The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Peter opened the email from Jordan. Subject: “Great news!”

Body: “Hey, someone finally bought the land next door!”

Peter barely caught himself from involuntarily fist-pumping right in the middle of his meeting.

Peter owned a house in the affluent suburbs of the city where he worked as a lawyer. Jordan was working on an undergraduate degree and rented a room from Peter, as the house was a little past Peter’s means. It had been an investment, the house, but for several years now the adjacent lot had been abandoned, and the house that once stood there was just a dilapidated shack now, slowly crumbling over time and taking Peter’s property values with it. Now the new owner would certainly demolish it and build something more befitting the neighborhood.

Demolish it they did, a crew of workers that rolled in the very next day. They cleaned it up and then started laying out the markers for what Peter could only assume was the foundation for the new house.

Only it seemed too big.

Peter went out to chat with the foreman who confirmed that the stakes in the ground were delimiting the foundation they were pouring in just a couple days. It came all the way up to the property line, right to the edge. The new house was going to be 3 feet away from Peter’s house. Maybe, Peter thought, he should have been careful what he wished for.

So he requested documents from the city for the permits, and found the blueprints for the house and brought them home to study them. But no sooner did he sit down to look them over but he noticed something rather peculiar. The side of the house up against Peter’s looked... well, like the exact mirror image of Peter’s house. Every window on Peter’s house matched up perfectly with a window in the new house exactly 3 feet away.

Peter asked the foreman the next day if that was right, and the man just shrugged and nodded. He asked who the owner was, and whether he could meet him.

“He’s right over there. The old dude.”

Peter looked over and saw an older gentleman climbing out of the back seat of a town car. He was portly, with well-groomed white hair, and walked with a cane.

“Sir?”

“Yes, may I help you?”

“My name is Peter, I guess I’m your new neighbor.”

“Pleased to meet you, Peter. I’m Edgar, and yes, I’m building a new house on this land. You must be thrilled to be rid of that old shack that stood here before.”

“Oh, I sure am, Edgar. Only... I’m a little curious, your house... it’s pretty big for the lot, isn’t it?”

“I have all the permits on file if you care to see them,” Edgar said, growing decidedly chillier.

“I know you do,” Peter began, and Edgar recoiled slightly at the implication he’d been digging around, and Peter caught himself. “I mean, no, that’s not how I meant it, I’m not saying it’s a permits issue. But it’s just, well, the blueprints show —”

“You have the blueprints for my house? I hadn’t counted on my new neighbor being so... industrious,” Edgar said, his face tightening up like he’d smelled something foul, one eyebrow cocked.

Peter snapped at the indignant old man: “Well, don’t you think it’s a little strange to build your house so it’s 3 feet away from mine and has windows looking straight into every window in my house?”

“My dear boy, I suppose you’re one of those paranoid types. It’s a common layout for a house, and I’m building a large house because I’m an old man who earned his wealth and I intend to enjoy it.”

“Look, Edgar, I want to be a good neighbor, but —”

“Then stop whining,” he interrupted. “Men like you, men who—judging from your house’s condition, and your subletter—yes, I’ve done my own research, Peter—are not, shall we say, as successful as me, usually like to whine and make their problems someone else’s problem. This is not how you succeed in life. Men like you, Peter, are losers. If I were you, I’d be glad to have a neighbor nearby from whom you might learn a thing or two about being a successful man.”

Peter was stunned, and stood speechless with his mouth open as Edgar trundled off to talk to the foreman. He shook his head, dumbfounded, and walked back into his house.

He protested the permits to no avail. Nobody on the city council even replied to him. He called to follow up and was told the permits were already issued and the appeals period was over.

The house went up as planned, and Peter’s beautiful view of the landscape was obliterated by the monstrosity Edgar built on his land. And sure enough, every window Peter looked out of just looked directly into a room in Edgar’s house not 3 feet away. He could have opened the window and nearly reached out to touch Edgar’s window. Peter bought new blinds for every window on that side of the house and resolved himself to just forget about it. Maybe he’d sell the house after a bit when the property values went up. The market was in good shape. In any case he intended to pretend Edgar didn’t exist.

Finally the house was complete, and trucks showed up and movers moved Edgar in. Nothing really changed, much. Peter knew Edgar was there, and sometimes caught glimpses of him through the windows, but when it bothered him he’d just close the blinds.

