The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Brighton, England, 1999

Peter’s Story:

The house wasn’t anything special, a typical three bedroom semi-detached dwelling squeezed tightly between other identical homes.

Trouble was, I wasn’t the only one interested in the occupant; a couple of the local kids had been got at, they had that eager intent look that only slaves get…and they were watching like their lives depended on it.

Doubtless upon hearing that, you look horrified: Kids? Slaves? You envision some sado-erotic version of the deep south? It’s not like that, or rather it won’t be like that if everything works out the way it’s supposed to. To me the Master/Slave relationship is one of love and trust, weird huh? But then I grew up a slave, I haven’t been free-willed for almost a decade and don’t particularly miss it.

Anyhow, the problem with the kids is that they almost certainly work for exactly the sort of megalomaniac shithead who does get off on ordering people to castrate themselves...actually they could belong to one of two maniacs, both are equally bad news.

The original plan had been to just drive the outrageously customised car straight in, have a quick ‘chat’ with the son of the household and then go home.

Unfortunately with those slave boys watching, the direct approach was right out; I had to take the long way, instead of just hypnotizing my target into thinking that ‘my name was Peter his next door neighbour’, I’d played the scenario out for real. I had had a ‘chat’ with a couple that had their house on the market, and then another ‘chat’ with the owners of the house next to the target.

Hey!, I didn’t do any harm, the neighbours’ new house is identical to the old, just a block further north. I even managed not to change their sexual preferences.

So, here I am a month later and legitimate owner of 48 Locking Close; I am now officially his next door neighbour, I even have deeds. That may not seem important to you; just trust me, it has to be that way.

So: who’s the target? Why am I interested? Why are ‘they’ interested?

His name’s Troy Masterson, a blonde eighteen year old hunk, who’s about to go to University and study electrical engineering. I’m interested because I love him and because I have to make certain things turn out right. Think of me as a guardian angel, but with an erection and an agenda instead of wings.

The surveillance is troubling; they shouldn’t be giving special attention to Troy, not yet. If I’m forced to capture one of those kids maybe I’ll ask who and why.

“We’re ‘ere” said the slovenly deliveryman, talking around his cigarette and breaking me out of my introspection.

“Y’all get it unpacked then” I replied getting out of the van and inspecting the postage stamp sized front lawn.

There wasn’t much furniture, just enough to make the moving-in look real; the main item was the damn car, safely under its dust sheet, once it was out of the van and in the garage I’d be a lot happier. I hate cars, always did, this one is almost more trouble than it’s worth....I mean what maniac decided it needed to be nuclear powered, when a nice clean anti-matter injector can do the job just as well. Have you any idea how hard it is to get fuel for that thing?

“Hi there!” said a voice from across the fence; it was him! I had to use all my mental discipline not to drop down and kiss his feet. I dare not. It would be a big give-away to the watchers and also confuse the fuck out of Troy.

“Hi theyuh!” I drawled smiling and walking closer

“I guess your family are our new neighbours; I’m Troy Masterson”

“Peter Silver; no family, just lil ol’ me”

“That accent? American?”

“N’Orleans”

“Wow! furthest I’ve been is France; I guess you find it kind of chilly up here in England.”

“Naw, it’s plenty warm” I didn’t mention that back in New Orleans we’d not bothered much with clothes... but Troy wasn’t really ready to know the reasons for that just yet.

“Say, why don’t you come on over once these delivery guys have finished; y’can tell me all about this here city and help me out with a six-pack that’ll need finishin’ " I offered. I know how Troy thinks; he’s not interested in the beer or my well honed body, seeing what the inside of next door looks like is the hook that will drag him over.

I briefly wonder if I can interest him to a different sort of six-pack, but no, that would be too much to hope.

“Thanks!” he replied without reservation or caution.

Inwardly my happy mood slipped a bit, Troy needed to be a lot more alert or they’d have him tattooed and eagerly wax-stripping his own crotch sooner than spit. But what to do? I had access to a whole range of sophisticated mind-altering methods that could help him defend his mind, and I dared not use 99% of them.

Those techniques that weren’t instantly detectable by ‘them’ might cause damage; the thought of damaging Troy is like an icy dread, it mustn’t happen, not on my watch!

There was a sound of breaking china, Blakely Removals had been cheap, I guess there was a reason for that. I winced; there were a few bits of technology amongst the vases that would raise a few eyebrows even from the removers.

“You’d better go see to that” grinned Troy

“Yes M...Yes Troy” damn! I nearly blew it right there, I mustn’t use the ‘M’ word.

