The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

My name is Zander. I used to be a stereotypical surfer-dude. I still look like one—but these days, I certainly don’t act like one.

Technically, I was a college student. But not really.

I was lackadaisical, relaxed, and academically sloppy. I rarely went to class and I never turned-in any homework. I spent more time lifting weights and brushing my long, straight, white-blonde hair—than I did studying.

Weekdays I spent on the beach, surfing. Weeknights were for drugs. Weekends were one long party.

A weekend would start on Friday afternoon—washing down edibles with vodka. When the the sun went down—I would go out: parties on campus, clubbing, and raves. Whatever wild time I could find.

Monday morning (or, afternoon) I’d reappear at my dorm, worse for the wear. Sometimes I would would be covered in sand, or caked with mud, or in someone else’s clothes. Always with a smile on my face, and a wild story to tell.

I would shower, get a couple hours sleep, then hit the surf.

My parents were in the middle of a messy divorce. Both of them were trying to be the “fun parent”. Neither of them wanted to shut off the college money.

I was just passing time.

Then everything changed.

Lucas, my roommate, came home late one night, with a huge grin on his face. I asked him if he had gotten laid.

Lucas laughed, “Much better.” He threw an arm around my shoulders, and said, “I went to the ‘Blue Rose’ again. It was a night of ‘perfect physical bliss’.”

Lucas wouldn’t explain what he meant.

At first, I thought that Lucas was coming on to me. But, he wasn’t. Neither of us was gay. I had “experimented” with guys when I was younger, but I gave up guys when girls started liking my body. Shared stories had revealed that Lucas had done something similar when he was younger.

After Lucas’ night of “perfect physical bliss”, his life went through a complete transformation.

Lucas hadn’t been as much a party animal as I had been, but he stopped going out completely. That first week, he partied only on the weekend. The next week, he partied only on one day of the weekend. Then he didn’t go out at all.

His drug and liquor use petered off over a couple of weeks, then stopped completely.

He went to the “Blue Rose” several evenings a week. But he had no time for drugs, liquor, or wild times.

I was surprised.

Lucas started paying more attention in class, spending a lot of time with his nose in textbooks, and working hard at his part-time job.

When his part-time, remote job gave him a raise. I was surprised. When he volunteered to work on weekends, because “… the company is short-handed on weekends …”—I knew something was up.

I asked him, “What changed?”

He smiled, “I owe it all to the ‘Blue Rose’ and ‘perfect physical bliss’.”

Eventually, curiosity got the best of me. I asked Lucas to take me to the “Blue Rose”.

Lucas happy for me, “You are going to love it. The Blue Rose definitely changed my life for the better. Definitely for the the better.”

The Blue Rose itself was housed in what had previously been an old-fashioned gas station. Two ancient gas pumps stood in front—busted and rusted. The building itself was cinder block and concrete. The gas station’s office had been on the right. There were four car-repair bays on the left. The windows had been painted over and covered.

Two dozen cars were parked all around the outside of the building. About half of the cars were junkers, like Lucas’. Some of the cars were nice. A couple of them were very expensive; the owners were obviously well-to-do.

The interior was clean and freshly painted. The entire building was carpeted. The former office had bookshelves with dozens of shoeboxes. Entering the office, Lucas removed his shoes and socks, putting them on the floor. His phone, wallet, watch, keys, pocket change, all his personal belongings—went into one of the shoeboxes.

He told me, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Everything is optional. You can leave anytime you like.” He laughed, “It took me three visits before I did much. But, I’m glad I kept coming back.”

I copied Lucas—removing my sandals, putting all my personal stuff into a shoebox.

Passing through dark curtains, I found myself in the left side of the building, where cars had previously been repaired. It was dark. In the middle of the room was—the Blue Rose.

The Blue Rose was a sculpture; made of wire and tubes. It moved, like a mobile. As I watched—random currents of air kept the sculpture moving, turning, spinning, and tumbling.

It wan’t really blue. It was chrome and white, colorless. But it seemed blue, because it was in a pool of light—bathed with blue flood lights and white spot lights.

The rest of the room was dark, illuminated only by light reflected off the sculpture: The Blue Rose.

It looked vaguely like a rose.

But, more importantly, my eyes were constantly drawn to the moving, twisting, rolling shape.

There was a lot of chatting and handshaking—guys giving each other big hugs. Lucas introduced me to everyone. It was all very friendly.