One night after a long day of work Peter came home and walked into the kitchen and there, lying on the counter, was Jordan. It took Peter’s brain a bit to process exactly what was happening. Jordan was naked. He was lying on the kitchen counter. The bottle of olive oil was spilled out onto the counter. Jordan was jerking his cock. His head was thrown back, his eyes closed and his mouth wide open. Peter just stood, staring, speechless, motionless, until Jordan shouted out and exploded, his cock spraying cum all over his chest, the countertop, the cabinets, the fruit bowl...

Peter jumped when that happened, he was so startled. When he jumped Jordan’s eyes flew open and he panicked.

“Oh my God Peter please I didn’t—don’t be mad—I swear I —”

“Jordan what the FUCK?!”

“I—I’m so sorry Peter...”

“Jordan, I don’t even know what the fuck to say. This is fucked up—goddamn, dude, what the hell is wrong with you? This is some sick shit!”

Jordan was flushed a bright crimson but, oddly, hadn’t moved to cover himself or clean up.

“Dude!” Peter yelled. “Get the fuck out!”

“I—I can’t...” Jordan stammered.

“What? What do you mean?”

Jordan just gestured over to the window. Peter turned around and jumped again, startled to see Edgar standing right up against the window, so close Peter could easily make out his smile.

Then Edgar grinned even wider.

Peter turned around. His face went completely slack. Jordan shook his head. “No, no, fight it, man.”

Peter walked over to Jordan who continued to lie on his back, on the counter, and Peter leaned down and began licking the cum off his chest. He licked it all up, and then licked it off the counter. Then he went back to Jordan’s cock and sucked the whole thing into his mouth.

Peter’s mind was blank for the entire process. Only when the last of Jordan’s cum was cleaned up did he snap out of it.

And then he was petrified with horror. He turned around and Edgar was gone. Jordan lay on the counter, frozen with fear.

Both of them waited for what felt like forever, trying to think of anything to say to defuse the horrible discomfort of what had just happened. But nothing came. Finally they both just left the room, shaking with fear and revulsion.

Peter spent the entire next day at work in a daze. He couldn’t believe what he had done. He kept replaying the situation in his head and just didn’t understand it. Was Edgar drugging them? Or how could he have done that? Peter considered doing something about it but what could he do? He certainly didn’t want to tell anyone what happened, and even if he did, what could he say? “I think my next door neighbor used mind control to make me lick cum off my college student roommate?”

In the end, time ticked away as usual, and he took no action, and the work day ended, and he drove home.

Peter walked in and found Jordan sitting on the couch watching television. He took a deep breath.

“Hey, Jordan... uh.” Peter’s heart was beating a million times a minute.

“Yeah. Uh, hey, Peter.”

“Look—we gotta talk about that.”

“I—yeah, I mean, I just don’t know... what to say.”

“Well, neither do I, but...”

Jordan stood up and looked right at Peter. Something seemed off.

“You don’t know what to say, Peter?”

“Uh, no, I mean... it’s pretty fucked up. I’m sorry?”

“Sorry? I think you mean thank you.”

Jordan’s face had changed. Instead of fear and discomfort he was confident, aggressive.

“... what?”

“I let you lick up all my cum yesterday and you didn’t even say thank you. How ungrateful of you.”

Peter blanched. He turned to look out the window and was only half surprised to see Edgar standing there, 3 feet away, staring right back at him. And then his mind blanked.

“You’re right, Jordan. I should be more thoughtful. Thank you for letting me lick up your cum.” Peter spoke like a robot.

“That’s not good enough, Peter. You’ll have to do more to prove to me that you’re really thankful.”

“I’ll do anything.” Peter suddenly felt very uncomfortable, like he’d let Jordan down. “Just tell me what to do.”

“You want to show your gratitude, you can kiss my ass, you dumbshit!”

Jordan turned to expose his gym-shorts-clad ass to Peter. Peter looked down and saw the twin globes of the fit college student’s ass with the gym shorts stretched over them, and he suddenly knew that of course it was only proper he should kiss Jordan’s ass as a thank-you for letting him eat all his cum.

Peter knelt down behind him and pressed his face against the mesh of the gym shorts and gave each cheek a big, showy, loud smooch. His cock was hardening in his pants as he did so.