I sprinted toward my front door; ah the joy of following direct orders, it felt good after so long. Poor Troy, if he were gay right now and knew how I felt, he could... No. Don’t go there, give in to temptation and it’s all to dust and Davy Jones.

The fat Blakely was scratching the male-pregnancy that projected over his belt whilst looking at the debris. I was tempted to give him some discipline, but the thought of a gay version inflicted on the local boy-bars.. Well it just wouldn’t be fair.

Why do I mention turning him gay if all I talk about is discipline? Because all the really rock solid mind control techniques involve a same sex component, turning him gay would have been a side effect of getting him in shape.

“Dropped it” he said around the cigarette

“Try to be more careful! I’ll get this tidied,” I snapped, shooing him away. On the floor was the collar-mine I’d hidden in the vase. A nasty little device, to the un-informed it would look like a crescent-shaped toy spaceship.... when activated it homed in on mental activity flying through the air and wrapping its two pincer-like wings around the victim’s neck. Once the wingtips touched each other completing the circuit, the lucky victim’s mind would go to pleasure-land.

Fortunately for Blakely the thing had to be lightweight in order to fly, and the impact had broken the fragile pincer-wing. Lucky him, but one less passive defense for me, damn it.

Even knowing he was wrong, he still managed to be surly about it, muttering ‘faggot’ when he thought I was out of earshot.

I sniffed with distain and set about making sure the rest of my kit was intact. I should have come better prepared; I’d had full access to Fleet’s Armory, and like a fool I’d gone with just the stuff I had on-hand when we found the car. Idiot!

Fortunately the rest of the unloading passed without incident, and I was soon seeing the back of Blakely and his Neanderthal cousins. Five minutes after that, Troy was at the door; I guess he’d been watching to see when the van left.

“C’mon in, beer’s by the sink”

“Cheers Peter!” he scampered past and returned with two cans.

Once Troy had returned, I asked a few polite small talk questions to put him at ease...and then it was his turn.

“So, how come you’re here and can afford your own house? You must be like, some oil baron’s son to afford your own place; I mean, you’re no older than I am”

“I’m here on a secret mission, the house is on loan until I’m done here” I answered truthfully, I tried to stop myself but I couldn’t. The programming, the old habits, they’re too deeply burned into my brain, answering ‘His’ questions to the best of my ability is almost an instinct level response. I hadn’t expected this as a complication; my world had just gotten very complicated.

“You are kidding me! You’re fucking CIA?”

“No, I’m not kidding you. I’m not CIA though.” I replied

I was thinking ‘shit, shit, shit’; hastily I added “I’d prefer not to talk about it if that’s ok”

He frowned suspiciously; I wasn’t getting away with a statement like that without some comeback. He’s very sharp, instantly knowing that I’d told the simple truth.

“So why’d you say anything? All you had to do was make up a cover story?”

I forced myself not to answer instantly, choosing my words cautiously.

“I won’t lie to you Troy, but to tell you too much puts you at risk. Does that make sense?” I said, giving him the truth that I literally couldn’t lie to him without making that focus of my reply.

“I guess so” he replied, clearly not satisfied but willing to let it slide. “I’d better help you unpack, only fair if you’re feeding me beers”

“Thanks.” Actually It would be a lot better if he didn’t go poking around in the boxes, but he’d phrased it so close to an order, I couldn’t see a way of denying him.

My run of bad luck continued; having dived into the first box, Troy’s hand emerged holding my sidearm, a trusty Slavemaker Mk One laser. Fortunately the thing looks like a 7 inch gold plated dildo, so as long as he doesn’t switch it on, it’s ok. The Slavemaker was still set to maximum from the last time I’d used it; it could blind him if he handled it wrong.

“I guess this means…you’re gay huh?” He said.

There was no particular judgment in his tone, this was Brighton after all, and gays weren’t exactly uncommon here. In fact, thinking about it, this city was ideal cover for the slavers because of it.

“Yes” I replied factually taking the Slavemaker from him and slipping it into its holster…a holster I hoped looked like a trendy pocket in my black leather pant leg.

“Uh look, if you invited me over hoping for a date, I got to disappoint you, I’m straight. Brighton isn’t 100% gay despite what they might say”

“I didn’t invite you for a date. Although I do find you very attractive.” I admitted, what an understatement, as far as I’m concerned he’s sex on a stick, serving his bodily needs would be my Orgy Day and Enslavement Anniversary all rolled into one.

Troy was blushing badly, his pale English skin almost pink. Perhaps he’s not as straight as everyone believed, or is my subconscious influencing him? Projective telepathic mind control is a technique I learned very recently; someone who was in a hurry downloaded the ability direct into my brain and, frankly he wasn’t that well trained. It’s theoretically possible I could be leaking gay desire like an unshielded anti-matter core and not have noticed.

