The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Ian was looking down out of their apartment window at the small bungalow, complete with white picket fence, across the road.

A man about their own age, Simon, lived there. It had been his mother’s house. In another life, they would probably have been friends. But Simon had made it quite clear when they had moved in that he was not comfortable around gay men.

“He’s buying another one” Ian said to his husband, Chris. In the recent days, Ian had become fascinated, or borderline obsessed according to Chris, about their homophobic neighbour’s new morning ritual of buying a creamy cupcake from the Girl Scout knocking on his door.

“Look, if you are so obsessed about it, why don’t you just go down there and buy one for yourself” an exasperated Chris suggested. “I don’t know” Ian prevaricated. There was something not quite right about the whole situation that he couldn’t put his finger on. It was almost as if Simon was becoming a bit gay as each day passed. It was a subtle gaydar thing no straight man would ever understand. He was sure Chris would see it too. But Chris had made it clear that he was decidedly uninterested.

Not that their neighbour’s new baked goods habit was the only oddness to be seen around Pinefield recently. It was as if years of sexual repression among the conservative residents of this sleepy community was finally trying to burst out.

In part, he guessed, that was due to a lot more young black men being around town since the opening of The Project for refugees and disadvantaged black men. They had drunk a toast to The Project’s opening, the night it got the green light, with their friends Alyssia and Marc, to celebrate the defeat of the closet haters, like Simon, who wanted to stop it coming to sleepy little Pinefield. “At least now there might be some fit hung black hunks to ogle in the local bars without having to go to Brunchester for a good night out” Chris had laughed.

And that had certainly proved to be true. Ian couldn’t help but notice a rising sexual tension in himself, Chris, and indeed the whole town it seemed, as more and more strong muscular black Adonises started appearing in Pinefield. Ian found himself feeling quite jealous as he and Chris ogled the talent.

The impact was changing the town in odd ways for sure. Women of all ages had certainly started to dress more fashionably, if not verging on the slutty. There had been a definite outbreak among the young male college students of femboy culture. Even solid dependable Chris had changed slightly. Ian could have sworn his husband was dressing and acting more flamboyantly than usual.

Although Ian tended to be the top in their long relationship, Chris had been a switch occasionally in the past when the mood took him. But recently it felt like Chris had become completely submissive, as if demanding Ian dominate him to an unusually odd degree.

The first day the Girl Scout had knocked at Simon’s front door, he had been in a rush to get out to work. So without really paying attention, he simply bought a cupcake to support the community, and put it aside for later.

It wasn’t until after work that he finally ate it, only to discover how utterly mind-blowingly delicious the creamy topping actually was. He was immediately hooked, wanting more, and suddenly hoping fervently that the Scout would call again tomorrow.

He wasn’t disappointed. But paying more attention this time, he realised to his horror that this was no girl scout but actually a Sissy Gurl Scout. What the fuck was Pinefield coming to? He blamed the gays across the street and all the new black faces around town. If he had been paying more attention yesterday he wouldn’t have brought a damn cupcake in the first place.

But now he knew just how good they tasted, he felt on the horns of a dilemma. His visceral craving for more of the creamy topping easily overwhelmed him and he bought another, and again the next day too, and the day after that.

The trouble was, with each passing day, the hit he got from the delicious cupcake diminished a little, and he found himself craving that original first mind blowing wave of pure pleasure. Desperate, he asked the Sissy Scout if they had changed the recipe, trying to ignore the erection that seemed to be tenting his/her slutty tartan micro skirt uniform every time she knocked on his door.

No, no change he was told. He was probably just getting more used to it. “We’re not really meant to tell people this” the Sissy Scout confided in him, “but the best way to sample it isn’t in a cupcake, it’s by getting it direct from the source” as she indicated towards her tented skirt.

Instantly, Simon somehow just knew what the Sissy Scout was getting at. He nearly slammed the door shut there and then. But the Scout continued “Unfortunately, it’s company policy that we aren’t allow to dispense it direct unless the customer is wearing this” handing the stunned Simon a set of frilly pink lingerie.

Now Simon did shut the door. “I’m no fagot” he said as the door slammed shut. “It’s alright” he heard the Sissy Scout say through the door as she retreated down the path, “everyone knows it’s not gay if you are dressed like a girl.”

