The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

So I was having some innocent fun with these two neighborhood kids, Billy and Jason. Guys get bored on high school summer vacation anyway, and they knew me for a long time, so they thought it might be fun to try what I called “hyperrelaxation.” We had a bunch of sessions and I went through the whole Paul McKenna routine, except that instead of “sleep” and “wide awake” I used the words “way down deep” plus a touch on the head and “real alert now.” I’m not into humiliiation or domination. We were just having fun. I had done all the usual stuff—forgetting their names and the number six, thinking they were five years old, dancing to music they heard in their head. I let them remember everything because it was all quite innocent and I gave them suggestions that they would find all the memorories very pleasant. The best session was at the mall. We were sitting at a table in the food court when I touched them both on the head and said “way down deep.” Their eyes closed immediately, of course. I said, “Guys, when you open your eyes in a few moments, you will be aware that I have a power that no one else in the world has. I have the power to transform people by pointing to them and saying key phrases. If I point to someone and say “Martin Luther King,” that person will instantly become black. This will happen if it’s a third person, or you, or me. You will immediately see this person as having tightly curled hair, Afro-American facial features, and extremely dark skin. This person will remain black to you until I point to him or her and say “George Washington.” Realizing from experience that it’s best not to give too many suggestions at once, I said “real alert now.” “Say guys,” I said, “do you see that girl at the next table?” Pointing to her, I said, “Martin Luther King.” “Wow,” they both said softly. “What happened?” I said. Talking over each other, they said, “she turned black.” I pointed to myself and said, “Martin Luther King.” “Mr. B., you’re black” was the gist of their amused response. I pointed to Billy, the slightly older of the two and said the magic words. “Wow!” they both said. “Billy, you’re black,” said Jason. “Oh my God,” said Billy, looking down at his hands. I pointed to Jason and did the transformation, and they were both in a state of utter astonishment. “Maybe you two had better go to the men’s room to take a close look at yourselves,” I said. They thought that was a great idea. They were so fascinated by the change that I had to go to the men’s room to retrieve them. “Guys, you’ll still be black if you go out of here with me.” “OK.” I considered suggesting additional magic words (“Lady Godiva” means the person is naked, “Little Lord Fauntleroy” means the person is ten), but I was really thinking about something different. I touched them on the head and said “Way down deep” when we were sitting down again. “When you open your eyes again you will believe that you are both stage hypnotists. Billy, you are the head of the act, and Jason, you are his assistant. You will believe that I am on the stage and that it is your job to hypnotize me and make me do neat things. You will not ask me to do anything humiliating or unsafe, and you will not ask me to do anything that involves spending a lot of money, but other than that you will have complete freedom to give suggestions. Real alert now.” I figured I knew so much about hypnosis that no one could really put me under. I just thought it would be fun to go through the motions and maybe turn the tables on them at some point.

The next morning, I woke to the phone ringing. It was Billy’s voice. “Did you find your hat?” He said. “No,” I said, “but why don’t we go to the mall?” When I picked him up Jason was there also. When we got to the mall, we sat at a table outside instead of going in. Jason reached over and laid a friendly hand on my shoulder. I reached into my pants pocket and pulled out a pack of Marlboro Lights and a lighter. I offered them one first before I lit up. For some strange reason they seemed to find this amusing. “How long have you been smoking, Paul?” Billy asked. “Since I was about your age,” I said. “What do you like about it?” “Everything.” “Would you ever consider quitting?” “No, there’s nothing wrong with smoking. It’s good for you.” Suddenly I remembered that I had never removed the suggestion from yesterday. These things tend to wear off. “What race are you?” I asked. They both seemed a little confused. “Way down deep” I said as I touched them on the head. “You are still firmly convinced that you are black. As you smoke your cigarettes, you are more and more certain that I have changed you from white guys into black guys. You also believe that as black guys, you have the most beautiful, attractive bodies in the world. You believe that girls absolutely can’t keep their eyes off you. You will want to be shirtless and wear shorts as much as possible so that all the girls around you can enjoy how handsome you are. Real alert now.”

When we finished our cigarettes, the guys appeared a little confused and uncomfortable. I asked each what color the other was, and they confirmed “black.” Then I said, “Well, black is beautiful, so why don’t you take off your shirts until we go inside?” They both immediately complied.

The next morning I woke up and lit up a Marlboro light. As I took the first drag, I looked down at my hands and they were purple. As I continued to smoke my color changed to green, red, blue, etc. Sigh. I knew what was going on. God, these guys were my friends, but they were messing around with me worse than I was with them. What was I going to do?

