The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

PART ONE: The Intro

It was just one thing. Every other aspect of my life as a sophomore in college was perfect except for one thing. My roommate. How can I begin to describe the anguish, the trials, the tribulations that a college roommate that you have nothing in common with can cause? The problem was simply that I was a decent person. He, on the other hand, was a disgruntled yuppie spawn who listened to bad music, was generally gross, and always acted misanthropic. He was sort of like the male version of Felicity’s roommate-but yukkier.

He had a certain disdain for “my type” of people: clean-cut, friendly and outgoing, and somewhat athletic. I’d like to think it was jealousy. Whatever, though. It really doesn’t matter. What did matter was that we always fought. We fought over his blaring bad music at all hours of the day, we fought over personal space, we fought over anything and everything there was to fight over.

Eventually, I decided that things couldn’t continue on as they were. One of us would have to go! I decided that I would be the one, because of school policy. The way it worked was that the displaced roommate would check with potential roommates who lived by themselves in a double room. Once the displaced roommate picked a suitable new roommate, he (or she) moved out.

And so, just three weeks into my sophomore year, I announced to the Department of Housing that I was moving out due to the fact that my roommate was a prick-I mean, was a nice guy but we fought a lot due to conflicting interests. Subsequently, I began the search for a new roommate.

I was pretty optimistic about the entire venture. I could find a new roommate with my interests, I figured. And, after some quick searching, I decided on moving in with this guy Rick, whom I recognized from the weight room in the University’s Wellness Center. He seemed like a nice enough person, and, even though I’d never really talked to him before in the gym, I figured that anyone who was as much of a work out freak as I was had to have at least some redeeming qualities.

After I had moved all of my stuff into the room, Rick and I began the arduous task of “feeling each other out.” He was friendly enough, but has also had this elusiveness to him; you could never really tell much about who he was, where he was coming from, or what he was thinking. He had this sort of pleasant yet poker-faced outer façade. I was sure that deep down inside he was a nice guy, too, but he didn’t really let that out much.

Physically, he was kind of like me. Average height with an healthy, athletic build. Like I said, I always saw him in the weight room, and it showed-guys can say that about one another, right? Well, anyway, he had a good build on him, and a pretty good face, too. Whereas I had darker hair and green eyes, though, he had light brown hair and brown eyes to match, and his skin tone had a hint of a tan. He had to be pretty popular with the ladies, I thought.

It seemed that he wasn’t very popular with anybody, though. I mused over it once as I got ready to go off to the Wellness Center. He never had anyone over in our room-that I knew of, anyway. Actually, neither of us hung out in the dorm much, but when we were both in the room together, he was always alone.

“Sure, he gets calls occasionally,” I thought, as I rummaged through my drawer for some socks, “and they are from girls a decent amount of the time, but he doesn’t seem to have a girlfriend.”

As I pulled a loose T-shirt from my top drawer over my head-those are my favorite to work out in; I’m not an exhibitionist, you know-I thought to myself, “Hmm. . .I don’t suppose he’s-nah, don’t think so.”

I trotted over to the Wellness Center pondering more questions about my mysterious roommate. “I wonder why he never talks about himself,” I wondered as I found my way to the weight room.

A few workout buddies were just starting out a set of bench presses when I got there. As I began to walk over toward them, Rick passed by me. He was, as usual, alone, wearing his typical gym attire of a baseball cap, wifebeater, and navy cotton shorts.

“Hey-what’s up?” he asked as he passed.

“Nada. Just finishin’ up?” I replied.

“Yep. See ya back in the room.”

I grinned to myself as he passed. I still had a good 8 to 10 pounds or so more size on my frame than he did, I thought.

Rick and I coexisted peacefully. I lay in bed one night a few weeks after moving in, congratulating myself for picking such a good roommate. He’s so respectful, I thought, as I looked up at the light coming in the dorm windows from between the storm shutters. I turned on my side to look over at him-he had his big brown eyes open, and was staring at the ceiling in my general direction.