He immediately regretted his hasty action. The withdrawal pains from not getting his daily creamy treat rapidly became almost unbearable. He sweated and shook through the night, the Sissy Scout’s words echoing through his addled mind.

By morning he was desperate. Waiting by the front door, dressed in the humiliating pink lingerie beneath his dressing gown, in case anyone saw when he opened the door. But the damned gurl was late. He started to panic. He felt like he was going to die.

When the Sissy Scout finally rang his doorbell, it was all he could do to quickly shut the door behind her, throw off his dressing gown, fall to his knees, and desperately start sucking her off. He was soon rewarded with the hit of delicious creamy cum that every molecule in his body was screaming out for.

Simon ignored the Sissy Scout’s words of encouragement, telling him what a good gurl he was as he sucked, after all he knew that it wasn’t gay if you were dressed like a girl.

Chris had been much more excited by the prospect of The Project opening in Pinefield, and with it more black faces around town, than his flippant remark the night they toasted its go ahead might have suggested.

He had always been the more promiscuous of the pair when they were dating in Brunchester, probably to a far greater extent than Ian suspected. Chris loved nothing more than the random thrill of being a submissive bottom for an anonymous alpha Daddy in one of Brunchester’s gay spas, and if the Daddy was Black so much the better. Black cocks always seemed just so much bigger.

Of course all that had stopped when he fell in love with and committed to Ian. They married and moved out to Pinefield, looking forward to a comfortable old age together. But the prospect of some hot Black eye candy brightening up dull old conservative Pinefield certainly wouldn’t go amiss.

That was before several weeks of exposure to Pinefield’s doctored water supply. Chris felt some of his old yearnings return stronger than before, and no matter how much he urged Ian to fuck his submissive ass it didn’t seem enough.

The opening of a spa in Pinefield bought things to a head for Chris. Just a quick visit to satisfy his craving wouldn’t hurt surely. It was just a transactional thing after all. It didn’t really even count as cheating.

So Chris was an early visitor to Pinefield’s new spa, on its second day of opening, and he was impressed. There was an eye opening range of services on offer, which seemed a shock to discover here in Pinefield.

Still, Chris’ needs were simple. A hot young muscular Black masseuse to get it out of his system, and things could return to normal. The massage room was well decorated, and the large screen TV showing white bois worshiping Big Black Cocks only increased his horny feeling of submission as the Black Daddy masseuse stretched and filled his hungry ass with the Big Black Cock he craved. Starring at the screen, Chris felt like he was drifting off and zoning out on a wave of pleasure.

He found himself returning the next day, and the next. Chris preferred to be a bottom, but he had always thought of himself as simply a gay man, never interested in the sissy boi or crossdressing sub-culture.

On his second visit his Black Master had insisted on fucking him in pretty pink lingerie and Chris had felt compelled to submit and obey, discovering a new heightened thrill in it, even as the swirling screen images turned his mind blank.

By the third visit, Christina wondered why she had resisted the natural order of things for so long. She had never been a real man. She could never measure up. Her role was to be pretty set of white holes for superior Big Black Cock. It was what made her happy.

Even so, her new Black Master couldn’t help but notice, and wonder why, the giggly bimbo seemed a bit upset after his Big Black Cock had filled her stomach and sissy pussy. “You know I love Big Black Cock more than life itself, but I still also love my husband” the new gurl admitted feeling guilty.

“Well, that’s a genuine surprise” the Black Master told her, “but don’t worry, perhaps there’s something we can do. There’s a prototype we’ve been looking to test. But it’s not without considerable risks. The experimental DNA breakdown and recombination process is only theoretical.”

“Oh pretty please Daddy” Christina begged, giggling at all his cleaver long words she didn’t reslly understand, “I’d be sooooo grateful.”

The next day, after his Big Black Cock had filled her slutty stomach and sissy pussy once more with superior cum, her Black Master explained the plan.

Simon was dismayed. Within days, the stronger direct hit from sucking the Sissy Scout’s little dicklet, while dressed in his pink lingerie, had started to fade. His craving for something stronger was back.

“There’s one thing we could try” the Sissy Scout had suggested, telling him the problem was that people’s mouths had fewer sensory receptors compared with some other sensitive parts of the body, which sometimes led to a drop off in impact over time. The anus actually had the most sensitive receptors of any part of the human body.

