The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

[Sam Wolowitz, senior football wide receiver and personal assistant to Billy Leddy, team god]

My boss Billy has decided that we should spread the benefits of football team control to several of the school’s other athletic teams, and while he is spending his time working on our team in particular, he has put me in charge of passing our methods on to the swim team. The manager there, little Barry Enzler, is also gay, but very different from Billy. While Billy enjoys topping the biggest, most muscular men on our team, Barry is a true bottom. So I had to focus my efforts on remaking Barry into a POWER bottom, who could take control of his team by wiggling around his cute bubble butt.

Once he was under my influence, I learned that Barry has a special admiring crush on Greg Knox, the senior captain of the swim team, and has always dreamed of Greg loving him deeply and fucking him regularly. I also learned that Barry has a thing for feet. I decided to use both those facts to advantage, and I think things went really well.

I remember attending the initial “programming” session, with the drugged team standing at attention in a row, sleek toned swim-bodies on display in their speedos, eyes glazed looking forward, minds ready for command input. Captain Greg stood mindlessly in the center, at 6′6″ more than a foot taller than Barry, Superboy-jet-black straight hair cut just over his eyes, obliviously staring straight ahead as Barry moved his hands appreciatively over Greg’s previously-unattainable body, feeling the powerful leg muscles, rubbing over the solid eight-pack, reaching up to squeeze the bulging biceps, tweaking the prominent nipples into hardness, all while his squeaky high voice carved through Greg’s helplessly receptive mind like a sculptor’s chisel, redesigning Greg’s wants and desires to Barry’s own personal specifications. It was hypnotic to watch.

Barry couldn’t quite reach up as high as the top of Greg’s head; he ordered Greg to kneel so he could stroke that shiny hair admiringly. Since Greg was now kneeling, his feet were prominently on display behind him. Greg’s feet were not only long, but also really wide. While this made trips to the shoe store difficult, and Greg often had to order shoes online, the dimensions of those feet were a key element in his success as a swimmer, helping to propel him to victory on many occasions.

Barry walked around behind the kneeling Greg, placing his solid five-inch cock on Greg’s exposed left sole, where it seemed lost on the surface of the big pod. As he rubbed along the length and width of the outsized foot, Barry purred into Greg’s ear that Barry was about to cum, and that his cum would be absorbed into Greg’s feet, transforming them Barry’s personal property. And that Barry would allow those feet to take Greg wherever Greg wanted to go, unless Barry wanted Greg to go somewhere else, in which case they would ignore Greg and obey Barry. It was masterful.

Shortly afterwards, Barry erupted on Greg’s left foot, quickly moving to the right foot for the last few spurts. He then carefully rubbed his cum into each foot, while Greg’s eyes suddenly squeezed shut, as his subconscious felt the power of his feet being transferred into little Barry behind him. Later, he wouldn’t realize what happened until the first time he got out of the pool to leave a swim practice early, and instead of going to the locker room, his feet forced him to walk over to where Barry was standing and froze in place, refusing to move until Barry gave the feet permission to leave.

It took a few sessions, but eventually the whole swim team was programmed the same way. I heard of Barry’s progress when I talked to Tom O’Malley. a tall, pale redheaded junior member of the team. He explained a recent incident:

“I don’t know how it happened. I mean I knew of Barry’s interest, of course, it was hard for him to hide it since he often seemed fascinated by our feet, but mine are only size 12, hardly the biggest on the team. Anyway, I think Barry happened to catch a whiff of my socks as I took them off in the locker room, and liked what he smelled. It was just before the long break, when we wouldn’t have school again for a couple of weeks. While school was out, I discovered that my feet refused to allow me to take a shower; I had to take baths with my feet hanging over the edge of the tub. They also refused to wear new or clean socks; I had to wear the same pair every day for both weeks, and even work out wearing them. My feet also forced me to go for long runs, which I never used to do, wearing no socks at all. Finally, my feet forced me to run five miles over to Barry’s house—I didn’t know where it was, but my feet did—and present him with the rank socks and running shoes. Then I had to walk home barefoot. It was a bit scary, but I knew it was good for the team so of course I didn’t tell anyone about it.”

A number of other swimmers told me their feet wouldn’t let them leave practice early, and forced them to stay longer than usual if they needed the extra workout. But the most extreme example came from one of Barry’s fellow freshmen, showing how creative Barry could be, but also containing a clear element of sweet revenge. Obviously, he got this guy to bring a bottle of obedience fluid home with him, drug and program his family, then completely forget what he had done. Let me pass along his story:

[Dan Whiting, swim team member]

It just started last week, when my older brother Tom came back for his week off from college. We never had much to do with each other growing up, since he’s five years older than me, and he’s the total jock type, 6′4″, built, frat boy attitude, longish rich brown hair, killer smile, always surrounded by girls who flock to him due to his dominant personality and total self-confidence. I’ve always been the runt, 5′5″ and skinny, scraggly blond hair, real shy and quiet type, never get a second look from the girls, and the only sport I’ve ever been any good at is swimming. Looking at Tom, I used to wonder if I was adopted.