“Hey, you OK?” I asked, adjusting the white undershirt I was wearing-when I rolled over, it was kind of strangling me-you know the feeling.

“Yeah. Whyzzat?”

“Because you’re obviously wide awake, and it’s 2 a.m.,” I said.

“Well, I dunno. I usually get to sleep OK,” he said, with a little smile.

“Oh you do?” I countered, “well, you certainly seem too tired to make it to your 9 o’clock class.”

“Well, that’s ‘cause it’s a math class. Wouldn’t you be tired at 9 a.m. if you had a math class instead of-what do you have, anyway? English 210?”

I chuckled, “I s’pose so.”

“Well, it’s really boring listening to things like differential equations and such,” he said. Unfortunately for me, at that point he started babbling, and I eventually got tired of listening and fell asleep as he went on and on about how the professor has a funky accent and blah, blah, blah.

PART TWO—Something’s Afoot Here

When I woke up the next morning, he was gone. “Wow, he got up early for once on a Friday,” I thought. Groggily, I got up and stumbled out into the hallway to take the ceremonial morning leak.

After the ceremonial morning leak, I made the ceremonial “inventory check” on myself in the mirror. I needed to shave, of course, and-yeesh, look at the corduroy lines on me this morning, I thought. I had one huge red mark/indentation across one cheek, and then another that started just below my neck and ran all the way across my chest to my stomach.

“Wait a second. Something is amiss here,” I thought as I squinted inquisitively at my reflection in the mirror. Just then, a weird sensation seemed to pass through me. It was kind of a dizziness and lightheadedness, but it wasn’t contained to just my head. A sort of buzzing seemed to start in the back of my mind, too, and in my grogginess, I just sort of dropped the entire train of thought and went back to my room to get dressed and go to class.

By my second class that day, I still had that buzzing feeling in the back of my head. I sat half-listening to my professor, my eyes staring ahead but not really at anything. They just seemed to focus on a spot on the chalkboard or part of the table or something insignificant. My jaw hung a little slack and I slumped down in my chair, not one muscle tense. I felt really out of it, but kinda euphoric, too.

“What the hell is wrong with me today?” I asked myself. As I did, though, the dizzy feeling started again. I closed my eyes for a second as my mind seemed to spiral out and away from me. All at once, I shook myself out of it and opened my eyes, leaving my mind feeling strangely blank. I stared ahead at some non-existent object for some indeterminate amount of time before the thought formed in my mind to just go back to my room.

I think a classmate asked me if I was all right-I’m not really sure-but I was so absorbed by the buzzing in my brain that I didn’t respond. Instead, I slipped out the back of my lecture hall and headed back to the dorms. As I walked, though, I managed to snap out of it a little. The thought “Maybe I should go the Wellness Center” pushed itself to the forefront of my mind to absorb anything else I had been thinking.

I started to justify it to myself. “If I can just work out, It’ll clear my head,” I reasoned. I couldn’t say that I’d feel better if I worked out-I felt fine. Heck, I felt reeealy good for whatever reason, but this mental fog had to go.

Anyway, as I got back into my dorm and started getting ready, the mental fog, though still there, started to lift even more.

“Now what was it that I was forgetting about today? Oh yeah-It’s Rick’s birthday.”

I found my shorts and slipped them on-they seemed a little shorter and tighter today, but whatever. “Oh shit! That means I should have gotten him a present!” It was then that I opened my top drawer and reached for a workout T-shirt. I just froze for a second and stared.

Where I would swear there should have been about 4 XL Nike T-shirts in various colors, there weren’t any. Rather, my eyes found three wifebeaters instead. I stopped and stared with a puzzled expression.

“What did I just do? Am I on Rick’s side of. . .” and then my thoughts were enveloped by the dizziness again. I succumbed to the spinning, and this time it gripped me longer and more forcefully-I’m surprised I didn’t fall over or something. When I opened my eyes again, though, my eyes stared blankly ahead as my hands unhesitatingly took one of the wifebeaters and slipped it over my head and down onto my torso.