We hung at the mall as usual that day and when we weren’t too conspicuous I put them under. “Guys, from now on you won’t blah goo stum poop. I mean you will never woom dahb lok lip.” “Oh my God, I thought, they’ve given me a suggestion that I can’t take back their influence over me.” I realized I could fight this, but somehow it didn’t seem worth the trouble. Well, I had them under, so we might as well have some fun. First, reinforce the black thing. “Guys, you will continue to realize that you are black.” Stop right there. Stunned, I looked down at the hands of a very black man indeed. “OK guys, I get it. Everything I suggest to you happens to me too. My suggestion to you is that we keep this under control so we just have some fun this summer and keep everything friendly so we’re still on good terms when the summer is over. When you open your eyes you will feel strong friendship for each other and for me and you will look forward to using hyperrelaxation just to enhance the fun. Real alert now.”

I never did figure out what their triggers on me were. A couple of days later we were using the men’s room at the mall and as I looked in the mirror not only was I black, but I was very obviously a teenager. This was too cool. Unfortunately, this one backfired. Without putting me under, they suggested we go out and buy some cigarettes and a girly magazine. I said, “I’m too young, they won’t sell those things to me.” A few lapsed seconds, and I was a much more reasonable 21. But heck, I had liked being a teenager again (actually for the first time, since I had an adolescence that really sucked). So I asked them, and they were kind to me. I was fifteen again but somehow knew I could buy adult things. Trance logic.

So I bought them each a pack of Marlboro Lights. (OK, so this isn’t PC, but guys get into smoking. At least we didn’t drink or do drugs or go after unsafe sex.) I bummed off them for the rest of the afternoon. I looked over their shoulder as they perused the girly magazine and I pretended to be interested. These guys had been such good friends, they deserved a suggestion of pleasure, but I couldn’t give them anything without it happening to me, too, and I sure wasn’t interested in fantasizing that the girl at the next table was naked and wanted me, so I just didn’t go there. Then I was looking down at the centerfold of the magazine and there was the most gorgeous picture of my favorite stud movie star, and I could hardly contain myself. So they knew about me. We were skirting the edge here. We all agreed that our friendship was more important than crossing a line that would ruin everything, so we kind of stopped at that level.

For the rest of the summer, we just hung. We never wore our shirts outside. The black thing got so embedded that we actually talked black. People around us must have wondered what the hell was going on. God knows what their parents thought, though they weren’t much in the picture anyway. We were yos, we were homeys. I gave them a suggestion that they wanted to work out at the health club. You know, all these teen guys belong through their family but they never go. Well, they loved this suggestion, and since I made it, I was influenced by it too. So we all got into incredible shape. Billy did the best. He was just on the edge of that age when guys can finally put on some meat, and he really toned up.

Well, I can’t give you every detail because it was a long summer. As summer ended, I was hooked on pure friendship, but somehow I must have imparted some wisdom of adulthood during our many hypnotic sessions. I’ll never know if they ever made me do something I really didn’t want to, but if they did, they never let on. They were good friends. On the last day before school started, we agreed to cancel all standing suggestions. This involved a lot of trust, of course, but I didn’t really have any choice. So we set an egg timer and when it went off, we were all white, I was—well, my age—again, we put our shirts back on, we lost our triggers, and we had a little talk about the experience. They said it seemed weird to be white again. I also instantly missed the fake but somehow real fun we had had. “In my own mind I feel like I’ve been smoking forever,” I said, “but you guys made me start, didn’t you?” They admitted it. Jason said, “Are you going to quit?” “No way,” I said, “I love it as much as you do. You did me a favor. What I will try to do is keep it down to a few a day so I can function at work.” “Yeah, we have to do the same at school.”

“Well, guys, tomorrow is the first day of school.” “Yeah,” they said wistfully. Then we went to the drug store and bought some Miss Clairol and went back home and dyed our hair blond.

So summer was done and they were back at school and I was back at work. I still saw them because they were in the neighborhood, but the modern pace of things just doesn’t leave time for much else. As a by-product of our shirtless summer, we had developed fabulous tans, but they faded fast. Strangely, I felt a sense of loss at seeing them return to “normal.”

But we weren’t total strangers. We watched rented movies together, they’d drop by for a soda. We never talked about the summer. Somehow we all knew it was an emotionally if not physically intiment experience, and something rare and strange, and not to be chatted about like anything casual.

