The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

PART SIX

Chris lived in an off-campus apartment. That was just what he needed right now, Jason thought-an off campus location where he could just get away from Alex and get a grip on whatever was happening with him. He drove over to his fraternity brother’s place hoping to leave the past few days behind him.

“Hey-what’s up? You needed something?” Jason asked when Chris answered the door.

“Oh, hey-come in,” Chris opened the door, allowing Jason to enter. He plopped down on Chris’ couch in front of the TV. “Yeah, I needed you to do somethin’ for me back at the house. I called again right after you left and told Alex what I was gonna get you to fill out a form for me, but he did it. So don’t worry about it. It’s taken care of.”

“Oh,” Jason replied, with a certain resigned tone in his voice.

“So what’s up? I know somethin’s botherin’ you, so you might as well tell me what it is,” Chris said, heading to the fridge, “Want anything to drink?”

“Yeah-water. Do you have bottled stuff, or just tap water?”

“Umm, bottled water.”

“Just that, por favor.”

Chris sauntered into the room with a glass of water and a glass of milk. Handing the water to Jason, he took a seat on another chair facing him.

“Well?” he started.

“Well what?” Jason was giving him the “do we have to talk about this?” treatment.

Chris just gave Jason one of his meaningful glances-the one that said, “Oh just cut the crap and spill it."—and took a sip from his glass of milk.

“I dunno-I. . .erm, it’s—” Jason stopped himself. He was always bad about sharing stuff. “Look, I—” he scrunched up his face and shook his head, “I just don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Another meaningful glance.

“Look, can I just-is it OK if I crash here tonight? See, there. That would be a good way to help me out. I don’t wanna talk about it, but you can still help me out, see?”

A third meaningful glance. “Of course you can stay here. I hope you don’t mind the couch, though.”

“I’ll take the couch.” Jason said.

Later that night, Jason lay awake on his makeshift bed on the couch watching the TV. Well, sort of. He was channel surfing, but there wasn’t much to warrant him actually paying attention. He flipped through the channels aimlessly, knowing that there was nothing on, but scanning game show after documentary waiting for something that might hold his attention every half-hour.

Chris had long since went to bed, and Jason was left to collect his thoughts. He was afraid. There were too many weird things happening to him lately. And they seemed to start along with those dreams. Surely there was some sort of correlation. But dreams and reality were different things; reality could influence dreams, but not the other way around. What the hell was happening here?

Either way, it seemed that every time he had one of those dreams, he slipped into being less and less straight and more and more directed to other guys, especially Alex. But, how could that be? He wasn’t gay. He knew that. What was happening? How could he stop it?

Jason settled back onto his pillow and looked up at the ceiling. It had to be 12:15 or later now. Just after the time he usually went to bed. He yawned. Looking back at the TV for a second, there was nothing on but commercials. He went back to thinking.

Jason shook his head from side to side and propped himself up on the couch. He had started to drift off to sleep. He couldn’t do that. What if he had another one of those dreams? What would that do to him? Jason shuddered at the thought. But what could he do? He couldn’t stay awake forever. A quiet panic set upon him as he realized the hopelessness of his situation.

Well, then, maybe the dreams will stop. Maybe his next dream would be normal, and he’d wake up to his normal life. Maybe all of this weirdness would end as soon as it began. Then again, Jason thought, maybe they’ll keep on going until the night when he would creep over to Alex’s bed in the still of the night to do heaven knows what.

Just like in his dream, he was trapped. His doors to escape were false, the attempts to escape futile. Just as he opened a door out of the room in his dream only to find it replaced with another door, there was no way to get away from his body’s own limitations. He could delay falling asleep, just as he could open another door in his dream. But it would ultimately serve no purpose. His fate was inevitable. Jason was at the mercy of forces he neither knew or understood.

Resignedly, he propped his head up on his hand, and rested his elbow on his pillow. He used the remote to run through another cycle of channel surfing, this time settling on some Discovery Channel thing. He was too afraid to let himself fall asleep even though he knew he would have to sooner or later, but too tired to do anything other than watch television.

Morning found Jason clinging to wakefulness, but only barely. Chris strolled out into the living room of the apartment.