The only physically weird part of me is my feet. They’re freakishly large for my size, and I’ve been teased about them all my life. I even got the nickname Sasquatch, although that’s ridiculous, who would even think a sasquatch could be as short as I am. And unfortunately no, the legend isn’t true. My cock, while not tiny at just under seven inches hard, is hardly something that makes guys stare in the locker room.

I know my feet really caught the attention of Barry our swim team manager, and he kind of made a pass at me. I’m totally straight, so I turned him down flat, but I was having a bad day, and maybe I was nasty with him and called him a few names I shouldn’t have. It was around then that my latest troubles began.

I got home, and we had a normal dinner. But then things got weird. After dinner I found myself forced to take off my shoes and socks and leave them off. I tried putting my socks back on, but it’s as if my feet refused to wear them. When I passed my older brother in the upstairs hall, he noticed my bare feet, and seemed about to make some snide remark, when he stopped with his mouth open and really started staring at my feet.

As he continued to stare, I found I was frozen to the spot and couldn’t move. His eyes grew even wider and he started to sweat. Then suddenly, my big jock brother dropped to the floor in front of me on his stomach, and began to worship my feet! He went crazy praising them, kissing and licking their tops, sniffing between my toes, everything. And all this time I couldn’t move away an inch. I was somewhat scared, but my feet wouldn’t let me get out of there.

At one point, while Tom’s mouth was working on my left foot, my right foot lifted up and started stroking his hair, like stroking a pet dog! I mean, I had no influence over it, it just happened! Then Tom rolled over onto his back—he was wearing nothing but shorts—and my foot worked its way down from his face, where he gave it a few licks, then along his hairy chest, and finally to the front of his shorts, which he hurriedly tugged off. At which point I discovered that while Tom’s feet at size 13 are much smaller than my freakish pair, his cock is much longer and fatter than mine. It spasmed violently as my oversized foot began to stroke his oversized cock.

The noise soon had my father running up the stairs to find out what was going on. My father always doted on Tom, the athletic “big man” he was proud of, and never really had the time of day for me, the runt. When he first saw me rubbing my foot along Tom’s cock, with Tom moaning like a whore and begging to be allowed to cum, Dad immediately got angry, but after a few long stares at my feet, he got pale as a sheet and became very quiet. Soon he had pulled his own cock through his pants and was jerking it, and I could see where Tom got his cock genes from, and I experienced a moment of jealousy that I had been left out in the gigantic cock department.

All this brought Mom up the stairs, too, and soon she also was staring, clearly aroused by the bizarre sight. And all this happening in a normal, conservative family. But the strangest part was that while I seemed to be the one instigating this, in fact I had nothing to do with it, it was all the idea of my feet. I know that sounds strange, but there’s no other way to describe it. I didn’t start it, and as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t stop it, either.

Soon both my parents were naked and crawling on the floor worshipping my feet. And after allowing my brother to cum over himself, my huge feet turned their attention to each of my parents in turn, rubbing my dad’s considerable cock and then my mom’s still-impressive tits and rapidly moistening cunt into sheer ecstasy. Soon, all of them were lying spent in the hallway, the floor all sticky around them, and my feet finally allowed me to proceed to my room to consider what had happened.

From then on, things got even weirder, if that’s possible. From that day on, during family meals, I had to sit awkwardly with my big bare feet propped on the table, even though that meant eating with my plate on my lap. My parents and brother would dip one of my feet into each dish to keep it “flavored” properly, and my brother commented on how he wasn’t sure how he’d be able to eat the cafeteria food back at college anymore since it wouldn’t contain the right “nutrients”. So my father turned to me and told me in a strict tone that it was my responsibility to make sure I mailed a steady supply of sweat-filled socks to my brother at college so he could eat properly. At which point my brother made some offhand remark about how unreliable I was.

Yes, they still talk down to me and treat me like I’m worth nothing. It’s not about me, it’s all about my feet. And there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s not like I can withhold my feet from my family; my feet seem to enjoy being worshipped, and they won’t let me just walk away.

At last night’s family foot-worship session, I wondered if all this had anything to do with the way I treated Barry, since it began at around the same time. But I don’t see how that’s possible, since he’s never met my family. And this seems like extreme punishment for a few careless, OK really nasty, remarks. But somehow I feel inside that there’s a link to that event. Oh well, time to wash my family’s tongue-slobber off my feet and go to sleep.