“You’re not bad looking yourself” he complimented hesitantly “I guess you must work out a lot”

“Back home we’re kind of obsessive about our physiques, we figure looking good is a duty of sorts”

Working out is definitely a duty; a slave must look his best just in case his Master chooses him for bedroom duty.

Am I doing this to Troy or are these his own emotions? I have to know; if I am contaminating him with my lust, I’m going to have to re-think how I complete the mission.

Troy is frowning and looking at his beer. I don’t dare read his mind, but my guess is he’s wondering if I doped it. Good, at least he’s aware of that possibility.

“This, this is gonna sound like, really fucking weird” he said, if anything his blush was getting even more intense. “I’ve known you less than ten minutes, you’ve told me you’re a gay secret agent working for an un-named organization—which is pretty damn insane by the way—and yet I can’t help thinking I believe every word and could trust you with my life.”

“You can” the reply slipped out, as I winced mentally. I know too damn much, I should have prepared myself better, deleted my memories so that I don’t have answers to the awkward questions.

“...And…even though I’m not gay... I.. I have this desire to see exactly how well muscled you are.” he blurted.

The selfish greedy part of my mind started doing a little dance thinking ‘yes! yes! Yes!’ and from that point of view, it didn’t get much better than this. As far as the mission goes, stripping for him isn’t part of the plan.

Ten seconds later, I’m naked to the waist scrunching my abs to show off my coffee tanned six-pack. My leather jacket with most of my special devices is just about visible draped over the back of the couch where I’d thrown it.

What do I look like? Don’t go there. I won’t get into the damn movie they made about me or the fact they got Hayden fekking Christiansen to star...one more time...I do not look like a super fit teen-Anakin!

Troy’s face is a picture, I can guess the emotions, ‘confusion’ because he ‘knows’ he’s not gay, ‘admiration’ because I really am pretty fit, and of course ‘lust’ because I know he will be gay eventually even if he doesn’t.

Hesitantly, like someone approaching a poisonous snake, he reaches out with his hand and touches my tightly muscled six-pack. Damn that was bad, I nearly went ecstatic, nearly losing my conscious mind from the overload of pleasure his touch generated. It’s ironic, he means more to me than life itself, he’s been the focus of my existence for the last ten years and yet this is the only time I’ve felt his touch.

“Perfect” he murmured to himself.

By this point my cock was beginning to get painful from extreme lust and tight constraining leathers...no, no underwear. I don’t do underwear; the whole underwear industry went into terminal decline when I was about 16…no demand for it.

“Can…can I look” he asked

Ah ha!, I felt it that time, a movement in my head, the ghost of a memory stirring, those skills I mentioned must still have had some the original owner’s personality fragments attached. I guess I really am radiating lust and it’s lust of a sort that Troy has no defense against...his own.

At least ‘they’ wouldn’t detect it, the thought patterns would match perfectly as they’d originated in the same mind that was using them.

Even as I was reasoning this out my fingers were releasing my crotch buttons; no normal buttons these, shaped more like fridge magnets but using molecular bonding to hold them closed; you just press and the cohesion reverses polarity and pops the button open.

My cock sprang free holding itself near vertical; my pubic hair is of course neatly trimmed as required by Fleet regulations. My 3/4 length leather pants hit the floor and I step free; as I said before nakedness doesn’t bother me, it’s a slave’s natural state.

“That is so weird” he repeated in a dazed sort of awed voice. The hand he had on my middle left abdominal muscle began gliding toward my lower hair.

Suddenly his eyes narrowed, I could almost sense that razor sharp mind figuring it all out, snapping himself loose from the lust radiating from my sub-conscious mind. “You’re following my orders aren’t you, every time I’ve suggested something, you’ve done it”

I relaxed my muscle pose, there wasn’t going to be any way to avoid answering, I’d just have to find a way to lock some of his memories away afterward; dammit.

“Yes” I replied shrugging, and smiling in what I hope is a disarming way.

“Why?”

“Because...because you are my Master, I have no choice but to follow your commands. " I spat it out, in frustration.

“You’re not actually very sane are you” he says withdrawing that wandering hand and edging away glancing toward the door.

I slumped a little, I probably looked very dejected, no slave likes knowing his master doesn’t value him...even when the master in question doesn’t understand what he’s saying.

He stopped moving toward the door “I really hurt you saying that didn’t I. I...I felt it in here” making a waving motion near his head.