“Good morning!” he chirped. Chris was one of those people who had the annoying habit of waking up and then getting up, as opposed to getting up and then waking up, like Jason did. If it had been him that had just gotten out of bed, Jason wouldn’t have been able to form coherent verbal sounds until after a cup of coffee, tea, or 30 minutes, whichever came first.

Either way, Chris sized up the situation fairly quickly when he saw the bags under Jason’s eyes and the vacant “I’m so tired I can only concentrate on one thing at a time” stare that Jason was giving the morning news.

“You didn’t get any sleep, did you?”

“Mmmph.” Even though he hadn’t been asleep, Jason still couldn’t produce coherent verbal sounds-he was exhausted. Pulling all-nighters was something he hated. “No.”

“You stayed up all worried about whatever, didn’t you?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“And if you had told me about what was happening, maybe you could’ve gotten some sleep.”

“Possibly.” Jason wasn’t a big conversationalist when he was tired. Usually, even questions demanding the most discursive answers received terse replies when he felt like crap, and that was OK by him.

“Well, I’m not going to push you anymore,” Chris found some cereal in the pantry and went about getting a bowl and some milk, “I can’t make you tell me, but I think you’d feel better if you did.”

“Maybe.”

“Cereal?”

“What kind?”

“Granola.”

“Sure.”

Jason joined Chris at the small table behind the couch in the living room/dining area.

“So what are you up to today?” he asked Chris.

“Not much. Classes, then I’m stopping back by here for an hour or two, and then I’m gonna either run some errands, or I might drive home for the weekend. It’s my Dad’s birthday, so I was thinkin’ of takin’ a little trip home to see him for a bit.”

“Darn,” Jason said, chomping on an exceptionally large cluster of nuts and raisins as he did.

“Darn what?”

“So I can’t stay here?”

“Jason, stay here as long as you want-well, provided you don’t move in altogether or something-but no, stay as long as you want. You really ought to. You don’t look so well.”

The two finished up breakfast, and Chris headed out for classes. Jason took a sick day, kind of; he didn’t bother to get dressed and watched TV all morning.

He thought about his situation long and hard as the morning wore on. Chris was right; maybe he should tell someone what was going on. It might make him feel better, and Chris was a good listener.

Soon after the Price is Right came on, Jason resolved to tell Chris what was up. It was a good idea, he concluded. This couldn’t go on.

He was happy with his resolution, and shifted his attention back to the television, where Barker’s beauties were showing off the next item up for bid to a set of contestants (admit it, you’ve watched it, too).

Alas, Jason didn’t stay awake much longer-not even until the showcase showdown, as a matter of fact. His efforts to stay awake were finally overcome by his body’s limitations. He had to sleep. And sleep he did.

PART SEVEN

Jason opened his eyes, but this time he knew he was dreaming. He was staring at a door that was at the entrance to his room. As he took in his surroundings, which didn’t take too long since he remembered his last dream quite vividly, he sized up his situation in short order. Alex was watching a gay porn flick, and seemed interested in acting out a scene or two in the movie. Jason himself was standing at the door to his room, trying to get out, but when he opened the door, another one would be in its place. Since it was the middle of the night, he was dressed in only his boxers, and they were tented rather nicely over a huge erection he had from the sexual heat of the room.

Jason looked at the door stupidly; how could he get out of this? Was there a way out? He had tried to wake himself during another one of these dreams, but it didn’t work. That was really his only option here. It was either that, or this dream was going to take on a really explicit aspect.

“What’s wrong? Where are you going?” Alex’s voice came from behind him.

Jason concentrated and renewed his mini-mantra from the earlier dream that had left off here. Hold on. Hold on, he told himself. Get a grip. He looked at the door and closed his eyes and concentrated. It seemed like every time a new dream had picked up where another had left off, there was always a difference between the two. Maybe this time if he opened the door, he’d make it into the hallway.

“Let me help you-c’mere for a second.” Alex was coming up behind him. He could tell-his voice was nearer.

Hold on. Hold on. Jason stepped up to the door. Closing his eyes, he grasped the handle firmly. Inhaling deeply as if to prepare himself for disappointment, he swung open the door with his eyes clenched, and then exhaled forcefully to calm himself. He started to open his eyes.