[Sam Wolowitz, assistant to Billy Leddy, supervising the swim team conversion effort under new team god Barry Enzler]

Clearly Barry is indulging his foot fetish while using his powers to improve and coordinate the swim team. And the team feet he “owns” always perform athletically well beyond what their capability would be if they were still controlled by the guys whose legs they are actually on.

But the enslaved feet are only part of the story. Barry also wants the team’s hearts and minds, and of course he wants some hot action for himself. So the element Barry uses to incentivize his team is his incredibly hungry ass, supplemented by his talented throat. The team has been reprogrammed so they can cum only in one of those two places. They can get hard anywhere, including with their girlfriends, but cumming is out of the question unless it’s into a Barry-orifice. They all have a photo of Barry’s ass on their smartphones, although he has forbidden them to use it as a screen saver since that might cause outsiders to ask questions. But whenever they have sexual daydreams, it’s that cute bubble butt that fills their fantasies, even the majority of them that are straight.

Fortunately, since he’s a total bottom slut, there’s enough of Barry to go around for the whole team to use. He also uses controlled access to his ass as an individual performance reward/punishment thing. If he doesn’t think you’re trying hard enough at practice, you might find yourself watching jealously as your best friend on the team plows Barry from behind, screaming in ecstasy as the little master’s powerful ass forcibly sucks out his viscous swimmer-seed, while your own balls seem to turn visibly blue.

Anyway, the point is that with a smart and creative “owner”, any team can be programmed around that owner’s special characteristics or fetishes. And we’re beginning to use those characteristics, from a particular mop-headed sophomore’s ridiculously large balls that churn out the prized special snack for the first-place finisher on the cross-country team, to the formerly chaste, religious, big-racked sister of the track team manager, whose commands now force her to put out for anyone who wins any track and field event. Team unity in the service of the manager is important, but so is internal competition.

Billy is seeking out a dominant lesbian to organize the girls’ teams the same way. She’ll be able to introduce a similar range of fetishes, incentives and punishments—boob worship, spankings, complete sexual control over boyfriends—to improve the girls’ individual and team performance. As you can see, Billy is an equal-opportunity master.

But one thing Billy is doing is short-sighted. Despite Jason Primo’s abysmal performance in last week’s football game against a low-level opponent, Billy absolutely refuses to bring Primo into the team control setup. Whenever I suggest it, he says that drugging Primo would be “a very wrong thing to do.” It’s as if Primo has some kind of hold over him I don’t understand. Things would be great if we got everyone under control by the time of next week’s game, which is against our league rival who are now favored to beat us by quite a bit since Brian Overman quit as quarterback.

I had to think a long time before coming to the right conclusion. My duty is to Master Billy and the team, even if I have to do it behind his back. And while I know I could never drug Billy, since he’s my personal mentor and leader, I have no such problem with doing it to Jason. Which is what I decided to do.

But I saw that it might not be easy. I noticed that Jason never drinks from the team water cooler. And he never drinks a bottle of Gatorade unless it still has the safety seal at the top. Even then, he will never take a second drink from the same bottle if he’s left it around unsupervised. It’s almost as if he knows Billy’s control method somehow. I didn’t see how I could get him to drink enough of the drug to start bringing him into the team system.

But after some experimentation, I discovered I could use a syringe to draw out some of the Gatorade from near the neck of a new plastic bottle, and then inject some obedience fluid in its place. I could then use a drop of liquid wax to reseal the tiny hole almost invisibly. So after a long, hot practice, I handed Jason a drugged bottle of Gatorade complete with safety seal. Thankfully, he noticed nothing, and downed the contents thirstily. All I had to do was wait.

Unlike the others, though, as he began to go under, he seemed to realize what was happening. He was actually fighting it with all his mental strength, as if he knew what I was trying to do. When I handed him the bottle again and ordered him to drink more, he actually refused at first, which is something no one else had ever managed to summon the will to do. Strong-willed guy, that one. But eventually, he couldn’t fight it anymore. After the drug took over more of his system, on my command he gulped the rest of it down, and after waiting a few minutes to let it all take full effect, I began to mold him to fit the rest of the team.

Billy and I have learned that the best way to lock in the obedience control is to layer in a sexual fetish that will keep the mind from concentrating too much on what’s really going on. In the case of Jason, I knew he had this kind of bully “henchman” named Buzz Hingam who liked to follow him around, generally doing bad things and harrassing people. From the locker room, I also knew that Hingam is very generously hung, and doesn’t shower every day. So I effectively switched their personal positions: I gradually made Jason obsessed with Hingam’s large cock, and hooked him on Hingam’s body odor. As Jason began to follow the thuggish Hingam around, and became more and more deferential, Hingam was confused at first, but once he recognized what was happening, he was quick to take advantage. Soon Hingam was calling Jason his “pit pig” and rationing Jason’s access to his precious sweat. The only place Jason was free of Hingam’s control was on the football field.

