The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

To say that Ronald Welch had had better days would be a gross understatement. At the company’s summer barbeque the prior week, he had complemented a female coworker’s summer dress. “It really brings out your eyes,” Ronald said, while the young woman tried to smile politely. “And not only your eyes, if you know what I mean,” Ronald added with a wry smile. The coworker’s smile tightened. “I’m sorry, I have to...” she started saying as she walked away. “Are you doing anything this weekend?” Ronald shouted after her. She kept walking.

And now, he had been invited by HR to “a friendly conversation about workplace conduct”. At 11:30 sharp, Ronald walked over to the Fishbowl—a conference room with glass walls opposite the employee kitchen—to find the HR rep waiting for him. The HR rep, a preppy twenty-something guy who barely looked a day older than Ronald’s own stepson Tyler, introduced himself as Brett. Brett was wearing slacks and a polo shirt that made no secret of the athletic body underneath. This kid can’t even dress professionally, Ronald thought as his hands straightened his dress shirt collar and tie.

“I hope you don’t mind the room,” Brett said. “With the audits going on, every other room was booked. Are you comfortable talking here?” Am I comfortable being a lectured by a high schooler in front of the whole kitchen right before lunch? Sure, Ronald thought. But he said nothing. Maybe it was the matter-of-factness in Brett’s tone or the muscles from under Brett’s polo, but something made Ronald’s voice feel too unsure of itself to produce sound. Instead, Ronald found himself just nodding and silent praying for the ordeal to end.

Brett began to pace the room back and forth, with Ronald’s eyes following him. He began talking about how it was great that Ronald was taking the time to get acquainted with his coworkers, but how important it was to recognize that different people may have different boundaries from his own. The longer Brett kept talking, the more pathetic Ronald felt being lectured by this impudent young jock. All of Ronald’s industry experience and expertise seemed irrelevant here—somehow this kid Brett was sure he had something to teach him, and Ronald was powerless to object. He imagined Brett trying to pick up that girl at the barbeque, perhaps stretching his arms overhead to make his arms pop out and flex. He imagined the girl smiling back, flirting, seemingly hypnotized by the boy’s charm. And here he was, trapped in The Fishbowl with this boy who seemed to be lording his power over the supposedly more senior employee in front of everyone, still pacing back and forth as he spoke, compelling Ronald’s eyes to follow him. Sounding ever so professional, Brett’s every word seemed to numb Ronald’s mind and wear down his confidence.

By the time the ordeal came to a close, it was already lunchtime. The kitchen was full of people, casting occasional glances at Ronald in the Fishbowl. As Brett thanked Ronald for his time and invited Ronald to reach out if he has any questions, Ronald mustered a whimper of a smile and tiptoed to the door. He made a beeline for his cubicle, plunked himself in his chair, and covered his face in his hands. He felt exhausted, drained, humiliated, and pathetic. His head felt heavy, too heavy to keep up. He plunked his arms on the desk, laid his head atop his arms, and felt his eyelids collapse shut. The world drifted away...

Ronald was awakened by the sound of his desk phone. Someone who seemed to know his name and personal details was calling to offer him a free trial of a new home fitness service. “You know,” the caller said, “strength isn’t just about your body. Strength is what projects to other people that they can’t just walk over you. It’s what determines whether you’re in control or being controlled. Now, I don’t know if you’re someone who feels your control slipping away whenever someone stronger or more confident talks to you, but if you are—you’re exactly the kind of person we want to help. Because the more you think about it, the sooner you realize that the longer you wait, the further you’ll fall behind those other people. It’s almost as though no matter what you bring to the table, you feel to weak to keep up...”

Before Ronald could think about what was happening, he had signed up to try the program.

