The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Property Manager

I was in Heaven. I had made Christian mine, and he loved me. He’d do anything for me, anything I said, it was like tugging on strings attached to his limbs, watching him dance around like a beautiful puppet. I let him go to work, but from then on any time he was in the building, he was acting out my desires. Mostly I just made him work out to stay fit and I’d have sex with him and curl up with his amazing body.

But, you know, it started to get a little boring after a while. Even when I wasn’t making him do my bidding, Christian wasn’t much for conversation, and he was kind of a boring guy, and his body was fun but I started to realize the part I’d really enjoyed was the voyeurism, the corruption. I started spending my nights back in my apartment in the dark in that same chair I’d spent all that time in, watching him through the monitors instead of going over in person. I tried everything again, made him pick up random strays and fuck them and abuse them, made him buy all sorts of toys and play with them. But it all lost its luster once I knew he was just my obedient puppet.

Well, I said a while ago that I don’t think I’m a bad person, but I have to face facts at some point. I brainwashed and enslaved a completely innocent tenant of the apartment building I manage, and I did it for my own sexual gratification. If that’s not a bad thing to do, then I don’t really know what is. But it was too late to make amends, and there’s no point in crying over spilled milk, so I just decided to accept the truth and run with it.

There was another tenant in my building who I had been avoiding ever since he moved in. That kid, Jamie, was in his early 20s, trust fund baby, and had an attitude to match. He was a twink straight out of a porno, delicate features, lithe, thin form, and the stereotypical catty voice and stylish hair, clothes, shoes, accessories, everything. When he moved in I’d asked him if he ever wanted to get a drink, and that little bitch laughed right in my face. He didn’t even try to hide his disdain!

“Oh, right, like I’d ever get a drink with you. Please. Get real!” And then he giggled cruelly again. I’d been so ashamed and hurt, but back then I didn’t think I could do anything about it. He was just my tenant, and I had my job responsibilities, so I just left him alone and never spoke to him again.

After I got tired of Christian, my thoughts turned naturally to Jamie. I wondered how he was doing. I hadn’t seen him in quite a while. Well, one way to find out.

I ordered a whole box of the pinhole cameras, another of the microphones, and bought some more remote speakers. At this point it was old hat for me, it seemed. I started paying attention to Jamie’s comings and goings; since he didn’t work a day job I knew I needed to be more careful than with Christian. But finally I was confident that he had some recurring appointment on Tuesdays and Thursdays from noon until 4, and that was more than enough time.

I planted the cameras all over his apartment so they had a good view of every last nook and cranny, and I laced the whole unit with microphones. I found a good hiding spot for a speaker right near his pillow, too. And then I just waited, and watched.

I learned a lot about Jamie. He was quite a bit more exciting than Christian. He spent quite a lot of time jerking off, watching porn, and just as much picking up guys to fuck him. Quite the power bottom, that Jamie. I listened to his queeny voice as he screeched thinly-veiled orders at the tops ostensibly dominating him. I listened to him moan girlishly as they all threw his skinny body around his bedroom, fucked him up against the walls, or just held him aloft in midair and thrust into his nearly-nonexistent twink butt.

I also learned about the lengths to which Jamie went to keep his almost emaciated figure. I watched and smirked as he weighed out his food on a kitchen scale five times a day, tiny snack portions of food, and I watched as he compulsively did hours of cardio every day to cheesy old exercise videos, too embarrassed, I supposed, to work out at the gym. He obviously didn’t have any fat to lose. He obviously had a bit of an eating disorder.

Well, I thought, the charitable thing for me to do would be to help him with that eating disorder. First things first, though: I started him on his own subliminal regimen. I knew it would take time, just as it had with Christian, but I’m a patient man, and I have little else to do but watch, and Jamie now had the honor of my full attention.

I kept it simple. “Exercise is exhausting,” I began reading into the microphone, “You find your tolerance for it is lower. Even the slightest bit of exercise makes you weary.”

“Exercise also makes you hungry,” I continued, “because you need to replenish the calories you burn. Even the slightest bit of exercise makes you ravenously hungry.”

“Healthy foods are repulsive,” I concluded, “When you’re hungry, the only thing that will satisfy your hunger are the heaviest foods and richest desserts.”

