The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

1.

As I drove home, I really, really hoped he wouldn’t be there. I hoped he had decided to get as far away from me as possible. Me, Lance, his older brother, being forced against my will to work day after day breaking down, destroying, and replacing his personality, his lusts, his behaviors, his very essence.

No such luck. When I went upstairs and looked into his room, I could see him from behind, sitting at his desk naked, blond hair cascading over his shoulders, his long, muscled back and bulging biceps hunched over his laptop, staring at the screen, unable to turn away, the water glass containing the drug solution half-drunk beside him. He didn’t notice my arrival, even when I leaned over his shoulder to see where he was in the program.

When the program ended, he shut down the machine and turned around to look at me, and smiled. I hated myself as he looked at me with his big, trusting, puppy-dog eyes. The new “reformatted” me couldn’t help appreciating the masculine beauty of his sculpted-muscle body, although it wasn’t the type that now turned me on. My brother loved me, he had always looked up to me as we were growing up, of course he didn’t fight me as, step by step, day by day, I used my new abilities to strip away his girlfriend, his very heterosexuality, his football and basketball ability, his proud self, all to be replaced by a simple compulsion to worship and serve nerds, sexually and in every other way.

And I also hated it because he’s a star, at school, among his friends. While I had been captain of the football team, and also of last year’s basketball team, I was a bit more gruff, more self-contained. I did have leadership ability, and was well-respected by my teammates, but I also liked time to myself. I also liked time with Teresa, although at 6′5″ and 220 pounds of muscle, wavy brown hair and nearly nine inches of dick, I was not lacking female admirers. But Teresa and I went way back, and nothing was going to break us apart. Until, that is, I first heard the Voice.

I fought it at first, I really did. Even now, as I helplessly obeyed the Voice’s commands, I had thoughts that all this was way wrong, that I should stop. But of course I couldn’t stop. I had to serve the Voice as best I could, even while destroying myself and my family, even while eliminating my future and that of my brother. The Voice was not some disembodied voice in my head, but a real voice, belonging to someone at the school. For at least a month, after school I had been somehow compelled to drive directly to that person’s house, strip, sit down, attach an electrode cap to my head and another covering over my cock and balls, and start a program on a laptop sitting there. When the program was over, this guy would enter the room behind me, and I would hear the Voice. Slowly, relentlessly, the Voice took away almost everything I was, and replaced it with what it wanted me to be. Over time, it also taught me how to do the same to others. Then it sent me to “reformat” my brother.

2.

By now I had already completed the Voice’s training. I had quit basketball at the beginning of the season, without notifying my dad. (My mom died when I was 2 years old.) So he wasn’t suspicious when I was coming home late evening after evening, he thought I was at practice. And by the time he learned the truth, it was too late for him to even care. His own simpler training made him aware of what was going on, and forced him to cooperate with it, to do what he could to make it as easy and successful as possible. It took me about a week to get him that far. Unlike my brother, though, his subconscious mind fought the training, and even now I could see the struggle within him when he was forced to run errands for the Voice, buying equipment, transporting people, setting up the training room. My dad is a strong guy, was a star athlete in his high school and college days, and had maintained his powerful build to this day. His determined will was essential for us growing up without a mother. And now that will was in someone else’s possession (mostly, anyway; but soon it would be gone completely). He still worked out every day, and made sure my brother and I did, too, although that was part of his new “job”.

Our workouts had changed completely. They had doubled in length, but changed in nature. Previously, we focused on strength and speed, which were what we needed as football and basketball players. Now that that part of our lives was essentially over, we were spending most of our time on body-building type exercises, to make ourselves more physically appealing to our future masters. While less useful for sports, our single-minded workouts would have made any of the three of us competitive in a body-building competition. Unlike the old days, we were constantly posing in front of mirrors to check our progress. I also knew that having the three of us naked, doing muscle poses on command, like super-built puppets, was one of the activities we were practicing to please our gay nerd superiors.

As I began Jason’s training session, I unhappily contemplated how good Jason had been at his sports. Really good. While I wasn’t bad myself, having won a football scholarship to a nearby school, Jason was certainly in line for a Division I scholarship. Even though he was only a junior, by the end of the season he was beginning to take over the team leadership role from me. Now, of course, neither one of us would be able to play football again. The programming would see to that.

I spoke at the same droning pace that I knew was used on me, that I learned from the Voice. Jason stared ahead blankly as he absorbed my words into his very being. In his mind, I put him on the football field, with the ball in his possession. I knew from experience the vividness of what he must be seeing in his head as I was talking.

“You’re running down the field... someone from the other team is running towards you... you are afraid... you are weak... he is strong. You are helpless... he is powerful. You must run away from him, even though means running backwards, towards your own goal. You don’t want him to catch you... you don’t want him to hurt you... you must give him the ball, so he won’t hurt you...” Looking into his eyes, I could see the fear I planted in him take root. The programming was working. A week of programming like this and he would never successfully play team sports again.

“You are big and awkward... you are clumsy... you are ugly... nerds are beautiful... nerds are smarter than you... nerds are better than you... you must please nerds...” over and over again I repeated the words, and I could see he knew they were true. Over the weeks of training, the pictures he had seen on the screen, combined with the positive and negative stimuli applied to his mind and genitals, made sure his sexual interest were totally altered. No female would interest him again, but he would get instantly hard with one glance at any nerd.