Ronald came home early to have time to get ready for his home fitness appointment. He was relieved to find his stepson Tyler gone—something about having his muscular teenage stepson see Ronald’s own sad frame in gym shorts and a tank top felt uncomfortable, even disturbing. Tyler had never lorded his physical supremacy over his stepfather, but he had never gone the extra mile to hide it either. Perhaps being judged by the trainer wouldn’t be so bad—surely a professional trainer would have seen worse. After all, Ronald wasn’t infirm or morbidly obese. Sure, he was a bit too skinny in some places and too ample in others, but he couldn’t have been the worst...

The ring of the doorbell interrupted Ronald’s ruminations. Somehow, on this day the doorbell sounded particularly shrill. Ronald donned his most pleasant practiced smile, pulled back his shoulders, puffed out his chest as far as it would go, and walked to the door.

Opening the door, he saw a muscular figure in a shirt that revealed his powerful build without appearing designed to do so. The man’s gaze and strength felt intimidating despite his disarming smile. For a moment, Ronald found his gaze captivated by the man as the man reached out and shook Ronald’s hand. Then, Ronald’s gaze darted further. That was when he saw his stepson.

The muscular man shaking Ronald’s hand spoke first: “I’m Byron, we spoke on the phone. I believe you know Tyler...”

“Hi,” Tyler said, his voice uncertain yet deep. The shirt on Tyler seemed to be meant for someone a size smaller and stretched tightly over Tyler’s muscular arms, shoulders, and chest.

“Hi,” Ronald’s mouth exhaled in barely a whisper.

“You must be Ron,” Byron continued.

“Ronald,” Ronald corrected.

“Ah, Ronald, I see,” Byron said with a wry smile. “May we come in?”

Disoriented, Ronald nodded and stepped aside. Byron and Tyler entered. Byron motioned for Ronald to sit on the sofa. Byron and Tyler stood opposite him.

“Ok, let’s get started,” Byron began. In this first session, we’ll get into deeper understanding what you want to accomplish, and maybe have you try some... exercises that will make you feel really good and invested in this journey. Sound good, Ron?”

“Ronald,” Ronald corrected again.

“Ah, right, sorry,” Byron said. “It just takes a while to get used to ‘Ronald’ because most people I know don’t insist on using their full names in casual conversation. The few who do tend to be people who feel small, so they need bigger names to make themselves feel bigger. Do you know anyone like that, Ronald?”

Ronald stared straight ahead, as if unable to make his voice speak.

“Of course, we’re happy to use whatever name you prefer. The important thing is that to succeed, you have to be honest with yourself about where you are now. And that starts with making the choice to stop hiding small strength behind a big name. So what do you think, Ron? Is it ok to keep calling you Ron?”

Ronald felt tongue-tied. He couldn’t believe a trainer would judge him so directly. Yet he couldn’t let on that he felt weak and intimidated by Byron’s words, by Byron’s body, and especially by looking weak in front of his own teenage stepson.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” said Byron, breaking Ronald’s silence. “It’s ok to feel intimidated. You’ve built all these walls in your psyche to hide your weaknesses from the outside world. You hide behind formal work clothes, your job title, your nice car... but you can’t hide from yourself. The good news is, you don’t have to. Those who have real strength don’t need to hide. Just look at Tyler.”

Turning to Tyler, Byron said, “Hey, Ty, flex your biceps for a sec!” Tyler lifted his arms and his biceps gathered into bulgy spherical mounds protruding from the tight t-shirt sleeves.

“Do you see that?” Byron kept talking to Ronald, whose frame seemed to hunch more with every second. “Hey Ty, let Ronald cop a feel.” Tyler lowered his arms, walked over to his overwhelmed stepfather, bent down slightly so his upper arm was level with his astonished stepfather’s face, and tightened his bicep an inch away from Ronald’s eyes. Ronald remained slouched and speechless, his mouth agape.