And that was that. Every night Jamie got the treatment that Christian had endured for months. And just like Christian, Jamie started to change, slowly but surely. His regimen was so severe, though, that it would be a while before anything would visibly change. Even half the exercise and twice the food wouldn’t make him gain any weight. His body was perpetually starving, and it would take a while to convince it otherwise.

The Tenant

A lot of my friends think I’ve got it made, but they don’t know how hard it is to do what I do. Sure, I don’t have to work, thanks to Daddy, but picking up really hung tops to fuck me is a lot of work! I have to stay looking good—it’s always pathetic going to the clubs and seeing those other boys carrying all that weight walking around like anyone’s going to even give them a second glance. Or the ones who don’t take care of themselves, wearing last year’s fashions, or who haven’t tweezed and plucked and shaved and waxed like I do.

Of course I’d love to eat everything I want and never exercise. Who wouldn’t? But it takes commitment if you want to look your best, and I love the feeling of power I get from picking up big guys with big dicks and bringing them back to my place and getting them to fuck me, rough and raw, hard as they can. And I know for a fact that the other boys at the club don’t get it as much as I get it.

I’ve always been really good about exercising and eating right, because I care what I look like, unlike lots of other guys. But I started having kind of a slump. I don’t know what it was. I thought maybe I was getting sick. I immediately freaked out and went to my doctor but he said there was nothing wrong. Then, as usual, he tried to act all concerned about how good I look and asked whether I was eating well. They all think I have an eating disorder. But I tell them every time, I do this on purpose, and I exercise a lot to stay so thin! He tried to get me to agree to talk to a therapist—as usual, they always do—and I just laughed at him and told him fat chance, doc. Under his doctor’s clothes I could tell he had a pretty big belly, so I told him maybe he should think about a therapist to talk about why he’s so fat! Of course he got upset, so I just left.

Anyway, that didn’t help because I still felt down in the dumps. I always do 3 hours of workout DVDs every day, my three favorites, but for some reason it was feeling longer than 3 hours, and really tedious. Usually I coach myself through the hard parts by reminding myself what the other fat boys look like, but this time for some weird reason I imagined one of them eating and instead of being totally grossed out, I wondered what he was eating and how it tasted. And then I realized I was starving! But I just ate some celery and a handful of cashews two hours earlier, and it wasn’t time to eat for another two hours!

I’m not unreasonable, though, just for those who say I have an eating disorder. I stopped the DVD and went and let myself have another handful of almonds. Would someone with an eating disorder snack like that? No, obviously not. And then I went back and continued exercising where I’d left off.

Only I didn’t feel full like I usually did. I still felt hungry. I didn’t know what the matter was. That had never happened before.

Well, like I always say, it takes commitment to look as good as I do, so I just pushed that hunger aside and kept going. Only then my leg started to cramp. I’d done this every day for years! I had to stop for the cramp, and once I managed to work the cramp out I just felt like I was going to pass out I was so tired.

Ugh, I was so FRUSTRATED! I’d never keep my figure if I let a little hunger and a cramp stop me. But try as I might, I couldn’t make myself start up again. Finally I just gave up, and sat pouting on the couch. I felt like a total failure. Shit, I was so mad at myself. But I was still starving, so finally I just said, you know what? If I’m going to sit around being fat and lazy I might as well eat whatever I want, too, and really just turn into a big fat piece of shit like I was back in school. Maybe Mom was right, I thought. Maybe that’s all I’d ever be.

The Property Manager

I giggled like a schoolgirl when I saw Jamie stop exercising and sit on the couch. I listened to him angrily talking to himself, insulting himself, getting so frustrated. And then he finally just started sniffling and calling himself all sorts of names. But the icing on the cake—literally!—was when I saw him walk into the kitchen, open up the fridge, and just start eating everything in it. Now, he didn’t have anything that unhealthy around, but watching him shove all that food in his mouth got me so boned up I was dripping precum. Then, over the microphones in his apartment, I heard him start to cry. These big, wracking sobs coming from him, muffled by the food he was stuffing in his mouth. I couldn’t believe it. I blew a load right then and there, all over the underside of the folding table, and felt it drip down on my legs.

His sobbing gave me an idea, too. I went back and added a little more to the subliminals.

