The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Road Trip

Disclaimer: I’ve had this chapter and the next few for a while, but haven’t made time to find a good free, semi-anonymous email. I’m trying . I’d love to get any comments on my work. Obviously I know I’m bad at running the spell-checks.

As for my usual yammering, this work is for adults and people who can read adult fantasies without destroying anyone’s lives trying to live them. If you are not an adult, please get older. All my work is copyrighted and not for distribution by any site that charges money to read it. All distribution must contain this copyright and these disclaimers in their entirety.

Finally, there are some lines in here echoing one of my favorite 80s comedians. Also any celebrities broadly hinted at here are not the real celebrities. My understanding is that the real celebrities are much worse.

Chapter Seven, Part 1: The Adoration of the Crowd, and Encounters with Celebrated Personages

Messalina was going to throw a gala adult party. The big surprise, I assumed. One of the aspects of her business was maintaining a high profile for debauchery amongst those in the know. This desert city was devoted to catering to sins of all sorts, and it was important to maintain her position as someone who catered to the powerful. (It was partially a front for the real thrust of her work, but that will be explained later.)

The party was secretly in my honor, and to that reason she had invited a few dozen of her more intellectual and exciting friends, bon vivants of both sexes, for a modern equivalent of a Roman orgy. Plus many of the people in our employ. Clothing was optional, of course, so naturally Mesalina wore an amazing see-through gauzy wrap with gold and silver ribbons woven into it. Under the light she was clad in white and metal, but with light running through the fabric she was naked with flowing lines.

Food was light and delicate, and the theme of the evening was “Entertaining each other.” Three walls of the atrium had been opened to the outdoors, and the warm desert night was like a comfortable bath. The grounds extended out from the atrium into the gardens. There was a small, low stage set up inside the room for various musicians, singers, magicians, and any guests who wanted to perform. Messalina had offered to start making herself available to all comers on stage at 4 am, thus giving everyone an incentive not to get too stoned or drunk, or to leave early. There were plenty of cushions and nooks around the pillars of the rambling room. Plenty of opportunities for conversation, sex, chemical mind alterations, or any other explorations people could come up with. Here was a Xanadu which for 24 hours would rival any Chinese, Roman, or French debauchery of the past.

I imagined the tapestry of human history as an sheet defining a set economic ranges with the civilizations which could afford such opulence poking through, like little islands. Now, in our modern age of excesses with so many of our needs filled by industrial means, any buffet in any one of the hundreds of hotels here would rival the Romans as far as opportunity for gluttony. Tonight there were probably tens of thousands of married and unmarried couples having sex in the thousands of hotel rooms in town. Yet still, even here, there was also an underlying puritanical prudishness about any “sin” that one performs to excess. We have become an overweight people who are always on a diet, overindulging in everything, including guilt. It’s a society that allows almost anything except public sex in front of minors, rape, and non-governmentally approved murders. I’ve met pornographers and sex workers who are terribly shy and reserved and elementary school teachers on vacation who make Messalina look like a blushing virgin.

When anything is allowed between consenting adults, there are still the boxes we set for ourselves, of what we will and will not allow. Shame, shyness, fear; all those packing crates we stuff ourselves into. Which ones do we allow ourselves to slip out of? What bounds do we set for ourselves not to go too far?

I have dispensed with shyness and shame, but still live in fear of what I could become, or of the unexpected death. (The laws of nature and physics still affect me, and no shark would stop to question her motives before trying a bite.) A newly-met man and woman may be sit naked in a hot tub, chatting if that’s what the situation dictates to be normal behavior, but neither one would reach for the other without receiving a signal that it was okay to sit a bit closer.

On the opposite side of the atrium from the stage was the entrance to the main ballroom where you would catch glimpses of trance/rave music when people moved from one room to the other. A couple was exiting dressed only in suits woven from tubes of glowing purple, pink, and blue plastic light. On the main stage a classical guitarist was playing when Kara and I made our entrance.

Kara wore shining black leather gloves that covered her arms all the way to her armpits, and thin black boots that reached up to her ass. A black leather choker and ponytail holder completed her ensemble. Her naked honey skin looked smooth and her naked body, hard. Her firm nipples and delicately opened lower lips oozed a sexuality of danger. Her enormous breasts were reduced to mere hugeness this evening.

