The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Chapter 1: Making a Puma Boy

9pm. Fuck. My buddy barged into my dorm room to tell me he just ran across my girlfriend in the quad, And she looked pissed. As. Hell. Man, was it really Sarah’s birthday? Why didn’t the bitch tell me? Not that it mattered. I was going to dump her tomorrow anyway. I just don’t want her to ruin my chances with the rest of her hot friends. Jessica, Krissie, that blonde whore with the huge tits...Julie? Janie? Whatever. Had I known today was her birthday, I would have dumped her a week ago. Now I have to deal with hearing I’m the asshole prick for the next fuckin’ week...

It didnt seem to matter to Nikki, tho, and so I let her keep fondling me and doing whatever the hell she was doing. I’d deal with Sarah later...hell, Nikki was a good lay and like I was going to give that up...

My name is Ryan. I’m 20 and a sophomore at a private, midwest college. Yeah, brains got me in—but soccer paid the bills—and the body brought the girls. They loved the innocent blonde boy with the devilish smile and the chiseled 6-pack. I loved how much pussy came my way. You could say I had it made. Somehow I also landed an intelligent, hot, rich girlfriend, Sarah, who was completely oblivious to the other girls. Not like I was gonna clue her in. She was too damn busy anyway with her business classes to give a fuck who I was...well, fucking. It certainly wasn’t her—hot girl, total prude. And I needed my release. So really...it was her own damn fault.

Unlike high school, the profs didn’t really give a damn what I did—just as long as my team did well. I barely had to study and the only time I did was for that fag in history. He was always going on about how important history was and how I needed to apply myself more and blah blah blah. Dude, like I give a fuck? But even with coach threatening him and tearing him a new one for not understanding how important I am, the faggot never gave in. Yeah, its always the cocksuckers who don’t get how important sports are—and the little bitch gave me a B. Whatever man, like it matters.

The only real problem I have this year is with my roommate. Last year, my soccer bud Dave promised he and I were going to get a sweet dorm together. It’d be small—but we’d have our own bathroom, kitchen, and as much sex as we wanted with the new frosh living next door. Awesome. Too bad Dave forgot to tell me that he got stoned way too much...and failed out. Dude, so not cool. Now I’m stuck with this library geek of a roommate. Mark is a transfer and a year ahead of me. Psych, pre-med, total nose-in-book guy. At the beginning, I thought—fine. This dweeb will never be here...and if he is, I’ll make sure to scare him out. But over the past few weeks, Mark has gotten too comfortable. He’s been around more often. Quiet. Keeps to himself. Totally creeps me out. Fine, whatever. But now I think the kid’s a queer. My roommate, fagging out on me. Occasionally I swear I would catch him looking at me from his desk for no reason. I didn’t think much of it....but last night as I was crashing in my bed after a great frat party, I swore he got up and just stared at me in the dark. I don’t remember too much more—but I’m starting to worry I’m with a psycho. Seriously, dude. What a freak!

10pm. Double fuck. Nikki’s come and gone and now Sarah’s calling.

“Hey babe”

“Ryan, we need to talk....”

“Listen, Sarah, I meant to tell you...”

“What Ryan? What did you forget?”

“I had something planned at my place for you for your birthday....”

“Knock it off, Ryan. I can’t believe you forgot. Seriously. Of all the days...”

“I didn’t forget, babe.”

“Oh really? Really? Then why did my parents and I just wait 2 hours for you to show up to dinner? And you never came. You never called, you never answered your phone, for all I know you were dead somewhere...”

“Sarah, I think you’re being dramatic”

“Fuck you, Ryan. I can’t believe you. This is incredible. Let me tell you how badly you’ve screwed up, ok?”

Damn. I wasn’t ready for this...

“Listen, Sarah, I need to go, I’ll call you later...”