Now that he knew of his inferiority, and was more and more convinced of it, it was time to work on the change to his tastes. “Nerds make fluids you need to stay healthy... drinking nerd sperm makes you strong... licking nerd sweat gives you stamina... swallowing nerd piss satisfies your thirst better than anything else... nerd ass juice is the most delicious liquid in the world... you must serve nerds so they will give you their fluids...” He continued to stare ahead, but he licked his lips, so I knew the message was getting across. I repeated it over and over into his open mind.

“Timmy is coming here this weekend... you love Timmy... you want to make Timmy like you... you want him to feed you his fluids... you will do anything Timmy says... Timmy is a strong leader... you are a weak follower... Timmy is always right... you would screw up completely without Timmy telling you what to do... without Timmy you are lost... you wish Timmy could be around all the time to tell you what to do... you would be totally excited to see Timmy naked... you lust for Timmy’s body... your mouth and ass long for Timmy’s cock... you need the strength of his cum in your stomach...” This time I could tell I was having the desired effect when I saw Jason’s cock, untouched, expand as he continued to stare ahead, eyes even wider, as if he were seeing Timmy right there. Although Jason is a year younger than me, he is about my height, and has me beat in the cock department, at least in length if not in thickness.

Timmy and Jason had grown up together as neighbors, and had known each other since the first grade. At first they were more or less equals, but as time went by and Jason grew and developed, their interests diverged. Jason continued to grow in size, while Timmy stopped at around 5′2″. Jason’s interest turned to athletics, while Timmy was more bookish. But they remained occasional friends, playing video games together, at which they were fairly evenly matched. And whenever Timmy ran into bully trouble at the school, Jason would spring to his defense. Timmy admired Jason and looked up to him, although he could never be his social equal at school. And Timmy had a secret crush on Jason, to which he felt he could never admit without endangering their friendship. But once this training was complete, Jason and Timmy’s relationship would change completely.

“You can help Timmy, show him how you love him... how you look up to him... beautiful Timmy has a problem... he hasn’t been able to change his socks for a month... he’s tried to take them off, but he can’t... he has to wear them day and night... when he runs... when he sleeps... he can’t even wash his feet... he doesn’t know why... he can’t talk about it with anyone... he tries to hide it as much as possible... but it’s making a stinky mess out of his shoes... his sneakers... the carpet in his room... but you can help him...” Jason leaned forward, although his facial expression had not changed.

“Your mouth is the key... you can remove his socks with your mouth... you can suck out all the flavor from the socks... you can give his feet the cleansing they need with your tongue... you can help his toe jam problem... and he will be so grateful he will give you the fluids you desire... if you are lucky he may even let you keep a pair of his old sneakers that you can use to jack off with once he is gone, if he allows it...” Jason’s cock, untouched, was twitching. But his programming told him that only a nerd could grant him permission to cum. His balls had been churning out cum to pictures of nerds all week. This weekend’s release would seal his fate. In a way, I was envious—after all, thanks to my programming, I lusted to serve beautiful Timmy too!

I knew from the Voice that Timmy was also being worked on, that instead of being his shy and retiring self, he was becoming more and more aggressive and sadistic. I also knew that instead of being grateful to Jason for releasing him from his putrid socks, Timmy would blame Jason for the whole thing and insist on severe punishment for him. I was ashamed because instead of feeling protective toward my innocent brother, I was secretly hoping that Timmy would order ME to punish Jason while he watched, so I could impress Timmy with how loyal I could be by being extra mean to Jason. All this was part of the Voice’s “de-assertiveness” training for Jason, designed to remove any shred of self-confidence or self-esteem that might remain. He would then be fully ready for his new life. And I was the one compelled to destroy and rebuild him as a new super-strong, weak-willed nerdslave!

3.

Who could have done this to me, and why couldn’t I remember who it was? After all, I spent hours with him after school every day. One morning I was determined to try to figure it out. I guessed that since I was being programmed to worship nerds, the guy doing this must be one himself. As the students filed in, I watched carefully for any sign of recognition. In walked a pair of geeks, sophomores I think, talking to each other. One of them looked up and saw me staring, and smirked. He tapped his friend on the shoulder and pointed at me, the friend looked up, also smirked, raised an arm, and—

Suddenly I was having the most INTENSE daydream. It seemed so real, but of course it couldn’t be. I was in the locker room, lying naked on the bench stretched out on my stomach, my wrists tied together under one end of the bench, my ankles tied the same way near the other end. Standing by the bench, also naked, cocks fully erect, were the two nerds, looking me over as if surveying their handiwork, or perhaps inspecting a slab of beef. There was no one else in that section of the locker room, but I could hear my teammates elsewhere, out of sight, talking softly and nervously, and I could sense their fear.

It felt totally real, except there were some clues that this was just a daydream. For one thing, the nerds’ bodies were preposterous. One was about 5′3″, the other 5′5″, but the similarities ended there. The shorter one had long blond hair that hung in his eyes, as I remembered him, but he also had an eight-pack that surpassed any of my teammates’, incuding the most fanatical at working out. He also had bulging biceps, and nicely rounded pecs. If the guy REALLY looked like that, he would have been an all-state wrestler, or soccer player, or body-builder, or SOMETHING. And it didn’t seem all those muscles would fit under his clothes as I remembered him.