One evening in early October I had the treat of being at Billy’s in the evening. His parents, who worked like 100 hour weeks between their paying jobs and their volunteer activities, had no trouble with my being the “friendly presence” in their home. Jason was there, too. We watched that Paul McKenna thing where he just goes out on the street and hypnotizes all takers. That was enough for us. It was Billy who opened the topic. “I miss the way we were last summer” he muttered. Looking at him with a frank stare, I said, “So do I.” Jason was silent but attentive. “I used to play Ouija with my sister,” I said, “but after we grew up we couldn’t make it work anymore. You’re so experienced at this hypnosis stuff that you may no longer be good subjects. Though God knows I was at my age when I never thought it possible.” “Is it worth a try?” said Jason. “Well, yes,” I said, “but guys, this time there’s going to have to be just one of us in charge. You know I was kind and friendly to you last summer, so if we do this, you’re just going to have to trust me.” They thought this was ok. They seemed to be a little bored. Halloween was coming up, one of the few occasions you can get away with neat stuff in public.

I did a long, complete induction. I really didn’t need to. They were probably under in less than five minutes. I just wanted it completely clear who was in charge, though I had no ulterior motives. Jason and Billy were extremely under but I was probably boring them to death. It was time to start suggestions. “Guys, when you open your eyes in a few seconds, you will be dying for a cigarette (excuse me, but they smoked anyway), and you will grab one from the box on the table as quick as you can. But once you put it in your mouth, you will forget how to light it. You will be frantic to smoke this cigarette but you will only be able to do so if I light it for you. Real alert now.”

But my shock came when I saw a fourth pair of hands reach the cigarettes first. It was Billy’s younger brother, Joey. I had forgotten he was in the house. He must have been listening from the other room and come along for the ride. This was probably not his first cigarette, but probably not his 1000th either. They all struggled over the box of Marlboro lights, finally each had one, and then were (very verbally) frantic about not knowing how to light one up. “Relax, relax guys” I said. And with my lighter, one at a time, starting with the youngest, I got them going. They took that first drag as though their lives depended on it. I had almost forgotten how powerful hypnotic suggestion could be.

Now where to go? I had no advance plan here—we were just having fun. I had been practically through the whole nine yards with them over the summer. But you know what they deserved? They had earned a beautiful wet dream. It was none of my business what the content was. I assumed they were all straight (I’m pretty sure they were) so I just suggested that we would finish the night by watching a movie and that when they went to sleep that night, they would have a series of sexy dreams about gorgeous chicks. They could come in those dreams or not, but the dreans would be extremely erotic and would last all night.

Between then and Halloween I firmed up their nocturnal eroticism but never pried about the contents of the dreams. I was also sure to enforce their daytime mundane duty to do well at school and stay out of trouble. When Halloween came, I didn’t have to hypnotize them to get them to do this great group costume I’ve always wanted to try. I bought a lot of professional body paint and a spray painter. We all shaved our heads. We made a cardboard container into a box of crayola crayons. I was midnight blue, Billy was a somewhat darker shade of forest green, Jason was hot pink (well, I did hypnotize him to accept that), and Joey was reddish-orange. It took some doing to fix the box so that it looked right around me, the tallest, and Joey, the shortest. We live far enough south so that October 31 is still a warm day, so our whole bodies were painted that way, and we wore only sneakers and speados of a contrasting color (all right, I had to hypnotize them to agree to that, too). The colors were fluorescent, by the way. We walked down the street and it was about the sexiest thing I’ve ever conceived. We went to this drug-free halloween party where I easily passed as a chaperone, and we were hands down the winners of best group costume.

Not that I was obsessed with these guys or anything (yeah, right). I knew I had to bring some closure. I had given them a set of experiences of the imagination beyond the dreaming of most people. Their fun had been my fun. There are six billion people in the world, and if we’re lucky in the course of 70 years, after a death sweat, we may hook up with—what, five—who don’t absolutely hate us, who are at least willing to let us touch them? Why can’t we be like our ape cousins the bonobos, for whom sex is part of every encounter? But I digress. As I have said before, I had made a decision not to take sexual advantage of these guys, though one was at the age of consent according to state law. As much as we had been through, they didn’t owe me that.

So the thing I wanted to do with these guys was give them a real as opposed to dream sexual experience, with a beautiful girl, as they undoubtedly desired. But what was I supposed to do? With all the experience I have had with hypnosis, I knew that I couldn’t just walk up to a girl and make her these guys’ slave. I wouldn’t try such a thing even if I could. The business of having them imagine beautiful girls standing in front of them naked might have been fun, but they truly deserved the real thing. Finally—God, what a dummy I can be—I realized that I was trying to do too much of this myself. Billy especially was an incredible hunk. He was the kind of gorgeous guy girls dream about, I suppose—what do I know about girls’ dreams? I figured he was not inexperienced anyway, and I know in general terms that guys have these kinds of parties when they can get away with them. So just before Thanksgiving vacation, I put the guys under. Jason and Joey were only addressed for pleasant cooperation, but Billy got a firm suggestion: “I’m sure you know how to find a beautiful girl or woman who would agree to party with you and do anything safe that you wanted. You will arrange a party for the three of you guys at some point over the Thanksgiving break. You will only suggest safe activities but you will make it clear that she will have sex. The three of you will be extremely kind and gentle and considerate and safe when you are having sex. She can bring one or more friends if she wants too under the same conditions. This idea will consume your attention until you find the girl. The details are up to you.”

