The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Where have you been man” said Brad, when best mate James finally popped back up on the online game, “These zombies won’t kill themselves you know.”

“Oh, had stuff to with Dad” replied James. “Well that’s a first” joshed Brad. “Hey… watch out on your left… shit James… you’re playing like a first grader.”

“This is like, sooo lame” said James. “Anyway forget the stupid game, I have found you your big break. Ever heard of BMTV? Probably not. They only stream to online subscribers, but they seem big in the ethnic community, and they have a reality show, BM Island. I’ve sent you a link. And I thought, what with the whole Black Lives Matter thing being hot right now, it’s like you always say, you just need that first break to kick start your z-lister career. You can thank me later Hun.” And with that James was gone again.

Brad had taken a lot of stick at school for his encyclopaedic knowledge of reality shows and his dedication to one day making it himself as a TV celebrity. Trendy cloths, dyed blond hair, good male grooming and keeping his six foot physique well-toned. It all took work, but Brad knew his friends had missed the obvious. It was the new rock and roll. Your money for nothing and your chicks for free.

But since graduating from school, despite applying for every show going, so far the door to celebrity fame and stardom had remain stubbornly closed. As Brad had told James way too often, he just needed that first lucky break. To get on one show, win, or do something outrageous to make a name for himself, preferably both, and the promised land of reality shows and celebrity specials would open before him.

Ignoring James’ odd demeanour online, Brad checked out the BMTV link his friend had sent over. It looked legit. Originally a specialist publishing company for the black community, and still printing its magazine apparently, surviving by moving into all things digital behind a subscription service.

Although Brad couldn’t access the actual pay to view content, the open content viewing stats for potential advertisers look more than respectable, and the trailers for the two previous series of BM Island told him all he needed to know about the show’s format given its main ethnic audience.

The first series looked to be a bog standard pilot show. An evenly mixed group of black and white, men and women, young and older, thrown together on an island, promising all the classic reality show bust ups of conflicts and steamy relationships.

Having found its feet, series two looked to introduce more of a staged theme, to guarantee keeping the fireworks going for the show’s growing audience. Subtitled ‘The Snow Bunny Special’ the castaways this time where six young black guys and six fit white blonde girls, all of whom seemed to have come from the deep south. Man, there must have been some real doozies on that show thought Brad.

That just left the trailer for the upcoming series three which BMTV were currently recruiting for. It’s back this summer, screamed the promo. The Island that thrills you like no other. And this time we are going to turn the history of oppression on its head. Don’t miss BM Island 3 ‘The Reparations Special’.

Maybe this would be his lucky break. Brad clicked on the show’s application button.

Brad was in heaven, He couldn’t believe his luck. Finally an interview for a show. The producers of BM Island had got back to him almost immediately offering a shortlisting audition in a posh downtown hotel.

Two days later Brad was doing his best impression of a boy band member as he strutted through the impressive hotel lobby and up to the suite being used for the interviews.

Inside the first reception room, a hot blonde MILF handed him another form to fill in, seeking interesting and quirky facts about Brad. It wasn’t until he’d finished writing that Brad suddenly realised he recognised the woman.

“Weren’t you on the first series of BM Island” he asked handing back his form. “Certain was Hunni” beamed the women, clearly delighted at being recognised. Blimey, you’ve had some work done since then thought Brad to himself taking in her hair, lips and impressive rack, before noticing the erotic black lace collar holding a black spade card symbol with a silver letter Q.

“Totally changed my life” the bimbo was continuing to gush. “Now I have a regular modelling contract with both the magazine and the TV channel.” Her words falling like honey from the promised land into Brad’s ears as he was lead into the main lounge to meet the producer.

The producer, Isaac, was a tall confident looking black guy. Brad thought of himself as tall, but Isaac towered a good 3 or 4 inches above him before they sat down.

They chatted all about Brad, and the format of the show, with Isaac explaining that he would be the Island’s Master, the disembodied voice they would speak to in the daily confessional diary chat room. He also warned that this season particularly was not going to be for the fainthearted. They were going for a more ‘I’m a Celeb’ approach introducing humiliating tasks and activities for the contestants to endure. Brad tried his best to assure Isaac he was totally up for it, without sounding too desperate. “I’m after my first break” he said, “I will absolutely do anything and everything needed for great television to make sure I don’t get voted off.”