His buddy, the taller one, had black hair, almost bluish in the light. Unlike the smaller one, whose cock stood straight out, this one’s dick stood up at a 45 degree angle. He looked impossibly sinewy; unlike his friend the ultimate wrestler, this one looked like the ultimate swimmer or runner. But again, his calf muscles alone would not have fit into HIS clothes in reality.

But the real giveaway was their cocks. I’m big—almost nine inches—but both of these geeks had me beat by at least an inch. Bigger around, too, with vicious-looking heads. Those enormous cocks looked ridiculous on their short, smooth fifteen-year-old bodies, and couldn’t be real. Of course, with my new training, I was unable to look away, feeling a sense of adoration to go with my fear. It was a weird emotional combination.

The last clue that none of this could be real—it was early morning, even before the first class. why would my team be in the locker room? It wasn’t even football season anymore! No, I knew this must be just a bizarre daydream, but much more vivid than any I had ever had before.

As I stared, the short blond came around to my front, straddling the bench, and presented his horsecock to my mouth. At the same time, the taller nerd climbed onto my back, and I could feel him positioning HIS cock at my asshole. The geek at my mouth growled in a voice far too deep and masculine to be really his, “Open up!", and without a moment’s thought, I did. I knew I had no choice. I also knew that what would follow would be painful—and it was at first, as the two geeks simultaneously fed my two openings with their monster cocks, pumping in and out of my in a synchronized rhythm. But soon it began to seem more and more natural, and by the time the two were ready to feed me their cartoonishly large loads—the shooting went on for minute after minute, filling me with more nerdseed than could possibly have been held in even their exaggeratedly-large ball sacs—as soon as my well-worn throat had finished swallowing the last of the little muscleblond’s sperm, and the dripping warclub of the taller one popped out of my fully stretched and lubricated ass, I was sorry it was over. I felt a sense of emptiness at both ends.

Without a word of acknowledgement, or even a backwards glance, my two conquerors—still naked and somehow still hard—walked away from me around the bank of lockers, leaving me trussed like a turkey to the bench. I was beginning to wonder what I was going to do, when—

Suddenly, I looked up and I was sitting in English class, the teacher writing on the board. My watch showed 10:14, and English is exactly where I was supposed to be at that time, but I had no recollection of having gone there. I was fully dressed, and it was as if the daydream never happened, although I had somehow lost some time out of my memory, and evidently the dream had been SO vivid that I still felt as if my throat and asshole had been through some recent intense stretching. And that taste in my mouth—no, it couldn’t be! There’s no way my team would have been in the locker room in the previous hour, no way those nerds could have both have actually had Superman-type builds and ten-plus-inch cocks. It all had to be imaginary...

4.

The next morning I tried the same approach of watching the students enter, to see if I could recognize the person who was taking control of my life. This time, the first candidate I saw was a freshman nicknamed “Pudge”. I only knew his name from my younger brother, who mentioned that this kid was trying to become the team’s equipment manager. Jason thought he was after the job because he was gay and liked looking at football players naked. Jason didn’t think this would go over too well with the team.

Evidently, Pudge got his nickname because in his elementary school years, he was somewhat on the pudgy side, but by the time he got to high school, he was rid of the worst of it; all that remained was a bit of baby fat. The nickname stuck, however, and his little-kid look, with red hair and freckles, put him squarely in the category of guys I was now forcibly attracted to. Just as the other nerds had done the previous day, HE looked up, grinned, raised his arm, and—

I was back in dreamland, but this time I was in the third-floor boys room. Again I was naked, but this time I was kneeling on the tile floor, backed up against the wall where a urinal should be, except—there was no urinal there. I... I was there in place of the urinal! I wasn’t tied or confined in any way, so I tried to get up—to no avail. It was as if I was frozen in place, unable to move. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that alongside me, in each of the other five places there should have been a urinal, was kneeling another naked football player, frozen in place staring ahead. No one else was in the boys room, but I had a feeling of anticipation, and I sensed that my fellow football players were also feeling the same thing.

The door swung open, and in came Pudge, dressed the same way he was when I saw him in reality. He looked over the room, seemingly unsurprised by the scene presented to him at the wall of human urinals. He seemed to be thinking for a moment. Then he walked over to me, and for some reason I felt a surge of pride that he had chosen me. At the same time, I felt a sense of disappointment sweep over the other human urinals, although of course none of them could move a muscle.

Standing in front of me, Pudge petted my hair as if greeting a dog. Then he pulled down his fly, and I found my mouth opening in preparation for what was to come. Sure enough, he placed his cock on my tongue—at least his cock seemed normal-sized, unlike the ones in my previous daydream—and he proceeded to drain his bladder down my throat as I swallowed. When he was done, he pulled his cock off my tongue, shook the last few drops onto my face (I couldn’t flinch, I had no control over my face muscles), tousled my hair once again, zipped up and walked out. The moment the boys room door swing shut—

I found myself standing at my locker in the hallway, fully dressed again, no memory of having gone there. My mouth still had the acrid taste of piss, as if it had all been real. And on my face, what I thought were drops of sweat from my ordeal, turned out to be—no, how could it! WHAT WAS HAPPENING?

