The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Tight, sweaty muscles encased in leather. A hand on his head. Drool escaping from the corners of his mouth as he vigorously sucked. Dirtiness upon dirtiness only making it hotter. A burning need boiling up from within, forcing his body to move, his mouth to work, his mind to degenerate, his needs to the forefront. Cock. Leather. Muscle. Naked. Manliness.

Bruce blinked and refocused his attention, his mind having wandered off, and suddenly felt an increased rush of awareness. Why was he standing in front of this bar? Why would he even come to this bar?! Then he let his physical body catch up with him. The tight, constricting material that constantly lit his body and desires afire. His hard (what?) cock barely held back in his tight shorts. His submissive gaze and posture to this large, burly, hairy stranger he had just met in front of him. He felt so lost and confused, so alienated and wrong, and yet so incredibly, blissfully right. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he wanted this. With each passing second, he wanted it and accepted it more and more. He did feel almost supernaturally connected. Like this was his destiny, like it was meant to be almost.

Bruce shook his head again. No, he thought, surely this wasn’t right! He had never imagined or wanted anything like this! He wasn’t some pussy bitch to be taken by some old, ugly guy. He was a real man, his own man, nobody else’s man! He never liked men. He was determined to just walk away from this pervert. He decided that was just what he was going to do, get up, and walk away. He stood up from the table, and looked at the man who minutes ago had beckoned him over.

“Where you going, bitch?” the man demanded, after slowly sucking on his cigar and staring his boy down.

“Nowhere, sir,” Bruce responded.

The man chuckled, and patted Bruce on the ass. The man’s hand on Bruce’s ass felt amazing. Bruce immediately wanted to stick it out and rub it up against his hand, begging for more.

“Then sit back down, boy, while I finish my cigar.”

“Yes, sir,” Bruce said, with a bit of a lisp. Bruce immediately sat back down, wondering why he was doing it. At the same time, he reveled in his hard cock, in the smell of leather, and the memory of the feeling of this large man (whose name Bruce didn’t even know) and his hand on Bruce’s ass.

“I like to suck on a nice cigar before I get my cock sucked,” the man added after Bruce sat.

“Mmm,” Bruce involuntarily moaned, “Yes, sir.” He didn’t mean that, why did he say that? Bruce wondered. Earlier with Bob was one thing, there was something wrong then, he was like a robot or something. Maybe he ate something weird and was sick or whatever, but now he was fine. He knew what he was doing, and he did not want this. And he really was going to get up and walk away now.

The man reached under the table while smoking, interrupting Bruce’s rebellion planning, and fondled Bruce’s groin. Even through the tight, thick, sweaty leather, his hand felt like electricity. Bruce felt almost honored that this man was even caring enough to touch him there. This big, hot, hairy man whose entire chest (sagging breasts and gut and all; which at first made Bruce sick but now only made him hotter) could be seen for anyone as he had no shirt on. He also wore a tight pair of leather chaps (clearly too big for him) and a leather g-string which barely held his cock. As it was his balls sagged out on the bottom. His hairy, delicious to Bruce looking balls….

“Damn it!” Bruce yelled.

“What the fuck is wrong, bitch,” the man yelled back at him.

“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know what is going on, sir” Bruce whined, a look of definite fear in his eyes. He swore he wanted to leave, but part of him was so drawn to this man. Even just the smell that wafted over in front of him. Part of Bruce wanted to climb up on that hairy body and lick that smell of him, that smell of real man. He wanted to shove it up his mouth and nose and worship it fully. Yeah, Bruce wanted his hairy Master.

“Don’t worry, boy,” the man said, putting out his cigar in the ash tray. He got up and stood up in front of Bruce, standing above him and slightly into him, forcing Bruce to move back a bit and let this man on him.

Bruce’s cock felt alive, Bruce’s skin was on fire. The leather made it even more intense. Bruce felt so good he no longer cared about thinking or getting out there as much. He pushed that worry to the back of his mind as he ground his cock against his Master’s invading knee, and then hand. He leaned his head back giving his Master access properly as his mouth was invaded. He felt the warm, hairy body above him start to press down on him and claim him as he the inside of his face and groin were mauled and felt up. And it got Bruce so excited he couldn’t even breathe right, he couldn’t think, he could only feel how good this felt. How right.

“Get up and come with me, boy,” his Master growled in his ear.

“Yes, Master,” Bruce complied. He quickly jumped to his feet once his Master moved off of him and walked right behind him, as his Master latched two fingers onto the front of his shorts, right by the tip of his cock, and pulled him along. Even just this little act made Bruce feel so warm and sexy. How had he never done this before? It really felt so good, better than anything he had even done with a girl.