I was in a black leather mask that covered my face, but let my hair wave free. I had made my hair thick, wavy, and blond this evening, matching Kara’s thick blond ponytail. I wore a gladiator’s skirt of studded black leather, in sword-shaped strips The studded collar around my neck was attached to a chain that Kara held. My chest and shoulders were broadened with solid muscle, and my hips were thin and straight, my ass high and tight, giving me a solid, triangular shape. I let all of my body hair come out blonde on deeply tanned skin. I looked like a wall of beefcake. The effect was more pet gladiator than slave. The looks we got were precious and exciting to me. There were some people here I knew well, in all senses, but they didn’t recognize my body, even though some knew Kara.

We made the rounds as she talked to various people, and I smoothed out the cushions for her to sit on. I made myself a chair behind her to give her support. When we watched the show, I kneaded her shoulders, pressed my thumbs into the joins of her spine, and held her naked hips. Between acts I fetched her morsels of food and fed her as she reclined against me, chatting in her thickest Russian accent with those around us. Occasionally I’d stroke the sides of her torso lightly, or brush my fingertips along the undercurve of her generous breasts. During one break a young man with a thin face and black hair, wearing a leather bustier and a tight vinyl penis sheath chained to a black ass-plug and a pair of handcuffs behind his back made obeisances to her, and offered her any service she would wish. After some humiliating remarks to him she spread her legs and pulled her knees to her chest, leaning back against me. She allowed him to lick her anus. When the act ended, she kicked him off without a word, and he backed away silently.

When it was time for two famous magicians to go on, I just had to watch. I’m a sucker for illusionists, and these two are my favorites, because they don’t give a damn whether you see what they do or not. Sometimes they prefer you see how simple it is to dupe someone. I am unabashedly a big fan of theirs. There’s a good chance you know them. One is a big man with a long pony tail, brash and loud. His partner is much shorter with an acrobat’s build, and the silent grin of an evil Harpo Marx. Usually they wear identical dark-gray suits. The act was absolutely filthy, and a hell of a lot of fun. I won’t give away what the tricks were, in case they want to perform them for other audiences. But this act was blue to the point of indigo.

They took some female volunteers from the audience, The first was a chorus girl, from the look of her legs, and they had her lift her skirt. She had a thin black band of pubic hair reaching down between her legs. The big guy talked about the etymology of the word pussy in reference to a woman’s vagina, while the short guy stropped a long, vicious-looking straight razor. He accidentally sliced his thumb off, then reattached it. The big guy distracted her while the little one shaved her clean in a stroke. Then he took the line of hair, still intact somehow, and turned it into a small, black cat.

They repeated the trick with a small woman with orange-red hair and her petite freckled breasts exposed. She undid her sarong revealing a thick orange bush of pubic hair. While the big guy talked about sawing a woman in half, the little one shaved a thin bare line down the middle of her pussy hair. And then with an broad and dangerous swoosh, removed the two remaining halves leaving her pink and clean. He turned those into two tiny orange kittens that matched her hair exactly. She complained about how it would itch when it grew back in, and they pressed the kittens against her, revealing her pussy hair intact.

The little guy swallowed a box of those natural sheep condoms, and pulled out a line of sausages. They did a card trick where the correct card was in a guy’s ass-crack, inside his underwear. They used rubber gloves to fish it out. They then asked him to bend over and try to fart while they held a small torch behind him. Somehow there was a blast of an enormous fireball which vaporized the card & gloves. “I don’t know what the hell they’re serving at the buffet, But I’ve got to try some of that!” the big guy quipped.

After they were done, I told Messalina I’d love to do a few tricks, and she found me a spot after a college professor who presented a very funny, clean puppet show loaded with really accessible mathematical jokes. Now that takes skill.

She announced me to the audience, and I complimented the two magicians, devoting my act to them. I left the mask on for the effect of mystery. Being able to have complete control over your body makes for a hell of a stage show. I started out with various contortions. Interlocking my fingers, I made a wave of my arms, up and down, faster and faster. “I sing of arms and the man,” I said, a reference grasped by a bare handful of the audience. ”Just as you can wave a pencil in the air to make it look as if its made of rubber,” I continue, “So too can you make an illusion of rubber arms. What makes this illusion different from the pencil, however, is these truly are stretchable.” As the motion of my arms sped up further, making a blur of movement, I began to let them elongate. The effect was like making a lasso of my arms.