The smooth cotton fitting snugly against my skin made everything feel better again, and the questions I had been asking just 10 seconds ago became irrelevant to me. I was instantaneously engrossed in feeling how my chest stretched the fabric of the soft, snug fabric, how the ribs of the undershirt clung to my stomach and back and sides, and how it showed my broad, muscular shoulders tapering down to my waist. After I tied my shoes, I put a baseball cap on backward and headed out the door.

When I got to the Wellness Center, I went straight for the weight room. As I walked in, I looked over at the cardiovascular machines to the right of where all of the machines and free weights were. Rick caught my eye. He was on one of the exercise bikes.

“Hey-howzit goin’? You look a little out of it today,” he said as he looked up at me, smiling.

“Yeah, I’m kinda spaced out today for some reason,” I said, looking back at him.

“Sorry to hear that,” he went on, “hey-I’m just finishing up here. What are you working out today?”

As he spoke, the buzzing in my head came back full force, but rather than blot out all of my thoughts, my entire brain devoted itself to digesting everything Rick was saying. Each word filled my mind completely, leaving no corner of it untouched.

“Chest and back,” I mumbled, though only half aware of what I was saying. My eyes drank him in as he pedaled the bike; he was such a good-looking guy, I thought. His eyes were sparkling in the light that spilled through the windows behind us.

“Really?” he replied, “Me too. Wanna work out together?”

My eyes settled on his lips as he spoke. They were so beautiful. Thick, full, red lips with bright, straight white teeth behind them.

“Uh-huh,” I managed, as I watched his perfect mouth form itself into a brilliant smile again.

Somewhere behind the mistiness that had settled onto my mind again, part of my left brain had questions. First and foremost, was I checking out my roommate? Secondly, was it just my imagination, or did this entire situation seem. . .planned. We’ve never worked out before, and it’s almost like he’d been waiting for me. Thirdly,

Just then, he pressed the “stop” button the bike he was using and stood up.

“Great,” he said, as he took a step towards me. My eyes, which had been staring at that mouth, hadn’t been ready for him to get up and walk toward me. Now, rather than seeing sensual lips and beautiful teeth, they stared directly at his chest.

As my eyes beheld the straining, thin white fabric of Rick’s wifebeater and the large, full muscles of his pectorals, I felt another familiar buzzing, but this time in a different parts of my body-deep in my stomach and my balls.

I can’t be sure, but it seemed that he was looking at where my eyes were locked, and smiled again. “C’mon,” he said, motioning with his head, and walking toward the weight room.

What happened next, I don’t remember much. My brain felt like it was filled with cotton that slowed down my thoughts, and the buzzing consumed any thoughts to focus on anything other than Rick’s voice or body. There was no escape from the buzzing. The more I looked at Rick’s bulging, shapely arms; broad shoulders; powerful legs; tight, round butt; strong, well-defined jaw-line; full, sensual mouth; or large, soft, sparkling brown eyes, the more the fog in my brain closed in around me, thicker and thicker. Even when I tried to look away from Rick or distract myself to keep my thoughts straight, the buzzing was amplified all the more, until I engrossed myself again in the sexual appeal that Rick radiated.

I was hard as a rock throughout the entire workout. One of the few scenes from the gym that I did remember was when we were using the fly machine. I was spotting Rick as he pumped out an extra set of them. From what I can remember, he looked down at my crotch and then up at me, grinning, as he did his first few reps. I was almost too mesmerized to notice, because I had been staring at his beautiful chest, flexing and then unflexing, hypnotized by the half obscured muscles shifting under his wifebeater.