I shrugged, I could guess what happened, but it was better I didn’t explain. How do you tell someone that you’ve got several partial copies of their mind knocking around in your head and that one of them just copied itself back home. It would bring up way too many questions Troy shouldn’t have answers to.

“How come? Why can I feel your emotions? Emotions....I bet that’s why I’m feeling so fucking horny you’re somehow making me feel your lust!” he accused.

“Not intentionally Master...I...” I let the sentence drift to silence; Master wasn’t listening; having turned back from the door his eye had focused on my naked body with the consequence that his rather excellent mind had become fully occupied admiring my various muscle groups. Doubtless the telepathic training he’d just absorbed had a healthy attachment of sub-conscious gay desire associated with it.

He licked his lips; I licked mine.

This was beginning to look like good news; he’d deduced that I was the cause—better he think that for now—and of course on the pure selfish side I was getting lots of personal attention from the most important person in my life. As I thought this, he shuffled closer, almost touching, inhaling my scent.

“Command me” I whispered, getting lost in the moment

“Kiss me” he ordered

I obeyed, careful to allow him dominance, my tongue moving to compliment the way he chose to kiss. Back when I was fifteen, my school graded me ‘best in year’ for my ability in Kissing 101. As an important slave skill, it’s one I’ve practiced ever since.

I looked into his eyes, aware and yet dreamy, learning to enjoy the feel of a hard male body held close; I can sense it, the potential for greatness stirring within him.

His hand drifted away from my butt and began fumbling with his belt. Gently I took hold of his wrist and moved his hand back to my butt, using my other hand to wrestle with his zip and delve within.

Inside his jeans my fingers meet lycra, ...a thong? For some reason I’d expected something more conservative. Deftly, I moved the offending scrap of fabric aside and eased his cock out into the warm summer air. Having accomplished my task, I moved my hand up under his T-shirt exploring his physique. He has a fine body; it’s one of the reasons ‘they’ have him targeted.

Once again I feel his mind slam shut, his mental shielding has improved from zero to about level three in the short time we’ve been kissing. Even if he doesn’t understand what or how, its still useful that he can do it.

He draws back, hastily pushing his boner back into his jeans.

“I...I need time, I have to figure out why I can’t keep my hands off you....And I think I need to be away from you or you’re just going to distract me again. Look, I’m not rejecting you; don’t feel ‘bad’ like you did a minute ago. I just need time” he says it firmly this time.

I sense he’s in command of the situation, thinking on his feet; good, the sooner he’s able to deal with this sort of shit the better.

I bow my head in acknowledgement, and he quickly makes his escape.

Ah well, at least I haven’t accidentally fried his mind or changed anything drastic.

He almost certainly won’t be back tonight. I glance down at my erection, a shame to let it go to waste. Mentally I form an image of Troy in my head and wank off to it. Soon I’m cumming and as I’m still standing it jets in a great thick stream that oozes over my fingers like chunky clotted cream. Carefully I bring the puddle of cum to my lips and lick my hand clean.

Sitting myself down cross-legged I begin an old meditation exercise that will allow me to sleep and then awaken feeling refreshed.

Troy’s Story:

Ok, so I ran. Who wouldn’t? I can still sense him, he’s smacking the pony and I’m pretty certain its my face he’s imagining as he does it.

I thunder upstairs and slam my bedroom door and nearly trip over a box full of books in my haste.

I’m off to University in less than a week, and pretty much all my important stuff is in the precarious tower of boxes next to the door.

Quickly I lock the door. I don’t bother getting undressed; I just pull my T-shirt up to my nipples and shove my jeans down to half-mast. I don’t even try waddling over the bed, I just do a goalkeeper’s dive onto it, straining the well used springs.

I begin seeing to the humongous hard-on I’ve got, beating the meat, desperately trying to get a mental picture of Peter’s body out of my mind and a woman in there instead…any woman, J’lo, Aguileira, even Jordan!

It didn’t work, when the cum came, it was still his bronzed, muscular version of a Hayden Christiansen body glistening with moisture in the front of my mind.

Damn, that last spurt got on the T-shirt even though I had it rolled up.

I wipe the cum into my abdomen and then licked the residue from my fingers. It didn’t actually taste that bad, I’ve never tasted my cum before; now that I know, it will save on paper tissues mm-mmh!

Having dealt with my most urgent need I stripped off the soiled clothes, dumping them in the wash basket. It was definitely time for a shower.

The shower didn’t help either. As I lathered myself up my mind kept drifting back to Peter, standing naked in the middle of his living room in that parade rest stance, taught muscles sculpted to perfection, just waiting for me to give him an order, my own personal sex toy ready to do my every bidding.