“Please note, at no time do my arms leave my body.” I turned away from the crowd, and suddenly swung my arms downward in a loop, leaping up and through the circle they made. And again, and again, like skipping rope, all with my back away from the crowd. They murmured in wonder. This is obviously an illusion, as it’s physically impossible. Is there some switching of the hands being missed? No. . . Then what the— I wanted to give the effect that I was performing this by some trick that they just weren’t seeing. I slowed down to give them a longer look. Of course it helps to be able to add length to your arms bend your elbows backwards, and make your shoulders completely rotatable sockets. Turning towards them, I suddenly stopped with my arms around my shins, and withdrew them to normal proportions before the sight of it sunk in. Here was the illusion: In plain sight I showed I could adjust my body, but no one would accept that as the answer. Their minds, by necessity could only accept it as a trick.

From there I did the more mundane, but still impressive Chinese acrobatic feat of bending in half, front and back, before grabbing my ankles and rolling like a ring around the stage. There was great applause for each trick, which I found I was eating up. I’d never done that much stage work, and I was obviously an amateur. I’ve been of the mind that less is more on stage. I’m not much of a patter performer, so I had to make it up in effects.

I do have one trick that never fails to impress. I’ve used it onstage before at some of my company parties, and so did have some patter as introduction. “Ladies and gentlemen, you are all obviously cultured people who have seen much of the world. You have been exposed to strange sights and exotic rituals. I do not doubt that you have seen, at least on film, gentlemen whose manly attributes are rather prodigious. Let’s face it, they put most men to shame, those whose male organs are of such dimensions that they border upon the freakish and bizarre.

“I do not doubt that most women, while looking upon such extreme male organs with dread, do wonder what it would be like to encounter a member of such awesome size. I’m sure there is a curiosity about an organ so large that it reaches archetypal proportions. A Cock of the Gods, as it were, reaching from the realms of myth and dream to pierce the bounds of reality itself. How should it be handled, this instrument of love become a logistical and geometrical problem? As a quantity of quivering, thrusting meat? I know, as a man, that for the majority of my life, I have wondered what it would be like to possess such an organ. How would I live, with whom could I make love?

“Then, last year on my journeys through a forgotten corner of Tibet, while seeking shelter from Chinese soldiers, I came across a cave inhabited by a religious order of Buddhist monks who worshiped a phallus-shaped stalactite which dripped liquid from some hidden Himalayan mineral spring. The monks explained, that by applying this liquid to the male organ, and mentally chanting mystical sutras, one would forever after be able, through focus and mental concentration, to cause one’s own member to grow to an unlimited size. They did warn, however, that if one were to attempt to hold the change for too long, without sexual relief, it would drain certain cognitive forces from the brain, and could cause the practitioner to go mad from lust!

“However, I would be willing to take that risk, if I can have the help of a female volunteer from the audience. You must understand, that if I take the deadly gamble, I must be relieved, and relieved quickly. Do I see any hands?”

There was some good-natured laughing at my elaborate come-on, and some scoffing and a little curiosity. (In any magic act the audience has an equal desire to see the illusion succeed and the performer fail. As I showed earlier, they want to be fooled by the illusion, but there is a frisson of desire to see the man onstage fail.) I earnestly searched the faces for someone to join me, egging them on. Finally I spied an small Chinese woman whom I had taken years ago, and who now worked in Messalina’s operations: thoroughly loyal, thoroughly willing to play along, thoroughly willing to take whatever I had to give her. In other words a shill.

(At the risk of breaking flow too greatly, this young lady was everything one expected of a sensuous Chinese courtesan. Set back almond shaped eyes in a delicately featured face, a sheet of black hair down her back, and an outfit that would have made the Dragon Lady proud. Her embroidered red silk, high-collared shirt was open under the arms, revealing a perfectly hairless underarm and the hint of the round ivory breast sides. Her long silk skirt was low on her hips, and swept the floor gracefully as she moved.

(She had come over as an orphan sex-slave to a pimp in town until she was rescued by Messalina’s crew, and had risen in the organization to the point where I interviewed her. From that point on she was one of us. And my control over her body was necessary for the illusion to succeed.)

She came up acting nervously, and I stage-whispered that she would be fine, just go along. “Ladies and gentlemen, a round of applause for—”

“Norma.”

“Norma! This brave girl has volunteered to help me handle the powerful forces I will display to you. Norma, will you please kneel before me and remove my pants?”

She knelt, lifted the gladiator skirt, and removed my leather underwear.

“Now Norma, will you tell these fine people what you saw when you went down?”

“Mm-mumblr”

“What did you see?”

“Yr penis,” she muttered shyly.

“Yes, dear, that’s right. That was my penis. My member, my cock, my dong, my tally-whacker, my prick. And while you were down there, Norma my love, it didn’t look unusual, did it? Normal size, length— no unusual heft? Please be honest— I’m man enough to take it.”