Somehow, in the back of my mind, I was also aware of my wifebeater, and how good it felt on me. Why had I been too self-conscious to wear these before? I loved the way the cool air caressed my exposed arms and chest, and the way it showed off the body that I had worked so hard to get. I knew Rick liked it more than when I wore those cumbersome, baggy T-shirts to the gym, too. I should wear these things more often, I thought.

After our workout concluded, Rick and I walked back to our room together. He was talking about pleasantries, which normally I would only half pay attention to, but my mind was so heavily laden with the now infamous buzzing that I couldn’t have resisted giving him my full attention had my life depended on it.

“You look tense,” he said as we walked through the door into our room, “Let me give you a quick massage-it’ll make you feel better. Here, why don’t you siddown here for a sec.” He motioned to the corner of his bed.

Somewhere, in some recess of my mind I knew that “you look tense” comment had to be an utter, total, complete lie; the more I had watched him in the gym, the more my brain had sunken into a relaxed but sex-saturated stupor, the more my skin tingled to feel his body, and the harder my erection felt (if it was possible). I didn’t feel tense in the sense of being stressed out at all-just horny as hell.

The rest of my brain, though, was too out of it to protest. I felt myself walk over to the bed dumbly and sit down without the slightest hesitation as Rick stripped off his sweat soaked wifebeater and tossed it into a pile of dirty clothes. He then took off his shoes and socks and climbed onto the bed behind me, telling me how good it would feel just to relax and let him work on me.

Again, a recess of my mind objected. What was going on? Was I turning queer for my roommate? Why did-

His hands were brushing up against me, drawing all of my attention back to Rick.

“There,” he said softly, right behind my ear, “just lift up your arms for a second.”

I did, and my wifebeater came off.

“Good. Just let me help you feel good again,” he said as he slipped behind me.

I felt his muscular legs rub up against the outside of mine, and a hard dick press up against my posterior as he positioned himself behind me. That recess of my mind struggled against the buzzing to be heard. It was so distant now, though.

And then, his hands were on my back, kneading my already relaxed back muscles. I felt dizzy and lightheaded. Every place that his skin made contact with mine, I felt utter pleasure course through me. His deft hands turned me into putty, except for my dick, which throbbed with such passion and need that it was all I could to keep from creaming my shorts right there and then.

At some point, he moved his hands around to my front, and was caressing my chest and stomach. My spinning brain registered only his sweaty, muscular chest pressed against my back, his hands on my chest, teasing my nipples, his hard dick pressed up against me, his heat and aroma filling me, and his voice, whispering to me.

One hand found its way down my abs and to my dick and balls, which he gave a good, gentle squeeze through my tented shorts. At that point, I lost all control of myself that I might have had, and, as he whispered something else to me, my entire reality became his hands groping my crotch, his mouth on my ear, and his voice filling my mind.

PART THREE: An Epiphany & The Denouement

I don’t know how long the “massage” lasted. Sometime after I lost track of time and my surroundings, he had told me to head to the showers. He had said to take a shower, and then, if I still felt tense, he could give me another massage, I think.

So that’s where I was-the shower. I mechanically went through the motions of bathing: shampooing my hair, then soaping myself up. . . My brain watched the entire scene from a distance. I was going through the motions without the least bit of thought-freaky.

The corner of my brain that had been resisting the sensual and mental onslaught my roommate was administering used this time to fight back.

First, I stopped massaging conditioner in my hair. I hoped that maybe it would break the automatic motions I was going through. I didn’t know exactly what was going on, so I didn’t know how to counteract it. Desperation was setting in here-would not massaging conditioner in my hair really stop what was happening long enough for me to figure things out? Who knows. It was worth a shot, though. Anything was worth a shot.

The buzzing in my head was still there, and when I stopped my normal showering, the dizziness started again. I knew I had to resist it, though. I shut my eyes as wave after wave of lightheadedness and spinning assaulted me.

With a Herculean effort, I wrested control of my mind largely back to myself again. The ever-present buzzing of the day retreated enough for me to form logical thoughts, albeit slowly, that led to theories as to what was happening to me.