Since Jason had seemed at first to know something about what I was doing, I took some extra effort to erase from his mind the fact that I had programmed him. I also tried to wipe from his mind the fact that he had tried to fight me taking control of him. It’s impossible to know if I eliminated that information completely from his mind, but hopefully it was enough to keep Billy’s methods safe from disclosure.

Billy was shocked and scandalized when I told him what I had done to Jason. But then Jason told him he agreed with my action and it was all for the best. That calmed Billy down, even though I had preprogrammed Jason to say those things against his will. Billy didn’t seem to consider that possibility; Jason’s “assurance” seemed to eliminate his suspicions immediately.

Every once in awhile, I see a flicker of horror, realization and rebellion behind Jason’s eyes. At that point, though, I have him trained to pull out a smelly used article of Hingam’s clothing he always carries with him, and to bury his nose deep into it. Soon, his eyes glaze over, his cock starts to swell in his pants, and a look of contentment covers his face, and he’s fine again. Maybe in a few more programming sessions we can erase that old, self-centered individual personality idea inside him, and completely replace it with the proper team obedience concept we’re after.

A few days later, we had Jason fitted with the bluetooth ear device, and once we’d “tuned” his performance a bit, even Billy was pleased when he saw how smoothly practice went with the whole team on the same wavelength. Literally.

So now we’re ready for the big game next Friday, and I’m sure that we’ll win. With our Borg-hive-minded team receiving its coordinated commands, there won’t be a problem. I know my own bluetooth control device makes me feel totally comfortable out there, knowing without looking when Jason is about to pass to a particular spot on the field where I will arrive at exactly the right time.

After the game, we can celebrate the victory by offering our bodies and wills to Master Billy, whose brilliant control plan will make us the champions we truly should be!

[Jason Primo, new varsity quarterback, and, now, team player]

It’s been an unusual few days. It began one day when practice was over, and I was looking forward to a date with Lisa, the once-classy big-boobed senior, now cowering cum-hungry bottom slave, and I was trying to decide whether to force her busybody friends Pete and Monica to stand in the closet watching me tie her up and slap her around a bit, while Pete leaked precum wishing he were the one I was tying up, while Monica creamed herself wishing she were the one tying Lisa up.

Anyway, for some reason I got dizzy and felt like I was about to keel over, and Wolowitz came over to see what was wrong. We got to talking and soon, everything he said made sense. I had performed really badly in the game the previous Friday, I did need quite a bit of additional practice, and Billy Leddy had some new method of coordinating the team that would help us beat our big rivals next Friday, and he wanted to help me by adding me to the method. There are a few gaps in my memory, but now that I think about it, all of that seems logical.

Also, while we were talking, Hingam walked by us in the locker room, and I couldn’t help staring at his immense cock flopping around as he walked. I never really cared much about Hingam’s cock before, but now whenever I see it, I feel the need to study it carefully, and imagine what it would be like to have it in me. And there’s something intoxicating about his personal aroma. I used to find it somewhat disgusting, but now it makes me want to hang around him all the time. He’s starting to treat me like shit, and he’s ordered me to call him Hungman, but that doesn’t discourage me for some reason. There’s something hidden I should know about this change, but I can’t clear my mind enough to figure out what it is. Well, never mind, I guess it’s not important.

I got my usual call from the University geek, and he told me that the new version of the drug that makes near-permanent changes is ready to go, but I have no further interest in their developments, since I’m just working on my football. I mean, like Wolowitz says, my real goal is to perform well enough on the field that I attract the attention of a big-name college and continue my career there. Billy has told me he’d love to come along and try out his coordination method at a famous football school. Although I imagine what the little guy is REALLY dreaming about is a harem full of large, burly, hairy college jocks crawling around to serve him in every way! Well, with his dominant personality and superior mind, he deserves it.

During the phone call, I told the University geek that Masters Fred and Billy were taking over the control drug use project, and that he should call them and explain who he was and where things stood, and to deal directly with them from now on. During the call, I felt a moment of outrage and panic, like “What the hell am I doing? I’M supposed to be in charge!” But then out of my backpack I took an unwashed, sweat-lined, piss-stained and skidmarked pair of underpants I kind of stole from Hungman’s locker while he was showering, and launched myself into hog heaven savoring the aroma and sucking out the juices where his huge piss-dripping cock must have rested. And all was right with the world again.

I now have everything I could ever want. Life is great!