The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Meanwhile, as Carl thoroughly brainwashed the Hasletts into helping him enslave and humiliate more upstanding citizens in their community, Carl’s tendril of control still snaked all the way back to his own household.

Because just like clockwork, Carl’s father, Sergeant Allen Rickson, was about to start his daily evening ritual. Allen had always been a bit of a hardass, a stickler for rules that put the rest of his platoon to shame during his days in the barracks. He was always the first one in, and the last one out, often outperforming even his superiors when it came to both morning drills and nighttime training.

You’d think that having a role model like that meant Carl would be prim and disciplined and proper himself. After all, it was normal for a son to look up to his father—and Allen was a humble man, but he expected his son to want to follow in his own footsteps. But somehow, Carl was the one person that wasn’t impressed by Allen’s achievements.

In fact, Carl grew to resent how his father would wake up at the crack of dawn with military precision, and do the same old routine every day, ending his evening at a respectable time each night to do the same thing all over again the next day. He loathed the thinly veiled disdain his father had towards Carl’s own routine. As a chubby gamer boy with no athletic ability or professional ambition, Carl was the night owl to Allen’s early bird.

After years of trying to change his son, Allen eventually threw his hands up and left him alone. And, in the paradoxical ways of all parental relationships, that actually hurt Carl more than Allen’s earlier attempts to change him ever did. Unfortunately for Allen, it was his own discipline and predictability that became his undoing. Carl’s disdain for his father made Allen the perfect first candidate for Carl’s binaural beats.

Carl knew exactly what time his dad would be unwinding for the night—the perfect time to dose him with his binaural beats. Carl knew the exact steps of his dad’s routine, so he could test his control with the tiniest changes. He was going to take complete control over his dad’s life… And if things went according to plan, his dad would think it was his own idea.

On a basic level, Carl knew this was a necessary step in his conquest of Alice and all the other hot females he wanted to bed. He couldn’t have his dad sniffing around his business… Carl wanted a good time, not a prison sentence. But in a deeper part of Carl’s subconscious, it was this strained relationship with his father that fueled his growing desire to humiliate and defile the alpha males in his community.

He saw in the Haslett household the mirror image of what he and his father could’ve been… And ruining that idyllic image was scratching a mental itch in his brain that he didn’t know he had. Luckily for Carl, his depraved fantasies were about to come to life.

Obviously, since he was an unemployed shut-in, Carl had to ‘borrow’ funds from his dad’s credit card to purchase the binaural beat maker in the first place.

Then came the moment of truth. Carl stole his dad’s credit card and bought the binaural beats at $99.99. Not an exorbitant amount, but definitely something his dad would notice. If this didn’t work, Carl would be grounded until he graduated college.

And so, Carl’s first order of business was to program his father to ignore the charge. Once Sunday rolled along, Carl waited with bated breath as his dad read through the bills at the table... And then got up and did his evening exercise routine... And then went to bed at 10.00pm sharp.

It wasn’t until Wednesday that Carl let out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding. He might be onto something. But he needed to do a bit more experimentation to be sure. He needed to dose his dad with a more potent version of his tunes.

It had been a particularly long day, and Allen breathed a sigh of his relief as he had his nightly routine: a single shot of whiskey that he savored in his plush armchair in the living room before bed. This particular night, the stuff from the bottle hit him pretty hard—he barely even had time to get to bed.

When he awoke, he was tangled in some headphones, with that techno mumbo jumbo music playing in his ears. ‘Binaural beats’ were what Carl called them. Allen wasn’t in the mood though for an explanation though. He awoke, bloodshot eyes, a migraine from hell, and an hour late into his morning routine.

Carl flinched as Allen jumped out of the seat, and as a reflex, his son said ‘Stop!’ Allen didn’t know why, but he felt compelled to pause right there: he could feel his body stiffen up, his face frozen midway through a word, giving him a slightly dumbstruck look, muscles tensed up as he held the quite difficult pose.

Allen didn’t know this, but this was the moment that Carl realized that his experiment worked. Allen was now subconsciously primed to respect his son’s word as law—and Carl was going to have a lot of fun using his dad’s perfectly disciplined mind and perfectly conditioned body.

In fact, despite Allen feeling the burning in his thighs from his half-squat, half-standing position, he stayed there stock-still as his son surveyed his frozen form. Carl spent a minute or two watching his father in that state, idly noticing the beads of sweat forming on Allen’s brow as he braced in that position.

And with his signature smirk, Carl got to work, and it was his father’s mind that took the beating next.

Carl let Allen keep his rigid schedule, with a couple of enhancements. First things first, Allen woke up at the crack of dawn, and went straight to his home gym. It was his sanctuary, his safe space, and it was as no nonsense as he was. Just a set of weights, a squat rack and a bench—nothing fancy, spartan with just enough for the basics.

At least, that’s how it used to be. With a little prodding from his son, Allen realized that he was completely missing out on ‘maximum gains’ from his current barebones routine. Allen knew that Carl had never set foot in a gym, but for some reason, he knew that Carl was right about this.

Listening to Carl’s instructions gave Allen a deep sense of contentment, and, although he would never admit this, having his son control his body made him all kinds of hot and bothered. In fact, when he was demonstrating his squats to his son, he thought his boner was going to pop right out the top of his skimpy shorts (another recommendation from his son). Somehow, that made Allen even hornier.

This heady loop of arousal made it easier and easier for Carl to turn his dad, a once-decorated Marine, into a helpless plaything. And Allen’s humiliations start even before his son-cum-master wakes up.