“That’s right, Ty” Byron kept talking in an even rhythm, “just flex and relax, flex and relax, nice deep even rhythm. And Ron, you may find that being close to strength like this might make your mind feel a bit overwhelmed. Almost as if Tyler’s muscle is stronger than all the walls you’ve built in your mind... All those walls that kept you feeling safe and strong... And as all these defenses crumble now, it’s perfectly fine to feel overpowered... surrendered.. conquered... Once this happens, it’s perfectly find to place your hand on Tyler’s bicep because when you accept your weakness, it’s natural to submit to another’s strength...”

Ronald felt his hand rise as if carried by an unseen force. It drifted through the air to his teenage stepson’s arm and landed on the bicep just as Tyler began another hypnotic flex. Ronald felt the mass of muscle rise and press into his palm. He found his fingers cupping the bicep, as if grasping it for strength to make up for his own weakness. His eyes felt glued to the teenager’s body as much as his hand was. Ronald briefly wondered what he would see in Tyler’s eyes if his own eyes could look away from Tyler’s muscles. Was Tyler enjoying reducing his own stepfather to the pitiful form Ronald felt himself become?

“That’s right,” Byron continued softly. “It can sink into your mind now, Ron, that because Tyler has all this strength inside him, he doesn’t have to build mental walls to hide from the outside world. For instance, I’m sure he doesn’t mind me addressing him with a short name, do you, Ty?”

“No,” Tyler replied as he dutifully continued entrancing Ronald with his arm.

“And I bet Tyler doesn’t feel the need to make desperate clumsy passes at women, do you, Ty?”

“Nope,” Tyler replied as he kept flexing.

“That’s right,” Byron continued. “I know all about that, Ron. The stronger a man becomes, the more his confidence and magnetism grow. That’s why Tyler is so much better at picking up women than you. Tyler knows what they’ll see when he takes off his shirt. Go ahead, Ty, take off your shirt, give Ron a flex.”

Tyler crossed his arms, briefly flexing his triceps and pecs through the tight shirt, reached for the bottom of his shirt, and pulled it up and over his head. Tyler finally understood what Byron was trying to do, what Ronald’s deep, irresistible need was. He realized he had sensed it long before in Ronald’s attempts to avoid him ever since he started training. Now, he knew what he needed to do next. Throwing his shirt over to Byron, Tyler bounced his pecs in a slow, hypnotic rhythm, one after the other.

“That’s right,” Tyler said in a slow, smooth voice, making a deliberate effort to sound as much like Byron as he could. Tyler placed one knee on the couch between Ronald’s legs, barely an inch away from Ronald’s crotch. “It’s ok to touch my body, Ron. Don’t fight it.” Ronald felt his hands become magnetized to the teenager’s bouncing pecs.

“There you go. You’re so much weaker than me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Ronald mumbled.

“That’s right. It’s natural for the weak to surrender to the strong, isn’t it?” Tyler continued.

“Yes,” Ronald whimpered.

“Then you can get down on your knees. Right on the floor here,” Tyler said.

Ronald felt like he barely had the strength to move, but somehow his body clambered off the couch of its own accord. Ronald found himself collapse onto the floor, with his teenage jock stepson turning his crotch toward him.

“That’s right, Ron. Try to resist sniffing my crotch Ron. Try to resist what the smell of my manhood does inside your brain.”

For several seconds, Ronald fought the urge, but even as he did, he felt his mind and his manhood surrender. His head began leaning toward the bulge in Tyler’s shorts until his nose touched it. Don’t do it, Ronald begged his own mesmerized brain, please don’t do it! But he could only hold his breath so long. Before he realized what was happening, he took a deep breath through his nose and inhaled the scent of the teenage jock’s manhood.

“Good boy, Ron. You want it so bad, don’t you? Can you even resist pulling down my shorts and underwear so your hands can worship my quads and your lips can worship my cock?”