“You will not call me fucking later you son of a...<click>“

Well, that could have gone better. Shit. Too bad Nikki isn’t still around...man, that Sarah’s a bitch. She needs to loosen up. Now, she’s ruined my night...dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

1am. Great. Looook who’s here. The perv roomie. Mr. Bookfag himself. I’ve been drinking and watchin sports recaps when Mark walks in. I tell him to take a load off and have a drink with me. Not like I wanted him to, but I was trying to be nice. But no, he’s too much of a dork to hang with a hot jock like me. Man, he probably is so f’n jealous of my body and how hot I am. I wonder if he’s even gotten with one girl yet this year. Loser. What the hellll is my roommate doing now? Whatever. Looks like he’s back to “studying.” I tell him he needs to loosen up, but he doesn’t say a word. I’m back watchin sports, thinking of how hot Sarah would have been....shit. Stupid bitch.

“Rough night?” Look. The mute finally decides to talk.

“Like it matters to you, man. Go back to your stupid books.” Mark pauses, then walks over and takes a seat next to the couch,

“Hey Ryan, I know the Sarah thing has you pissed.”

“Fuchhhk her man. She’s a slut. And what the hell do you know, anyway?”

“Listen, Ryan, I have something that could help. Want to completely forget about Sarah and feel incredibly good?”

“Great. I live with a fag coke head. Are you kidding me?”

“No, man. Not drugs. In psych class the other day we learned a....reframing technique. Seems to work really well. People felt incredible afterwards.”

“Man...alright. Can’t hurt. What’s this trick?”

“Just sit up, feet on the ground, take a big breath in....that’s it. Now let it out and just listen to my voice.”

“You are a strong, really built guy, Ryan—so this should be really easy for you. All you need to do is focus on your hands and clasp them together. Clasp them as tight as you can. Good. That’s right.

Now focus on them and as you listen to my words, you’ll find your hands coming more and more together, tighter and tighter, with every word that I say. With every breath, you’ll find your hands becoming tighter and tighter—from your fingertips all the way down your arms. Good.

You are doing great. Tighter and tighter, more and more, with every word I say. Ryan, you can now imagine that your hands are cementing together, gluing together, trapped shut. The cement hardening, your hands tight and locked together, impossible to break. In fact, the more you try to pull your hands apart, the more difficult it will become. The more and more you try, the more impossible it becomes. Convinced your hands are simply stuck together. Hands locked.

Now on the count of 3, Ryan...”

7:25am. I love mornings where I wake up before the alarm goes off. The room is dead silent, so Mark must’ve already headed to class. That means I can do whatever the hell I want until I head out...not like I don’t anyway.

Man, what a really weird dream last night. Something about an elevator and then...man, what was it? Something smelling really good. Damn, I shouldn’t have drunk so much. Funny that I feel really good this morning. Wow, just thinking about that smell...I’m getting harder. My 8 inch cock is so hard it’s painful. I better take care of it.

7:26am. NGHH. Holy SHIT. How the fuck did I cum so fast? I started jacking off and within a few seconds, I look like I completely emptied my balls. I’ve never cum this fast or this hard in my life. I look like a fucking porn job. All I was thinking about was that smell shoved in my face...being all I could breathe...what the hell was it? FUCK. Why am I getting hard again just....

7:28am. What’s wrong with me today? I am too damn fucking horny. All because of that sme...NO. Not thinking about it. Ok, Ryan, get the hell out of bed. You’re a fucking mess. Dammit...my bed is drenched in cum and sweat. That’s so fucking gross. I can’t believe I came TWICE....my balls hurt bad...cumming so hard just thinking about...NO. Fuck. NO. Going to take a shower. Man, I need to keep my mind occupied.

I know, how about I clean up in here? This place is a pit and it’ll give me something else to do for a few minutes. Then I can take a shower...

9am. Awesome. The place looks spotless. Vacuumed, kitchen scrubbed, windows cleaned, beds made, all of Mark’s books in order. Dude, I didn’t realize how much his mess was driving me crazy. It looks so much better now. I just hope he keeps it that way. I realized a few minutes in that I was missing class...but getting the room organized felt good. And who the fuck cares about econ anyway? I’ll take a shower, run to philosophy, grab some lunch, and then hit the gym. Man, I feel like I’ve gotten a lot done today, and it’s only 9am! I can already feel that I’m going to have a great lifting day. My biceps and chest totally need it.