Simon couldn’t decide if he was disgusted or excited. Then he remembered reading once that Stevie Nicks of Fleetwood Mac had supposedly become so tolerant to the effects of cocaine that in order to achieve a healthy high she had to have it blown up her rectum. So perhaps there was something in it after all.

Soon his own addiction forced him onto all fours, head down ass up on the hall carpet, as the Sissy Scout filled his body with the daily anal injection he needed, and her words filled his addled mind with the beta status of feminised weak little white gurls like them.

As far as Ian was concerned, Chris’ behaviour had quickly gone from odd to alarming. The unusually flamboyant dressing and demeanour had rapidly become what he could only describe as full on mincing.

It was as if Chris was desperately trying to keep an airhead bimbo contained inside him. Ian just wanted the old sensible, dependable mature gay man back. Not some sex obsessed submissive sissy.

Things came to a head one evening when doing the laundry. Ian discovered that Chris had accidentally left a pair of pink frilly knickers in the laundry basket. “What the fuck are these” Ian confronted the giggling Chris, “are you a crossdresser now?”

Their row continued over a glass of wine, until engineered by Chris, their increasingly heated argument forced them to retire to separate bedrooms for the first time in their eight years together.

Ian was upset and confused by the changes in Chris, his anger making him oblivious to the small alterations his husband had made to their spare room, nor noticing that Chris had drugged his wine.

As instructed, Christina had carefully sealed-up the window and door frame in their spare room, and having drugged her boyfriend’s drink, she could soon hear that Ian was firmly asleep.

She locked the door and turned on the special canister of gas her Black Master had given her.

It was only a couple of days before Simon found that the inferior weak watery cum of the Sissy Scout’s little white shrimp dick simply wasn’t up to the job.

She was right. What a beta sissy gurl really needed was the superior cum of a real alpha male. Simon needed to suck and worship a Big Black Cock.

The morning the Sissy Scout arrived at his door with her Black Master, he didn’t even bother to close the front door in his excited rush to kneel and take Big Black Cock in his slutty mouth, no longer caring who might see them.

Simone’s blank bimbo brain was dizzy with the heady alpha musk of Master’s Big Black Cock, her sissy body almost overwhelmed by the tidal wave of pleasure as his superior cum filled her greedy stomach.

Christina was nervous. She had been awake most of the night with worry.

The drug made sure Ian wouldn’t regain consciousness while the gas did its work, but that didn’t stop his painful sounding moans and groans through the long night as DNA was re-written and his mind and body changed.

But in the comforting light of the new day, Christina was also feeling a horny anticipation. Could she really now be a happy sissy bimbo and still be with her partner?

She unlocked the bedroom door, and a new Ian stepped out.

Not her unsatisfying husband of old, but a naked, muscled Black God, albeit looking a bit confused, although clearly happy and horny to see his little white sissy bimbo wife, if the mighty size of his hard erect Big Black Cock was anything to go by.

Christina squealed in delight. She automatically dropped to her knees and wrapped her pillowy red cock sucking lips around her Black Master’s Big Black Cock. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god” was the only thought in her silly little head, even as his powerful hands held the back of her head and rammed it down her eager throat.

“Oh my god. Dreams really can cum true for little white betas who worship alpha Big Black Cocks in the Black New World Order” the happy sissy bimbo thought, as her husband’s superior Black Seed exploded insider her mouth.

Black Master Ian looked on in satisfaction at his worn out hot bimbo wife, finally asleep in the cum stained wreckage of their bed, after he had abused the wanton sissy whore in every way and in every hole, twice over.

His powerful Big Black Cock was ready to dominate the next white slut, and he suddenly knew what he needed to do next.

Simone didn’t recognise any trace of her gay neighbour in the powerful Black Master who knocked on her door. Not that it would have made any difference, it couldn’t be gay if you were a gurl. And if you dressed like a gurl, you got fucked like a gurl. It was just the natural order of things.

Without hesitation, Simone simply assumed the position on all fours, dressed in her pretty pink lingerie, eager to please the Black Master and feel his superior cum inside her slutty sissy cunt. Like any little white beta gurl she simply loved to worship real men’s Big Black Cocks.

As usual the Sissy Scout was on hand with her phone to take pictures, delighted that another neighbour had come to understand their beta status in the Black New World Order.