The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

5.

So far, I had triggered the special rooms in numerical order, and found each room different from the last, and exciting in a new way. I had covered the first two floors, with six rooms of hypno-erotic enjoyment. Whenever I looked out of my window at the Jepsen dorm, I was satisfied that I was master of most of what I surveyed. And there were two rooms to go!

Finally, one evening, with great anticipation, I went back across the street and up to room 301. I burst in on two very surprised, exceedingly handsome baseball players. They were both wearing nothing but cut-offs, and their muscles were nicely distributed around their upper bodies, arms, and legs. One was a redhead with cute freckles, maybe 6′4″, and the other had longish jet-black hair that glinted almost blue like Superman’s, and was a bit taller. The redhead was lying on his bed reading, other was sitting in a recliner, big feet propped on the footrest. My first thought was, their stripping process wouldn’t take long!

When I said the magic phrase, the two of them immediately stood up, as I expected. But they didn’t begin to strip. Instead, the redhead intoned something weird I didn’t understand, and suddenly I found it hard to think, and I found I was frozen in place where I stood.

As the following scene unfolded, it was as if I was not in my body, but watching the whole thing from above. There I was, glued in place. Somehow I had become naked and erect, and I could see how insignificant my body looked like next to these two built athletes.

The two circled me as I stood, helplessly on display. “So this is our playtoy. Not much to look at, is he, Rod?” said the black-haired one.

“Nah, kind of skinny. I must weigh almost half again as much as he does, even though we’re the same height. And he’s got like no chest hair, even though he must be, what, twenty?” I couldn’t say anything; it was as if I wasn’t actually there, just frozen like a statue in a museum.

“But we can make him do anything we want? Wait, how do I know that? And why do we want him to do things, anyway? We’re not faggots or anything.”

This puzzled Rod for a second. “I don’t know, Vince, it just seems exciting to have a guy do anything I want. It’s like I really get horny just thinking about the power of it. Maybe I always wanted it.” Or maybe, I realized, it was the result of HIS programmed response to the magic phrase. And anything that followed might be because of that programming. But how did I get “programmed”, and when? I went through these thoughts, but of course I was unable to say anything out loud.

Vince said, “Yeah, I feel it too. Instead of waiting for some chick to do us when she’s in the mood, we have someone who can’t help doing us whenever WE want it. And he can’t do anything about it. In fact, we can make HIM want it more than us. He’s gotta believe what we tell him, even feel what we tell him.” I felt a jolt, and started to pay much more attention to the absolute truths told by these two all-knowing men.

Rod grinned. “Yeah, since he’s inferior to us in every way, it’s only natural for him to serve us, and he knows it.” And suddenly I did know it, too. Why hadn’t I seen it all along?

Rod was clearly was the smarter of the two, or at least the better programmed. He looked at me and went on, “First you must realize we are your jockmasters. Tell me what we are.”

I replied automatically, in a somewhat slurred voice, “You... are...jockmasters...” And I knew that was just their normal title. It was always true.

“Now we have to come up with some way for us to trigger your natural slave tendencies, so you’ll always know when it’s time to obey and worship your superiors. What should we make him respond to, Vince?”

Vince looked me over. “Well, he looks so puny there, like the secret identity of a superhero, except he’s a super slave! So how about when we say ‘This is a job for Weakness Boy,’ he immediately remembers his real role in life and worships and obeys the guys with him?”

Rod laughed out loud. “Great! I love it! OK, what’s your name, slave?”

I heard myself say, “...Scott Spencer, Jockmaster...”

“Yes, but you must remember, ‘Scott Spencer’ is just your secret identity. In reality you are Weakness Boy...”

“...I...am...Weakness...Boy...” Somehow I knew it was true. It had always been true, I just didn’t know it until my jockmasters had revealed it to me.

“And your secret power is Super Submissiveness to your jockmasters. You exist to serve them in all ways. Being their slave excites you beyond anything.”

“...being...slave...excites...me...” Although I was already erect, I became even harder thinking I could serve gods like these two powerful jockmasters.

“And you know you are with a jockmaster when someone tells you, ‘This is a job for Weakness Boy’. You must immediately strip, because you must wear no clothes when you are with a jockmaster unless he orders you to.”

“...no...clothes...” I then knew that being naked was my correct natural state when serving these gods.

“Once you are naked, your responsibility is to obey your jockmasters and see to their needs. If you are good, they may give you a special treat.”

“...obey...special...treat...” Of course I just wanted to be a good slave to my jockmasters, but how wonderful they were that they would give me a special treat just for serving them well!

“Serving a jockmaster excites you, but you are especially fascinated by his superior parts, like his cock, symbol of his masculine power...”

“...cock...” I looked longingly at my jockmasters’ cocks. Soft, they were longer than mine was hard. I pictured myself servicing them, pleasing them, making them expand to full length and fill me with their incredible manjuices.

“His feet, with their commanding odor...” Rod sniggered.

“...feet...” How I longed to serve under those giant wonders.

“His armpits, with their delicious mansweat...” At this, as if on cue (which it probably was), both of them flexed their arms, revealing the pits that I now longed more than anything to clean with my tongue. Vince’s pits had tufts of nice dark fur, while Rod’s were mostly hairless.