There was a bright red bucket in front of the Blue Rose. Lucas took an envelope from his pocket, and tossed it into the bucket. Several of the other guys also tossed envelopes into the bucket. I didn’t know what the envelopes were for, until much later.

The mood of the room completely changed when Jack walked in.

Jack strode in from a back room. That back room had originally been the parts-room for the auto shop. I learned later that Jack actually lived in the building. The old parts-room was Jack’s bedroom and inner sanctum.

He was well dressed—sports jacket over an open collar shirt, designer jeans, and Italian loafers. He looked classy. He strode into the room, greeting everyone with waves and smiles. Everyone’s response was enthusiastic. The mood was electric.

Jack smiled broadly, welcoming everyone. Arms outstretched, he greeted everyone there. There were lots of smiles and hugs. Jack embraced everyone in the room—pulling everyone into huddles of happy smiling people.

I found myself liking Jack, before I had even met him.

Jack shook the hands of us new-comers. He was smiling and welcoming.

Before long, he reached out and grasped the “Blue Rose” with his hand. An expectant hush fell over the entire room. He asked, “Ready?”

Dozens of guys said, “Yes.”

Jack gave the sculpture a spin. The Blue Rose, which a moment before had been eye-catching, was suddenly visually all-consuming.

I could not look away.

None of us looked away. The entire room stared at the spinning, rolling, turning display. With complete fascination, I watched everything and nothing.

I tore my eyes away from the Blue Rose to look at Lucas. His face was completely blank. Eyes open, he watched spinning bits of metal without blinking. Mouth open, his eyes were wide and vacant. Looking around the room, all the other men in the room had the same blank, vague look on their faces.

Then Jack spoke.

As he spoke of the “Blue Rose”, my eyes drifted back to the sculpture. He spoke of relaxation. He spoke of hard work and study. He spoke of restraint, and resisting drugs and alcohol. He spoke of how we were all friends. He spoke for several minutes. He repeated himself several times.

He spoke of how we had to be ready. If we weren’t ready, we wouldn’t hear the whole message, “Only hear the messages that you were ready for.” How we had to get ready. How we should get ready. How we wanted to get ready.

Then he spoke of things that I didn’t hear, I wasn’t ready. The things he spoke of were for everyone, if they were ready. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t hear. At least, not all of it. I heard some of it.

Lucas removed his shirt. A lot of other guys removed their shirts. Not all of them.

I didn’t remove my shirt. I wasn’t ready.

Someone was fussing with a belt buckle. I didn’t notice, I wasn’t ready.

There was some hugging going on. Then some guys were kissing. I didn’t have a problem with gay guys, I knew several in college. Then the guys were holding each other. I didn’t notice, I wasn’t ready.

I was sitting on the carpeted floor. Watching Lucas and my new friends for a while. I don’t know what they were doing. I watched, but nothing registered. I wasn’t ready.

After an hour or so, everyone was putting their clothes back on.

Jack spun the Blue Rose again, and spoke.

Mostly he repeated everything that he had started with.

As we all filed into the office, to put our shoes on and recover our stuff from the shoe boxes, I realized that I felt great. This had been the best party ever. I spent most of it sitting on the floor, watching everyone else have fun—but it had been great.

Lucas had been mostly right. It hadn’t been “perfect, physical bliss”—but it had been nice, very nice. I had had a great time.

I went to class that week. Not every class, not every period—don’t be crazy. I wasn’t taking college seriously. I was just going to a couple of classes. And writing a couple of papers.

I missed going to the beach two days that week; I spent that time reading text books.

Later that same week, Lucas took me to another evening at the Blue Rose.

It was great. I have never had so much fun at a party before.

That weekend, my partying started much later than usual. Friday afternoon, I was reading a textbook and forgot to take any drugs. Saturday night the beach had a “booze-and-cruise” on the sand, I went like usual; but it was less fun. I found a girl to fuck, so it wasn’t a complete waste of time. But it was less interesting than normal—both the party and the fuck.

I was back in my dorm well before midnight.

Sunday I studied.

The next trip to the Blue Rose was more interesting. I guess I was more “ready”, because I noticed that the guys were getting very physical. Between the twin sessions of Jack’s rose spinning, people were having actual sex. I don’t know what happened to Lucas; I didn’t notice if he was having sex. I guess I wasn’t ready to see.

