told him I was sure there were a lot of the guys at the Club tonight looking for a slaveboy to take home. Leatherman would’ve been more than happy to have David volunteer to be a slave. Of course, Leatherman would want Chris to hypnotize David so that he’d be the perfect slave like Bootboy. And there was no doubt in my mind that Chris would tell him to forget it.

There, that was better. I hadn’t thought about Alan at all. Shit. Alan. Think about something else. Think about the fact that Donald was dead. That was kind of weird. It wasn’t even Chris’s fault but he felt responsible. I knew he was blaming himself for turning Donald into Jose. But Donald deserved to die. I mean, it wasn’t like I wanted to be the one to kill him, but some people should die. Wade didn’t deserve what Donald had done to him at all. Wade’s not always my favorite person, but Donald had screwed him up pretty bad. But somebody Chris had hypnotized had died because of his suggestions. If Donald wasn’t living his life as a Mexican journeyman boxer, traveling with a carnival, then he wouldn’t have been in a boxing ring, and he wouldn’t be dead now. And now Chris was miserable just before Christmas.

Which reminded me once again of Alan. Alan. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Since he got out of the hospital I’d been putting him under almost everyday. He’d stopped wearing women’s clothes. I let him go back to his boxers and baggy pants. I even gave him back his normal-sized dick. But last night...

Last night caught me totally off-guard.

I had gone to Alan’s apartment like I’ve been doing since he tried to, well, anyway, it’s a great apartment. I put him under and told him to relax again...

“Alan, I want to ask you some questions. And you will answer honestly. Okay?”


“Alan, what kind of underwear do you have on?”

“Striped boxers.”

“That’s good. And what size is your dick?”

“Average.” He frowned a little.

Maybe I’d tell him it was a little larger than average someday. It actually was a good size. Okay, I admit it: I had had Alan strip down to take off his panties and I had taken a look at the total package. He had a cute little bubblebutt under those baggy pants. And his cock and balls really were big enough to make him feel proud. Not that I wanted him to feel too good about himself. It was still Alan. He had still hurt me. I just didn’t want him to hurt himself physically.

“Alan, do you still want to hurt yourself?”


“Is it okay to try?”


“That’s right. Alan, in the note you left you said you were sorry about something. What did you mean?”

“It was all my fault.”

“What was?”

He didn’t answer. How could he be fighting me? He was deeply under.

“What was all your fault, Alan? Remember, you must answer truthfully. Do you mean trying to hurt yourself?’

“Uh-uh. Hurting you.”

“Hurting me?” I repeated in surprise.

“Uh-huh. I know you had a crush on me in high school.”

I took a deep breath. I wasn’t going to freak out. And I wasn’t going to get all pissed and do something stupid to him again. It took too long to put him back the way I’d found him as it was. “Then is that why you hurt me?”

“Uh-uh. I couldn’t handle it. You were so great. And you were always doing stuff for me. I-I liked it. I liked you. I knew I shouldn’t. It was wrong to like you.”

“Why was it wrong?”

“I’m not gay. I can’t be gay. It’s not right. I—”

“There’s nothing wrong with being gay!” I snapped defensively. I paused. “Go on.”

“I had this dream about you. I kissed you.” His voice quavered. “When I woke up I had had a wet dream. About my best friend. About a guy! It was wrong. I was sick. I couldn’t think about you like that. So that day I told you I didn’t want to be your friend anymore.”

“You ended our friendship because you had a wet dream about me?” I wouldn’t have felt more shocked if he had suddenly thrown off all his clothes, dropped to his knees, and begged to be my slave for life.


If he was having wet dreams about guys then I had to know something. “Why did you sleep with so many girls?”

“I-I had to prove I wasn’t gay. I’m not gay. I can sleep with any girl I want. They all want to be with me.”

“Is that why you always have a new girl?”

“I keep looking for a girl who’s as nice to me as you were. Someone who I can talk to all night like we used to do in your car.”

I didn’t say a word. I couldn’t think of anything to say to that.

“Sometimes I would picture you when I was making out with a girl. I used to see you around school. We still had P.E. together. You used to get changed in the gym diagonally from me. I could see you getting undressed. It was wrong to look. It was wrong to think about you like that! I had to stop. But I always wondered what it would’ve been like to really kiss you.”

“Do-do you still want to kiss me?”

He paused. Softly, he said, “Uh-huh.”

I started to lean toward him. Wait. No. I couldn’t do this. “Alan, it’s time for you to wake up and remember not to hurt yourself anymore. You have to remember. Understand?”



Alan opened his eyes. He seemed to flush. He looked me in the eye. He licked his lips. “Did—did I just tell you that?”

I squinted at him. “Tell me what?”

He looked away.

“I better get going. I’ll see you tomorrow, Alan.” I stood and headed for the door.

“Wait,” he said, grabbing for my arm. He spun me around and pressed his lips to mine. He kissed me deeply, passionately. I felt his tongue push its way into my mouth.

And then I kissed him back.

When I finally pushed him away I was gasping for air. What the hell had I done?

I got out of there as fast as I could. I mean, I’m with Chris. I love Chris. I can’t be kissing Alan. He shouldn’t have even remembered telling me he wanted to kiss me. But I had been so thrown by it that I didn’t watch what I said. I told him to remember before I woke him up. That was stupid on my part.

I couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. I didn’t visit Alan today. I didn’t know how to handle it.

And I didn’t tell Chris. I didn’t see how that could be a good idea, even though I was feeling really guilty about not telling him.

I felt more guilty about kissing Alan.

Chris turned closer into me in the bed. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck.

This was the man I loved.

But I had loved Alan first.

A long time ago.

I was never gonna get to sleep.

To be continued in Part 9...