Brad couldn’t tell if he had made the right impression or not. Isaac wasn’t giving anything away. “Well, thank you Brad and we’ll be in touch” the producer said. “There’s just a short orientation video to watch next door, and then Pip will show you out.”

Feeling somewhat deflated, Brad put on the headphones and watched the video. It was dull stuff about the technical practicalities of the show, and the screen had an annoying flicker. He must have nodded off, because when Pip came back from her reception duties to show him out well over an hour had passed.

As he left the hotel, Brad was embarrassed to find he had unexplainably developed a massive boner. The only thing for it was to duck into the hotel toilets in the lobby, and having check it was empty, he popped into a stall to masturbate. Images popped into Brad’s head of Isaac fucking Pip hard with a very big black cock, as he beat his own meat. The bimbo’s big tits bouncing away as she moaned in ecstasy, until Isaac came filling her pussy with a massive cum load, just as Brad’s own cum splashed uselessly into the toilet bowl.

Less than a week later, Brad’s downbeat mode turned into unbridled joy when BMTV called him to say, not only had he got on the show, but that very weekend they would be whisking him away to start filming.

His overwhelming joy was only slightly tempered by a rather guilty thought that he hoped he wouldn’t be bumping into Pip again on the show’s team. He was embarrassed by just how much he had been wanking off in recent days to the thoughts in his head of the blonde bimbo sucking and fucking big black cocks, and Brad wasn’t sure he would be able to look her in the eye if they were to meet again.

But Brad needn’t have worried. There was no sign of Pip as Isaac, his crew and the constants arrived at the Island that would be their TV home that would be their home for the next few weeks. Well that was unless you were voted off early of course, and there was absolutely no way Brad was going to let that happen. He was in this to win it. Finally, this was his big break.

The first official day on the show was fairly uneventful. Except for the surprise to find this series was to be a men only affair with 12 contestants, six black men and six white, all about Brad’s age. As they were being ‘shipwrecked’ on the Island, Isaac explained that they were going for a Lord of the Flies theme, and that he, as the voice of the Island’s official Black Master from now on, would setting them various challenges as the show progressed. The rest of the day was spent relaxing in the Island’s well-appointed beach camp getting to know each other. Brad tried to use the time to size up the likely competition. He hadn’t got here to be just to be voted off first.

Day two brought the first of the changes. Black Master announced that it was the Island’s Segregation day. While the black guys all stayed in the luxurious beach camp with great food, the white guys were all marched off to their own compound a bit further inland and a lot more basic.

To make matters worse, their only food from now on was going to be strange looking pink milkshakes. There was some bitter moaning, especially as they didn’t taste great either, but Black Master insisted they contained all the protein and vitamins they needed.

The griping continued all day about the concentration camp like conditions as they settled in and were introduced to the Black Master diary booths. Most shows Brad had seen just had the one diary booth which contests popped in and out of for quick private updates and moans. Their camp had three and they had been assigned a morning or afternoon slot.

Entering for his first afternoon diary session, Brad’s head reeled slightly from the strong musky smell of the booth as he chatted to Black Master on the flickering screen. They chatted about his first impressions of the other contestants and the Producer told him that tomorrow they would be paired up the first of the challenges that could lead to elimination. He was asked who he’d ideally like to be paired with and Brad mentioned a couple of the black guys before plumping for Matt who he had privately sized up yesterday as a solid contestant who could help him progress through the Show without be a threat when it came to winning.

They must have had a good chat, because when Brad left the booth he found that nearly two hours an inexplicably passed. “Are you worried about being voted off” he was asked when he finally got up to leave. “No Black Master, I’ll do whatever it take to stay” Brad said with an emphaticness that surprised even himself, and as he stepped outside Brad knew The Island was the most important thing in his life.

As they chatted that evening in their basic dormitory before bed, the guys talked and laughed about who they might be paired with the next day. David, the smallest of the six, and the one who had been bitching the most about their unfair conditions all day, complained bitterly about the whole mixed race pairing. “I don’t see why two of us can’t be a team” he moaned. “It’s a competition and two white guys are bound to beat any of those losers any day.”