Whatever it was, I figured, Rick had something to do with it. He had to be gay, I guessed-wow, I’m good-how do I do it? But what was he, or whoever, doing to me to make me this way? I must confess that I drew a blank.

What I did know was that the more I was around him, the more I hungered after him. That’s not supposed to happen-I’m straight, and, while I have nothing against gay people, I’m just not into that. I didn’t want to be all over Rick, I resolved.

Secondly, he, or whoever, knows what he’s doing. What was up with the wifebeaters in my dresser, for example. Clearly, Rick or his friends or whoever were fairly clever, and doing a good job screwing with my mind, even in Rick’s absence.

One question remained, though: “What the heck is Rick doing to me?” Surely I’m not doing all of this lusting after my roommate by myself, right? Of course not. But what could be happening to me? Magic and spells and voodoo dolls and stuff? I don’t believe in that kind of thing.

Well, one thing I did conclude for certain was that I had to get out of the room and away from Rick, ASAP. I needed a plan. I could get out of the shower, run over to the room and throw some things together so that I could stay over at a friend’s off-campus apartment or something, and get help. Hopefully, Rick wouldn’t be in the room. If he was, then. . .well, I’d be screwed, but I’d deal with that as it happened. Where was Rick, anyway?

No matter-I’d find out soon enough if I was unlucky, and I wouldn’t find out until Monday or later if I was lucky. Roll with the punches, I told myself. I finished showering hastily and, after wrapping my towel around myself and taking a quick leak in the urinal (no, not in the shower, although I was tempted), stepped out into the hall to get to my room.

I paused at the closed door to my room—“the moment of truth,” I told myself. I cracked open the door, and. . .

No one home. After an audible sigh of relief, I quickly got down to business. I threw on some boxer briefs and some cargo shorts and decided “oh what the heck-they feel pretty good after all,” and put on one of the two wifebeaters left in my top drawer. Pausing to slip on some sandals, I dried of my hair brusquely and put on a baseball cap, and set to work finding a duffel bag to put a weekend’s worth of clothes and toiletries into.

My mind had managed to still contain the mental fog that had overpowered me earlier during the day, but seemed to not be able to remember where the heck anything I needed was. I think that may have been normal, though-I’m disorganized, y’know?

Anyway, my fervent search for my contact case was really making me work up a sweat. By the time I found it, I was drenched. I hate that-when you take a shower after a workout, but you’re still sweating after the shower’s over. I took off my baseball cap for a second to wipe the sweat that was collecting on my forehead just beneath the bill of my hat.

Relief! Taking off the hat felt like the best thing that had happened to me since I stepped in the shower. But the heat was building again, and I was still sweating buckets.

I lifted up the lower part of my wifebeater to wipe the sweat off my brow. A cool breeze sent refreshment to my stomach, but that faded the second I dropped that part of my shirt and it landed on my abs again.

“Yeesh, maybe I should just. . .,” I said to myself as I slipped the wifebeater over my head and tossed it onto the bed, “much better. Now where was I-oh yeah, that contact lens case.”

Within 30 seconds, I was boiling again. That’s when it hit me-Oh shit! I’m stripping! He-they-whoever must have planned this! They’re fucking with me again! Frantically, I picked up my shirt to put it back on again, but the heat was almost overwhelming.

The heat built every half-second. It was unbearable! I started to involuntarily reach for the button on my cargo shorts. . .

Changing my plan of action, I just grabbed my duffel bag, still unzipped and only half-packed, and rushed for the door. I put my hand on the doorknob, but it wouldn’t turn! Rather, the doorknob would have turned, but when I reached for it, my hand went limp. Completely.

“Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!” I yelped as I began to give in to full-fledged, unadulterated panic.