For moments longer, Ronald tried to push back the surrender of his sexuality, but soon he felt himself take another breath, and another burst of his stepson’s scent invaded and overpowered him. His arms rose to pull down the jock’s shorts and boxer briefs, revealing his hardening cock and his bulging legs. As the last of his will faded, Ron felt his hands glide up and down Tyler’s flexing quads as his lips drifted to the tip of the jock’s cock and kissed it slowly, over and over.

“Now you’re in your rightful place, Ron, right where you belong. Surrendering. Worshipping. Obeying. And just as my cock scent overpowers you, my words overpower you, my will overpowers you. That feels so good, doesn’t it, Ron?”

“Mmmmm,” Ron moaned in between kisses on his stepson’s cock.

“The more you breathe, the more you obey. Go head, Ron, confess how deep you crave and obey me.”

Ronald paused kissing Tyler’s cock, and, for the first time since the ordeal began, raised his eyes to meet Tyler’s. “I obey you,” he whispered. “I crave you.”

“Good,” Tyler said, looking into deep into his conquered stepfather’s eyes without a hint of emotion. “And because you need me so much, you’ll love training with me. You’ll love obeying my instructions when you work out with me. And in between training sessions, when you eat what I tell you to eat and exercise how I tell you to exercise, it’s gonna feel so good to obey me, won’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” Ron whispered.

“Good. Maybe as you obey my instructions, your mind will remember the smell of my cock, kind of like it’s being planted deep inside you with every breath. Go ahead, Ron, breathe it in and feel it take over.”

Ron took a deep breath, and as the scent assaulted him, he felt his mind start to fade.

“That’s right. Let it overpower you. So intense. So hypnotic. Close your eyes and keep breathing.”

With his eyes closed, Ron could only focus on the overpowering scent of his new master. It felt as though the room around him was starting to spin, as though his body was on the brink of falling, as though only the body of the teenage master in front of him was steady. He held onto Tyler’s legs tighter, even as the immensity of Tyler’s quads made him feel more overpowered.

“Haha, you’re so close to dropping now, Ron. So heavy. So sleepy. Each time you feel my legs flex, imagine your neck between them in a choke hold. So I’m gonna choke you out to sleep now. Ready? Three...”

Tyler flexed his powerful quads, so his stepfather’s hands could feel it. Ron suddenly fill pressure around his neck, incapacitating and suffocating him. Ron’s closed eyelids began to flutter, his head swaying back and forth as though dangling from his limp neck. Tyler relaxed his quads.

“Two...”

Another flex, and suddenly Ron’s whole body started to rock back and forth. Each time his body rocked toward Tyler’s crotch, Ron took another breath, almost as if his unconscious was becoming addicted to Tyler’s scent.

“One..."”

Tyler’s legs flexed again, and Ron felt the last of his awareness drain out of his mind, as he felt Tyler’s powerful quads squeezing his neck into sleep.

“Sleep!” Tyler said loudly, and Ron could barely feel himself fall. The world was a million miles away.

Tyler pulled up his pants and walked over to Byron.

“How did I do?” Tyler asked with a contented smile.

“You’re a fast learner,” Byron said. “Of course,” Byron smiled mischievously, “it helps to have a good teacher.”

“What are you talking about?” Tyler said. “You didn’t teach me how to do that.”

“Didn’t I?” Byron’s smile was growing wider now.

“Well, you told me that thing about his deep irresistible need in the car. Ok, that helped. But you gotta admit, I took it all the way from there.”

“Perhaps you did,” Byron said, his smiling unfading. “But can you remember what happened earlier today after I knocked you out and before you woke up?”

Tyler was drawing a blank.

“Can you remember the technique I showed you? How I took off my shirt, just like this?” Byron took off his shirt and began flexing his bulging pecs.

“How I started flexing my pecs just like this? How I emphasized the importance of a slow hypnotic rhythm because your unconscious mind helplessly accepts that rhythm, follows that rhythm, and feels your thoughts slow down with that rhythm now...