Brad, supported by a couple of the others, jumped at his chance to call out David’s racist attitude, and a good row ensued before eventually they all turned in for bed. Well if that little outburst hasn’t won me support among BMTV’s core ethnic viewers to keep me here I don’t know what will, Brad thought to himself, and he fell sound asleep.

Brad practically bounced out of his dormitory cot with eagerness the next morning as they were woken well before the black guys’ camp to a bugle like reveille from Black Master.

The pink breakfast shake tasted better than yesterday he thought. They had probably made it taste bad yesterday on purpose. And while a couple of the others were still bitching, he found himself using his finger to get the last drops out of the cup. Looking up he saw another of the guys doing same thing. They looked at each other a laughed.

The reason for their early start became clear when Black Master announced that today was Slave day. From now on each of them would be the servant to one of the black contestants, cleaning their quarters, cooking them breakfast etc, and taking on the elimination tasks as a team. From now on the white slaves must only refer to the black contestants as ‘Master’ they were told, to an almost audible groan of disgust from David. Pretty much about what I was expecting from this show, Brad reassured himself, as Black Master waxed lyrically for the viewers about how they were turning the oppression of slavery on its head.

Brad was pleased to discover he had indeed been paired with Matt, who at least seemed as embarrassed about the arrangement, as Brad felt humiliated, as he went about his maid like servants duties. Personally Brad would happily take as much humiliation as needed to win.

He did almost feel sorry for David though. Presumably deliberately, Black Master had paired the closest racist with Leroy, who would definitely have been Brad’s last choice for a partner. Leroy was one of the biggest, most well-built of the black guys, and Brad had quickly sized him up on the first day as the one with meanest bad attitude too. Hearing the grief he was already giving David, Brad couldn’t see him lasting long in the contest.

The day’s elimination challenge was to build their new Master an Island study/snug. Each pair had a separate assigned clearing on different parts of the Island, already suitably set up with the ubiquitous cameras, and there was a communal pile of furniture and furnishings to fight over. But the rules were, of course, that the Master could only design and direct, he couldn’t do any of the physical work. Still, by the end Brad thought he’d done a pretty good job. Their snug looked homely and comfortable with a large brown leather sofa as the centrepiece. Matt seemed a really nice guy too, and it had been easy to just switch off and follow his suggestions for their snug.

The physical work meant Brad was exhausted by the time he pitched up for his personal diary room session. But he was keen to tell Black Master all about how great Matt was and how much he’d enjoyed building the snug together, even as he seemed to drift off again from the tiredness.

Leaving the booth Brad had never felt more certain of anything in his life. They had done enough to stay on the Island, and with Matt/Master’s help he would endure whatever challenge came next.

That night Brad dreamed of Pip again for the first time since coming to the Island. The blonde bimbo was kneeling in front of Matt, running first her hands and then her inflated lips up and down his big black cock, before starting on a sloppy blow job. Brad knelt beside her, and finally tearing his eyes away from the superior black dick he looked at Pip, only to be pulled down into the swirling multi-coloured spirals of her eyes. Falling, falling…. Brad was suddenly snapped awake by sound of Black Master’s morning reveille.

He was surprised to find that the horny dream hadn’t left him with the usual raging erection, but relieved too, as he gently rubbed his flaccid tool. At least it meant that his bed sheet wasn’t sticking up like a tent pole for all the cameras to see.

There was no time to dwell on yesterday’s events as Black Master hurried them along, rushing down their tasty shakes, even David joined them today in licking his pot clean, before announcing that today was Naked Truth day. Today they would have to spend the day on the Island stark naked to avoid elimination!

Brad could see that everyone was feeling nervous, but no-one wanted to be the loser, so they all took off their cloths and headed over to the other camp with some trepidation, in order to clean and make their Master’s breakfast.

The black guys had been given the option of being naked or not for the day, but in a show of solidarity they had all opted to be naked as well. Although Brad wondered if that was really being helpful, since every one of the Black Masters seemed to be well fit and hung like a horse.

Naturally, Leroy seemed to have one of the biggest black cocks of them all Brad noticed as he swaggered about barking orders and abuse at David who seemed to be cowering away and almost shrinking in size by the minute as he just whispered “Yes Master” in reply to the constant string of commands.

The day’s task was simply building sandcastles on the beach, blindfolded, while their Masters gave them orders on what to do from the comfort of a deckchair, before relaxing together in their snugs.