“When you feel frustrated or angry or ashamed, it makes you want to eat. When you eat, it makes you feel good, but also makes you feel shame and self-loathing.”

I smiled as I clicked the button to rebuild the subliminal mp3, and anticipated some exciting episodes watching Jamie in the near future.

The Tenant

Things went from bad to worse. That one day with the eating and the cramp was just the beginning. I’d never had a spell this bad, and I couldn’t seem to pull myself out of it. Every day it was harder and harder to make myself exercise. I wouldn’t give up, though! I’d worked long and hard for my hot twink body, and I was not going to let myself be stupid and lazy and ruin it all! So I still turned on the DVDs, every single day, and just got angrier and angrier at myself as I laid there trying to do the exercises, but it just felt horrible and every part of me hurt and finally I’d collapse to the ground. It seemed like I collapsed sooner every day.

And the worst part was how hungry I always was. I’d been eating the same diet for two years straight and had gotten totally used to it. Why now? I couldn’t help myself, I wanted food all the time now. God, it made me so mad! I kept saying to myself, you stupid shit head, you wanna be fat again? Usually that worked, it made me feel awful so I wouldn’t overeat. But now for some reason that just made me want to drown my sorrows in more food.

One day it got especially bad, and I was ready to start hitting myself and screaming, but instead I just felt this urge to walk to the grocery store. I was so disgusted with myself, wanting food like that, but then I just thought, fuck it, that’s what I deserve for being such a lazy stupid baby. So I threw my shoes on and stomped down the street to the store. And when I got there I just walked up and down the aisles throwing any old thing into the cart. Frozen pizza? Fuck it, I bought twenty of them. Ice cream? Fat fuck like me would love some ice cream, wouldn’t I? Buy as much as you want, you lazy piece of shit. I was almost crying in the store except I was so angry I was shaking instead. And finally I finished and wheeled my full cart up to the register. $483.19 of food, he rung up. I wanted to throw myself off a roof, but instead I just handed him my card and wheeled the whole shopping cart home.

The Property Manager

The subliminals were working better than I could possibly have hoped. That day, the day Jamie came home with all that food, I came right in my pants. I had no idea he was so close to breaking down, and so spectacularly! He just stole a shopping cart from the store and wheeled the whole thing home and right into his apartment, full to the brim with the unhealthiest food I’d ever seen! I heard him over the microphones, cursing himself, angrily spitting out venom, calling himself a lazy fat stupid asshole, going from raging screams to wracking sobs randomly and abruptly as he unloaded the shopping cart, filling his whole freezer and fridge.

Only, halfway through the unloading his self-loathing got the better of him and he just sat down on the floor, fridge and freezer doors wide open, with a half-gallon of Haagen-Dazs, and started eating it with his bare hands!! I was totally unprepared for it, and I shot another load on the spot! I watched him scoop the ice cream out with his fingers and shove his whole hand in his mouth, sucking it off of them as his whole body shook with his weeping. He ate the whole thing! I was stunned, and elated! That condescending little bitch was going to learn his lesson faster than I’d ever dreamed!

Over the next few weeks I watched as he slowly ate himself into utter despair. Every day he woke up, put in those cheesy old exercise DVDs like he had any chance of getting through even ten minutes of the first one, and he laid there wheezing and eventually outright crying as he feebly attempted to do his ab crunches and jazzercise, but finally, and it never took long, maybe a few minutes at most, he’d just give up and collapse to the ground like he’d just run a marathon, huffing and puffing and panting, and then, like clockwork, he’d get so mad at himself he’d start yelling and then the yelling was rendered unintelligible by all the crying, until he was just seething and blubbering and spitting incoherent epithets through the full-body sobs.

And then, always the climax of the day—in my case, a few climaxes, all over the table and wall and floor—he’d make his way to the kitchen, his anger and self-loathing peaking as he opened the freezer and pulled out a huge frozen pizza, and put it in the oven, and then while it was cooking, his hunger would get the best of him, and I grinned wide and came for maybe the fifth time as I heard him call himself a fat stupid lazy idiot or something to that effect as he pulled a half-gallon of ice cream out of the freezer and ate the whole thing in the time it took the pizza to bake.