At that point, I had no choice but to reach for my cargoes and let them fall down by my sandals; a second or two more, and the perceived heat of the room would have made me practically rip the things off of me. I waddled back to the bed, and yanked off my sandals so that I could get my shorts off properly. Then, after closing the lower shutters on the window, I all but tore my boxer briefs off of me and discarded them on the floor by my sandals. Exhausted, I collapsed onto the bed, a sweaty mess.

Worse than barely getting my clothes off before I ripped them off, my concentration on my grand scheme to escape had waned due to the heat fiasco, and the mental haziness that I had battled all day was beginning to seep back into my brain again.

I wasn’t throwing in the towel that soon, though. What did Winston Churchill say? “Never give up. Never give up.” Well, that was me. I’m resourceful, dammit, and if I couldn’t get out of the room, I figured I’d just bring help to me.

Though resisting the slow but persistent slide back into a Rick-obsessed sexual fog, I reached for the phone. My hand grasped the cordless phone, and. . .

I couldn’t pick it up. It was too heavy. It didn’t matter much, though, because there was a quick knock at the door that sent me reaching for my bed sheets to cover myself with anyway.

Then Rick walked in toting a shower caddy and wearing only a towel and a big smile. As I looked over at him, my eyes started to devour him, in spite of myself. There he was, wet from the shower and so close to being naked. The backsliding into my sexual fever accelerated, and in a final last-ditch effort to maintain rational thoughts, I closed my eyes as tightly as I could and tried to concentrate on something-anything, other than him.

“Hey Mark-did I catch ya with your pants down there?” he asked, half-innocently and half-knowingly.

“What did you do to me?” was all I could manage. The wall that I had built between the sexual haze and my self-control was being gently but swiftly eroded just by hearing the sound of his voice. The torrent of lust for Rick I was holding back was beginning to leak back into my intelligence, and it was getting harder to think again.

“Nothing much,” he said, sounding a little concerned at my fearfulness. “I just hypnotized you after you went to sleep last night,” he began, and then he added under his breath, “and every night for the past several weeks.”

By this point, my eyes were still clenched shut, and I had basically curled into a little ball on the foot of my bed-I had abandoned trying to cover my naked body some time ago. While part of me was terrified by everything that had been happening, the lust I had felt earlier in the gym was building within me, within every cell in my body.

“I’ve been giving you post-hypnotic suggestions for a while now, too,” he said. He sounded closer than he was a few seconds ago, and my skin began to get that tingly feeling, that hunger again.

“What’s that?” I asked, fighting the stupor that was beginning to fill me. My brain was sort of like a ship taking on water; the more it sank into the waters of passionate desire and lust, the quicker it disappeared beneath the waves and the harder it was to stay afloat. OK, weird analogy, but you get the picture.

“Don’t worry about it.” He was right by my ear. I could feel his heat and smell his aroma again, just like during the massage. “Let’s just say that I can make you act based on certain cues. Let me give you an example.” Then, ever so softly, he whispered something so close to my ear that it tickled.

In spite of myself, I threw a boner instantly.

“See, like that. . .” he said, ever so softly. With that, I felt a gentle hand slowly enclose around my needy cock. I let out an involuntary soft groan as everything faded into the background except for his hand and his voice.

“It’s OK. I like you. I’ll won’t hurt you-I promise,” he breathed, and then traced a path of soft kisses down between my neck and jaw a little below my ear.

I opened my eyes as he gently took his hands and unrolled me from my fetal position on the edge of the bed, and guided my body to lay out flatly.

He brought his face close to me and smiled that beautiful smile that made me harder than I had ever been before in my life as he said, “Think of this as my birthday present, huh?”

I just looked back and nodded, my mouth opening slightly and the buzz of his posthypnotic suggestion or whatever it was overtaking me completely.

He kissed me again and again as I began to lose myself in rapture. Laying my arms above my head, he whispered something else into me that made my entire body feel heavy-so heavy that I couldn’t move. As he ran his hands over my sides and over my chest, he whispered in my ear again and kissed me. And then, I succumbed to my passions.