“You call that a kiss, faggot?” Jordan taunted him from above. “No, I mean really kiss my ass. You know when you see a hot dude’s lips and want to just make out with them, fag? Do that to my asshole.” Jordan laughed at him, a mean laugh, but for some reason it just made Peter even harder. He grabbed Jordan’s shorts and yanked them down. The college boy’s big, full ass stared him right in the face. Peter shoved his face in between Jordan’s ass cheeks. It smelled—Jordan had showered that morning but not since, and had clearly worked out during the day. But that didn’t stop Peter from extending his tongue and starting to lick and suck at the puckered, wrinkled entrance to Jordan’s anus.

Jordan, meanwhile, was moaning with pleasure from having the older lawyer eat out his ass. He turned his head sideways to look at the window and saw Edgar, standing in his own window, not 7 feet from the two of them, with his hand inside the folds of his silk robe, clearly stroking his own erection.

Jordan convulsed, pumping a load of cum right into the gym shorts stretched over the head of his cock. Peter did the same at the same time, filling his suit pants with a load of jizz. He pulled his face back from Jordan’s ass, his hair disheveled and his whole face stinking of Jordan’s ass. Jordan silently turned around and when Peter saw the cum filling his gym shorts and leaking down his legs, without so much as a word he went to work, licking it up and sucking it out of the mesh of the shorts.

When he finished, he looked up from hands and knees at Jordan who sneered down at him and said, “Thank you, Jordan.”

Edgar’s own load of jizz was leaking down his window.

The next day for Peter went much the same, except he was even more distracted during the day. Calls came and went, clients complained, and partners yelled at him but nothing seemed to get through to him. He was dazed, stunned, trying to make sense of the events of the past few days. And then finally the day ended and he drove home.

As soon as he walked in the door Jordan yelled out to him. “Hey, Peter, come in here!”

“Jordan, I don’t want—seriously, man, let’s stay away from these fucking windows.”

“No, I know, Peter, it’s safe in here, I have a plan for dealing with him!”

Peter sighed with relief. He turned the corner and walked towards Jordan’s voice.

“Where are you?”

“In here—in the bathroom, dude.”

“What? Jordan, I’m not coming into the bathroom. He can see right in!”

“No don’t worry, the blinds are closed. Seriously, trust me.” Peter shook his head but walked into the bathroom.

“Haha, psych!” Jordan laughed. The blinds were wide open. The instant Peter looked up he locked eyes with Edgar, 10 feet away from him, and shook his head.

“No, no, no, Jordan, what the fuck?!”

“Gotcha, dude! Since I let you eat my cum again yesterday I figure you still owe me, and I think Edgar over there agrees! So why don’t you get in the bathtub so I can piss all over you?”

Peter climbed into the tub and knelt down obediently. Jordan pointed his hard cock at him and with some discomfort, a few groans and some thrusting, managed to start the flow of piss while his cock was still rock-hard. He sprayed it all over Peter. It splashed everywhere, on the walls, on the floor. Peter was drenched, and closed his eyes and opened his mouth. Jordan laughed and walked up, grabbed Peter by the hair, and shoved his still-spraying cock right down his throat. Peter gulped and gulped to swallow it all, but still coughed some up all over himself.

“Oh yeah, that was fun, dude. But I’m still hard, and I think it’s time to fuck your hot ass!”

Peter had a flash of resistance, but it didn’t last long. He stood up out of the tub, sopping wet with piss, and dropped his pants around his ankles. He climbed out of the tub, almost tripping several times in the process, and then leaned up against the sink, his ass sticking out in clear, full view of the window, easly accessible to his young subletter.

Jordan grabbed the lawyer by the hips and shoved his big, red cock right in. Edgar watched approvingly from a few feet away as Peter groaned with pleasure, getting fucked in the ass for the very first time, and Jordan blew a huge load inside him.

The next morning there was a knock on the door; an early delivery. Jordan accepted it but didn’t think much about it, his mind in a fog from the night before. Peter woke up and came down for breakfast and was surprised to find Jordan already awake, sitting in the kitchen.

“Hey, faggot,” Jordan greeted him.

Peter whirled to look out the window, and Edgar was there. Even this early in the morning. Fuck.

“I haven’t taken my morning piss so I thought you could help me out since you’re such a cock-hungry fag slut,” Jordan mocked.

Peter nodded. “Of course. Anything I can do for you, Jordan.”

