The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Simon

By Wersgor

Chapter 3: SIMON SAYS

The next evening—it was Friday—I waited until after it was completely dark outside before heading over to Simon’s. No casually walking in the back door this time, and no ringing the bell either. I crossed the lawn as quietly as I could, hugging the shadows, and cautiously peeked in the window.

Ken was lying sprawled on the sofa, dead to the world. I noticed the items lying on the coffee table, and understood why. Typical! He had sent drug-free Simon out to buy him some home entertainment! But that might work to my advantage.

Looking further across the room, I saw Simon standing in a bodybuilder pose, staring blankly through me. His mouth was half-open, as if he’d been trying to tell Ken that he was about to run down again, but it wasn’t likely Ken would wake up to take care of it till morning—as long as no one disturbed him, and I would be very careful not to.

I slipped in through the back door, and did what I had to do.

The next day I waited, biding my time and trying to keep myself busy watching cable movies. I wasn’t sure if what I had planned would take five minutes or five hours to work, and I needed to be certain. When it got to be 4:00, I hopped into my car and headed over to Simon’s house.

I walked in without knocking or ringing. Ken was stretched langourously in the easy chair, moaning with pleasure as Simon, on hands and knees, happily sucked on his cock and balls. I almost choked with jealous anger, but I forced myself to keep cool. “Hi, Ken,” I said casually.

He opened his eyes, surprised, and grinned shamelessly. I gestured at Simon, who hadn’t reacted to me at all, and said, “Take the key out.”

Ken automatically reached down and pulled it, freezing Simon in mid-suck. Then he stared at the key in his hand, asked “Why the hell did I do that?", and started to re-insert it.

“Drop it,” I snapped. “Sit still. Shut up.”

The key slipped from his fingers, bouncing off Simon’s ass with a ping!, and he plopped back in the chair, staring at me wildly. His mouth twitched as he tried to speak; his ripped muscles bulged as he tried to move. I sat calmly on the sofa and watched for a few minutes, enjoying his growing panic.

At last I said coolly, “To answer your question, Ken: You did that because, yesterday, I stole a sample of a prototype drug from one of the labs at UniChem. It wasn’t easy, and I’ve never stolen anything before, but I did it. Last night, while you were zonked out of your skull and Simon was offline, I came in, put on a pair of rubber gloves, and smeared the liquid all over his lips and the inside of his mouth.” I grinned without humor. “Which means, my good buddy, that you’ve spent the whole day tonguing a powerful hypnotic developed for the CIA.”

Ken glared at me furiously—which, at the moment, was all he could do.

“You would have had to obey Simon, too,” I added, “but you’ve fixed him so that he’d never even think of giving you an order. Now that’s going to change, asshole. You’re going to undo all the damage you’ve done. You’ll get rid of his compulsion to love and obey you. You’re going to give him back his own mind.

“Get started.”

Ken spent a couple of hours preparing a new tape for Simon; I didn’t have a clue what he was actually doing, of course, but I knew he had no choice but to obey my orders. When he’d finished and the tape was installed, we carried Simon to the bedroom and placed him on the bed. Then I led Ken back to the living room and parked him there, frozen in a muscle pose, getting a taste of his own medicine. I wanted to be alone with Simon when he “woke up”.

I stood beside the bed for a long moment, looking at Simon. He lay on his side, looking beautiful and ridiculous with his arms and legs locked in a kneeling position and his mouth open in an “O” shape. I was almost afraid to turn him back on; what if Ken’s new tape didn’t restore his real self? Could I deal with that?

Taking a deep breath, I put the key in Simon’s back and wound it.

For a moment there was no response. Then his eyelids fluttered, his whole body shuddered, and he went back into action. For a second he sucked vigorously on empty air. Then he jerked up to a sitting position on the bed, his computer brain deducing what had happened. He saw me watching, and a look of remorse came over his face. His broad shoulders slumped, and he looked down at the floor miserably.

“I feel so stupid,” he said very quietly.

I sat beside him, placing a reassuring arm across his shoulders. “It wasn’t your fault. Ken altered your programming tape. You had no choice but to obey your program and be his slave.”

He looked up, and directly into my eyes. “I don’t really mind that I was someone’s slave. I’m just upset that I had to be Ken’s slave.”

My mouth was suddenly very dry. “What are you saying?” I managed.

Simon’s face lit up with excitement as he realized what he was saying. “When Ken restored my original program, that was one change he didn’t undo! I’m not ashamed or afraid of who I am any more. I love being gay!” He clasped my hand. “And I love you, David. I always have. God, it’s so good to finally say that!”

“It’s just as good to finally hear it,” I choked, feeling my eyes blur. In another moment we were in each other’s arms, locked together in a long, warm, wonderful kiss.

Then I pulled away, gasping. “What’s wrong?” asked Simon, alarmed.

“I forgot—I coated your whole mouth with a hypnotic drug! Now it’s in my system!”

Simon stared at me. “Oh, man! In that case, I think you’d better—" He grinned wickedly. "—do a really, really raunchy striptease!”

I jerked to my feet and started grinding and gyrating, thrusting my thighs and crotch in Simon’s delighted face. “You bastard!” I laughed helplessly.

Simon smirked, reaching out to squeeze my swelling dick through my pants. “That’s ‘Master, you bastard...’ ”

It was quite a while later when Simon finally thought to ask, “So where’s Ken been through all of this?”

Lying blissfully with my head in his lap (face up again at last), I told him how I had turned the tables on Ken. Simon listened, nodding. “Thank you, David. If I didn’t love you already, I would love you for that. Let’s go see how Ken is doing.”