About three weeks in, the routine took on an added dimension when Jamie realized he was really starting to put on some serious weight. Every day he’d first go into his bathroom, before his pathetic attempts at exercise, and I watched with glee as he’d pull up his shirt and look at himself in profile in the mirror. The unmistakable curve of a slight belly hung out over his pajama pants, and I’d listen to his usual litany of self-hatred and rage and sadness as he tried his best to suck it in. But he could only convince himself for so long, and finally he broke down and sat, sobbing, on the bathroom floor. I shot a nice big load, coating the wall with maybe its thousandth blast of my sticky semen. God, watching him fall apart made me so fucking horny.

Around that time I modified the subliminals again. First, I decided to get a leg up on the direct commands. It took a few weeks of subliminal conditioning with Christian before I’d been able to give him direct orders, and I figured at some point I’d want to be able to do the same with Jamie, so might as well start sooner than later. And then, second, I added one more little note.

“Eating makes you horny. The more fattening the food, the more depraved and desperate your eating, the hornier you get. You still feel shame and self-loathing, but you also feel intensely horny. And any time you see that you’ve gained weight, it makes you even hornier than that.”

Oh, man. The first time I saw that one kick in was glorious. There he was, bitchy, judgmental Jamie, standing in his kitchen, eating out of an ice cream container with his hand, and I heard his breath quicken. Oh, he was still sobbing and enraged at himself, but I watched as he fumbled with the ice cream, trying to find a way to hold it and free his left hand. He caught it in the crook of his arm and I saw that hand go down for his crotch, but he couldn’t quite make it work.

And then, ah, I watch this recording often now: He finally just grabbed the container in his right hand, shoved his left hand down his gym shorts, and held the ice cream carton right up to his face and started eating out of it like a feed bag, like a trough. I heard him start moaning through his mouthfuls, and then heard his sobbing intensify, and then the both of them together, his uncontrollable blubbering and grunting as he scarfed down the ice cream face-first, like a pig, and then he buckled and collapsed on the ground as he came right in his pants. As the orgasm hit him, he shoved the ice cream carton right up against his face, crumpling the cardboard sides and burying his whole face in the creamy dessert. And I sprayed my own creamy dessert again and again as I watched, remotely, over all my monitors. Fuck, it was hot watching that little queer self-destruct. Just another puppet, powerless to resist as I pulled the strings.

Jamie resisted looking in the mirror, now. He’d since given up. So it was about two weeks more before I got to see him look at himself again. On the upside, waiting that long meant the shock was all the greater. One day his curiosity got the better of him, and he walked into his bathroom and turned his gaze towards the floor mirror he’d been avoiding looking at for so long. And for a minute, I thought my microphones were broken. I heard nothing at all. But then I just heard a high-pitched squeak. He was stunned! Speechless! So horrified by his swollen body that he couldn’t even bring himself to cry or scream. But then, a few moments later, the spell broke and the floodgates opened and he just collapsed to the ground sobbing. Ah, but then the conditioning kicked in, and I saw him start panting as he squirmed out of his pajama bottoms, and sitting naked on the ground, his belly now almost completely obscuring his crotch, he buried his hand in the soft flesh and started convulsing as he jerked his prick, invisible beneath his gut. I had a clear view of his face, and I watched as he turned his face upwards, eyes closed, tears streaming down his cheeks, mouth open in a perpetual moan. His whole body shook with the combined force of his self-loathing sobbing and his incredible horniness, and moments later, jets of thick white jizz sprayed out from his flabby crotch and he screamed aloud, a mixture of rage, sorrow, and deep, animal yearning.

Jamie’s ruin was almost complete, at this point, but I wasn’t ready to stop having my fun. So I relented for a bit, erased everything from the subliminals other than the part about my voice and its control over him. I didn’t use that, though. I let things settle down and slowly, as the months went by, his conditioning started to fade, and his self-confidence came back a bit, and slowly he began to exercise again, threw out his junk food, started losing the weight. He’d put on about 40 pounds in the months I’d been fattening him up, so it was slow to come off, but sure enough, he shed 20 of those pounds in just a couple months. Eating disorder or no eating disorder, I had to admit, Jamie had discipline!

Of course, it was hard for me during those months because watching him put himself back together didn’t turn me on at all. But it was worth it, knowing what I had in store.