After Carl’s initial ‘assessment’ of his father’s routine, the decision was made for Allen to undergo strict supervision for all future exercises. Normally, Carl would’ve scoffed at the idea of his son giving him fitness advice. He’s been keeping himself in shape since before Carl was even born! But somehow, this made perfect sense to Allen with his new frame of mind.

In fact, like the dutiful ‘student’ that he was, Allen took note of Carl’s current obsession with the local bodybuilder gym. Was that what his son thought was hot and sexy? Beefed up bodybuilders? Allen had always scoffed at the idea of training for aesthetics, but with his newfound respect for Carl, he made a mental note to add a little more accessory exercises to his routine.

Allen clicked his new professional camera on his tripod in place. His home gym was decked out with state-of-the-art gadgets now, not the least of which was his new set of cameras from many different angles.

Surprisingly, the addition of cameras was Allen’s idea. He normally was quite private about stuff like this, but after Carl missed two of the early morning workouts in a row, Allen realized that he needed to adjust his routine for his master’s convenience. Allen sat Carl down to talk about their ‘current arrangement’.

‘It’s just wrong, master,’ Allen said solemnly. Carl was about to shit his pants when his dad added, ‘I can’t expect you to wake up at the crack of dawn to discipline a knucklehead DILF like me.’ Allen said, his head hung in shame. He recovered quickly, stood up, and said with a salute, ‘But I need all the help I can get. Would it be possible for me to record my morning sessions for you? That way, you can peruse them at your own leisure, sir!’

Now it was Allen’s turn to sweat.

‘Okay, but I have a couple of conditions. Why don’t you get breakfast started and we can discuss,’ Carl replied with his sly smile.

It took Allen almost an hour to cook the feast that Carl asked for. A full English breakfast—bacons, sausages, beans, mushrooms and eggs. Actually, two sets of eggs. Carl said he wanted an omelette to start off with, but as Allen was mixing the eggs in the bowl, Carl changed his mind.

‘Hmm, start over, I want them sunny-side up instead.’ As Allen put the eggs aside to cook the rest of his son’s meal, Carl scoffed. ‘Don’t waste those. Eggs are a good source of protein, you know? If you pour them down your pants while they’re fresh, it’ll be easier for your body to absorb.’ Carl took a sip of his freshly-squeezed orange juice as he watched his dad.

Allen was ready to explain that he was going to cook the eggs for himself as soon as he finished serving his son (as all fathers should), but in a panic, he realized that he needed all the protein he could get so he could look just like the bodybuilder his son wanted him to be! As a picture of efficiency, Allen pulled the elastic of his pants and his briefs wide open, and poured the egg mixture right on his cock, balls and pubes. It was slimy and uncomfortable, but that’s the price you have to pay to maximize the protein absorption window!

As Carl sat down to eat, Allen turned to fix himself a plate of breakfast. He’d gotten as far as picking up a sausage when Carl uttered his trigger phrase, and he sank back into blissful obedience…

‘Hey Legnogg, snap out of it! You were about to tell me something?’ Allen shook his head as he heard his master’s voice. It felt like he had just woken up from a dream. It took him a second to realize that his master was talking directly to him. He was Legnogg!

He shifted his weight as he felt his now rockhard DILF dong swaying out in the breeze, with little gobs of egg making it glisten. Was Legnogg his new callsign? Getting a call sign was a big right of passage for navy aviators (and Allen would be lying if he said Top Gun wasn’t a big influence in him joining the navy to begin with)! He never did get a call sign in the end, as the navy didn’t really use them, but he felt a tinge of pride at being christened such a perfect one by his master. Score!

He didn’t let his giddiness show though. He still had something to tell his master. He looked down at his hand and he saw he was holding a sausage. Ah, right, one more thing to do before my announcement. With that, Allen shoved the sausage up his bare ass. I mean, why else was he holding it? It’s not like he was going to eat it.

As Allen’s moans subsided, he continued, ‘Sorry, sir, had to take care of business. For optimal muscle synthesis and nutrition, I’ve decided to make my own creamer for my morning coffee.’ At that, he started mercilessly jacking off his cock, pointing the business end of his ‘weapon’ at his mug of coffee. He was making a real mess of himself, but luckily, the egg from earlier helped his hand slide more easily and…

At this point, Allen couldn’t hide his grin anymore. He watched his son looking at him with a twinkle in his eye. LEGNOGG! Allen shook his head. The perfect nickname for him. Man, his master was a genius! It was just so easy being a desperate DILF slut for him, maybe Allen made the mistake of assuming the dominant role in their relationship. Allen should’ve been submitting to Carl all along. All those years wasted by Allen’s own pigheadedness.

He made sure to make up for it now though. He wanted his master to see how much of a good little jizz machine (or legnogg machine) he was! Even though every stroke was ecstasy, Allen needed to cum fast and so he did what any self-respecting man would do: he pulled the sexiest creature from his imagination and thought about them completely dominating him. Allen thought about that person hypnotizing him, making him do humiliating things for that person’s amusement. Allen imagined the person bending him over his (former) commanding officer’s desk, and having the entire team watch as his DILF ass got owned.

And who was Allen imagining? None other than the person in front of him, scarfing down his breakfast. He saw the devilish look his son had trained on him and he couldn’t handle it anymore. His knees shook as he emptied himself into the cup in front of him. He collected himself as he stood in front of his son.

Licking some legnogg that spilled on the side of his cup, Allen took a big gulp of coffee as he looked at his son. ‘Private Legnogg, reporting for duty, sir!’ the marine said with a salute.