As I stood there, I was knocked out of my reverie by another guy, a total surfer dude junior named Scott, who bumped into me, almost intentionally. Actually, it WAS intentional! As I looked at him in annoyance, he seemed to be casually flexing his muscles in front of me, and I wondered why exactly he would do that. He couldn’t be the one remaking me; even in my new reprogrammed state, Scott had far too much muscle to be attractive to my geek-oriented tastes. I turned on my heel and took off, Scott staring after me curiously. I really hoped I wasn’t about to go back into daydream mode, I had had enough for the day. Mercifully, nothing weird happened.

5.

I didn’t think any more of the incident with Scott until late the next morning. I was in the boys room again—no dream this time, the urinals were on the wall where they were supposed to be—and I was sitting on a toilet. I had come racing in—my toilet functions seemed to come at unpredictable intervals these days—and so the stall door was still slightly ajar as I sat inside. I heard the boys room door open, and two guys come in, one saying “it’s OK, there’s no one here.”

The same guy continued, “I don’t understand it. I tried bumping up against Lance, I’ve showed him my surf dude attitude and my muscles, and nothing! I thought you said he’d HAVE to obey me, worship me!” I recognized the voice: it was Scott, the surfer from yesterday. Why would he think I would possibly obey HIM?

And then I heard THE VOICE that made my every body part tingle. I knew without question that this other person was the one who was reprogramming me, whose house I was forced to visit day after day, who was breaking me from sports god to nerdslave. Here at last was the one person who could answer all my questions about the drastic changes in my life. But I couldn’t open the door, because here also was someone whose every word was like a command to my subconscious that could not be disobeyed. I knew that if he saw me, and happened to tell me to turn around, eat everything I had already deposited in the toilet, and then lick the bowl clean, I would immediately be forced to do it without the slightest hesitation. I stayed hidden in my stall.

The Voice was saying, “No, dufus, not Lance. I made Lance worship and serve nerds, not surfer dudes! You want Warren!” Warren was another of my football and basketball buddies. Tall, at 6′6″, with a set of identical twin brothers a year younger than him, who were about 6′3″. They almost didn’t look related to Warren, though. Where Warren had a head of thick chestnut hair, a nice coating of fur on his chest, and a forest of pubic hair, the twins had dirty blond bowl-cut hair, and were mostly hairless on their ripped chests, arms, and legs. Where Warren had a football build, the twins were more focused on baseball, and were built accordingly. The smoothness of their chests made their impressive abs stand out, and they liked to wear shirts that showed off their biceps. You almost never saw them without their baseball caps worn backwards, and with a cocky look on their faces. And while Warren looked a bit older than his 18 years, the twins’ faces made them look younger than their 17.

The Voice continued. “Warren’s home is now surfer dude heaven. Since Warren has the deepest throat there, he’s been in training as surfer dude cocksucker. He has a large dildo he uses religiously for throat practice, it’s as much a part of his workouts as his weights. He’s learned just which throat muscles to squeeze at just the right time for an amazing feeling. I settled on the twins’ roles based on their incredibly long tongues. One of them—I forget whether it’s Ted or Fred, doesn’t matter now, does it, they’re just a pair of bookend muscletoys now, I’m not even sure THEY know the difference anymore when they’re in heat—one of them specializes in worshiping surfer dude feet with his tongue—it’s amazing to see the length of his tongue as it plays along your feet—and the other uses HIS tongue to probe your pucker for precious surfer dude ass juice. The twins have mostly practiced on each other, occasionally on Warren, it’s incredible to watch!”

“Wow!! But how do I set it up? I can’t bring them home, my family is always around.”

“Easy, man, just call Warren’s house anytime after dinner. His dad’ll answer, and you just say, ‘Surf’s up!’ Once you say the trigger, he’ll do anything you ask—pick you up, drive you anywhere, provide liquor, porn videos, anything. If you want him to, he’ll even video you in action controlling his sons, no problem! And he’ll be grateful you came over, because that night he’ll actually be allowed to have sex! That last part was Warren’s idea.”

“No kidding?”

“Nope—I had Warren handle all his family’s programming, and he comes up with some great ideas. Of course, he doesn’t have much choice in the matter.”

“Amazing... I can’t wait to go over there. I’ll try it tonight.”

“Sure, dude, tell me how it goes.” The two of them walked out of the boys room, leaving me to wonder.

So I wasn’t the only one being programmed. And nerds weren’t the only beneficiaries. So now I really had no clue as to who might be doing this. How could I find out, and what could I do about it?

6.

At lunch, I saw Warren at the “jock” table. I knew I couldn’t talk to anyone else about what was happening to me—whenever I tried, I ended up biting my tongue hard, and my cock would get uncontrollably hard, causing many an awkward moment until I learned to give up trying—but if Warren was one of my fellow slaves-in-training, perhaps he could tell me something more about what was happening, that is if I could somehow break through my conditioning and talk to him. In any event, it wouldn’t be quite as embarrassing if I failed, since he must be going through much the same thing. Coming up to him at the table, I indicated I needed to talk to him privately, and that it was urgent. We walked together out the back door.

