The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Let me introduce myself. I’m Billy, and I live in a big house that I myself own in a fancy section of town. I wasn’t always rich, in fact it happened only in the last few months. But I have a collection of “playtoys” around the country who wish desperately that I’ll choose their town to visit next. They hope that by sending me a portion of their income, and by giving me lavish gifts, they increase their chances of seeing me. They miss me terribly. They can’t help it.

Why are they so eager to see me? Well, it’s not my looks. I’m 18 but look several years younger. I’m skinny as hell, on the short side at 5′4″, and definitely not very hung. Even now, I still have a bit of an acne problem. I used to be a regular object of derision in the gym in high school. Even those on the low end of the social totem pole were able to look down on me with some justification. I was useless in sports. And although I’m smart, I didn’t do great in class either, because I was too distracted by the hunky guys around me. Yes, I’m gay, and that’s not the thing to be in my town, where there seem to be more churches than families to attend them.

Still, whenever I pull into a new town in my new BMW, there’s a welcoming committee of guys that can barely contain their excitement within the confines of their pants. (They know I like to see tight-fitting pants and no underwear on my men, and they dress accordingly.) Some of these guys—most of them, actually—were straight mere days or weeks ago. Some of them don’t even know they’re not still straight, until I come up to them and whisper a word in their ear. Some don’t even like being with me, since they fully remember their pasts and know I somehow took control of them, but they’re compelled to help me out anyway. I handle things differently with different guys, because I really enjoy the variety.

So how did I get in this delicious situation? Well, I happen to be a genius at all things computer, network, and Internet. And I have used my prowess to hack the biggest Instant Messaging systems on the Internet. When I discover a certain screen name is in use, I can send them an IM and instantly seize control of the window it’s running in, making it bigger and displaying a colorful and increasingly complex hypnotic pattern. If the user closes the window quickly or happens to look away, nothing happens. But usually, they stare, fascinated, until my subliminal messages penetrate their subconscious. I know it has worked when they send me an instant message saying simply, “Ready”. I then start entering “commands” into their subconscious to be triggered by appropriate words or events. When I’m done, the window closes, and they are completely unaware of what has happened. However, I make sure they sign into their IM program each day at a predetermined time for reinforcement programming or additional instructions.

I have an “executive assistant” who lives with me named Greg. We went through high school together, but we didn’t have much to do with each other then. I mean, I was gay, he was straight. I was a fuck-up, he was a serious student. I was a joke in phys ed, he was a star athlete on many teams. He was a good way through the college admissions process before I had perfected my IM skills and found him online one evening. Now he works for me full-time. (It takes a lot of work to keep the maintenance programming going for all my online “friends”.) He sleeps on the floor at the foot of my bed. He prefers it that way. In fact, I don’t think he can even get to sleep in a bed anymore. When he travels on business for me, he takes a pair of my old sneakers with him, puts them on the floor of the hotel room, and sleeps in front of them.

While I let him get off on being near me, I don’t use him much sexually. I prefer older guys, college-age and beyond, since they’re more mature, as well as physically bigger in so many dimensions. I keep the numbers of my “followers” small in each town so as not to arouse suspicion. All of my IM buddies are programmed for secrecy, except with each other. And I generally let them lead their own lives, conducting their friendships, studies, and jobs normally, except when it comes to interactions with me, their girlfriends (or occasionally boyfriends), and with each other. There I usually introduce a variety of fetishes, to remind them that they’re special, that a greater excitement is possible than anything known in a conventional sex life.

How do I find these guys? At first I browsed chat rooms looking for people with pictures and profiles that suited me. This was somewhat hit or miss since profiles can be exaggerated and pictures conveniently edited or faked. I found it more reliable to get referrals from my initial set of “programees” by letting them know the type of guy I was looking for, both physically and mentally, and sending them out to find such people and to use their ingenuity to get them in front of a screen, or at least find out their screen names.

It’s a big event in these guys’ lives when I pull into town. Most of them have been celibate for weeks, their only sexual release jerking off to pictures of me. To keep them properly lustful, sometimes I let them organize parties where they all just lie around on the floor naked, beating off like crazy watching me just going about my daily activities on my Webcam. However, when I am about to come to town, they’re not allowed to cum for at least three days. I want them properly on edge for my arrival.

Two weekends ago I drove to a college town an hour away, where I had initially snagged the tight end of the football team. From our IM conversations, I knew he was big at 6′7″, and had an identical twin brother who was a wide receiver on the team. I had him bring his brother to his room to watch my IM magic, and then I had the two of them bring in the quarterback, a 6′5″ redhead with freckles whose face looked younger than his 21 years but whose upper body was wonderfully muscled. When I got to town, I found the three of them waiting naked as ordered in the tight end’s room. I soon had the powerfully built twins on either side of me in bed like bookends, working their giant hands and tongues across my small body, while the quarterback knelt at the foot of the bed licking and worshiping our feet. Eventually, the twins had worked their way to my cock, which they took turns lollipopping—each one of their tongues could completely cover my cock from top to bottom—until I couldn’t take it anymore. As I had programmed them to, the three of them came at the same time as I did.

