The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Cute pudgy little freshman Jerry, wearing only his metal cap, contemplated the incredibly hot scene he had created with the two hypnotized baseball players. Once they had left, Jerry had moved his short dark-haired tightly muscled wrestler roommate Mason off his pedestal and onto Jerry’s bed, where he lay on his back, stiff and oblivious, staring at the ceiling, the same vacant smile still stuck on his paralyzed face. Jerry was idly fingering Mason’s long thin cock and generous balls as he thought. Some people tap their feet, some chew on a pencil; Jerry’s normal contemplation method involved fondling and twisting his hypnotized roommate’s genitals.

I’m really not supposed to use the cap except for psych lab purposes, he thought. But that session with the baseball players was the most incredible sex I’ve ever had, manipulating those hung, big-muscled jocks like puppets.

Jerry’s hands stroked the ridges of Mason’s impressive six-pack. Hmm, Mason has a sexy face and an incredible build, thought Jerry, but he’s too little for my taste. I really prefer those big guys. They’re nearly a foot taller and outweigh Mason by nearly 100 pounds each. They could have pounded me to a pulp, if I hadn’t had them busy draining my balls and cleaning out my ass.

Hmm, part of our psych study involves studying the long term effects of using the cap on someone. The prof wants us to test the theory that the more you use the cap on the same person, the more that person feels natural just following your orders anyway. I’ve been using Mason here for that, but I think I’d have more fun trying out the theory on those two guys. I could start by sneaking up outside the room of one of them, making the other one come by for a visit, and then forcing the two of them to tear their clothes off and fuck each other over and over all night. I’d stay hidden outside the door so they wouldn’t even know I was involved. Those poor straight jocks would have no idea why they were unable to stop fucking each other, but they wouldn’t be able to stop until I decided to let them. If I went over there and did that several nights in a row, would they start doing it on their own?

Looking at his watch, he sent Mason over to sit at his desk in front of his computer, then snapped his fingers. Mason looked up suddenly, glanced at his watch in alarm, and said, “Man, where did the time go? I’ve gotta finish studying for that history midterm...”

Slave Benny crossed the quad to meet Master Bieber coming the other way. “So how did baseball practice go today?”

Master Bieber growled happily, “Grrrreat!” He felt the sudden strange impulse to run up to Benny and lick his face, but he managed to suppress it. Benny couldn’t see it, but Bieber’s butt was swiveling rapidly from side to side. If there had been a tail in there, it would have been wagging furiously.

Sniffing curiously, he asked Benny, “What were you doing at the Student Union?”

Benny was puzzled. “How did you know I was at the Union?”

“Come on, I can smell the Union on you from way over here. And just before that, sniff, hmm, the west cafeteria? Say, isn’t there a cookie in your backpack?” His eyes seemed to get really big, a combination of eager, hopeful, and... a bit pleading?

Even more astonished by this, Benny reached into his backpack and pulled out a large chocolate chip cookie wrapped in a napkin. “I’m not sure how you knew I had this, but I took this extra cookie for later. Of course, if you’re hungry now—” Benny tossed the cookie to Bieber, who caught it—

In his teeth! Seconds later, the whole cookie had been fully eaten. What the hell was going on?

Benny shook off the thought for the time being; he had more important things to deal with. “I hope you’re ready for your Master training. Is the cap in your gym bag?”

Master Bieber looked down, embarrassed. “No! I had it beside my bed, and before I left for practice I looked for it, but it was gone. I never took it out of the room, honest!” A last cookie crumb fell off his upper lip, but he quickly dove down to catch it in his mouth.

Benny was worried. “I wonder who even knows what the cap is, and would think it valuable enough to take. Let’s go back to the dorm and see if we can find it. Or maybe Master Donkey can tell us if he saw someone else in the room. Anyhow, we still need to do your Master training, so if we can’t find it I’ll have to get you another one.” By this time the psych lab would be empty, so it would be easy to slip another metal cap out of the cabinet.