By the time I was fully lathered up my erection was back. What an idiot I am! Peter would have gone all the way, had sex in any position I could have thought up, who the fuck cared if he didn’t have tits, he’d have sucked cock like a pro.

I turned the power setting all the way down to cold, getting rid of the erection and the stupid porno-thoughts as I gasped in shock. I had to think this through without turning into Captain Teen-Boner.

Slipping into my fleece bathrobe I went to my desk and pulled out a piece of paper...I’d start by listing what I knew for sure about my hunky new neighbor.

1. He’s very very hot for a guy.

2. He’s not sane.

3. I’m probably not sane either.

4. He’s on a mission—what is it?

5. He’s an agent and at the same time he thinks he’s my slave—how can both be true?

A break here whilst I ‘rub the rhubarb’

6. Telepathy—somehow he can transmit his thoughts and emotions; I can pick them up; does that make me some sort of ‘Tomorrow Person’ as well?

7. He’s very nervous about something I’m not supposed to know about.

8. He’s without doubt the best kisser I’ve ever encountered.

9. I know for certain he’s telling the truth about everything, even though it’s all seriously insane.

10. How can I get any answers, if I get the irresistible the urge to get jiggy with it every time I see his perfect, well-trimmed crotch?

I look down at my open bathrobe and reach for a pair of paper-scissors. A few minutes later my swivel chair has a pile of hairs on it and my pubes are more or less trimmed. Whatever else, I’m going to need a few tips on how best to self-trim.

I sigh, this is all so so insane. Why am I getting off on some gay guy who wants to fulfill my every desire? Why, dammit? I’m not even a homosexual.

Chucking the pen down, I flumped back on the bed and examined the ceiling until I finally fell asleep. In my dream, thousands of naked bodybuilders bow at my feet and then morph to become mythical creatures: centaurs, angels and pretty boys who are like snakes from the waist down…no girls not a one.

I open my eyes; it’s deep night out there, but I distinctly heard something clatter. Mom and Dad are away, leaving me home alone. I nearly begin thinking about inviting Peter over, when I remember the sound, some rowdy boys in our back yard, I figure. Grabbing my cricket bat I rush down to see what’s going on.

It’s not until a gravel stone prick’s my foot that I realize I’m outside without shoes or keys in just a loosely tied bathrobe.

The noise is coming from Peter’s house; those two boys that have been hanging around are fiddling with the garage’s backdoor.

You’re expecting me to go charging in at 2:1 odds...in a bathrobe? Nope, instead I head around front and go to knock quietly on Peter’s door. To my surprise the door’s unlocked, not even closed. Quickly I slip inside.

Peter is exactly where I left him in the lounge. He’s sat cross-legged in a classic yoga position, his hands resting against the floor palms up. His head is slumped in a pose of innocent sleep; his cock, typically, is hard with a gem of pre-cum on its tip.

Gently I caress his cheek with a finger…which is a pretty daft way of waking someone you want to warn about a break-in.

Instantly he’s awake and rolling toward his neatly piled stack of clothes, a real James Bond maneuver...except instead of picking up a gun, he’s got that golden-rod vibrator in his hand.

I put a finger to my lips and then point at the garage. To his credit, he doesn’t waste time scoping the fact that my bathrobe’s fallen open, instead he nods once and heads toward the garage, still completely naked, still holding the vibrator.

His moves! It’s like watching a handsome version of Terminator, in the bit of the film before he’s got clothes. I follow him through the kitchen to the garage’s side door and watch as he hurls himself through.

Before I can follow I’m dazzled by the most beautiful lights, patterns that whirl and slide into each other, I feel a tightness at the back of my head, sort of the same feeling as I had when I managed to block all that lust Peter had projected at me.

A second later another lightshow flared, this time it was aimed further into the garage and it didn’t pull me in as far as the first flash had. That Vibrator, it must be a ‘Q’ branch gadget, a secret weapon that only looks like a sex-toy…. Kewl!

Gripping my bat I cautiously step into the garage. There are two boys stood to attention next to the dust-sheet covered car; they’re a pair sixteen year olds, two years younger than me, I’ve known them since they were kids, they’re not thieves...or at least it never occurred to me that they might be.

“It’s ok, I know these guys, they’re a bit rowdy, but I don’t think they meant any harm.” I told Peter

“Let’s see shall we” replied Peter walking up to the two immobile youths and removing the two sweatbands each boy wore around his forehead.

Under each band was what looked like a fresh tattoo etched into the forehead.

“Talon!” Hissed Peter as if naming the devil himself. “They’re not your friends anymore. They belong to a man called Talonov, the Tattoo Master. They’re his creatures now.”