Bless her, but she blushed. “It was a little small.” And she covered her face to hide her embarrassment.

I pretended to be hurt. “Yes, well—hmm. Now, Norma, I shall begin my mental concentrations, chanting inside my mind, focusing upon my penis. Sweetheart, I want you to concentrate on it as well. And you people in the audience, imagine what you shall see, and imagine this fine young lady holding me, helping me towards orgasm, helping me to recover before I lose my sanity. There is always that chance that I will lose my mind and become a beast, a Mr. Hyde drowning in his own id.

“Norma are you ready? Please, kneel down and lift my kilt again.” I turned away from the audience again so they could see her face. She knelt and lifted, staring intently at my crotch.

I began chanting softly to myself, between verses urging her and the audience to concentrate. After a few moments of this I began to expand the flesh between my legs, letting my penis lengthen and fill. I released what I call my “Party Cock.” It is easily as big around as your upper arm, and its length extended, down past the kilt, down past my knees, stretching until it touched the floor and then grew even more, writhing there on the stage. There was an immediate audible gasp from the crowd as it first appeared, until the noise grew louder as it lengthened. People came from the other areas to see what was happening, and the noise level increased.

I had had to pull material from all over my body to generate this monster, including creating bone inside of it out of my pelvis to support it. “Norma! I gasped, “Quickly! Lift it up! You must relieve me. I can feel the forces building!”

She knelt down, and gathered it up into her arms. I stiffened at her touch. Imagine all those sensitive nerve endings in what must have been a square yard of flesh. I gasped as she began to rub my length. Her hands felt magical, and she rubbed me against her arms, the silk of her clothes, her soft, swinging hair, kneeling, trying to wrestle my hardening monster up to her shoulders where she could hold it.

My cock head surmounting the monster was as large as a peach, and everywhere it stroked against her I felt a shuddering ripple of pleasure rush down me, through my legs and spine. It was magnificent, all this proud flesh aching for release. She rubbed it on her velvet cheek,

“Norma!” I called. “Stroke it! Rub the head! I have to come! I can feel my self-control slipping....”

Bless her, she finally managed to rest it all on her outstretched arms, and got the head to her mouth, licking it, stroking it on her face, sucking at it, moaning with desire. She even slid her tongue fully into the huge slit of an opening. She was having a great time. Some of the crowd had come up to the stage, and were staring intently, shocked at the spectacle, looking for the seams on what had to be a stuffed prosthesis.

Norma continued licking, sucking, even gently chewing on my huge head. Her hands were wild with jacking what skin she could touch. I nearly swooned with pleasure and loss of blood to my head. But I held on. Time for the next act.

I reached over to her mind, and felt her wild lust boiling hot in her. She was having a great time, and was losing herself in passion for this beast. She wanted to bring me off, to shower in my cum and let it drench down over her body. She had tasted me before, had held me inside her body before. She knew I wouldn’t hurt her. Her long black hair swung over the length of the shaft, sweeping it towards my release and her delight. Let it come!

“Follow my lead,” I told her, not in words, but senses. I began screaming out, “No! I must come! Must come! Not enough— Take it!” I ended with a bull-like bellow, and my cock pushed her inexorably down onto the ground.

She landed, as I asked her to, on her hands and knees, and had even managed to twist herself so that her skirt swung to to the side, revealing her tiny, moist slit.

“Rarrgh!” I bellowed at the sight, and began beating my chest with a series of shrieks and moans. Wild fury flashed in my face and my eyes were wild with screaming lust.

I would have been mobbed by people wanting to rescue her, but I held them back with dread and fascination. Where she tried to rise, I swung my monster pole onto her back, pressing her down. “No, no,” she whimpered. “Please god no!” she cried.

I pulled it slowly off of her back revealing in the feeling of the frenulum seam along her silken back. I left a thick, drooling wide trail of precum along her lower back, as I grunted and moaned in anticipation. Finally the giant head reached her ivory ass, slid down, and somehow magically caught at the entrance of her pussy.

There was a hush of anticipation, as this monster, almost longer than her torso, as big around as her thighs, and surmounted by a huge purple-red drooling fist stood at the entrance of this tiny helpless creature. The breathing of the audience was like the breathing of a deep-rooted forest.

Then I began to force myself in. Norma screamed, and I screeched, and the audience went wild. People fainted. Plaster fell off the ceiling. Women gave birth.