I don’t know where or how they had the party, but I know they had it. I wasn’t there and had no desire to be there. I’m sure the four of them had a good time. It’s nice to be able to do a favor for friends.

Now it’s Christmas vacation, and I think maybe I’ve created a few monsters. Jason has taken this stage hypnotist thing seriously, he has books on the subject, and he works on his classmates or anyone he can get to cooperate all the time. I went to one of his “shows” at his home and he was extremely imaginative, getting the kids (and a couple of older people) to go through a routine I never would have thought of. It was fun, but maybe slightly worrying too. I know a little too much about obsession. Joey was one of the subjects in the show, and one of Jason’s suggestions was that Joey would believe he was the hypnotist and could make Jason follow his suggestions. Wonder where he got that idea. But unlike me the previous summer, it was clear Jason just went along for showmanship. He may have prepared Joey in advance that it was all an act. I had no idea to what extent those two were using this new-found fascination for sexual advantage, and didn’t want to know. What I did know was that I was being bummed for cigarettes by what seemed like half the male teenage population of the town. Hmmm, where was that coming from?

Billy was another story. He wasn’t having the most successful last half of high school possible. I had always tried to be square with him by reinforcing, in trance and out of, basic responsibilities. He wasn’t going to out-and-out fail, he wasn’t doing drugs, but he sure was having a typical mixed-up adolescence. One day over the vacation he knocked on my door, and after we had a smoke, he suddenly started stripping. He was wearing the slightest possible pair of speedos as underwear. I sort of couldn’t help watching, but what the heck was going on? “Billy, why did you strip?” “Don’t know, just felt like it.” He was back to his black accent. “Billy, did Jason hypnotize you?” “I dunno, man.” He was really spaced out. “Billy, what color are you?” “You know man, I’m black.” I could no longer see Billy or myself as black; that was ancient history to me. “Billy, what’s going on here?” “Whaddaya mean?” “Would you let me put you under so we could get to the bottom of this?” “You can always put me under, Paul. I mean, man, you already have.” “What do you mean?” “Jason told me that just hearing you talk in conversation would put me in a trance.” His eyes were totally closed now. “Did he tell you to strip after you had a cigarette?” “Yeah.”

“Billy, if you’re really under because of my voice, I want you to come clean with me. Forget any suggestions Jason made, and tell me one thing that would make your life better.” Oh boy, watch out what you ask for.

This was apparently a difficult suggestion for him. Conflicts with Jason’s influence, maybe. Time to snap him out of it. “Billy, I don’t need a spaced-out zombie on my hands. When I put my hand on your head you will be wide awake, and you will want to say the one thing that I can do to help you.” I put my hand on his head, and he immediately opened his eyes and sat up. “I need you to make love to me.”

Oh, brother. I forgot to describe Billy to you. He’s about 5′11″, a nice mat of dark brown hair, deep brown eyes, hint of a mustache, still built from continuing his workouts of last summer. No chest hair, inoffensive leg hair, charming face. A cutey if ever there was one. Pasty white, but so was I by Christmas vacation. After all this time, how could I help myself? I wanted to put him back under, I wanted assurances that this was what he really wanted, but God help me, how inhuman do I have to make myself? He was legal, he suggested it, so: I started out by waving my hands through that nice mat of hair that had grown back since Thanksgiving. “Is this all right?” I asked softly. “Yeah.” I moved on to the pecs. First with the fingertips, then a little squeeze on the nipples with the back of my knuckles. “Let me know if you want me to stop or don’t like anything.” No response. Lots more with my hands on his chest and abdomen. “You know, Billy, love-making is two ways. Am I so ugly you don’t want to touch me too?” “No way man, here it is.” And I started getting back about what I gave. God, I had to kiss him. Guys who will do far more intimate things often hate kissing, but I had to give it a try. I moved my mouth toward his. He opened it willingly and we exchanged pure sweetness. Gosh, I had forgotten to take my own clothes off. He had been feeling me up through and under them. I got up and started to strip but he did the job for me. Gently. Slowly. I pulled his speedo down and he was, shall we say, ready, and so was I. Now I can last forever, which is a problem with some lovers. So I went to work on him first. It didn’t take long for him to say he was close. Don’t worry, lover, if we stay together I’ll cure that little problem. With just a little trepidation, maybe a thrill of novelty, he went to work on me. Of course, these novices give up if they can’t make you cum in 90 seconds or less. No problem, Billy, I still love you. Let’s just take our time and we really will have made love. So he stopped and started, stopped and started, and in between I worked him with my hand, with my mouth, but not enough to make him cum. Or we would hug, kiss, stroke. I get real wet with pre-cum, but that’s something that happens later in life. He understood and tolerated and I’d like to think maybe liked that. When I understood that he couldn’t go on forever like me, we held each other in our arms and finished ourselves with our hands. Then we lay there for some minutes. We didn’t speak as he got dressed and ready to leave, but I couldn’t help a last hug from behind as he walked out the door.