“And how I told you how to convert that muscle trance into an internalized obedient submission? Perhaps by suggesting that the subject drop to his knees? Go ahead, fall to your knees, maybe you’ll remember. Your legs are getting so weak now.”

Tyler felt his legs start to wobble. His leg muscles started tensing to try to keep him steady, but it was no use. Byron’s body was stronger than Tyler’s mind, and in seconds, the teenager felt strength draining out of his legs.

“That’s right,” Byron continued, “as your legs collapse, you can hand hold onto my body to steady yourself. It’s ok to touch my body, Ty, don’t fight it.”

Tyler’s legs gave way, and Tyler dropped to his knees in front of the older man’s crotch.

“That’s right,” Byron kept cooing. “The body contact makes the subject viscerally experience the dominator’s strength. It’s natural to surrender to the more powerful, isn’t it? Perhaps you can remember me teaching this to you as you demonstrated it to Ron. You might even remember me teaching you how irresistible it then becomes for the weaker man to crave the scent of the stronger man’s manhood. Go ahead, try to resist pulling down my pants and worshipping my legs and cock.”

Tyler felt his body shake as his muscles tried to tighten to resist the sudden impulse, but as his head leaned toward Byron’s shorts and his nose took a sniff. The scent swirled inside his mind like a tornado, picking up and scattering all his thoughts. He barely noticed his hands rising to pull down Byron’s shorts and caress his quads, as Tyler’s lips longingly kissed the tip of Byron’s cock.

“That’s right,” Byron said. “You submitted even faster than you did earlier today. This is becoming more and more natural for you. And, as I taught you earlier, when you make the subject affirm a feeling or a belief, it becomes more binding, more compelling. So notice what happens when you affirm your need and craving for me now.”

Tyler took another breath of his master’s cock, and suddenly felt himself overcome with desire. “Please,” he moaned, as his mouth kept worshipping the stronger man’s cock. “I need you. I crave you.” As Tyler said these words, he felt them sink into his mind. He really needed the man in front of him. Needed to obey him. Needed to be with him. Needed to belong to him.

“Good. And you may now remember the next step—binding the sub’s obedience to the scent of your cock. Go ahead, take a nice deep breath for me, and feel that scent burn into your mind, taking control whenever it’s time to obey a suggestion.”

Tyler took another breath and felt Byron’s scent assault him, incapacitate him, addict him, enslave him.

“That’s right, enjoy it as you feel it happen now. Feeling that scent, that power, become absorbed deep into your identity. Now, normally, this is where one puts the subject to sleep to let it all sink in, as I did with you earlier and as you did with Ron. Sleep gives the mind time to internalize everything. But since you’ve already experienced that, I’ll do something else now. I’ll make you cum. Go ahead, take out your cock.”

Tyler stood up on his knees slightly, just enough to pull his shorts and boxer briefs down halfway. His cock had already been hard. Feeling his touch now, as Tyler kept inhaling Byron’s scent, Tyler’s cock began to throb.

“That’s right. Just stroke it now, feeling so good. Breathe my scent in as you stroke. We’re going to create a very powerful connection between the need in your cock and the smell of mine. It’s basic Pavlovian conditioning, yet even when you’re aware of the technique, it’s irresistibly effective. Try to resist all the pleasure building up inside you. Try to fight how that pleasure makes you crave to surrender your will, your control, your sexuality, your cum for me. The closer you get to cumming, the more mine you become. Try to resist, Ty. Try to resist feeling my quads around your head, suffocating your will, your control, your resistance...“

Byron flexed and relaxed his quads as the helpless teenager stroked his cock faster and faster, feeling his mind and control squeezed and overcome by the older man’s strength.

“Try to resist all your muscles spasming to flex your cum out of you. Try to resist how your legs can flex and tighten against your balls to push them to surrender your cum to me. Try to resist how your cum absorbs what’s left of your resistance to me, so that when your cum drains out, your resistance drains out.”