Afterwards, when the quarterback’s tongue had finished hoovering all the cum off our bodies, the bed, and the floor, I informed them that the morning before each game, to increase the psychic bond among them and improve their playing performance, one twin would have to take the quarterback’s ass while at the same time the other twin fucked the QB’s mouth. Just for fun, I made one of the twins grow increasingly effeminate while the other remained straight, disgusted at his twin and at what he had to do, but unable to refuse, “for the team”.

This was so hot that I determined that I will eventually have the three of them perform this ritual in the locker room, while the rest of the team watches and beats off and cums all over them. Of course it will then be the quarterback’s job to lick up all the cum so he could have the whole team “inside” him. After what they will consider to be a perfectly normal sort of team ritual, they will feel closer than they ever have as a team.

Last weekend, I flew to New York to see Philip, a young up-and-coming Wall Street executive just a couple of years out of Harvard business school; he got to New York just at the market peak, and the fact that he is doing well professionally even in these uncertain times speaks to his quality. I had him pick me up at JFK wearing his most expensive Italian suit—back in style in financial New York after the “casual” ‘90s—but, at my direction, with the pants intentionally tightened at the crotch to show off his impressive package, unencumbered by underwear and hard in honor of my arrival. As he drove us to Manhattan I fondled him aggressively through his pants, but I had programmed him for incredible self-control and he managed to avoid orgasm. He was even able to cover up his very visible erection with his jacket as we arrived at the expensive midtown restaurant.

I had selected Philip to instruct me in the finer things in life, something I was not in a position to learn in my home town. He was also helping with my financial planning, another service I was newly in need of. A former college basketball player, he’s on the tall side, dark and handsome in a mature way. Although we are only seven years apart in age, with my kidlike looks and his distinguished demeanor you might almost have mistaken us for father and son at the restaurant table. But with my small cheap scuffed right shoe rubbing firmly on top of his large expensive European left shoe under the table, I was providing him an ongoing reminder, reassurance really, that I was the one in control.

He explained what he had in mind for my financial situation. I told him whatever he planned was fine, just get on with it. Meanwhile, I also told him he should get a slit in the rear of his suit pants that could be invisibly fastened shut most of the time, but could be easily opened for my access when I wanted to take him from behind. In fact, I suggested he find a skilled and discreet tailor to modify his whole wardrobe in that fashion. I could see him filing away the idea in his steel-trap mind for later implementation. Meanwhile, just the idea of pushing him up against the wall of his office, or down on hands and knees on the carpet, in his fine suit, and fucking him with him begging for more, made even my small cock strain the front of my boxers. (Of course, small as it is, that cock has become the center of many people’s worlds lately.)

Philip explained to me the fine points of the menu, and particularly the wine list. After instructing him to remember that no wine tasted as fine as my cum—I saw him file that away mentally also—I started the process of learning the things that people better bred than I, in better places, learn as a matter of course. I have no intention of becoming a snob, I just want to learn how to feel at home in that world. (I mean, to balance this refined weekend, I have a hot orgy planned for next Wednesday with a set of three hunky 21-year-old construction workers I snagged last week. I found the first one from a profile, and then used him to get the other two in front of an IM window. The three are already warming up for that night with joint jerk-off sessions with pictures of me and strict no-cum orders.)

I told Philip to arrange a first-class flight to Rome for me next month. (With his income, funding my travel is nothing. After all, he doesn’t need to spend anything on females, vacations, etc.) Seems my assistant Greg has found some guy named Giovanni with an incredibly studly profile picture who claims to live in an old family-owned palace in Tuscany, and to be hugely hung. He actually grew up in the States and moved back to Italy only a few years ago to take over the family estate. Because of his U.S. experience, my English-language subliminal programming worked on him, but I might enlist him to help me send subliminal messages to others in Italian so I can begin a collection there. I would also find it interesting to enslave a cock that is bigger than my foot is long...

From all this it may seem to you that I am totally devoid of the spiritual side of life. Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, in the previous few months, I have gone to a different church each Sunday, partly to see what’s going on and hear what’s being said, although admittedly also partly for the baser purpose of scouting the congregations for potential “buddies”. The sermons given in these churches have been milder and lighter on the fire and brimstone than I expected, except for one church belonging to a fundamentalist denomination. There, the minister spoke against the heinous sin of homosexuality. While I was trying to focus on the words, I was distracted by the minister’s tall, masterly figure, energetic movements betraying an athletic physique, and rich blond hair. He looked about 33 or 34 and must have married young because I knew from his name that he had a son in the high school who was 16, 6′4″, very nicely built and with thick straight blond hair. I normally don’t go for younger guys, but Jerry Jr. looks older than I do, and he certainly could pin me to the floor any day of the week.

I think I will try to arrange a full family first-hand demonstration of the evils of homosexuality. I couldn’t ask for a sexier, more suitable father-son puppet team than these two. While I’m sure that Jerry Sr. considers the Internet to be a vile place and avoids it, I’m just as sure that his son must use it. And if one of my “agents” at the high school can get Jerry Jr. in front of an IM window, and Jr. can later show one to his dad, I’m sure I can get both Jerrys to find me—and each other—much more interesting than they previously thought. I would certainly love to sit in the front of that congregation, next to Jerry Jr., my legs slightly spread, one hand subtly on Jr.’s knee, making Jerry Sr., looking down helplessly and hungrily, sweat a bit and lick his lips subconsciously. Hey, anything to promote family togetherness!

To be continued, if demand warrants...