The snug had acquired an even stronger version of the same heady musky smell in the diary booth as Brad almost curled up alongside Master on the brown sofa. He was so lucky to have such a great Master. He didn’t need to think or worry about things with Master there to tell him want to do.

Feeling blissfully happy in the snug, Brad caught himself from time to time biting his lip and staring down at his Master’s large black cock, only just managing to stop an almost automatic reflex to reach out and touch it, while Master did a crossword. In between his erotic daydreaming, Master would ask him the odd crossword clue. The name of this, the capital of that. Brad hadn’t been the greatest pupil at school for sure, but try as he might the answers just wouldn’t come. “I hadn’t realised you were quite so dumb” Master teased him eventually, and a little embarrassed giggle just escaped Brad’s lips in reply.

Later, starring at the flickering screen in the diary booth, Black Master asked Brad if he thought the white guys has felt intimidated by all the large black cocks on display for naked day. Brad hadn’t really thought about it properly, he’d noticed his own Master’s mighty dick of course, but now Black Master mentioned it he realised just how small and pathetic their little white cocks seemed compared to their superior black Masters.

It was all the group could talk about that evening before turning in. Discussing the various large, and they were all large without exception, attributes of their black Masters, amid much shared laughing and giggling. They decided the old saying that ‘once a white girl goes black she never turns back’ must be true. Even David was joining in the banter, although Brad noticed that an odd look of worry and concern kept flashing across his face.

Brad caught David alone as they washed before bed. “You sure you’re ok” Brad asked him, causing David’s face to contort though a series of conflicting emotions before a damn of relief seemed to burst as he confided in someone. “It’s just, you know, Master’s cock is so big, and there are no girls on the Island, so it’s kind of hard, you know, when they get hard, to well sort of get any relief” David stammered. “So, I you know, sort of just, well, let him a hand.”

“Oh my god, I don’t believe it” laughed a wide eyed Brad, “you like totally wanked him off” as they both dissolved into a fit of conspiratorial giggles. “Still look on the bright side” he added once they had managed to contain their giggling. “At least there’s no way the viewers will be voting you off tomorrow now!”

Shit, Brad thought to himself as they turned in. He was right. David had really raise the stakes, if he didn’t catch up quickly tomorrow he could risk getting voted off himself. There was no way he was going to let that happen.

Perhaps it was all down to David’s shocking revelation, but Brad again dreamed of Pip giving Master a hot blow job. This time as he stared helplessly into her swirling spiral eyes he felt his hand reach out and rub the mighty black cock’s shaft, masturbating it faster and faster until Master grunted pulling out from Pip’s big lips to shoot ropes of thick cum into her mouth and over her face, telling them both what good girls they were.

Brad found himself awaking slowly from the erotic dream, his hand rubbing his small flaccid little white cock around and around as the hot images faded from his mind. He found it even felt comfortable being naked again today as he joined the others for their pink breakfast. Everyone seemed to be taking their time this morning, savouring the texture of the thick shake and playing around with it in their mounts, before swallowing each tasty creamy treat.

Doing their daily maid’s chores for the Black Masters, Brad noticed with envy how almost flirty David was starting to act around her Master. There is no way I am letting that bitch get the better of me in this competition he thought.

Today, Black Master announced was Drag Race day. Brad was half expecting something like this to crop up in the name of reality show entertainment as soon as he had learnt the show was going to be an all male affair.

They were all led to a well stocked and equipped design area that had appeared nearby overnight. They had most of the day for each Slave to design and make the best gurly outfit they could, guided by fashion advice from the Masters. And at the end of the challenge, after a fashion show for the viewers, their Master would give them their new drag gurl name, which they would have to use for the rest of the Show on pain of elimination.

Brad, determined not to be out done again by David, quickly started by putting on a lacy pink bra and panties he had spotted, earning him an evil look from David who quickly followed suite. A few of the guys started out with ideas of fairly conservative drag outfits, but as their Master’s chipped in with what they liked, it soon became clear that only the sluttiest outfits would make the grade.