“OK, race ya!” And Bieber went loping across the quad toward the dorm, tongue hanging out, leaving Benny standing there mystified.

Just then a familiar figure sidled up to Benny. Facing away from Benny, he pretended to examine his phone. “Don’t talk, just listen. Merk discovered the caps just as you were leaving for your trip home. He’s studying them and trying to improve on them. He’s figured the basics out, but doesn’t know about the more advanced stuff we have in the implants. He mostly understands how the caps work, and he’s protected himself from control to some degree, although I can still feed some things back into him. Like, I ‘convinced’ him to scale back the group that’s supposed to find out who made the caps. But the situation is very dangerous. Don’t call me or come to see me. Our phones are constantly monitored, and they feed him our GPS coordinates at all times.” The figure strolled off, still looking at his phone, appearing to have ignored Benny completely.

Now Benny had a lot more to worry about.

The cap capability research group, which included Jerry and Mason, was making quite good progress in their investigations. The group consisted of the “players”, like Jerry, who wore the caps and conducted the experiments, and the “toys”, like Mason, who were the objects, and often victims, of the experimentation.

Klay, a 19-year-old sophomore in the capability group, was a player, paired with his roommate Layne, who was his toy. Klay was lean, about 5′9″ tall, with long, straw-blond hair, deep blue eyes and a somewhat better-than-average build. His sweet, cherubic face, paired with the golden hair that would occasionally flop over one eye, made him look like an innocent 15-year-old, but behind that childlike exterior lay a deep intelligence and a significant cruel streak.

Layne, a 21-year-old senior, was about the same height and build, except with brown hair and eyes. He had always worn his hair on the long side, but under Klay’s mind control found himself asking the barber for a Marine cut. Klay intended to redecorate his toy in various ways in the future, perhaps with cornrows next time, or maybe even having him shave it all off. Layne no longer had any control over his own appearance or manner of dress. Fortunately for Layne, Klay had him keep himself squeaky clean, showering three or four times a day and making sure he soaped every inch of his body. But sometimes he had Layne dress as a skater, or a surfer dude, or a goth. Layne found himself spending a lot of his money on a bizarre variety of clothes without having any say in the matter.

At this point in the capability study, Klay had been assigned to test two new trial devices: a control device worn around the neck but much smaller than the slaves’ chestplate, and which had a primitive version of the relay feature; and a near-total neural connection helmet for remotely operating a person.

To these two assignments Klay had added his own personal experiment, one that befitted his cruel streak. Virtually none of the “toys” that were being experimented on knew what was happening while they were being controlled. When they were forced to do unnatural and embarrassing things, felt strong but unwanted emotions, or suddenly found themselves overcome with the desire to perform sex acts with someone they had never been attracted to, they always thought it was somehow their own idea. And if they ever got a clue that their player was involved with their strange thoughts or actions, they soon had their memory of those events erased.

But Klay let Layne remember every last painful and humiliating detail of what he was being forced to do. Klay never altered Layne’s thoughts or emotions; it was just that Layne simply had no control over what he said and did, and loathed every minute of it. He had to follow every one of Klay’s orders without question, no matter how much he hated what he was being forced to do—betray friends, suck the cocks of enemies, shoplift from stores, make passes at the very old or the very young, eat the most disgusting things, whatever Klay had ordered. This afternoon, as he lay there being used as a footrest by Klay while the player watched video streams, he knew exactly what was happening and how it was being done. He was just utterly unable to do or say anything about it.

“OK, Layne, time to test the projection device again. Go put on your helmet.” Oh God no, not again, thought Layne, as he donned the receiving device. This was a more than just a metal cap, it surrounded the head like a very thin motorcycle helmet, with electrodes studded at various intervals. When wearing this device in public, Layne had to put on a hoodie so the helmet wouldn’t be visible.

