The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Mike splashed the cold water from the faucet over his face, practically drowning himself in the men’s room sink. He looked up from the enclosure of his big thick hands at his round face and square strong jaw. Mike had always been a hard core no frills man, he rarely took much stock in how he looked, a pair of Jean shorts, a T-shirt and a baseball cap were usually needed to get by. Tonight he wore a T-shirt that had had it’s sleeves cut off at the shoulder so it revealed his broad and wide shoulders and exposed his thick arms covered in abrasive tattoo’s of every shape size and offense. He had always been what you would call stocky, big arms, stout legs, barrel chest and it pissed him off to no end that he was the shortest man in the bad. Well, the bad period pissed him off, When he signed up into their line-up last year they had promised him that they would let him take Rancid in a new direction, with heavy back beats and more rap influenced rock, but he had yet to see those fucking changes.

Mike stared at his tired face in the mirror. A hard almost thuggish face, round and hard the face of a schoolyard bully grown to stocky man hood, he still had time to get. He was still young. Compared to the decade that most of the other guys had on him. At 24 he could still form his own band with heavy raps and turn tables the hard core roughneck shit that he wanted. He slammed one meaty fist down into the water, yeah there was still time.

He was so tired of listening to these burned out rockers talk about the good old days when chicks were ten deep waiting to get to them, like they were so great. He wasn’t any slouch either. And bitch would be lucky to be on his dick, sure he wasn’t to tall but he was thick and built like a brick wall of meaty muscle and tendon, so what f he had a little gut...must girls think that’s sexy... Guys who were all muscle and 0-bodyfat were all queers anyway; women like a guy with a natural man’s body

Most of the original band members thought his idea’s were to pop and were just a fad. They were wrong hardcore rap rock was in they were just to drunk or stupid to notice. They thought rap was just a black thing or a ghetto thing. But mike knew that you didn’t have to be a stupid fucking minority to be a good goddamn rapper, you didn’t! “I can rap just as good as some kid from the fucking hood,” mike swore at his angry bulldog like reflection in the mirror.

And his idea’s for heavy beats weren’t pop influenced they were just current everyone wants music you can move to...“Everyone wants music they can dance to.” Mike stated confidently...Wait that wasn’t what he meant.

HIs whole body suddenly felt a shiver as the music rushed through him like electricity. His brawny form began to sway back and forth to the hard beats and high rhythms in wild and frantic ways that his solid male pride would have never let him do before. Mike had always thought guys who danced crazy in clubs were show offs and queers but now he understood the inclination. The long bathroom mirrors caught his every movement, as the beefy hard as nails whiteboy began to twist and turn gracefully but in perfect time to the almost supernatural music he watched himself stupefied at his new found ability to dance. His expertise at moving to music with any kind rhythm was previously extended at bouncing up and down heavily and throwing his hands in the air in hard jabs. All the ghetto kids who said he couldn’t rap were the same ones who said white boys couldn’t dance, and that pissed him off too...but now for some reason he thought he looked really good. He saw himself grooving in the mirror and was actually a little pleased...

The stocky man in the mirror flowed seamlessly with the melodies, when the music got fast his bulky shoulders darted up and down, when it slowed he turned with attitude too much attitude...like a woman or something...as his movements became more intricate. He brought one denim short-covered hairy leg up and stroked it as he turned, with an agility he new his stumpy thick thighs didn’t possess and realized something was drastically wrong.

The reflection in the mirror began to show him the more and more flamboyant hand movements that his tattoo covered arms were making, he looked like some chick dancing or a fucking queer... his leg was up in his hand again and then he was twirling femininely...what the fuck was he doing...He was dancing out of control.

He should stop soon this was getting out of hand, but mike couldn’t help thinking that it would be easier to keep dancing if he wasn’t wearing all these big baggy clothes.

Now why did he think that? He loved his thug style, he was keeping it real with the baggy shorts, the jersey, the Tim’s...But if he had tighter shorts and a close fitting shirt it would be easier to move...

His fluid dancing was interrupted, as mike felt extremely uncomfortable, like his body was being constricted all around. One quick look in the mirror showed him why. Tight little denim shorts clung painfully to him now. His big hairy thighs burst forth from the cut-oaf’s like sausages with a broken casing, and his barrel chest was wrapped up tight in a Lucre shirt with a tie dye pattern. He looked fucking ridiculous. Like a queer from the 70’s or something.

What the fuck is goin on! His mind reeled, “Ohh girl I’m looking fierce.” He said instead and unconsciously smiled satisfactorily at the man dancing in mirror. Looking at the ultra-tight suffocating clothes he sported mike realized that his dick was harder then it had ever been in his entire life. It’s length tracked across the denim lewdly testifying to the world how fucking turned on he was.

He was horrified and he still continued to dance.

I look ridiculous! Mike’s mind scream and then he said out loud, “I look ridiculous!” At least it came out right this time. He did look ridiculous all bursting out of these pansy ass tight scraps...yes he’d look much better if he were lithe and thin like dancers should be with big tight muscles and no body fat at all...completely hot and ripped...no that’s not why he thought he looked stupid...he thought it because...

But the music was already at work.

Where Mike had always remembered being big and thick but short he now saw himself in the mirror with a completely different genetic code. The man in the mirror looked like Mike, but as he danced mike realized that something had changed. As he grooved and moved he watched his tight biceps stretch and move the fabric of the shirt like it was his skin showing every movement of the rock hard arms and their deep wells of muscles. His legs were so long they seemed to stretch for miles out of the flimsy denim. He had seen guys in high school with legs like these track stars with legs that could sprint faster then the wind. But his gorgeous thighs and calves were thicker then those had been more cut and thicker...not a runner’s sculpted legs...a dancers. His taunt form stared back at him.