I frowned, “In the same way that you say you are my creature?”

“Exactly! Except these guys’ Master isn’t a nice boy like you, Master Troy”

“I don’t believe it” I insisted

“What’s this one’s name?”

“Matthew”

Peter taps Matt on his tattoo “What’s your name?”

“Allyx-na-Mattkalla-na-Talon” replied Matt proudly thumping his chest in a sort of closed fist salute

“He believes he is an Aztec sacred warrior, doing his high priest’s bidding.” explained Peter inspecting the unresisting Matt’s teeth, hands, hair length and biceps.

“Given how far along he is, I’d say that in a day or so his parents will find a barely legible note saying that he’s run away from home. In reality he will think he’s on a vision quest seeking out his destiny.” Peter turned to the other boy and repeated the inspection. “This one’s at about the same stage”

“Hypnosis?” I asked

“Good guess; a lot of this could be called that.” Peter replied returning his attention to Matt. “Now Allyx-na-Mattkalla-na-Talon, what is your mission?”

“The sacred one predicted a disturbance here, we are to evaluate the threat and eliminate it,” replied Matt; there was a look of murderous zeal in his eyes. I like, totally believed he could do murder without a second thought

“Can you snap them out of it?”

Peter sags slightly looking tired. “No. We daren’t, the best I can do is make them think their mission is complete. I realize this all doesn’t make much sense yet so it’s probably easier if I show you the damn car, I’m pretty sure seeing it will fill in a few of the blanks for you.”

He pulls the dustsheet away, and there it is, a time machine, like in a film I saw...a fucking honest to god DeLorean fucking time machine, straight out of ‘Back To The Future’.

“I’ve been to the year 3000, you see.” explained Peter “Your Great great grand nephew sends his regards, he was doing pretty fine last time I saw him.”

A working time machine! Suddenly it’s all fitting into place, how he can say he’s my slave even though I never owned one, how I can feel attracted to him without being gay, the ‘mission’, the whole bit.

“That’s why you’re so cryptic isn’t it! You’re from the future too. I bet this descendent of mine sent you.” I guessed

“No Master, Garion didn’t send me. You’re right though, I am from a bit further down the timeline. Look, please, don’t ask me anything about your immediate future. To be honest you’ve already found out more than I intended to tell you.”

“The Grandfather paradox? If I use anything I’ve learned it will change the future” I said, remembering various Star Trek episodes

He nodded.

“So why get in contact at all?”

“Because, historically I already did.”

“I don’t get it”

“My journey into the future wasn’t planned and was a one way deal. When I got there, the year 3000 that is, I found that you’d left me some clues that, in time, led me the location of this time-car. I had no choice; I had to come back here to make sure you left the clues that I would use. My original plan was to hypnotize you so that when the time was right, when you’re about 80 or so, you’d remember exactly what you needed to do to save my loyal butt.”

It’s a lot to take in, I stand there looking at the three of them, my two friends, blank eyed, thinking evil alien thoughts and my future servant, with his burning love and need to serve lighting him up with mental radiation.

“So right now I’m putting the timeline at risk.” I concluded, coming to a decision “That can’t be allowed to happen. I order you to do whatever is required to protect your future, I can’t have a drop dead gorgeous hunk like you ceasing to exist just because I remember the wrong things”

Peter’s smile is one of pure joy, I sense his relief, he’s much much happier now that his mission and my immediate orders match exactly. Ah well, time to put a slight twist in things...

“But first there’s a couple of things we need to do.” I said firmly

Peter doesn’t look so happy about that.

“Firstly, do as much as you can for the boys here.” I instructed

He nodded and aimed the dildo shaped weapon at the boys lighting their naked torsos with the swirling hypnotic laser light. Once again, as it’s only a reflection I am able to resist the patterns.

“You have completed your mission, you found and eliminated an agent of The Master, the agent refused to reveal his purpose. You are happy that you have done your duty to the best of your ability. When I finish speaking you will walk away remembering only the things I have just told you about the last half hour”

The two boys walked past me looking pleased with themselves, neither one paying me or Peter even the slightest attention. Once they were gone I asked “The Master?”

“A powerful rival, Talon’s a paranoid fucker, he’ll begin suspecting the truce between them has ended; which actually suits you just fine Master,” he explained

“If you say so” I shrug. Does it matter if Talon the Tattoo Master and this ‘The Master’ bloke are getting hissy with each other? I’ll be safely away at Bath University in a day or two anyways.

I feel tense and nervous, what I’m getting around to asking him is way way beyond the X-files and the Twilight Zone.

