The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Christopher, Craig & Co.

Part 11: Mendacity.

Any visit to Leatherman’s Club was an adventure. Tonight was no exception. When Bootboy answered the door he was naked except for his boots and a leather gag in his mouth. His scrotum was being separated from his erect cock by a wide leather band, which caused it to bounce jauntily in the air as he walked.

“I need to speak with your Master,” I said.

Bootboy disappeared up the stairs.

I had sped over to the Club from Kampas, forgoing my trip to the mall in favor of talking to Leatherman about the fresh Hell that had just been dropped at my feet. On the upside, there was little chance of running into David here tonight. On the downside I was going to end up braving the mall on Christmas Eve at this rate.

Leatherman came down a few moments later. “Christopher, what can I do for you?”

Telling him the truth about David would get me nowhere. Unfortunately when I’d switched Mitch’s personality to Leatherman I’d outdone myself—the new Leatherman was as greedy and power-hungry as the old one. He’d be only too happy to end up with another bootboy out of this. Of course explaining David’s disappearance would never occur to him. This needed to be handled delicately. And with a bit of graceful mendacity.

I sat on one of the leather couches and frowned. “Leatherman, I was thinking about this David you introduced me to.”

“Really?” He turned in surprise from fixing a drink at the minibar.

“Yes. What do you know about him?”

“Local kid. Applied for a job. He seems to ask a lot of questions about being a slave. I think he’s using the job as a way into the lifestyle. Which is perfect because I’d be more than happy to use his job as a way of welcoming him into the life of my new slave.” Leatherman chuckled.

“Have you mentioned me to him at all?”

“Not yet, no.” Leatherman sat in a leather armchair facing the couch.


“Christopher, you’re up to something. You never ask about the boys at my Club. Are you bored with Craig?”

Idiot. I rolled my eyes. “This has nothing to do with my relationship.”

Leatherman lit up like a Christmas tree. “Are you planning to surprise me with him?”

I sighed. “If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?”

“I figured you’d come around! He’s kind of compact—I’ve never really been interested in little guys before—and he’s only about 5′6 at the most, but it looks like he’s hung—”

“Leatherman, I’m going to arrange to meet him to help you. But you have to swear not to mention my name in front of him. Otherwise, no deal. Get me?”

“You don’t have to worry about a thing, Christopher. My lips are sealed.” He smiled, satisfied. “You’re really going to hypnotize him?”

“Yes, of course.”

Leatherman thrust out his hand. “This is the best Christmas present.”

I shook his proffered hand. Luckily God wasn’t striking liars dead tonight.

When I pulled into the driveway the house was dark. Craig must still be with Alan. I entered the house and took off my coat. No messages.

I unlocked the basement door and walked downstairs.

Nick was lying on the floor of his cage, dressed in white briefs and white socks. He was badly in need of a shave and a haircut, but I hadn’t trusted him with a razor. I knew he’d shave his body again if given the opportunity.

He sat up and stared at me glumly. After his shower he had been quite upset when I refused to give him spandex to wear. Although I knew his entire sexuality was tied to wearing spandex, courtesy of Edwards, I wasn’t about to feed his orgasms.

I unlocked the cage and opened it.

“Beach Boy.”

He lapsed into his trance.

“Nick, we have a lot of work to do so you can go home for Christmas. Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Step out of the cage.”

He stood in front of me.

“Nick, do you recall before you came to college when you lived at home with your parents?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you wear spandex then?”

“Yes, sir.”

I had expected that answer. From his notes I gathered Edwards had conditioned him to believe spandex had always been a part of his life. But I wasn’t certain how much of it was conditioning and how strong Nick’s original fetish actually was. I got the impression from Edwards’ study that Nick had been the one to bring up spandex, not that the professor had created the desire in him. Of course, at this point I was less concerned with sorting it out than covering it up.

“What did you wear?”

“I wore bicycle bibshorts or singletts under my clothes.”

“Did you like to do that?”

“Yes, sir.”

Naturally. Because it would have been so much easier to change the behavior if it was a newly-learned behavior and not something he’d been doing for most of his life, I had to end up with a college kid with a spandex hang-up. I frowned. Longterm behavior could be altered through hypnosis, it just took longer. And I had about forty-five minutes to spare. Time to try a new tactic.

“Nick, you are going home tomorrow to your parents’ house for Christmas. There’s no way we can avoid that without opening a new investigation into your current state. As it is you’re just showing up on their doorstep without a word for the past several weeks. So it is imperative that you appear to act as you normally would at their home. Are you allowed to wear spandex without clothes over it when you are there?”

“No, sir.”

“That’s right. You will NOT wear spandex without clothes over it while you are at home. Repeat that to me and know as you say the words that it is the absolute truth.”

“I will not wear spandex without clothes over it while I am home.”

“Good boy! When you return here from your trip home you will live in your apartment with your roommate, but you will come here at 7 pm. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” One problem down, thirty-seven to go. “When you get home your parents are bound to ask where you’ve been for these past few weeks. It will be up to you to lie to them about your whereabouts and make sure they believe what you tell them. Whatever you do, you will not tell them about me, or hypnosis, or anything related to spandex. Do you understand, Nick?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What will you tell your parents is the reason you’ve been out of touch for so long?”