As he pirouetted and slipped into a back turn with a kick mike noticed that his long flexed legs had stretched his body a good half a foot. Still, he would now stand the height he had always wished for, at lest 6′1 or 6′2 which was gargantuan to the stature Mike used to possess. And what he gained in height he lost in weight. Instead of thick his body seemed long. Long muscled legs lead into a thin almost delicate torso, who’s every ridge pushed forward like rocks under his tight shirt. Impossibly muscled long arms moved around his face sassily. The square somewhat chubby face had thinned out to looked delicate and strangely feminine/ Compared to the brutish heavy brow and square jaw Mike used to have. His now aquiline jaw, high cheek bones and highly arched eyebrows seemed positively pretty, girlishly so. The thick linebacker neck was now as thin and graceful as a swan’s and sashayed the beautiful face back and forth impertinently. Like a bitchy girl would flick her head.

Mike realized that something drastically wrong had happened but he was so caught up in the feel of his streamlined body moving beneath him that he didn’t really care what had happened, it just felt so damn good to move his body to the music.

His dancing changed then becoming more suggestive and fining away to even seem filled with more attitudes, He bent over, turned and ran his hands up and down his cut groin. Traced fingers up his bulging calves as he twisted showing off his ass. He watched himself look so damn hot moving and was turned on. Very turned on.

He watched his supple movements with more interest. He had great flexibility but he still didn’t have that inbred gift for dance like other guys seemed to have. He watched technically studying his dancing detachedly the way he used to watch himself fix a car or ride a dirt bike. He turned, and swerved...That’s what it was! He couldn’t swivel his hips or move with the sensuality that those Latin heartthrobs did in music videos’ and stuff...They moved like they’re fucking waist wasn’t connected to anything. And then Mike realized that he had made another mistake.

He danced and he could feel himself changing again.

The man in the mirror was no longer the pale white of the Caucasian suburb boy who wanted to be hard, he was a deep tan, a Carmel that was smooth as silk. A sensual color that looked like the color of hot love. The hard, heavy lidded blue eyes that looked at contempt at the man in the bar were now almond shaped pools of deep erotic bed room brown and were circled by natural dark lines that made them look like the painted eyes of an Egyptian prince. Flawless skin stretched across cheekbones so defined they couldn’t be called anything short of exquisite. The high aristocratic, ethnic cheeks framed lips that were so big and sensuous they seemed permanently pursed. All this hung under dark meticulously manicured arched eyebrows. The brown buzz cut that mike had arbitrarily had since thirteen had grown into jet-black thick Cuban hair that was cut in a devastatingly stylish roman cut.

Mike look upon the impossibly beautiful face as it moved and posed to the music and noted absently that his ears were dangling big hoops that caught the light when he moved. That made him happy.

Mike watched as the gorgeous Cuban boy moved. His creamy skin accentuated the Adonis’s every move and thank god mike wasn’t covered in all that gross hair. Like any true dancer Mikey shaved religiously so that he was always sleek and gorgeous.

Mike was bent over and bouncing his ass rhythmically; bizarrely pleased that along with the spectacular beauty and rhythm of a Hispanic man he also had a well-shaped ghetto booty that stretched the fabric in the ass of the denim cut-off’s dangerously. A big ass on his tight body. So now he could be bent over or have his long nimble legs flung over a guy’s shoulders when he was filling his bubble but with dick. Because everybody knows gay guys are the best dances.

Mocha hands were grabbing the expanse of the ass when the music suddenly stopped.

Mikey stood up and looked at himself in the mirror. A thin glaze of sweat glistened off his body giving him a sexy shine. He thought absently how glad he was that he had decided to go with the 70’s retro look. Sure it was queer porn sheik and the other guys in the band told him he looked flaming in it but at least he worked it out! He was looking fierce. He flicked a tie dyed nipple absently as he fussed with his hair. He knew he should have worn more eyeliner. Oh and these shoes were phat but they were killing his toes.

Mikey gave himself a lecherous vain and sexy smile in the mirror.

Mikey put one ultra tan, perfectly manicured finger into his mouth and then slid it along the edge of the out line of now uncut thick Hispanic cock, his nice coffee colored dick was so much better then the stubby white one he used to have. Everything was better now that he wasn’t that short little bull of a man. Now he could finally let loose and dance, where tight clothes and show off his gorgeous muscular dancer’s form.

He giggled flamboyantly at the thought of him Mikey of “U Got Male” as an aggressive pudgy white rapper instead of the peurto-rican dancing god he now was. He vaguely remembered wanting to rap but every time he tried to concentrate on that he just wanted to shake his ass or move along with the pounding dance beats in his head. He loved his ass a big round booty that drove men wild. It was a dancer’s ass well formed and muscled but with just enough fat to make it a bubble but he loved touching it now that he had it. He wanted other men to touch it now too. He took the hand that was gently stroking his Dick and ran it across the wide expanse of his ass cheeks and lower thighs, I’m such a queer little slut he though absently...good.

Too bad the other guys in the band were all pretty much attached.... Oh well more dick for him. He strutted out of the Men’s room of the Meat Market like the high riding queen he was and went right to the floor looking for a hot body to keep him warm that night.

After careful selection he settled on a double dip, not his first, of course. But he took this couple home. Two other Latin guys...Because for some reason Mikey was feeling the hot blood of his heritage a lot tonight and was hungry for other island men like himself. One guy was this huge bodybuilder named David...but he pronounced it strangely...and the other one was obviously his wifey, he seemed a little jealous. But he didn’t have any arguments later when Mikey showed them how limber he really was as he took the bodybuilder wheel barrel style and sucked the pretty shorter guy upside down... It’s good all that dancing made him so flexible.