It leading to an increasingly leud conversation amongst them all about sex and girls which lasted all afternoon. Brad felt himself getting hornier and hornier, and certainly in no doubt about what turned on his Black Masters. At least the conversation died down a bit when they all finally helped each other with their make-up. There was much shared giggling as they started to learn this new skill, but fortunately their Masters seemed to have lots of make-up tips to hand.

So it was, that by the time for the catwalk show arrived, six pink bimbo porn sluts appeared to sashay their stuff down the runway for the viewers, to the delighted applause of their Black Masters. And as all the gurls received their new names, Brad discovered that her name for the rest of the Show was Brandi.

As they headed to their snugs to relax, Brandi couldn’t help but notice that Davina’s Master, the gurl formerly known as David, had his a big black hand on her tight pink shorts squeezing her bottom. That’s it he thought, there is no way I am losing out to her, as she curled up tight against Master, stroking his fit chest.

“I hope you like your name Brandi” Master said to him. “Yes Master, it’s prefect” she replied with a giggle. “Only it’s a bit of a silly gurls name” Master continued, “but it seemed to suit you, being so dumb at the crossword clues and all that. Not that you need to worry about being stupid, not when you are such a hot sexy gurl.” Brandi just giggled some more, feeling a tingling of excitement growing in the small cock in her panties at the compliment.

But the talk of being stupid triggered a memory fading at the back of Brad’s mind. There was something she needed to remember. He was playing a game, a role for a competition, but the details seemed just out of her grasp as she tried hard to remember. The important thing was not to be voted off. Yes, that was it, but try as he might she couldn’t recall just who had exactly gone home so far. Master was bound to know he was so cleaver at thinking and stuff after all. “Ermm…” Brandi started hesitantly still playing her hand lightly across Master’s tight abs while trying to think straight, “like, you know the losers voted off so far” she said trying and failing to recall their faces. “I can’t seem to remember who’s gone and how many of us are still left?”

“That’s easy silly head” Master told her. “There’s just the last six couples left now as we head to the final, and if you just do what you’re told, we have a great chance of winning.” And with that all doubt suddenly left Brandi’s silly head, crowded out by a surge of unadulterated excitement and joy. “Wow, that’s amazing” Brandi gushed. Winning was the most important thing to her. Everything she wanted.

And with that, Brandi suddenly remembered Davina, and the threat that slut was to them being voted off next unless she took action. “Am I a sexy gurl?” Brandi purred in the sultriest voice she could manage as she worked her hand down towards Masters groin. “You are one smoking hot little slut” he replied as her hand wrapped around Master’s growing erection. Brad felt a last pang of humiliation, but surely it wasn’t gay if he was dressed as a gurl? No, Brandi wasn’t going to be voted off, she was going to give the viewers a show to remember.

“All you little white sluts seem to love big black cock” Master said approvingly as Brandi knelt alongside him feeling the unbelievable weight of the massive cock as she wanked him off with both hands. The musky smell of the snug seemed to intensify around her making Brandi’s head spin. Making sure the camera had a good shot, she even gave the head a little kiss and played with it for a moment on her outstretched tongue, before resuming her hand job. Ah that would show Davina who was top bitch she thought with glee.

Before long Brandi felt her Master swell with a familiar grunt, moaning “That’s it Baby, make Daddy cum” as ropes of thick alpha cum sprayed out over the ground as her hand finished him off. The image of Pip’s face covered in cum, her mouth full of the superior seed, flashed through Brandi’s head as she looked down at the wasted sperm in front of them. Before the image was replaced by thoughts of her own pathetic little white cock tucked uselessly in her panties as she starred again at the spent big alpha cock hanging beside her. A real man’s cock she thought.

Far away in the show’s control room, the Producer starred with satisfaction at the six monitors in front of him. Each was showing the live broadcast feed from one of the Island’s six snugs. Right now in each picture there was a dolled up white sissy slut, with an odd mixture of confusion and elation playing across their faces, as they each stared blankly at puddles of sperm on the ground in front of them, while a big black cock swung gently next to their heads.

He turned away from the screens to the small group of black Businessmen at the back of the editing suite who had also been watching while smoking cigars. “As you can see” he said to them, “we are both speeding up the process and finding new way to deliver the induction material. Soon they will be the latest mindless slaves addicted to our Black New World Order, and with your financial backing, we can start to roll it out ever more widely, perhaps a whole small college next, and then soon a whole town.”