“Come along, faggot,” Master barked.

“Yes, sir,” Bruce surprisingly quickly responded.

“And thank you, sir,” Bruce added after thinking for a moment. It felt like the right thing to say.

“What’s your name, boy,” Master questioned while he led his boy through an extremely crowded club. Bruce was somehow turned on even more by this, all these people brushing up against him. Especially that they were seeing him like this, not only in these hot, tight clothes, but being led by this sexy man. Seeing him as Bruce was realizing he truly was, like the hot leather bitch he should be.

“Bruce, sir.”

“Heh,” Master chuckled. “Faggy name for a faggy boy, no big surprise.”

“Thanks, sir.” Bruce giggled as well, not noticing he was now speaking with a bit of a lisp. And also that when he “dropped character” a little bit out of his slave boy mode, he was prancing around a bit with his hands. Even now while walking his right hand was limp and out, in a position he was always conscious of never allowing before. But he was too caught up to notice. He was just letting it all hang out, letting these sexy new feelings overwhelm him and lap over him like an ocean of forbidden, new lust. More and more, he wanted to drown in it.

He had been led through a large club full of other sexy many in various stages of nudity, into a smaller area in the back, through a couple rooms, and into a dark, red room, where lots of moaning and smells reverberated throughout. Bruce inhaled it all greedily. Master stopped in front of him, and reached down, releasing his magnificence from it’s g-string confines. Without a word, he grabbed Bruce’s head and started to push him down.

The universe held it’s breath, as this was the moment. Time froze for Bruce, and all of his emotions from the night came rushing back. His detachment and confusion with Bob, his lust for this man, his new feelings of hedonism and sexuality, his straightness, it all came smashing together, as he knew he was supposed to get down on his knees and take this man’s cock in his mouth. He knew he wanted to as well, but that he shouldn’t want to. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t who he was.

His cock felt so good, though. It kept pushing to the front of his mind. Absent mindedly, he was even stroking the front of it through the leather confines. Drool had formed on the side of his mouth, and of all the things he could be looking at he was still staring, unblinkingly, at his Master’s cock. What was he so worried about? Did he really care anymore? He just wanted to feel this, to feel hot and good. He moved forward, getting on his knees, and time sputtering caught up with him.

“No,” Master slapped Bruce’s hand away from his groin. “Only I touch you there without permission.” Bruce nodded, still getting onto his knees and getting in position.

“Yes, sir.” Bruce looked up at his Master’s hot body, his amazing, thick, huge cock, and into his dark, penetrating eyes, and gave up. He didn’t care what it made him. Queen Fagra of the Fagazons he may be, he wanted this hot man’s cock in his mouth right fucking now.

And he leaned forward and took it.

It was like nothing he had ever before experienced. So salty and yummy and hot. From such a normally gross and sweaty region, which was now suddenly the sexiest thing he could imagine. He licked all over his Master’s cock, his balls, his hairy, red, hot groin. Licking and consuming everything there. The more he saw his Master get hard and pleased, he himself got hotter and harder. Without even touching himself he could feel the pre-cum pile up in his leather shorts. He was barely breathing through his nose and still going to town on this cock. It felt so good, he felt so good. So hot, so real, so gay. He was a faggot. And he loved it. He LOVED it! He loved cock!

Without realizing it was about to happen or even thinking about it, he grunted hard, stopped his sucking involuntarily, and came. He came the most incredibly orgasm of his life. He came so hard he forgot who he was and what he was doing. So much so that he was horrified when he remembered he was on his knees in front of a hairy, gross old man, with his drippy cock centimeters away from his face. And he loved it. And that horror and shame only made it hotter, made him gayer, made him feel sexier.

“Bad boy!” Master shouted, yanking Bruce up by his collar and turning him around. “Now you don’t get to suck my cock anymore!” Bruce whined and felt horrible all of the sudden, ashamed of his lack of self control. He let his body go limp so his Master could move him around as he pleased, hoping this would appease him.

“And now I’m also not gonna bother with any stupid lube, either!” Master shouted, having forced Bruce’s body to turn around fully in front of him. He then firmly and quickly smacked Bruce’s ass and shoved his back.

“Now bend over, bitch!”

Bruce bent over, slightly confused and upset, still, but rapidly forgetting about it as even just his Master’s hands on him made him feel hotter. Let alone the realization of what was about to happen to him.