To my surprise, I was able to talk freely with Warren. “What the hell is HAPPENING to me? And I guess it’s happening to you, too. He has me enslaving and reprogramming my little bro, too, I’m about to wreck HIS life! I’ve fought it as much as I can, but it’s no use... What in God’s name can we do about it?”

Warren smiled grimly. “So he’s got you too? Well, there’s nothing we can do, as far as I can tell. Anyhow, I didn’t fight him all that hard. After all, Debbie dumped me just before he latched onto me, and I was all depressed and moping around, so he was almost improving my life in a way. Now I get REAL excited by a certain kind of guy, much more than I ever was with Debbie, and I get real motivated to please that kind of guy. And I’ve programmed the twins and my dad to help. My only problem is TIME. You just have your brother and dad to control. I constantly have to work on the twins and my dad, PLUS I have to program my sister and mother not to notice what’s going on. That’s a lot of work! On top of that, I have to keep up my own workouts, including deep throat practice.

“Well, gotta go back to lunch. I’m trying an experiment, for, well, HIM. You saw me sitting next to Trevor at the table?” Trevor was the senior pitcher on the twins’ baseball team, only average height but with REALLY strong arms and legs, and straw-colored hair. “Every day I slip some of the drug into his drink, and I whisper repeated suggestions into his ear, seeing if I can eventually change his sexual preference without the normal computer conditioning that goes with it, just planting words, pictures, and ideas directly into his subconscious.”

“Is it working?”

“Too soon to tell, but if you see him in the hall, try to see whose bodies he’s checking out, and let me know.” Wow. If people could be permanently changed, in any location, just using drugged drinks and implanted suggestions, that would open up a whole new set of possibilities, I could see that.

7.

That afternoon, as I changed for my workout in the locker room, I heard strange noises coming from behind the row of lockers behind me. As I sneaked a peek around the corner, the first thing I saw was an average-looking dude in a jockstrap—I mean, cute face, but ordinary sort of body, not particularly well muscled, but not small and skinny the way I like it—staring towards the corner of the locker room, hands on his hips, a fierce scowl on his face. But what I saw next REALLY shocked me. Cowering on the floor in the corner, with a truly frightened look on his face, was Meat. Now, Meat is another of my football buddies, but physically a breed apart. There is nothing subtle about Meat; almost 300 pounds of pure muscle, not much toning or refinement, just undiluted strength. On the team, he plays center; he’s the reason we win so many games, because he can push other guys over onto their backs with ease. Yet here he was, squatting in fear against the corner locker, as if he was about to be crushed.

This average dude was striding over towards him, causing Meat to press even tighter into the locker, as if trying to disappear. The average guy was fingering his jockstrap, saying, “I’ve got a treat for you, right here. I call it the ‘Meat Tenderizer’!” And with that he pulled off his jockstrap.

Some astonished gasps came out of Meat’s mouth. “My... God... it’s... so... big!” he whimpered, staring at the dude’s crotch. But when I looked, all I saw was an average-sized dick, maybe six inches, maybe less, and on the thin side. But I remembered what I saw during my own locker room “rape” daydream with the “supergeeks”, and it began to make sense. No doubt Meat was seeing some incredible foot-long cudgel being waved in front of him like a weapon, and knowing he was about to be forced to submit to its forcible insertion. And if that was true, I knew from my own experience that Meat was about to undergo a process of change involving how he felt about that cudgel, from fear and pain to lust and need. Within days he would dream about that cudgel, jerk off to the thought of it, and live for the next time he could serve it. He would do anything, however humiliating or painful, to get that hypermasculine thing stuffed in him again.

The dude grabbed Meat’s head and forced it towards his cock. Meat seemed to be resisting with all his might—his muscles bulged with effort, and sweat was running down his head—but incredibly he was losing the battle to the guy half his weight. Soon the cock would be in him, conquering him, enslaving him, forcing him to NEED it inside him. I was about to step forward to intervene, when—

I was driving home. No, not home, I was driving THERE, to my place of enslavement and training. It was already getting dark. Why could I never remember where this place was when I wanted to find it of my own volition? I arrived, parked in the driveway where I always did, and noticed a car I hadn’t seen there before.

I went inside, and went straight to the ROOM where I knew I was expected. There, sitting at MY usual spot in front of the computer, wires leading to the metal cap and to the metal genital covering, was a student I recognized—most of the school would recognize him. His name was Tyler, he was a junior, and just about every girl in the school was after him. I never saw the attraction myself, and even now—especially now—I didn’t get what they saw in him. About 6′2″ tall, he was very attractive, but not in a manly sort of way, rather I guess in a boy-band kind of way. While he was built like a swimmer, which he was, with a broad smooth chest and muscled arms and legs, his face was almost beautiful, with delicate features and penetrating blue eyes, practically feminine. His blond hair flopped into his eyes constantly, and he was always brushing it back with one hand. Sort of like a taller, prettier and more athletic version of the young Leonardo DiCaprio, I suppose. And as he sat staring at the screen, I saw another reason the girls might like him. Poking out from under the metal genital covering was a fairly long erect cock, nearly the size of mine. But seeing him here, I guessed that Tyler’s cock’s days of getting erect around females were over.