I didn’t really know how to follow up with Billy. We hadn’t done anything wrong, but if I had pursued my bare feelings about him, hell, I couldn’t imagine wrecking this delicate friendship we had built up over the years. But I ran into Jason the next day (ok, so I arranged it to run into him). “Why did you hypnotize Billy into being hypnotizable by me?” He seemed to have some difficulty with this. Sometimes you have to press. “Come on, man, we’ve been friends for a long time. This was too weird. You’ve got to help me out here.” “Well, I really didn’t do anything. It was Joey.” Then he broke down and cried. God, how had my simple questions so traumatized him?

Well, an innocent hug wouldn’t hurt, or a Marlboro light. Then I got the whole long story. Joey was the real brains behind the hypnotist shows. He had hypnotized Jason and everytime Jason performed a show, he was really following Joey’s suggestions. Jason had hypnotized Billy, but only under Joey’s suggestions. “Why did he hypnotize him to be susceptible to me?” “Just because he’s a dumb kid who wants to dominate his older brother.” “So what do you think Billy really thinks about me?” I said, choosing my words carefully. “It’s ok, Paul, I think he really loves you. He’s bi or something.” The answer I wanted to hear, of course. “So how come Joey hypnotized you and not the other way around?” “I don’t know. Ever since that day you accidentally hypnotized him neither Billy nor I could put him under” “He must have suggested to you that you would never tell me about this.” “Yeah, but I guess that connection with last summer was just more important than his stupid suggestions.”

What a mess I had made. I could only think of one solution, and it was a long shot. “Jason, some people can only be hypnotized in a certain context. Joey was hypnotized by accident while listening to me hypnotize you. If we could duplicate that somehow, we might be able to end this crazy streak of his.”

So I arranged a session with Billy and Jason at my place, and once again I used an unnecessarily long induction. I got Joey to come because I convinced him that this time I would make his brother and his friend do humiliating things. Sure enough, at the end of the induction, Joey was totally slumped with his eyes closed. “Guys, this is going to be simple. When you open your eyes, Billy, you will go only with your true feelings for me, Jason, you will lose every suggestion you’ve been given under hypnosis, and Joey, you will forget that there is any such thing as hypnosis. You will always be hypnotizable by me, but you will accept my suggestions without really knowing what is going on. You will have friendly feelings for Jason, your brother and myself. Joey, does the word ‘hypnosis’ mean anything to you?” “No.” “And how do you feel about your brother and Jason?” “They’re my best friends.”

So I brought them out of it and that was that, except that Billy and I still had to deal with what had happened. I asked Billy to stay after Jason and Joey had gone. “Billy, this is hard for me, but....” “Paul, it’s ok, I really do like you. I hope that some of the sex I have in life is half as fun as you were. I’d be with you you again, because I owe you so much.” “You really mean that, don’t you?” “Yeah.”

So I got this idea right away. “Why don’t we double date.” “Who with?” “Well, your brother and Jason.” “You’ve got to be kidding.” “No, Joey was mean to Jason, to you and to me, so making him date Jason would be just the lesson.”

I’ve got to cut this short. It wasn’t hard putting Joey under after my previous suggestions. We went to a movie and sat in the back. We were all wearing cotton work-out shorts with no underwear, and tank tops. Billy, basically a warm, loving guy, got into the feel-up thing with me like crazy. Every time someone in front of us got up to go out, we had to stop, but who cares? What Jason and Joey got into I can’t say. They sure didn’t stop short of what Billy and I were doing.

It was a stupid action/adventure picture to which we paid no attention. When it was over, we left, lit up, pal-ed around a little, and then it was over. You gotta remember, Paul, that those creatures with two ridiculous bumps and a hole that bleeds every month rule the world.