I pushed it into her, inch by painful inch, stretching her open, pressing her apart, reaching the bottom of her cervix and yet pressing on, impaling her the whole length of her body, until her neck suddenly stiffened. Her mouth opened wide, and the head of the giant monster exited between her gaping teeth. She was lifted by the massive organ spearing through her, shuddering and shaking over the stage. Then all at once the demon cock standing straight out of her mouth began spewing thick ropes of pearl white cum over the audience at the far end of the stage. On and on it spewed, in thick gouts, until trailing away.

The yelling turned to screaming, rising to an even higher pitch as I pulled out, slowly, my cock now much smaller in size, huge and hanging down past my knees, but within the human range in length. Norma collapsed like a rag doll as I withdrew from her. I knelt next to her, kissed her cheek, and then took her hand, and we stood together. She was shaking on her feet, but somehow still alive. We turned to the audience, and she bowed, smiling meekly.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s hear it for my lovely volunteer, Norma! Let’s give it up for her.” Still smiling, but very wobbly she stepped off the stage. “Thank you!” I continued, bowing. “You’ve been a great audience. Enjoy the rest of your evening,” and left the stage from the rear.

Luckily everyone had thronged around Norma, who was happily smiling at her part in the illusion, and shakily sitting with some ladies who spread her legs to examine her. The people who had been cum upon were cleaning themselves up, some being licked off by folks who declared, yes, it was real.

Kara took my hand and led me away. “Bozhe mui! That was a great trick. How did you do it? Move her organs aside? Thread her?”

“Oh come! You don’t want to know. Half of the illusion is not knowing.”

We stepped into a bathroom off to one side, away from prying eyes. I lifted my kilt for her to view my cock. “Back to normal?” I asked.

The door slammed open and we were suddenly joined by the other two magicians. “Some sort of inflatable under there,” the larger one said, pointing to my kilt. “It came out from under your skirt. Perhaps a wire armature like a Haberman sphere, that you could withdraw”

“You palmed some sort of bladder into her mouth,” The shorter one continued. “Filled it with yogurt and saltwater.”

“Excellent work!” the larger said, without missing a beat. “Any interest in selling the illusion?”

“Gentlemen! This is truly a great honor for me. But I am strictly an amateur and cannot sell my secrets.” I was truly basking in this praise. It meant more than the audience reaction, which had been wonderful.

“If you change your mind—” the larger continued, “here’s our card.” He flashed a three of clubs playing card, which he flick-morphed into a business card. I took it.

The shorter one reached between Kara’s legs, pulling out a three of clubs. “Is this your card?” and flicked it towards her, where she caught a rose. He grinned an invitation at her as they left, and held two forked fingers to his mouth.

She smiled after him, them turned back to me. “I have to know,” she said.

“Alright,” I sighed. “But it’s a let down.”

I removed my leather kilt, and swelled out the girth of my cock so she could see it—not the length. I stroked it to hardness, then turned her towards the mirrored wall where she could see me behind her. I pulled her soft hand through her spread legs, and handed myself to her. She fitted me inside her wet pussy, and I slowly humped in and out of her damp, silky cunt. The extra width felt good as her pussy lips were pressed all the way out. I helped keep her wet and juicy, and we squished together for a few minutes, enjoying the feel of each other. I stroked her large, hanging breasts and hard nipples, and nuzzled her neck. “oohm,” she sighed in my arms, as we continued to stroke and hump each other. Our tongues twisted as she kissed me over her shoulder.

Gradually I lengthened myself inside of her, and she felt the tip of me open her cervix. “Ahh! I didn’t go—uhh— any deeper than this.” I explained between strokes. We kept it up, rising towards orgasm. I held her close by her giant breasts, and rested my cheek on her back. I closed my eyes and adjusted her. “Now stick you tongue out. See?”

She opened her mouth and slid out her tongue which was now shaped like a replica of a penis. I looked up at her reflection, and saw a thick veined cock flicking side to side like her tongue. “Stick it over the sink.” I told her. “Let’s come.” With a few solid thrusts upwards we rose and went over. I came inside of her, and her tongue stiffened and sprayed a thick mixture of saline and cells downward into the sink, before remorphing back into it’s normal flat pink beauty. She shuddered at the orgasm and yet was shocked by the oddity.

“Bohzhe mui!. I don’t know what to say,” she said.

“Don’t say anything, then,” I beckoned her to turn and face me, sitting on the wooden countertop. I sank back into her, and we held each other, fucking, our reformed tongues wrestling again, letting our normal bodies hold and enjoy each other once more.