4pm. Man, today has been the weirdest day. I don’t know where to begin. For some reason, philosophy—the class that sucks so bad it puts me to sleep every time—was amazing. The professor was really good today. I didn’t realize what a genius the man was. I can’t believe my friends didn’t notice that much of a difference—it was like the man suddenly learned how to teach! I think I freaked him out when I stayed to ask him a few questions after class. Dude, whatever, maybe I should be a philosphy major? And then, on my way out, this guy walked past and had the most amazing pair of puma speedcats I’d ever seen. Seriously, they looked like your standard black speedcats—but there was something fucking great about them. I had to ask him where he got them.

“Hey, Dude, dude? Wait up.”

“Hey...uh...Ryan.”

“Dude, awesome sneaks. Where’d you get them?”

“Uh...the shoe store?”

“Man, they musta been expensive. Yours look great.”

“...just your regular pumas...kinda worn in, had them for a few months...”

“Hey, lemme buy em from you.” Whoa. What was I saying? Did I just offer to buy his used shoes? They were great tho. I couldn’t let them go.

“Ryan, you...you want to buy my shoes? Dude, you can get a new pair for like 70 bucks...”

“What’s your name?”

“Jake”

“Jake, I’ll give you 100 bucks for them right now.”

“Ha, ok, Ryan. Game’s up. What the hell would I wear, then?”

“I swear. Here’s the cash. Hell, I’ll even give you my Shox. We look like the same size. Whattya say?”

100 bucks lighter and in my new, used pumas, I felt like a new man. That Jake kid is kinda cool, man. All the way to the gym I felt like I was walking on air, my feet tight in some other guys’ pumas—all warm and comfortable. I made sure to put them on right after Jake gave em to me—keep em all nice and toasty.

Did I just buy someone’s used fucking shoes? It didn’t matter. They felt great. And all through lifting I was doing incredible—I never realized sneaks could make a difference! I was lifting 15 pounds heavier than yesterday and it felt effortless! I’m definitely going to get ripped now. I wonder what Mark is going to think of my new shoes...

7pm. Sarah called a few times, so did Tom and Eric. Whatever, they can leave a message. I just needed to hang in a bit and get some stuff done. Worked on homework (that’s a first!), did some laundry, made a little dinner. I realized Mark had accidentally put his dirty laundry in my basket while I was on my way down to the washer. It wasn’t much—he can pay me back. I’ve got to ask him what cologne he uses...his clothes smelled great. I got worried for a moment as I put his clothes in the wash...one of his socks smelled so fucking great. Shit, Ryan, are you turning into a fag? What the hell are you...and then I realized it was just fine. No worries. It was that cologne. Must have been it. I definitely needed to get some...

“Yo Mark, where ya been?”

“Uhh....hi...uh Ryan. I just got back from studying. What’s up?”

“Dude, check out my new sneaks!”

“Wow, er...pumas. Nice. Where’d you get them?”

“This guy—Jake—I saw them on him and dude, he totally let me buy em from him. Aren’t they awesome? Oh, and dude, you put your dirty clothes in my basket. I’ll do em this time, but you owe me.”

“...it totally worked...I....”

“Mark, dude, what worked?”

“Ryan, nothing. Nothing. Yeah, those are great shoes. They look great on you. Mind if I try them on?”

“No problem—go ahead!” I tossed my new speedcats to Mark and noticed him look at them for a brief second before slipping them on.

“Wow, you’re right, Ryan. They are great. These pumas are definitely hot. Don’t you think my shoes are hot, Ryan?”

Huh? His shoes? I mean, I guess I never paid attention to sneaks before...but yeah, his pumas looked hot. Way hot. In fact, Mark had the hottest shoes on ever.

“Hey Ryan? Ryan? Where are your shoes?” I looked down. Huh, I guess I forgot to put on any. That’s weird, they aren’t by the door. All well, they must be here somewhere.

“I don’t know, dude. Maybe I should get some pumas like yours tho. They are hot.”

“Maybe, Ryan. Hey, do me a favor. Look at the puma logo right at the tip of my shoe. Can you see it, all white and looking like it’s jumping up? Just focus even more on it. Good. Very good. Just letting yourself go with every word...

Going deeper and deeper...

and, in the count of 3 when I say puma boy, falling 10 times deeper than the deepest trance you’ve ever been in...fully obeying every word I say, letting everything else drift away....

3 going deeper and deeper

2 so heavy, so relaxed, deeper with every word

1.....

puma boy....