Normally, with the metal caps or implants, to mind-control a person, the “operator” had to be in range and give orders that the target would then follow. But this device represented a breakthrough in mind control technology. It connected the motor and sensory sections of the operator’s brain directly to the equivalent brain sections in the target, so instead of giving the target orders, the operator could simply control the target’s motions directly, kind of like a marionette. He could also see and hear whatever the target saw or heard. Plus the operator did not have to be near the target, he could control the target remotely. The current prototype version had a broadcast range of about 1.5 kilometers, or one mile, but there were plans to boost that considerably. Someday, with fast enough wifi at both ends, it would be possible to directly control a slave via the internet, but for now there was too much complex data requiring very fast transmission. You wouldn’t want to have a slave standing around blankly, “buffering”, waiting for commands to come through.

Klay put on the projecting helmet, and pulled the heads-up display over his eyes. The helmet was covered with lots of wires, electrodes and antennae since it was a prototype model. If this experiment worked and the device was developed further, newer helmets would be much smaller and less conspicuous. As Klay switched the device on, he could see on his display what Layne saw through his eyes.

Klay “thought” of Layne moving to the door, opening it, and walking out into the hall. Layne’s body followed Klay’s thoughts with exactly matching actions, while Layne’s every effort to stop himself was futile, as he already knew. He was basically just an observer in his own body, almost as if he were Klay’s avatar in a video game. Watching the screen, Klay guided his toy out of the building and onto the quad.

As Layne walked under Klay’s control, Klay contemplated the next big test he wanted to conduct with the remote control device, maybe the next evening. Layne would find himself at a bar dressed in a very tight shirt displaying his chest muscles, and very tight pants without underwear, showing a distinct outline of his fine eight-inch tool. Klay, functioning as Layne, would pick up someone attractive and bring her home. Or him; Klay was fully bisexual. Then, using Layne’s body, Klay would make out with the pickup, then move on to fucking, sucking or fellating the pickup, building it into a session with the hottest sex Klay could possibly have with someone without being in the same room. He wondered how it would feel like to Layne, who was totally straight, if the pickup were a guy. Not that it would matter. Klay continued to guide Layne across the quad.

Suddenly, there was an interruption in the what Layne’s helmet was receiving. For the first time since putting on the helmet, Layne could control his own actions! He pivoted and started to run towards the edge of the campus. If he could just get out of range, he could tell someone what was going on, he could stop the nightmare! As he ran, he fumbled with the many straps and snaps that kept the helmet firmly in position on his head, but there were just too many. But now he was almost off the campus, getting further and further away from Klay, soon he’d escape the helmet’s range and the whole sordid thing would be over, the perpetrators exposed, the “toys” freed—

And then suddenly he wasn’t himself again. The helmet was back at work. Mason stood up straight, hands at his side, and heard himself say, “So, trying to take advantage of a little glitch to get away, huh? You know that’s just plain wrong. You’re my personal toy, nothing more. And you have to learn that and make that knowledge a part of you. Here’s your first punishment for what you did.” And Layne made a fist, and as forcefully as he could, punched himself in the balls. He fell on the grass in extreme pain, almost passing out. Klay’s projecting helmet went dark.

Klay turned the helmet off. He was glad he couldn’t feel Layne’s excruciating pain, since that wasn’t part of the helmet’s sensory connection. He also realized he now had the perfect way to test the new relay device and punish Layne at the same time. Layne’s father, mother, high school senior brother and older sister were coming to visit this coming weekend. He thought, I can order Layne to use the new neck device to alter the minds of his own family in depraved ways, while I sit back and watch. I’ll make him convert his normal, moral family into a bunch of perverted sex-hungry pigs. He can transform his classy mom into a dirty horny slut, his CEO dad into a punishment-craving bottom, his money-manager sister into a brother-needy incest magnet, and his athletic younger brother into a brutal top to dominate them all. That will serve him right for trying to get away from me, his rightful owner...