The Tenant

I’ve never had a relapse that bad in my life and I never want to repeat it. When it finally ended, I could feel it, slowly, like the clouds were clearing. I was disgusting, and even two months in I was still disgusting, but at least I only had 20 more pounds to lose. I knew if I really stuck to the program, I could lose that in two more months. Maybe a month and a half if I really worked at it. I filled my fridge with healthy food again, and I stayed on target, eating tiny portions because I knew it’d be worth it. My friends kept texting me and I just told them I was traveling because I knew if they ever saw me like this they’d never speak to me again!

I tried not to even think about that relapse. It was a really dark time, and I just blocked it entirely out so I wouldn’t have to deal with it. All I know is, no use focusing on the past, right? It was time to get back in shape and move on with my life.

I went to the freezer one night to grab a bag of frozen snow peas for a light stir-fry dinner. I opened the door and looked in and, no, that couldn’t be right. Closed the door, opened it again, but it was still there. No, no, no, this can’t be happening!

The Property Manager

Once Jamie was really on a roll and feeling good about himself again, I knew the time was right. Plus, he clearly hadn’t tried to process anything that had happened, he was just repressing it entirely. That’s when I snuck in while he was out and filled his fridge and freezer back up with the unhealthiest foods I could find. I dumped all his healthy shit to make room for the ice cream and pizza. Then I ran back to my room and sat. I couldn’t wait to see his face when he opened that freezer door.

I didn’t have to wait long. Jamie came home and immediately went to prepare his little rabbit-food dinner. I saw him open the freezer door once, then slam it shut, shiver, and open it again, and then he just stood there staring at the ice cream.

“No,” he said, “No, no, no, no, no no no no no!!” He was having a meltdown. He started grabbing the ice cream and throwing it in the trash, shaking his head, trembling.

And then I spoke to him for the first time. I leaned into the microphone, and just said, plainly, “Stop.”

Jamie froze. “Who said that?” he asked, his voice trembling with fear and confusion. But he made no movement.

I grinned. Perfect. Oh, this was going to be so good. I was already rock hard again in anticipation.

“Open the ice cream.”

“What? Who the fuck is saying that?” Jamie screamed, but his hands were already tearing the lid off the carton. It took him a moment to even notice he was doing it, and when he did he started to freak out. Just like I’d hoped. “What the FUCK? WHAT THE FUCK?!?? NO!! NO!! WHY AM I DOING THIS?!! WHY CAN’T I STOP?!?!?”

I was drooling precum and ready to blow my load, but I made myself hold out. I’d waited two months for this, I could wait another few minutes! Again, I didn’t bother to respond to his questions, but just issued another command.

“Eat.”

Jamie started sobbing uncontrollably. I’d watched this little queer cry pretty hard over the months, but I don’t think I’d ever seen him get as hysterical as he did when I ordered him to eat. His arm moved unbidden down to the carton and scooped out a bare handful of the thick, creamy dessert and lifted it back to his mouth.

“NO!! NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!! NO OH MY GOD WHY CAN’T-mmrrphhh“ He tried to keep screaming but his own hand stuffed his mouth full of ice cream and, no longer under his control, his mouth and tongue chewed on it, tasting the sweet rich ice cream, and he swallowed the whole bite.

Jamie was white with terror now as his own arm, hand, mouth, and throat betrayed his every attempt to stop eating the ice cream, and soon he was halfway through the gallon, incoherently choking and sobbing.

“Jerk off,” I added, and Jamie started frantically looking around the apartment for the source of the voice even as his ice-cream-covered hand slid down the front of his pants. He gasped aloud as the ice-cold, sticky hand made contact with his cock, and started stroking his stiffening shaft, lubricated by the melting dessert. His eyes flitted about, once again trying to figure out how to keep eating, and then finally, shaking his own head back and forth in incredulous horror, he shoved his whole face right into the carton.

All I heard from Jamie were grunting and snorting noises, like a starving barnyard animal devouring some slop from a trough, and I watched him come in his own pants while he ate. But I didn’t tell him to stop jerking off, so his hand dutifully kept stroking. He finished the ice cream and fell down on the ground, writhing about at the overwhelming sensation of his hand stroking his highly-sensitive cock. But I just watched silently.