Behind me, I heard THE VOICE. I knew I dare not turn around. “Ah, Lance, you’re here already. Good, you can help me with the next stage of Tyler’s reprogramming. He pissed off one of my jock buddies by stealing his girlfriend, or maybe it wasn’t even his fault, maybe she went to him on her own, but it doesn’t really matter now. He won’t be a threat to take anyone’s girlfriend again. He’s being changed from horndog primo ladies’ man into horny bottom jock sex toy. At least his hormones don’t need adjusting!

“OK, Lance, strip completely naked, make yourself hard, then stand at attention while I take the equipment off Tyler.” I rushed to obey, while out of the corner of my eye I saw Tyler being freed from the metal cap and genital cover (but I still couldn’t see HIM!). While I stood at attention, I saw Tyler sitting facing towards me, staring up and down my body, eyes coming to rest on my cock for a few seconds each time they scanned up and down. He still seemed dazed from the “treatment” he had been going through, but was also clearly fascinated with my body. His penetrating eyes then locked into mine, and as he gazed at me, I sensed an intense longing going through him. From behind me, the Voice began its droning instructions, engraving them into Tyler’s helpless, wide-open mind.

“Tyler, this is a jock. Look at his muscles. Show him your muscles, Lance.” I began to flex my arms, my chest, my legs. Man, after all those body-sculpting workouts I really did look for all the world as if I were participating in a body-building contest. A real athlete might not look quite like that, but this subtlety was entirely lost on the hypnotized Tyler, who was staring at each of my body parts as I flexed it. His hand started to go for his considerable cock, but the Voice ordered, “No, Tyler, you may not touch your dick unless the jock has given you permission. You haven’t given him permission, have you, Lance?” I instantly said “No,” I had absolutely no choice but to say it, although I knew from experience how the waves of uncontrollable lust that were coursing through the manipulated Tyler were affecting him at that moment.

The Voice continued. “Jocks are like gods to you... compared to them, you’re not a man at all, you’re a delicate little girl... You feel feminine when you’re near a jock, don’t you, Tyler? Under the power of the jock... any jock... you feel your masculinity draining... weakening... you know it’s all just a front anyway... the jock knows what you REALLY are... a girly toy to be used for his pleasure... you exist for one purpose only... you exist only for the pleasure of the jock... you must find ways to please the jock.” While Tyler continued to stare at my body, his blond hair slick with sweat from his ordeal, he shuddered with pure lust. “Go to him, crawl to him, and learn his body, so you may learn to please it.” As he crawled across the carpet, his sizable erect cock underwent friction that added to his excitement, but also to his agony, since he was not allowed to reach orgasm without permission.

“Start with his feet, Tyler. Look at his large, manly feet. He could crush you completely with them if he wanted to. Lance, put your right foot on top of Tyler’s cock and balls, and rub them gently.” Tyler’s cock was big, but my size 16 foot was bigger. From the look of it, the rubbing action had the effect of quadrupling both the excitement and the agony. Tyler’s eyes closed, and tears fell from them. “Now show your power. Increase the pressure slowly on his cock and balls.” As I did this, I could see the shift in Tyler from excitement towards agony. “Tyler, this pain is GOOD... You LIKE it when a jock disrespects your cock and balls... it shows they are HIS property, not yours... you’re not really a man, you don’t need them anymore... Thank Lance for crushing you underfoot... and then you may cum.”

The words had the desired effect on Tyler. The agony and the ecstasy seemed to merge, and he managed to squeak, “...Th..thank... you...” and just as he did that, his cum exploded all over my foot and the floor, again and again. From the volume of cum and number of shots, he clearly hadn’t been allowed to cum for days, maybe weeks. Now he would associate being crushed and humiliated under the foot of a jock with incredible pleasure, maybe the only pleasure he would be allowed. But the Voice would not let up. “Tyler! You got cum all over the jock’s feet. You are not allowed to soil his godly feet with your worthless girly cream. Lick it off!” And he raced to do it, cleaning not only my soles and between my toes, but also the floor in the vicinity of my feet, in case I might accidentally step in his offensive goo.

When he had finished, the Voice told him, “Now look at his legs. Feel and worship the muscles in his lower legs... his calves... the front... the back...” Delicate, sensual fingers made their way slowly up my legs, gently squeezing them. Occasionally, his nose would graze part of my leg as he sensed each part of it, and I thought I saw his tongue flicker out like a snake’s as if to taste and tease the delicate, fine hair on my legs.

After what seemed like a long time, the Voice went on, “Now look at that fine jock ass... Look closely!” I could tell Tyler was doing it, I could feel his breath back there. “That is what a magnificent jock ass looks like... you worship that ass... you wish you could somehow fit your whole self in there and be drawn up slowly into it, and become part of it... you would be proud to serve that ass... to feed from that ass... to keep it clean for the jock, whatever it took...” I could feel his breathing getting closer, heavier on my ass... Without seeing him, I could tell he was hypnotized by my ass. Without being told, he began to ease his nose between my butt cheeks, and I could feel a tongue making its way in there, as gradually his virgin tongue entered my no-longer-virgin ass, still feeling the effects of having been raped by those—imaginary?—geek supercocks. The Voice continued its droning instructions, slowly, permanently changing the way Tyler thought about jock asses.