As he did, he came face to face with a wall. His wall. In his room. He was back in his room, lying in bed, facing the wall. Flickering light reflecting on the wall told him that the TV was on. He was warm, though he was only in his sheets, and the dream he just awoke from had left him with quite a boner. Well, that part of the dream and reality aligned at least. Jason smiled to himself. He had woken up from the dream, after all.

A hand brushed Jason’s hip as it ran across his abs and down to his dick. Jason gasped as he realized that he wasn’t wearing any boxers, and then softly moaned in spite of himself as the hand encircled around his erection. Another deft hand wrapped around him and found erogenous zones Jason himself was previously unaware of as a mouth explored his neck. Jason would have turned to see who it was, but his body and mind were being overloaded pleasure and all he could do was go with it. In between kisses, he heard a familiar voice, soft, yet with a hint of taunting:

“Don’t try to fight me, Jason. I always get what I want.” Then Alex’s mouth went back to work. Alex pressed his body up against Jason as he melted away.

Jason woke up again-for real, this time, he thought. He was in Chris’ living room on the couch again. It was dark outside, and a glance at the VCR clock showed that it was 9:23. Wow-he had fallen asleep for a long time. All of the lights were out, save the television and one in the kitchen behind Jason.

He heard stirring behind him. It was a light clanging followed by the sound of the sink being turned on. Jason sat up and looked behind him. It was (guess who) Alex.

“Hey-you’re awake! Er, kinda awake anyway, huh?” he said as he finished rinsing off a bowl, left it in the sink, and shut off the faucet. He walked over toward Jason.

Jason stared over in disbelief. “Huh? Uh, yeah. What are you doing here?” It was kind of a blunt question, but he wasn’t completely awake yet.

“Well, I went looking for you, and I couldn’t find you, but I ran into Chris. He said that you were here and not looking too good, so I got his spare key and came over here to check on you. Chris went off to his parent’s house.”

Alex plopped down on the couch at Jason’s feet.

“So, what’s up? What happened?” Alex asked, looking concerned.

Jason then noticed that for the first time in recent days, he wasn’t being sexually aroused simply by being in Alex’s presence. In fact, he felt normal again. No lust, no boners, no nothing, except that he was sweating lightly. He was under several layers of blankets, though, so that explained that. Relief came over him, and suddenly Jason was the happiest he had been in days.

“Uh, well,” he began, “it’s a long story.

Alex wasn’t completely paying attention, though; he had noticed that Jason was sweating, and mumbled, “Hey, are you runnin’ a fever there?” as he inched over toward Jason and extended his hand to check his forehead.

“No, man, I just, uh—”

As soon as Alex’s hand touched Jason’s forehead, it was as if time stopped for Jason altogether. His mind froze, never completing his sentence, as an overpowering energy rushed into Jason through his forehead. It filled his brain and washed through it, dissolving it beneath waves of lust and desire. It spilled into his body, deepening his breathing and flushing his skin with warmth and sexual need. It bubbled into his crotch, which suddenly felt as if it hadn’t had release in weeks. With Alex’s touch on his forehead, Jason had become horny to the point where his entire existence-every thought, every feeling, and every sensation, was devoted to cumming with Alex.

In the moment that Alex’s hand met his forehead, Jason, too overwhelmed by the pure energy and horniness flooding into him to do so much as raise his head, looked up at Alex as a mischievous yet lustful smile spread across his face. It was almost as if Alex was saturating every ounce of Jason’s being with the stuff he drank in the first dream, but twice as strong and completely unrelenting in its effects.

Here was Jason, all-American grade-A gymjock, being intoxicated with pure sexual frustration that leaving his mind spinning and his body begging to be fucked with, and for all his time spent in the gym, he couldn’t raise a finger or move one bulging muscle to stop it. Alex savored the conquest.

As soon as the conquest was complete and Jason looked up at Alex wanting nothing more than to rip his clothes off and make passionate love to him, Alex’s hand went from “feeling for a fever” to stroking Jason’s hair. He bent over, bringing his mouth within inches of Jason’s face, and right before their mouths interlocked, he whispered, “I told you I always get what I want,” as a slip of paper with Greek scribbled on it fell from the right pocket of his cargoes.