“WHO ARE YOU?” Jamie demanded as his hand kept stroking relentlessly. “HOW ARE YOU DOING THIS? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME??”

I just smiled as his screamed demands were cut off by another orgasm. This one sounded less pleasant and a bit more painful than the first. I leaned forward and commanded, again, “Stop jerking off. Get more ice cream.”

At this point Jamie’s screamed demands were just constant and ongoing, and I just calmly gave him orders over the shouting.

“Put in the exercise DVDs.” And he did. “Hit play.” And he did.

“Watch them and eat the ice cream.” Ha! Oh, the degradation of watching his own exercise DVDs while, instead of exercising, he was gorging on ice cream like a pig. The irony wasn’t lost on Jamie. He couldn’t peel his eyes from the video, naturally, and stared at it, nearly catatonic, as he pressed the ice cream carton against his mouth and licked and sucked at its rich contents.

“Jerk off.” Even if he had nothing left in him, that just made it more fun to watch. His hand started stroking his cock as he sat, naked and still 20lbs heavier than he started, on his couch, watching an exercise video while he ate a whole half-gallon carton of ice cream and jerked his cock.

After only a couple days of following my orders, Jamie’s mind mostly snapped. He stopped crying altogether, stopped with the screaming, and seems outwardly very calm, except his eyes were always open wide and he was always shaking a little. I’m sure he was still there somewhere inside, but I guess seeing your own body obey the spoken orders of a phantom voice you can’t see is enough to pretty quickly drive you insane.

That’s fine by me. I had a lot of fun destroying his figure over the next few months. First I had him transfer all the funds from his trust to me. After that, he was set to live there basically forever. He never had to leave the house. I ordered him to sit and eat, and eat, and eat. Under my watchful eye and firm command, he was eating constantly. I made him buy a scale, and several floor-length mirrors and mount them all around so he could always see his growing figure.

I made a challenge of it: how many pounds per week can I make him gain? We got as high as 10 pounds a week for a while, but once he hit 350lbs it became slower going. That was fine by me: At three hundred and fifty pounds, Jamie was morbidly, morbidly obese, disgustingly flabby, completely unrecognizable next to his old, thin, twink self. He had inflated like a balloon, and now when he sat on the couch had a gut as large as an oversized beach ball, his chest swollen up with fat, two big man-tits that rested on his gut. His arms looked like they were wrapped in pillows, as did his legs, and when he walked around he shook and jiggled like big trash bags full of Jell-o. I chuckled just imagining sending him to the club, but it would have taken a truck just to get him there. Finally, one day, on a whim, I decided I was tired of giving orders over the speaker, and walked over to his door. I let myself in and saw him, naked, enormous, fat, cowering in a corner of his apartment, staring at me with fear in his eyes. I gave him a warm smile, shut the door, and locked it behind me. Then I walked over to him. He didn’t move a muscle or speak a word. And then I said to him, “Come here.”

As soon as he heard the words, his legs started carrying him towards me, of course. But his eyes also went wide with recognition and horror, and for the first time in months he spoke.

“YOU?!?”

“Yeah, Jamie, me. Maybe if you’d been a little nicer on our initial meeting, you wouldn’t be a big fat disgusting blob now. Maybe if you hadn’t been such a bratty little queer, I wouldn’t have had to teach you this lesson. But I’m kind of glad, because this has been so much fun. Now, let me see that ass.”

Jamie started crying again, his personality returning slowly, as he turned so his butt faced me. It was huge, the cheeks swollen with all the fat he’d put on, his hole buried deep between them. A far cry from the bony little ass he used to have, the one he used to get plowed by multiple different guys every week. But now it was my turn.

“I’m going to fuck you, now, and you’re going to feel all the shame and self-loathing come back up as I do it, and with the shame and self-loathing, you’ll become hornier than you’ve ever been before.” Jamie’s crying intensified, and I dropped my sweatpants and my hard cock flopped right out. When I grabbed his hips it was like grabbing a stack of down pillows, my hands just sank right in, and I walked forward and pressed the head of my cock against his tight asshole. I started thrusting and felt him shaking with the shame of what he’d become, and five loads later, I pulled out. Jamie’s cum made a large, viscous puddle on the floor.

Hmm. I have a bunch of other tenants. Maybe I should get to know some of them a bit better.