“I...I’ve been picking up your emotions, I’ve been feeling them all night; is that because you’re projecting them or because I’m some sort of telepath?”

“I don’t know Master.” he says blushing “It could be either; If my thoughts have caused offence I offer my...”

“No. Don’t apologize.” I interrupt “It’s the only time I ever understood exactly how much another person loved me. I also picked up an edge to it...in your future you never actually got the chance to make that love real did you.”

He bows his head; he’s remembering some sort of pain. “Bad timing; we’d just gotten to a point when something might have been possible...and then I was cast into a future where you’d been dead for a thousand years.”

It’s pretty much how I figured, and there’s no way I’m letting this time-lost puppy go without healing that wound...even if I’m not gay myself.

“Ok here’s what I want you to do. I want you to hypnotize me so that I think I’m the master you remember, the effect is to last until my next orgasm; after which, I want all those memories I’m not supposed to have yet vanish. Can you do that?”

“Yes Master, thank you Master!”

I turn and head back into the house and head for the lounge, my heart’s beating so fast, I’m going to have gay sex, the thought both terrifies and arouses, what will it be like? Will it hurt? Will I enjoy it? What does being hypnotized feel like? Will it hurt? Or will I enjoy it...great I’m acting like a fucking virgin again!

I reach the middle of the lounge and turn toward him, letting my bathrobe drop so that it forms a warm pile around my feet. My body is good...his is better.

“I’m ready” I say; I don’t sound ready, I sound fucking terrified.

To my surprise he doesn’t use the dildo laser thing, he picks up his jacket and pulls open a secret pocket in the sleeve.

“A pocket watch?”

“For what you have asked Master; this is the correct tool. There are various techniques of mind control; each has its own place. The pocket watch method is undetectable when the subject is willing. Don’t worry, I’m good at this stuff, no kid graduates school without knowing how to put a willing subject into a light trance”

“Ok, do it” I reply gritting my teeth.

He doesn’t do anything with the watch; instead he rests a hand on my shoulder. “It won’t work if you don’t relax”

His hand massages my neck; it’s like a Vulcan nerve pinch, making me feel so relaxed that I buckle at the knees.

“Better, Master?”

“Thanks, do that again.” I guess what I’m feeling now is what a drugged up hippy would call ‘mellow.’

“I can’t, you need to be conscious” he replies, smiling, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Sometime before he became so mission-focused, Peter must have been a serious practical joker.

My mind is awash with the adoration he’s broadcasting; I can trust that, he’d cut his cock off before harming me.

“I’m ready”

He raises the old pocket watch, I notice the inscription on the cover ‘S.Holmes’ ...No… He couldn’t have...could he?

“Focus your eyes on the watch, listen to it ticking, the ticking is getting slower, as the ticking slows you become more relaxed, slower and slower, more and more relaxed...”

His voice fell into a well trained monotone, almost before I realized what was going on I....was...******

Peter’s Story

I dangled the watch in front of his eyes watching as his eyes rapidly lost focus. Yesterday I’d have been worried about how susceptible to hypnosis he is; fortunately he’s unintentionally given me permission to fix that.

Now that he’s under, I gently place my hands on either side of his head, my fingers tangling in his blonde hair. Ok, physical contact isn’t strictly necessary for the telepathy to work; I just want to run my hands through his hair.

A few moments later he gasps with pleasure as I obey his orders and turn him into my Master.

Gently I remove my hands and wait expectantly, slowly he opens his eyes, his expression is tougher, more experienced and confident.

“Silver?” he says

“Yes Master”

“I understand now...the last few months must have been almost unendurable for you.”

“Yes Master, focusing on protecting your heir helped, but it was tough, almost like being free-willed” I replied with a shudder.

“You can’t stay here and you never returned to your original time, you know that don’t you.”

“Yes Master” At some level I’d always figured this was a suicide mission.

“When you leave here, you will belong to Garion; no matter how ‘fine’ he is, I get the impression my great grand nephew will need all your services.”

“As you command” I feel an odd shift in my attitudes I am still utterly obedient to Master Troy, but now I’m thinking of Master Garion with unrestrained longing...I’m to be his property, and that’s a good thing.

“Right that’s the housekeeping done. Now lets get to the interesting bit, I need to forget all about you as quickly as I can, which means I have only one order to give. Make love to me, Unrestrained by any desire but your own, we only get to do this once and I want it to be the best sex either of us have ever had” he gives that crooked smile of his “I may not consciously remember any of this, but I figure what you do next kind of sets my sexual preference firmly on the right track.”