“And his asshole, source of his life-giving ass juice.” They both turned around and bent down spreading their legs, and if I hadn’t been glued in place on the floor, I couldn’t have stopped myself from dropping to my knees and pushing my tongue into those incredible muscled asses to get that precious ass juice.

“Do you understand your role in life, Weakness Boy?”

“...I...understand...jockmaster...”

“I’d love to try you out, but we have dates this evening, so it’ll have to wait. So get dressed, and go back home to your secret identity life of Scott Spencer until your jockmasters call on you. And you can’t ever cum as Scott Spencer, only as Weakness Boy, and only when a jockmaster commands it.”

I found I could move again. I started to dress.

Vince asked Rod, “What if he tells someone about this? We don’t want it getting around, or have him tell the school or the cops about it.”

Rod said, “Weakness Boy, you must not ever talk to anyone about this. In fact, while you are in your Scott Spencer identity you will not even remember you are Weakness Boy. Only when your jockmasters call on you will you remember.

“Nothing unusual happened tonight. You spent the evening at home studying. You will forget everything that happened, but when your jockmaster changes you, then you will remember.”

“Remember...” The next thing I knew, I was in my room studying. Too bad I hadn’t had a chance to go over to Jepsen tonight and try out the third floor rooms I had on my list. But I hoped to get over there the next night.

6.

At around 9 pm that evening, as I went through my assigned reading, there was a knock at my door. I was puzzled; I wasn’t expecting anyone. Before I could answer, the door opened, and in stepped a kid, maybe 15 years of age. I didn’t recognize him, but he was obviously a very athletic type. He was only about 5′10″, but his build showed clearly under his tight shirt, and even in his baggy jeans I could see that there was already some semi-hardness in what must have been a significant package for a 15-year-old. He had that natural swagger to his walk that a totally confident guy used to getting his way would have. I was the victim of some of those guys back in high school, and I was glad I had about four years of age and six inches of height on him.

He spoke first. “I saw everything.”

“What do you mean, kid?”

“I was visiting my brother over in Jepsen 303, and heard someone barge into 301 where his buddy Vince lives. The door was open and I heard loud noises, so I went over to look. I saw everything.”

I was baffled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, kid. I’ve been here in my room all evening.”

“Nah, I followed you here, I know the whole story. And anyway, stop calling me kid, I’m your... uh... jockmaster. And I want a blow job from you, pronto.”

I stood up, angry. “Look, KID, I don’t know who you think you are, but...”

Then he said, “This is a job for Weakness Boy!” And I immediately knew who I REALLY was, and I realized that standing before me was not some high school punk, but a godlike jockmaster. He was all-powerful, and solid as a statue, while I was gangly, skinny, and physically inadequate. Embarrassed to still be in clothes, I stripped as quickly as I could and knelt before him, looking at his scuffed, dirt-stained size 13 running shoes. How grand they looked on his perfect compact muscled body, and how I longed to clean those shoes inside and out with my tongue, as they housed the jockmaster’s sacred feet and their all-important sweat. But the jockmaster had expressed his particular desire to me, and of course serving that desire was my number-one priority. It was the very meaning of my existence.

He stood there, hands on his hips, waiting for me to free his beautiful cock from its prison and service it as it had never been serviced before. My super-submissive power made anything that was important to my jockmaster even more important to me, and anything that was desirable to him even more so for me.

I unzipped his baggy pants, and saw he wasn’t wearing any underwear. His cock, anticipating what was coming, got hard at my first touch. I noticed admiringly that even though I was taller and older, his cock was longer than mine, and much more slender. As I held his magnificent manhood, my own cock seemed short, thick and useless. But that was the natural way of the world for a jockmaster and Weakness Boy.

I lapped on all sides of the beautiful cock to get it ready for my blow job, but I wasn’t fast enough to please the jockmaster, who was after all a teenager. He grabbed my head and simply fucked my face on his cock, treating me like the sex toy object I was. Very soon, he shot his load into me, but he was still moving and some of it fell on the floor. I was unhappy with the idea of all that life-giving fluid being wasted.

The teen jockmaster graciously allowed me to lick up the spilled puddles of his powerful manjuice, while he stroked my hair like a puppy’s.

“Wow, that was waaay better than I ever got from any girl at school.” A shudder of pleasure went through my body at having pleased the jockmaster. I silently wished he would order me to clean out his armpits, dirt-stained shoes, or check his asshole for ass juice, but it was not my place to make any such suggestions.

The jockmaster put his pants back on, while I stood at attention and gazed admiringly his body. He thought for a while. “I’d better clean up this situation. Weakness Boy, when I leave you’ll get dressed and go back to your secret identity. You’ll forget everything that happened here tonight. Except when you see me again, even in your secret identity, you’ll recognize me as someone you respect alot. And you will believe everything I say. That part was really cool when they made you do that over there. You won’t realize it was me who made you respect and believe me, you’ll think it’s your idea. Got it?”

“Yes, jockmaster. I will respect and believe you even in my secret identity.”

“OK, I’m outa here.”

As the door shut, I went back to my reading. What a boring, uneventful evening. Yet for some reason, my cock demanded attention. I rubbed it a bit, then realized I didn’t have time to jack off that evening. Maybe tomorrow, when I went back to Jepsen...