Like a robot Peter dropped his pants. Jordan greased up his cock with some of the spilled olive oil and shoved it in Peter’s asshole. As soon as he was in, he sighed loudly and let loose, pissing deep inside his landlord lawyer’s ass, filling him up with a huge load of urine. Then he opened the box he’d signed for not half an hour earlier, and pulled a large, thick butt plug out. Greasing it up with a little oil, he inserted it into the receptive lawyer’s ass, shoving it in and then pulling his pants back up.

“That’ll help it stay in all day.”

It didn’t, entirely. It still leaked out a little around the edges. Peter’s suit already smelled like piss since he’d only just aired it out overnight.

It was probably the fastest anyone at the law firm had ever been fired. Three days earlier, Peter was a star attorney. But after showing up reeking of urine and again unable to perform even basic job functions, Peter found himself driving home early, unemployed.

He pulled up to the house and got out of his car, and to his surprise found Edgar standing on his porch.

“I heard about your job troubles, Peter.”

“What are you doing here? You fucking monster, get away from me.”

“When I told your mortgage lender about your unemployment you can imagine they weren’t too happy.”

“You did what? Why the fuck would you do that?”

“Well the good news is, they were only too happy to sell me the mortgage. So now I’m your lender, Peter, I own your house. And you’ll be happy to hear that I’m quite an understanding man, when it comes to your unemployment, having fallen on hard times. Let’s go inside your—err, my—house, and talk, shall we?”

Peter’s head was spinning. His whole world was falling apart, and it had only taken a couple days. He followed Edgar into his house.

Inside, Jordan stood, wearing nothing but the gym shorts again. He saw Peter and grinned. “What’s up, faggot? I heard you got fired, huh? Guess that means you can be my full-time bitch now!”

Edgar laughed. “It’s been quite fun watching you two. When I first moved here, Peter, you told me Jordan was just a stranger renting a room from you, but over the past few days what I’ve observed suggests you’re a pair of horny queers and where Jordan’s quite in charge and confident, you’re just a sick little faggot only good for taking care of his needs. Would you say that’s right, Peter?”

“Yes,” Peter replied, slack-jawed. “I just want to do whatever makes Jordan happy.”

“Now that I own this house it’ll be even easier,” Edgar continued. “From now on, Jordan’s the man of this house and you, you pathetic loser, you live only to serve him.”

He laughed as he trundled his heavy-set body back out of the house and went home. Minutes later he was there at the window, watching, grinning.

“Can I take out the plug, Jordan?” Peter asked.

“Fuck, no, faggot,” Jordan spat back. “When I want it out I’ll tell you. For now I think my ass could use another big sloppy kiss.”

Peter sank to his knees and tugged Jordan’s shorts off again. This time his ass smelled far worse.

“Oh yeah, I forgot—I decided to stop wiping. Be a good fag and clean me up back there.”

Peter nodded obediently, stuck his tongue out, and pressed his face between the college boy’s ass cheeks.

Edgar came all over his window.

It seemed whatever control Edgar had was constant, now. No sooner did Peter finish eating Jordan’s ass than they moved to the kitchen to keep up the depravity.

Later that night Jordan fucked Peter up on the kitchen counter, knocking things over in his pounding. Edgar looked on, hand buried in his crotch.

Jordan stopped sleeping in the rental room and took Peter’s master bedroom, making Peter sleep at the foot of the bed with him. Before bed he made Peter suck him off, and Edgar smiled approvingly as he looked on.

In the morning Jordan yawned and stretched out, the morning sun shining across the twin globes of his ass, the light golden hair across his cheeks shining like peach fuzz. Minutes later, Peter’s face was wedged between them for the morning ass-eating, which Jordan intended to make into a tradition. Edgar showed his approval by blasting another load on the window.

Peter had no more need of his suits, so Jordan started wearing them. With just a little tailoring—provided by Edgar without delay—they fit him quite well. Peter signed for a package later that day and found the box was full of quite a different wardrobe. When Jordan came back from classes he found Peter lying on the living room floor wearing a pair of cutoffs and a pink too-tight t-shirt that just said “CUNT.” He grinned and turned on the TV. As he watched the evening news, Peter bounced up and down on his lap.

“Good little cunt-boy,” Jordan sneered, pumping another load up the ex-lawyer’s ass.

Edgar smiled from across the way.