I wrap him in my arms and kiss him deeply, his tongue responds expertly touching the pleasure points on the roof of my mouth. Our nipples brush against one another, soft-hard cocks bounce against each other, my hands seek out his ass and slip a finger inside...he twitches as I find the spot.

I lose myself in the passion, kissing, licking and caressing any body part that presents itself; Troy does the same. We are soon on the floor sliding against each other, our skin slick with sweat. At one point, my cock is up his his ass; at another, it is my ass that feels the pleasure of fullness.

Just as one of us reaches the edge of orgasm, we change position, nibbling on nipple, rimming or giving head.

Finally the raw passion is spent, we lay facing each other pressed close, each of us senses that the slightest touch to the other’s cock will send him over the edge into orgasm.

“Oh, you’re good Silver, I remember some pretty intense lovers and you’re up there in the top five.”

“Thank you Master,” I kiss his nose.

“And now it’s time for me to go, I want my earlier self to lose his virginity to the orgasm you’re about to give us,” he says.

In answer, I kiss him again. As I watch, his expression changes from one of experience and power to one of innocent wonder.

I run a finger along his bulging erection and it’s enough to tip him over the edge. The splatter of his cum against my abdomen and the surprised gasp are enough to trigger my own orgasm.

“Oh Peter, I love you” he whispers, his voice sounds younger, its his present-time self speaking.

It’s nice of him to say, but I know for a fact he won’t meet his true love for about a week or so.

“So tired” he mumbles running a hand along his torso smearing my cum into his muscles.

My hypnotic command is beginning to take effect, soon the battle between his lust and the need to forget will be lost. Selfishly I hold him close prolonging things as far as I can.

He looks me in the eye, there’s no recognition, just the relaxed post-sexual warmth.

“Who?” he asks before his eyes close and his face relaxes into innocent sleep.

I stay there entangled with him watching him sleep. It will take about six hours for my hypnotic commands to do their job, deleting all those future memories and yet leaving him a few skills he may find useful buried deep in his sub-conscious.

After about four hours I slowly extract myself and drape his bathrobe over his sleeping form, I get dressed and collect the various up-time items that need to come back with me.

One last thing before I get out of there, one thing to check. I sit cross-legged in front of him and telepathically read his mind, I’m very very careful not to be detected, looking for one thing, deep deep below the surface.

There! At the very deepest level of his sub-conscious mind, a small yet profound change, something he won’t notice until circumstances are perfect. Without any hypnotic tampering our lovemaking has switched his sexual preference, he’s profoundly gay now.

I don’t dare kiss him goodbye, but I must leave something, I strip off one of my fingerless gloves dropping it next to his head.

I feel a sense of completion; it’s time to go back to the future now. My new master is waiting, he will have orders for me to obey...eagerly I run to the garage.

Three days later, Bath University

Troy’s story:

I stack the last box in my new room and head down to the kitchen I will be sharing with the other students. Their names are Jamie, Jack, Steve, Dafyd and some other guy I haven’t met yet.

All of them seem to be top-notch athletes, slim well-muscled boys, each with a face that could melt a girl’s heart. There’s no doubt we’ll be pulling the babes, left and right.

I wonder what the chances were that these digs wouldn’t have a single ugly boy.

Jamie is in the kitchen wearing his cyclying lycra, my eyes wander toward his butt. I blink...what is up with me lately? I’ve been checking the packing on the guys almost as much as I’ve been checking the cleavage on the babes.

His hot body reminds me that the Uni is hosting a party for all the new students tomorrow...I figure I’ll be really down on my luck if I don’t pull some eager, big breasted totty.

One thousand years later, New Orleans

Peter’s Story:

I look up at the statue that stands astride the great Mississippi, its head lost in the clouds. I used to be embarrassed by that statue. But now I understand why he had it made that way, another message. The left hand, the one holding the cock, is missing its glove.

I turn toward my master. Garion knows I used to hate my statue and is thinking to tease me about it.

“Don’t go there Garion,” I warn laughing “I’ve changed my mind, I think it’s cute”

“Spoil sport!” pouts my master, his green hair flowing in the wind.

I take his hand and kiss him. Garion has said that I don’t need permission to show my affection, an order I’m happy to obey. I spend the next few minutes pleasuring him.

Finally I break away and ask, “So...what next?”

“I’m told there’s trouble out near the border, the Hermaphrodite Union has been taking advantage of the civil war, one of our colonies got transgenderised.” says my Master with distaste.

I glance up, overhead the Cruisers Blue Static and Eye of Serpent are hanging in low orbit filling the sky, the muzzles of their hypnotic inducers visible even at this great distance.

“Shouldn’t be a problem” I reply pulling on my remaining glove.