“Now, just to make it clear, boy, no touching yourself and certainly no cumming without my explicit permission,” Master ordered while yanking Bruce’s head back firmly from his hair. Bruce could hardly stand the pain but he attempted to stay bent over for his Master and nodded his obeisance. “Good.”

Master suddenly and swiftly jammed his cock into Bruce. Bruce’s ass lit up with pain, and he could barely stand it, let alone stay bent over. But he grit his teeth and bore it, still hard and determined to please his Master. Even with all the pain he had to stop himself from jacking off, for just the act of being a good slave for his Master turned him on so much. He would have to learn quickly it was not his cock anymore, it belonged to his Master.

Slowly the pain began to ebb, and he felt even hotter. Bruce was getting cock up his ass, getting fed his Master’s masculinity, getting bitched. And he loved it. He grunted and groaned, taking it like a champ, more and more feeling his prostrate and ass come alive with pleasure.

“Yeah, take it, boy, while I bitch you and make you mine,” Master grunted. “I knew you’d have a nice, sloppy ass.” And even though he’d never been fucked up the ass before, he did. Bruce didn’t question it, either, as if he truly did have a sloppy, used ass all along.

“Oh, thank you, sir,” Bruce grunted. “Oh, yes.” Bruce felt like his mind was gone, all that existed was this man’s cock and his ass. “Oh, god, yes, fuck me!” Bruce lisped. “FUCK ME, SIR!”

“Yeah, faggot, you take it, bitch!” Master shouted, fucking him harder, almost knocking him over.

“Yeah, fuck my faggot ass! Make me your bitch, sir! TAKE ME! I need your cock! I love it! I want it!” Bruce couldn’t stop himself; it was like the floodgates had opened. “Oh, yeeeesssss! Fuck me fuck me fuuuuucccckkkk me!”

“You may cum when I do, boy,” Master whispered, on the precipice. Both of them started grunting and moving harder and harder together, until finally Master yelled and grunted, cumming into his boy’s ass, right as Bruce let out a high pitch squeal and cum started pouring out of his boy cock. Bruce moaned a high pitched moan all the while he came, and rubbed it around his body.

“Mmmm, thanks, sexy,” Bruce said after, climbing of the cock. “I really needed that.” Bruce, lisping away, also absent mindedly reached into his asshole. He dipped his finger in the cum and suckled on it, while his other hand traced his own cum around his chest.

“That was one fierce fucking!”

“No, problem, boy,” Master sighed, still reeling from his intense orgasm. Bruce stood, half naked from the waist down, cum dripping out of his ass, hands all limp wrested, lisping, and post coital; and he realized he felt the best he had ever felt. He loved cock so much. And he quickly forgot about anything else.

That night Bruce had one final, vivid dream. He was in his leather chaps, assless, fucking himself with a dildo and jacking himself off, in hog heaven, when two men walked up to him.

Both men had strange blurs in front of their faces. Bruce could not understand why but he could not see them, almost like he was watching Cops or something. They had the same kind of body type, and were the same size as Bruce. In fact, when Bruce stood up, he realized they were exactly eye to eye. The man on the left looked like your typical frat boy; cheesy, silver jewelry, Greek letters on his shirt, jeans, nothing special or different. The man on the right was a hot leather god; collared harnessed, pierced, tattooed, muscled, sweaty, smooth perfection.

They both stood like automatons, and Bruce felt like he was supposed to present something to them.

“What do you want, faggot?” the man on the left scowled.

“You are fucking hot, bitch,” the man on the right lusted.

Bruce kneeled in front of the man on the right, automatically, and was overwhelmed with the feeling of lust. He suddenly was writhing under the man as he was fucked by him, was sucking him off while on his knees, was jutting back and forth into all kinds of sexual positions with him. All the while the other faceless man stood in scorn. Bruce looked over at him and felt bad for him. He reached one of his free hands out and started jerking him off. At first, the man stayed soft and resisted, but quickly he started to harden and moan. And suddenly a glowing light surrounded both men. Bruce was thrown off of his partner, and lied on the floor in front of the two of them as they lit up. They reached over to each other and walked into each other, becoming one. Bruce could no longer look at them and looked away, realizing the light was dimming.

Just as the light stopped Bruce started to feel an empty longing in his and mouth. He realized the light had stopped and he looked up and saw himself, encased in leather, hot and sweaty, hard cock in hand.

“Bend over, faggot,” he told himself.

“Yes, sir!” he squealed in delight, immediately bent over.

And the universe finally came.