Next, the Voice told Tyler, “Crawl around to the front of the jock. Look at that eight-pack on him.” As Tyler moved into position in front, he came into unavoidable contact with my huge erect cock, but he paid no attention, just pushing it to the side and out of the way. He was not being instructed to pay attention to it at the moment, so he focused his attention on my abs. With one hand holding my cock to the side, the other began to explore my abdominals while the Voice continued its directions. “Your stomach area is weak... the jock’s is strong... yours is flat like a girl’s... his is ripped like a god’s...” His delicate face approached my chest, sniffing gently, and occasionally his tongue flicked against my tummy.

“Now stand... look how short you are compared to the jock...” Actually, since I’m only about three inches taller, the difference wasn’t that big, but I’m sure that the drugged Tyler saw it differently. “Look at his pecs... look how powerful they are...” Tyler stared, fascinated, at my chest. “...they are sensitive... go cause the jock pleasure, it’s your purpose in life... lick his pecs, suck them, play with them with your tongue...” As Tyler did that, in his totally motivated and newly skilled manner, my own excitement began to increase, even though Tyler was not the nerd type I was turned on by, the type that I was now forced to worship and obey. But his skill and total dedication to his task of pleasuring me was definitely getting to me.

The Voice relentlessly continued. “Now study and worship his biceps... his triceps... his delts...” One by one, I was forced to flex each muscle, on each side, as Tyler helplessly stared, sniffed, and gently licked it. “Now go to his armpits... his pits must be ripe with sweat... it’s your special treat... clean them out with your tongue...” Tyler eagerly got to work licking my pits clean, his eyes closed, an expression of total pleasure on his face. “...You wish you could just shrink into his manly armpit hair and live there... the odor is just so right... the warmth in there feels so comfortable...” The look on Tyler’s face showed him absorbing the feelings that were being programmed into him.

Suddenly, at the Voice’s command, it all ended. “Tyler, stand at attention.” The obeisance he had been paying to my right armpit stopped abruptly. “Now you have learned how to properly worship a jock. You know your place whenever a jock commands you to change into a slave girl for his pleasure. And if you do well NEXT time, you will be allowed to receive the Cum of Life from his holy cock.” Somehow, Tyler added a disappointed look to his hypno-zonked face. “Now get dressed and go home.” Still covered with sweat and not a few drops of his own cum, Tyler went to the corner of the room, silently got dressed, and walked out the door without so much as a backwards glance.

“I thought that went just fine,” the Voice now addressing me. “I’d better let you get back and continue work on your brother. How’s he coming along?”

I was forced to reply truthfully. “He’s actually ahead of schedule. He’s an excellent subject, and he trusts me completely. I’m a little worried about my dad, though. He seems to be fighting me almost every step of the way.”

“I see. Well, don’t worry. I’ll come over there later this week. I have a newer, more powerful compound I use when I need to force compliance. It’s less subtle and there’s some discomfort involved, but I’ve found it’s much more effective.”

I tried to stop myself from saying it, I really did. I bit my tongue, concentrated as hard as I could, but nothing could stop me from telling him, “I could use some of that compound myself. I’m not totally past fighting you. Please bring some for me, too.”

There was a pause, then “I didn’t expect you to say that. That’s great, it means your loyalty and obedience to me is becoming a more deep-seated and permanent part of you. I only saw the beginning of that when you helped me with the initial capture of your teammates.” (Wait—I did that? I had no memory of...) “You were at your best when you helped me figure out just how much extra drug I could use on Meat because of his higher weight, without turning him into a vegetable.” (I had a sudden flashback. I was in Meat’s room at his home. His parents thought I was there to study with him. Despite having ingested the normal dose of the drug, he was still aware enough to beg me not to force him to take any more of it, not to erase his personality, eliminate his thoughts of resistance, not to alter his sexual desires, not to remove his personal courage and replace it with fear and cowardice in his very essence. It hurt me to do it with the big guy on his knees in front of me, crying, but of course I had absolutely no choice in the matter. I had to hand him the glass, and he was compelled to drink from it again. His pussification had to be completed, the Voice had programmed that into me.)

“I also have two projects coming up that you might help me with, both faculty. You know Mr. Wells, the English teacher?” Mr. Wells was new to the school, unmarried, in his late twenties, dark hair, in great shape, a lust object for a number of girls and I’ll bet some boys. “A friend of mine isn’t doing too well in his class, and he thought he might do better if he could regularly visit Mr. Wells’ house and turn him into Rover the Puppy. He could housebreak and paper train him, reward him for good behavior and punish him for disobedience. Mr. Wells wouldn’t really remember it during the day, but he WOULD feel an unaccountable sense of respect and obedience for my friend while in class, especially if my friend raised a rolled-up newspaper.

“The other one is Mr. Caputo, the basketball coach. Another friend of mine was cut from the team earlier, and he wants Coach to become VERY interested in smelly, used jockstraps. He wants Coach to start sneaking around, sniffing used straps from the laundry pile, wearing ones previously worn by his star players, putting them over his face, chewing the flavor out of them, afraid all the time that he might get caught. And of course my friend will ‘catch’ him, after making his addiction worse and worse. His players will start wearing jocks for weeks at a time, you know, like Timmy and his socks, except the players will think it’s their own idea, for their coach. They’ll do everything in them—sleep in them, work out in them, cum into them, piss through them, and finally they’ll present them to Coach, watching him chew on them, wear them, becoming helpless in their power. The players will learn to control Coach by rationing his access to their filthy straps. In the end, Coach will discover that the most sexually gratifying jockstraps are the ones with my friend’s crotch odor on them, and he’ll soon be begging for... well, no need for any more detail. I may just call on you to start those guys off.”