“Mmmmmf, gonna cum!” Tyler moaned.

“Good boy,” Byron said. Go ahead. Cum for me. Cum... cum... cum... cum... cum...”

Byron’s words kept looping, assaulting Tyler’s hypnotized brain together with Byron’s muscles and Byron’s cock scent.

“Cum... cum... cum...”

Strong as he was, Tyler was no match for Byron, and the teenager’s cock was leaking, throbbing, and vibrating with that need to surrender completely. Tyler’s moans got louder, until -

“... cum... cum.... cum...”

It was as though an electric current passed through the tip of Tyler’s cock as bullets of cum exploded from it.

“That’s right,” Byron said. “Surrender every last drop. All your cum belongs to me now. Good boy.”

Tyler squeezed out the last of his cum. His body felt exhausted and heavy.

“Good boy,” Byron repeated. “After someone is drained like you are, it’s very easy for them to drift off to sleep. But... we have something to discuss before we get going. Stand up for me.”

Tyler stood up and looked into Byron’s deep green eyes. They seemed even more captivating and disorienting than they did when he first looked into them yesterday.

“Since Ron is now your client and your slave, it probably doesn’t make sense for you to keep living with him. I mean, can you imagine just what the scent of you would do to him every day he comes home?”

Tyler felt his awareness slowly return. He imagined Ron coming home from work and dropping to his knees like some pathetic desperate lapdog. It seemed amusing to Tyler, but he realized he’d soon get tired of it.

“And since surrendering your cum to me felt so good, I think you’ll find yourself craving to do it more and more often.”

Tyler’s cock, still red from being conquered moments ago, stirred again.

“So, how would you like to live with me? I’ve got plenty of space, and you can use my home gym whenever you want. Might even learn a thing or two,” Byron winked. “This is not a command. This will be completely your own free choice. Besides—you need a father figure in your life, and clearly that over there...” he nodded in Ron’s direction “... won’t cut it. So, what do you say?”

Tyler shook his head and rubbed his eyes, to make sure he was fully awake. He had been dreaming of ditching his stepfather for years, but something felt unsettling.

“You just took control of me, just like that. And I can’t remember most of the time I spent with you,” Tyler said.

“You’ll have plenty of time in the day under your own control. But, if you don’t want to be close to me, I understand,” Byron slowly replied.

But Tyler did want to be close to Byron. Everything in his body craved to be in the older jock’s embrace, under his control and guidance.

“Ugh, I’m not sure I’m making my own decision,” Tyler clenched his teeth trying to concentrate.

“Do you want to stay here long enough to be sure?” Byron asked.

Tyler thought about it for a moment.

“No,” he said. “I want to get out of here.”

“Good,” Byron said smiling. Go pack what you need. Don’t worry about the mess you made on the floor. I’ll have Ron clean it when he wakes up.”

Epilogue

The early autumn sun streamed through the windows of Byron’s bedroom. Tyler stirred awake and saw Byron already awake next to him, iPad in hand. “Morning,” Tyler said, kissing Byron’s lips, as his hand darted under the blanket to lightly touch Byron’s cock. Tyler had never been a morning person before moving in with Byron, but something about waking up next to the man he craved more than anything in the world made his mornings immensely satisfying.

“Mmmm, good boy,” Byron said, smiling. He pulled Tyler into his arms, gliding his fingers up and down the muscular teenager’s spine, making Tyler moan with pleasure. “You know,” Byron continued, “I was thinking: maybe you feel lonely now that all your school friends are off to college.”

“I don’t! I swear, I’m really happy here,” Tyler said emphatically, the pleasure of Byron’s touch still reverberating through his body.

“Good,” Byron said. “But... sometimes it’s good to be around people your own age.”

“Are you gonna find me a friend?” Tyler smiled mischievously.

Byron smiled back, running his hand through the teenager’s hair.

“Actually,” he replied, “I was thinking more like a brother.”