The next week, I went to class everyday, every class, every period. I had a lot of papers to catch up on, so I barely had any time to go to the beach—just two days, and only for a few hours. I fucked a girl under the boardwalk. But, it wasn’t much fun. Not as much fun as the Blue Rose.

That weekend, I partied only on Saturday evening. At that party, I did something I hadn’t done in a long time; I had sex with a guy. Some random guy. Outside in the bushes. He sucked me off.

It was nice.

That week, Lucas showed me how he made money with his “part-time, remote job”. It wasn’t complicated. He would login and work a couple of hours between classes. How many hours he worked varied wildly: five hours one week, twenty hours the next. At the end of every week they sent him money.

Lucas helped me sign up for an account—not that I intended to do anything with it.

The next time I was at the Blue Rose, someone sucked my dick. I don’t know who. It just happened.

I’m not gay, but the blow job was great. It wasn’t the “perfect, physical bliss” that Lucas spoke of, but it was close.

Jack said something about 10%. I didn’t get the whole thing. I wasn’t ready. Maybe I was ready. I didn’t know.

Classes, textbooks, papers, and studying for tests—not much time for a social life.

I tried out the part-time, remote job. It was fine. I gave it an hour or so, before Lucas and I went out on Saturday night.

Lucas and I went to an open-air concert down on the sand. It was very noisy. There was bright stage lighting near the bandstand, but it was quite dark over by the boardwalk.

Lucas held me from behind. Feeling his arms around me was nice. Neither of us was gay, so there was nothing sexual about it.

The sand was still hot from the day’s sun, so we went under the boardwalk—where it was cool, and private. His hand down my pants, I thought about the Blue Rose. My friends there. How nice it was to be with the other guys. The wonderful feeling of belonging. My fingers felt the softness of Lucas’ hair. Nothing gay about this. I thought briefly about school, and a paper that I needed to finish. Then I thought of nothing.

Lucas was zipping up my pants.

Even though it was not even midnight, we went back to the dorms. We both had work to do.

The next time Lucas and I went to the Blue Rose, I sucked Lucas off.

Lucas held me down and fucked my mouth. He was quite aggressive.

It was wonderful. Everyone was naked, of course.

Not absolutely everyone. There were two new guys. They mostly sat and watched, they weren’t ready.

The whole room came together in “perfect, physical bliss”.

I finally understood what Lucas had been going on about. It was great. We came together. Jack said something, and twenty of us all came at the same time—squirting, shouting, and flailing on the carpet. Jizz flew, or was squirted down throats, or filled condoms. All of us together.

Friends together. Bliss.

On the drive home, I remembered that while Lucas had been fucking my mouth, Jack had been with Lucas and I. Running his fingers though my hair, Jack had been telling me something. Something only for me. After that evening—every time I brushed my hair, I would think about Jack. I’d be in my dorm room, pulling a brush through my long, blonde hair—suddenly I’d think about how wonderful Jack was. How nice it is when Jack touches me. And, … something else. Something I couldn’t name. Something I couldn’t quite remember. I wasn’t ready; not quite yet.

Going to class, studying, and turning in papers did wonders for my grades. And, I started to care about school work. It was all very confusing. But, it felt good.

My first payment from the “part-time, remote job” was a lot more money than I thought that it was going to be. Apparently I had spent more hours working than I remembered. I took some cash and put it into an envelope. The cash was 10% of the money I had made. I suddenly understood the reason for the red bucket in front of the Blue Rose. Jack got 10% of everything we made. It was a good thing that Jack got 10%. Jack deserved the 10%.

I put that envelope in my pocket, and took it to the Blue Rose. I took it to Jack.

I didn’t take Lucas with me. I went alone.

Jack answered the doorbell. I said, “I couldn’t wait until the regular meeting.”

Jack smiled, and took me inside.

My envelope went into the bucket. The first of what I knew would be many envelopes.

The Blue Rose was waiting for me.

Jack gave it a flick.

It spun and twirled, spinning and tumbling; Jack spoke.

Jack took me into the old tool-room; I laid on his bed, on my back. Through the open door I could see the Blue Rose tumbling slowly, swinging on the breeze. I was ready.

One of my legs was over the edge of the bed; the sole of my foot resting flat on the soft, warm, carpeted floor. My other leg, I lifted straight up in the air—resting it on Jack’s shoulder. We were naked, somehow.

I had never been fucked—until then. I had never wanted to—until then.

Jack entered me.

It was perfect, physical bliss.