“Will you be needing me to complete Tyler’s training?”

“No, I’ve lined up several other of your jock friends for that. I want him to get used to serving a wide variety of jocks. It’ll be really interesting to watch him in action with Meat. Can you just picture that girly face and mop of blond hair buried deep in the ass of 300 pounds of muscle?”

With that picture indelibly in my mind, I sat up—in my bed at home, in total darkness. Had I done my work with Jason this evening? I couldn’t remember...

8.

The next day, I knew better than to watch for nerds at the entrance, and nothing weird happened in the morning. But my avoidance of nerdwatching didn’t help me the whole day. As I walked towards my last class, I saw, approaching me from the opposite direction, the most perfect, skinny, freckle-faced geek I had ever seen at the school. I’m sure he was a freshman, although he looked to be about 12. And he was obviously looking to intercept me. I was suddenly afraid, but before I could run, he raised an arm, and—

Back I was in the locker room. Why did so many of my daydreams take place there? This time, there was no question that this was a dream, because I was wearing a costume of some sort, while the nerd, his locker open, was stripping naked. I looked down at myself and saw... oh no! I was in a superhero costume, hands on hips in a classic Superman pose, my arm and chest muscles nicely outlined by the contours of the outfit. The symbol on my chest was an uppercase M changing down in steps into a lowercase m. Wait, I knew that symbol—I was... MorphTeen! How did I know that? I must have read about MorphTeen in a story somewhere—or someone must have told me about him, or programmed the story into me—I don’t know, MorphTeen’s not the kind of superhero you would find in an ordinary comic book! [You can read about MorphTeen in my fantasy series about the Legion of Obedient Super Slaves, also starring PowerPuppy, Hypnolad, Fartboy, Wondernerd, UltraLover, and Znort, the perverted alien who created them out of ordinary teenagers, but gave them little or no control over their own humiliating superpowers.]

I stood frozen like a superhero statue watching the nerd strip. With my new programming, he was my ideal master, thin and almost totally hairless below his head, with the cutest four-inch soft cock that was hardening in anticipation of what was to come. When he was completely naked, he reached onto the bench for—oh, that’s right, it was my control chip, inside what looked like a wristwatch. He whispered something into it, and I began shrinking and changing—

As I shrank to the floor, I noticed I was changing in color, to yellow, almost gold, and also in texture, to something cloth-like. And finally I lay there on the floor—a gold-colored jockstrap! Oddly, I could still see and feel, even though I was no longer in human form. Then the nerd, who now looked like a giant standing over me, picked me up and—started pulling me onto him! I happily felt the length of his beautiful skinny legs, and felt a wonderful warmth when I finally reached my position around his groin. The aroma was dizzying. He put a pair of gym shorts on around me.

Then I heard him whisper something else into my control chip, and suddenly I could move! I can’t exactly explain HOW I did this, but my lower part began gently massaging his balls, while the upper part of me sort of tightened around his partly hard cock and started—squeezing! I expanded and contracted along the length of his cock, twisting and turning against it, causing it to get fully hard and grow another inch, while he moaned in pleasure. I was so excited to be so intimate with his manhood, something I could never do in my human form! Since he was not all that sexually experienced, it wasn’t long before he was pumping his load into me, and I was—ABSORBING it, all of it, as if I was made of a super-absorbent type of cloth. And yet I could feel it entering me, becoming part of me. It was one of the most exciting and unusual experiences of my life! (Except of course I knew it wasn’t real...)

Finally, still wearing me, he went into his Phys Ed class, and went through his exercises, games, and so on, adding his sweat to his cum already inside me. I have never felt as physically close and “as one” with someone as I did during that period. When it was over, he went back to his locker, took me off and left me in his locker while he showered. After all that intimacy, I felt cold and alone, lying there on the frigid metal locker floor, without his warmth around me. When he came back and put on his street clothes, he waited until everyone else had left, then pulled me out onto the locker room floor, took the control chip out of his pocket, and whispered something. I felt myself changing shape, becoming rigid, my hands and legs returning but becoming... something different... wheels! I was a skateboard! With a top design that looked like a cartoon version of my face, in garish colors.

He grabbed me off the floor, exited the locker room and then ran out the school door, put me on the ground, and climbed on top. I loved the pressure of his sneakers on my back, it felt totally natural and quite... exciting! After he spoke into the chip again, I took off down the street in the direction of his home, under my own power! I knew exactly where to go, and using my own strength, took him there with no effort on his part. Just as I came to a stop at a traffic light, I—

Arrived in my car at my home. Just another day in my new life. Now I had to continue the enslavement of my little brother...

[Well, that’s as far as I got back then. I proceeded to launch the “Legion” stories and never got back to this one. In fact, I had almost forgotten about it until the mcstories readers complained that it wasn’t here. I still have the notes on where I wanted to take this thing, such as when little bro Jason’s jock buddies begin to notice that his forceful, masculine personality seems to be fading, and they begin to exert their dominance over him...]