I obediently rose and followed him to the living room, where Ken was still standing like Charles Atlas, with both biceps tightly flexed and a look of complete frustration frozen on his handsome face. I glanced at the clock and grinned guiltily—he had been a statue for over two hours now! Not that he didn’t have it coming.

“Awww,” Simon mocked. “He looks so cute. You know, my sister had a Barbie, but my parents wouldn’t buy me a Ken. Now I’ve got one.” He had an ominous light in his eyes—literally, like a tiny pinprick of laser light. I suddenly had a disturbing image of Simon shooting out a laser beam and burning a hole through Ken’s head.

“Uh, look, Simon,” I began, “I know what Ken did was crappy—”

“Yeah, it was,” he said, dangerously quiet. The realization came to me that, in my drugged state, there was nothing I could do to stop Simon from doing anything he wanted.

“But he’s still a human being,” I insisted.

“I’m not,” said Simon bluntly. Then he looked at me as if he’d just gotten an idea. “And neither are you,” he added. “You’re a lollipop. A king-sized, man-shaped lollipop.”

I stopped moving and thinking. It would not have been appropriate, since I was a piece of candy. Simon stepped up to me and looked me over, smiling as he realized his experiment had worked. Mischievously, he stuck out his tongue and slowly ran it across my cheek. “Mmm. Mmm, mmm, yummy. My favorite flavor.”

Enjoying himself more and more, he slowly and sensually licked every inch of my face, savoring his power. I felt my candy surface getting sticky, and was aware that dust particles in the air would probably wind up clinging to it. Lowering his head to my throat, Simon slurped its surface, then paused and said thoughtfully, “I wonder if I should just take a big bite? Of course, if I do, your head will fall off.”

I knew this was true; Simon’s metal teeth could doubtless bite straight through human bone, let alone a chunk of crystallized sugar like me. It didn’t concern me, of course. After all, I wasn’t even alive.

Simon lifted me off my feet, without the slightest effort, and worked his way slowly downward, letting that real-feeling tongue explore every surface. My butt came in for special attention, which was ironic, since I’d never thought of myself as a candy-ass before. And Simon spent so much time on my sweet dick that I knew it had been licked down to nothing more than a small, round bump.

At last he stood me upright and looked into my face wistfully. “I can’t do this for myself. But I can do it for you. Be human again, David.”

I gasped, suddenly realizing everything that had happened. My cock leapt erect and exploded with cum, drenching Simon like a burst from a garden hose. As my restored mind struggled for coherence, I knew that I totally loved what he had done to me! I had never in my life had any desire to be dominated, but today everything had changed. Because this was Simon, and even without the drug, I would do anything for him. “My god,” I breathed.

“Yeah,” agreed Simon. “For the moment at least, that’s just about what I am.” He smiled. “But that’s only fair, you know. I’ve secretly worshipped you for all these years—so out, so free, so beyond anything I could dream of for myself. Until now.” He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me tenderly. Then he winked and whispered, “Trust me.”

He turned back to Ken, who had watched the whole scene without twitching an eyelid. “Hey, Ken, remember that awful old kids’ joke? ‘I’m your fairy godmother, make a wish.’ ‘Okay, make me a pile of shit.’” He looked straight into Ken’s paralyzed eyes, knowing that Ken knew exactly what was coming. “Poof. You’re a pile of shit.”

I doubled over with laughter, not daring to think what Ken was experiencing right now. “Eyeww,” cried Simon, holding his nose. “Ooh, that’s disgusting! Gross, what a smell!”

We spent the next several minutes having a mean-spirited blast with that, making one crack after another about the horrible stench and the stain on the carpet, while Ken just stood there—looking like a pin-up, but completely believing that he was a giant turd. Finally, with tears of laughter streaming down his face and smelling faintly of machine oil, Simon pulled himself together and said firmly, “Be human, Ken.”

Ken, of course, showed no reaction, but I knew he had obeyed, and felt a little sorry for how he must be feeling now. “You deserved that,” Simon said quietly. “The question is, what should I do with you now? I could just tell you to be nice from now on, and you would have to be. I can make you be whatever I want. But I want to hear what’s really going on in your shitty little mind, Ken. Exactly what you’re really thinking and feeling, without any fix from me or any of your usual bullshit. You can’t stop yourself, so start talking.”

Ken’s mouth became animate again. He struggled not to answer, but he couldn’t stop the choked, painful words from coming out:

““I am a shit. I should have seen that you loved each other, but all I could think of was how much I wanted you to love me. No one ever had. Wanted me, sure, all the time; some of them even liked me. But I’d never had anybody’s love, ever.

“I needed that. I needed it so bad. And now you hate me.”

And then, to complete my amazement, tears streamed down from his unblinking eyes.

That was six months ago. Simon and I live together at his house now; with our two salaries we could afford a bigger place, but we don’t see any need for a second bedroom. He is mine now, willingly and with all his heart; and he’s happy to be mine in any mode that I choose to enjoy him in. Sometimes I pull the key, and have a terrific time doing whatever I please with the world’s most beautiful statue. Sometimes I put him into total machine mode for a while—the perfect sex machine, completely at my command. Of course, there’s also the flip side; by analyzing samples from Simon’s mouth, I eventually was able to synthesize that CIA drug for home use. And there’s nothing that turns Simon on more than slipping me the “hypno-kiss” without any warning!

And, yes, Ken is still in our lives. After all the smooching he and Simon had been doing, he was under the influence for days, and we had plenty of opportunity to work on “adjusting his program”. He’s still cocky and smug—we both agreed that that’s part of his charm—but, thanks to our alterations, he is now also able to show the warm, loving side that he had always tried to hide. He still comes over every Sunday afternoon.

But now there are three of us.

THE END