“I’ll tell them I took off to Canada to look for Marty.”

That was pretty good for making it up on the spot. “Will they believe it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And why didn’t you call from Canada?”

“I knew if I called they’d want me to go back to school and I wanted to find Marty because I was worried about him.”

“Very good, Nick. You will then add that you had no idea that people thought you were missing because you had left your roommate a note and assumed he would tell people you had gone to look for Marty. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

I looked at the beard he had grown while living in my basement. He was going to have to clean himself up. “Nick, why do you shave your body?”

“Modern society prefers smooth men.”

“What?” I said in surprise.

“I’m supposed to be smooth and hairless.”

Well, now, hello Professor Edwards. I bet he got a kick seeing Nick shaved smooth day after day. I’m all for personal maintenance, but men grow hair—accept it and move on.

“Wrong, Nick. Good boys only shave their faces. You will not shave your body hair anymore. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“If you try to shave your body hair you will not be allowed to wear spandex. Do you understand?”

He looked pained. “Yes, sir.”

“Good boy. I know Professor Edwards told you every time you put on spandex you would jerk off and cum. Now that I am in charge I’m changing the rule. You are not allowed to cum while you are home for Christmas. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Repeat it back to me. And know that as always anything you say while in this relaxed state is the absolute truth. You are not allowed to cum while you are home for Christmas.”

“I am not allowed to cum while I am home for Christmas.”

“That’s a good boy, Nick. I may not have time to fix you for good, but I can help you pass for normal for a week. Oh, there is one more rule you must follow no matter what. Whenever you are at my home you will remove your shoes and wear only white socks on your feet. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What will you wear?”

“White socks.”


“At your house.”

“That’s true. But you will wear white socks always. No matter what. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“In fact, when you get to your apartment you will throw out any socks that are not white, just so you won’t be tempted to disobey me and wear socks that aren’t white. Because you want to obey me, Nick. You want to obey me like you obeyed Professor Edwards. You must listen to me now, and follow my instructions. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s a good boy. You want to be a good boy, Nick, and obey everything I tell you. For that reason I will give you a small reward. When I give you permission you will have a very intense orgasm. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You don’t look ready,” I said, glancing at his briefs. “Get hard, boy!”

I watched as his cock became erect, tenting his white briefs.

“That’s a good boy. It feels good and natural to obey me. You want to obey me. You want nothing more than to be my good boy. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Cum, Nick!” I commanded.

He shuddered as he shot his load. A wet spot grew on the front of his briefs. Several ribbons of cum exploded through the waistband up onto his chest. When his orgasm subsided I continued.

“Lie down in your cage, Nick.”

He stepped inside and lay on his back.

“Sleep. Tomorrow morning I’ll supply you with clothes to go home.”

I locked his cage and went upstairs.

To be continued in Part 12...

Christopher, Craig & Co.

Part 12: Eraser.

I raised my knuckles to rap on Alan’s door. Somehow I couldn’t seem to bring myself to knock. I shouldn’t be here. Not after last time.

But I had to finish putting Alan back to normal. That’s what I would do! I’d make him completely forget what had happened the other night. I was sure I could put him back in the closet. He’d lived that way for this long...

I knocked on the door.

“Just a minute!” Alan’s voice called through the door.

I stood waiting, nervously rocking on my heels. This was the right thing to do. I would erase the kiss, erase Alan telling me he dreamt about me, erase him ever admitting he thought about kissing me when he was with his many girlfriends...

God, why did he have to tell me all that now? I love Chris now. I couldn’t be thinking about what-ifs with Alan. If he had told me that in high school things would be different. Just how different was mind-boggling. I might never even have met Chris, or learned about hypnosis, or anything. What would it have been like to be Alan’s boyfriend?

The door swung open. Alan smiled at me. He looked all spiffed up in a dress shirt and khakis; his hair was neatly combed and he smelled vaguely of spicy cologne.

I saw past him into the living room where half a dozen candles were lit. Soft music was playing on the stereo.

He leaned against the edge of the door and flashed a big, dopey grin. “Hey, Craig.”

“Alan,” I said after I finally found my voice. “What have you done?”

He helped me off with my coat. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that kiss,” he said.

“Me neither.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

Alan’s grin grew wider. “I’m glad you said that. I wasn’t sure you would even come today. I-I mean, I was afraid you were going to be upset and, well, I uh...” Alan shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot.

We stood in awkward silence.

“Can I get you a drink? There’s some wine, or—”

“A drink would be great!”

I had a feeling Alan was under the mistaken impression that when I admitted I had been thinking about our kiss I mean it in a good way. The worst part was that part of me had. But I couldn’t think about that.

Alan poured two glasses of wine and we sat side by side on the sofa, facing straight-ahead.

“So, um, how are you?” Alan asked, staring into his glass.

“I’m good,” I said, then drained half a glass of wine. Why, oh, why did I come here today? He seemed fine to me. If I left him alone it would all be just peachy. I had to be firm in my resolve and erase his memory like I’d planned. I finished off the wine. “Needledick.”

I took the glass from Alan’s hand and set it on the nearby end table. He looked so peaceful, so beautiful sitting there all fixed up. Nobody would guess he’d attempted suicide just days ago.

Attempted suicide? God, I screwed up.

“Alan, how do you feel?”

“Great!” The corners of his mouth turned up slightly.

“Why ‘great’?”

“I was really anxious all day because I was afraid that you would be pissed that I kissed you. I wanted everything to be perfect. But then I was afraid I did too much and you’d think I was trying to be some kind of stud and set up this big seduction and all I really wanted to do was make the place look nice for when you got here and then I must’ve changed my shirt three times because I couldn’t remember what you used to say you liked and then I remembered you saying once that there was nothing sexier than a crisp white dress shirt...”

I glanced around at the candles. The music was still playing softly. My gaze ended up on Alan’s white shirt. I couldn’t believe he remembered that. It had to have been high school when I said that to him. But I had never changed my mind on that subject. There is nothing sexier than a guy in a crisp white dress shirt.

No! I had to remember all the bad stuff about him. He hurt me worse than anybody ever had.

But the fact that he had gone to all this trouble for me made me want to kiss him again.

I wouldn’t.

“Alan, you spent all day thinking about this because of one kiss?”

“No. The kiss was great though.”

“One great kiss shouldn’t have prompted this.” Shoot, I’ve had third dates that didn’t prompt this.

“I’ve wondered what it would be like to kiss you since we were sixteen. I never thought I would actually do it. It was amazing.”

“Alan, if you’ve been curious since you were sixteen, why did you tease the gay kids at school? Why did you screw so many girls?”

“I don’t want to be gay,” he said softly.

How much did you have to hate yourself to suppress your sexuality so far that you would sleep with as many girls as possible to not sleep with a guy? Maybe that whole suicide thing wasn’t completely my fault. On the scale of well-adjusted, Alan was nowhere near normal.

“I can help with that, Alan. And the first thing you’re going to have to do is forget about that kiss.”

“Forget,” he repeated. “I want to kiss you again.”

I looked at Alan’s full lips. I wouldn’t mind being kissed again.

I couldn’t.

“Alan, couldn’t you be just as happy with another guy as with me?”

“No. I don’t want a guy. I want you.”

I lowered my eyebrows. “I’m a guy, Alan,” I said flatly.

“You’re—you’re my best friend.”

“It’s been a long time since then.”

“I’m sorry, Craig. It was my fault. Please forgive me. I knew you liked me in high school. It was a real boost to know you thought I was the coolest thing around.”


“I caught you one time trying to look while I was changing for P.E. It freaked me out and I pulled on my sweats as fast as I could to get out of there. I’d let you see anything now, Craig.” Alan’s hand drifted slowly to his belt. His fingers began fumbling clumsily with the buckle.

“What are you doing?” I asked in surprise. He shouldn’t be moving around without my suggesting it!

“I’m going to change for you.”

Alan was moving like he was stuck in quicksand. His every movement seemed to take a tremendous effort. He was fighting the relaxation, trying to take control of his body from the hypnosis. I could help with that.

I shouldn’t!


“You may move freely, Alan.”

Suddenly his pants unfastened and he stood, pushing them to the floor. He kicked off his hiking boots and stepped out of the pants. He unbuttoned his shirt and cast it off. He stood before me in his boxers, looking beautiful and peaceful once again.

My eyes traveled all over his body. How many times had I stolen glimpses of his body when we were kids? He was every bit as beautiful as I remembered.

“Do you really want to kiss me again?” I asked.

“Yes,” he breathed.

“Go ahead.”

He leaned over and took my face in his hands. He lowered himself onto the couch beside me and kissed me until we were both panting.

He kissed along my jawbone and down my neck. His mouth was on my neck and I was loving it, wanting it, wanting him.

I pulled his mouth to mine hungrily. I had Alan Jacoby completely at my disposal, in his shorts, asking to kiss me. If this had been high school I could’ve died happily.

Chris’s face kept flashing through my mind. I love him. I can’t do this. I had to erase the kiss and go home. I had to stop Alan from remembering this. I had to stuff him back in the closet and let him go on with his miserable life of empty sex with women. I had to stop letting him kiss me.

But it felt so good. His hands were strong, but his lips were soft and he was sitting so close I could feel the heat coming off of him. Alan had been the first guy I ever loved—ever wanted to love.

I had to put an end to this. Alan was in an altered state of consciousness. This wasn’t really him. If he was awake he’d never do this, never kiss me. Would he?

There was only one way to find out for sure.

I placed a hand on his chest and held him at arm’s length. “Alan, you’ll remember everything that’s happened today when you awaken. “1...2...3.”

Alan looked into my eyes with a clear head. Then he smothered my mouth with his and pushed me gently back on the couch.

His hand traveled down my chest and stomach to my crotch. He rubbed gently against the growing bulge in my jeans.

This was so wrong.

To be continued in Part 13...