The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Yamir and I were in the back garden of the music building, having that conversation again. Both our piano classes end at the same time on Mondays and Thursdays, and we hang around the music building for a bit before heading back to the dorms. It’s a nice building, mansion-style, and it’s got stone benches and ivy and a back garden with trees.

“Come on, Billy. You know I’d never.” Yamir peered at me through his fringe of black hair. “I mean, he’s got a boyfriend! Well, he’s got a sort-of boyfriend. I’m not really sure what’s going on between them…”

“I don’t think anyone really is, much less Michael and Ned themselves.”

“But still. Everyone knows it’s something.”

I rubbed my forehead in frustration. “Yes, something that has Michael bonk-be-bonking every other guy he sees and Ned giving a blowjob to Adam in the middle of last night’s party. ”

“What? I can’t believe I missed that!” Yamir doubled up with laughter, his feet hitting the stone chair he was sitting in. “Oh god, why Adam? Was he wearing his leather-man outfit?”

I grinned. “No, just the pants. Don’t hit The Throne too hard. I think it might crack.” The back garden of the music building had various stone seats and sculptures that had acquired nicknames over time. Yamir’s seat was known as The Throne, because, well, it looked like a throne. It had mossy lions for armrests and a decorated base. Also, at the moment, it had a series of dark stains. That was from a midnight concert by one of the campus’s student bands. They had dragged up an electric generator and some amps and all their instruments and gathered a crowd, and then proceeded to play really bad screamo-rock music for a very long time. They also decapitated a chicken in the middle of one of their songs and spilled the blood all over The Throne, which explained the dark stains. I felt annoyed at them for killing a chicken just for the shock value, but then, I eat chicken almost every day and don’t think much of it, so I felt like maybe it wasn’t my place to judge. I try to make a point not to be too picky, especially since it seems an unwritten rule on our campus that the music majors have to be insanely picky, in everything from their musical tastes to choices in lays.

Take Yamir as an example. There’s a good amount of gay guys on campus, and Yamir is cute, I suppose, though he can be so awkward that not everyone notices it. But it’s not just his lack of self-confidence that has him sexually frustrated. Yamir just plain refuses to get involved with anyone who doesn’t have, according to his definition, ‘good taste in music’. Not even for just one night.

But aside from that, he’s a good guy, and we’re good friends. We’re both gay, so there can be some sexual tension, I suppose, but it doesn’t usually last too long, and besides, we’re looking for different things.

“But Jesus, seriously,” Yamir was saying, “if Adam lost his whole obsession with dress-up, I’d ask him out. But I don’t think I could handle having a boyfriend who was cross-dressing one day and in a three-piece suit the next.” I nodded encouragingly; after hearing Yamir stew in celibate gloom for so long, I was planning on uncorking the champagne when he finally did get laid. His main problem was just all his goddamn rules. Adam was a music major like us, and according to Yamir’s code of conduct, he wouldn’t do one-night stands with other music majors because he thought it might turn awkward, seeing as, due to the small size of the campus, we all knew each other and took the same classes. Personally, I think a little awkwardness is part of how the world works, and goodness knows Yamir can’t get much more awkward than he already is, but oh well. I kinda wished Yamir would just let loose and let his internal sexy beast run free. But that day had yet to come.

“What you need,” I told him, “is to put your brain on pause and just get laid already.”

“Amen to that!” said someone from behind us, and Yamir and I turned to look at the newcomer. Kevin grinned cheekily from where he was standing in the middle of one of the bushes.

Yamir scowled. “Easy for you to say. You’re celibate.”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “I’m not celibate. I just don’t think sex is that big of a deal, that’s all.”

“Of course you don‘t,” Yamir shot back, “but I bet your hand gets a lot of use each night.”

I coughed and changed the subject. “So, did you guys come to that midnight concert a few nights back?”

Kevin made a face. “I was there. It wasn’t bad, but the chicken part grossed me out. I kind of liked the music, but I was also pretty high that night, so that doesn’t say much. I mean, I thought I saw The Throne glowing after the blood hit it. And when I was walking back, I kept thinking something was following me. But I couldn’t see anything.”

I laughed and reached for my backpack, getting ready to go back. “Well, at least you had a better time than I did.”

Yamir was scratching his nose and frowning. “It’s funny what you said about The Throne, because I could have sworn I thought it glowed too…”

Kevin shrugged. “It might have been a trick of the light. They had a lot of electrical equipment up here, plus that generator.”

Yamir shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose…”

I shouldered my backpack. “I’m heading back. I’ve got a paper to write for next week’s class, and I’d better get started. See you guys around.”

Yamir and Kevin waved and I started down the road. Behind me, I could hear Kevin and Yamir talking a bit longer, and then Kevin sped past me on his bike.

Yamir remained in The Throne for a while longer. Something about the back garden of the music building soothed him, the way the wind made the trees rustle, and the fresh smell of the grass. He wriggled around in The Throne. It really wasn’t too comfortable, and he was a little squeamish over the fact that he was sitting on patches of dried chicken blood. But Jesus, if only Kevin wasn’t so… sexually frigid. How could someone not like sex? Yamir shook his head in disbelief. The only explanation that he could think of was that something had gone terribly wrong with the pleasure receptors in Kevin’s brain. Yamir leaned back and sighed. He was certain that Kevin had just had a terrible first few experiences and was unwilling to go any further. He wished Kevin would just let the pursuit of pleasure override all his other impulses, but knowing Kevin, he’d have to turn super-sensitive or something for that to ever happen. But Yamir wouldn’t mind.

Finally, Yamir dragged himself out of his seat and began the trek back. Behind him, The Throne was giving off a faint ethereal glow, but Yamir did not look back and did not notice.

Kevin trudged up to the music building, grumbling to himself the entire time. He studied cello and kept his cello at the music building, but that meant he had to come up there each time he wanted to practice.

Kevin fumbled with his key card and let himself in. The music building was relatively deserted this late in the evening. It was almost eerie, with the long hallways and half-open doors, but Kevin didn’t get spooked easily and marched uncaringly up the stairs to his favorite practice room. For a moment, he thought he heard footsteps following him, but he didn’t see anyone. It was probably just his imagination, or someone walking around upstairs.

Kevin was tuning his cello when someone knocked on the door to his practice room. “Come on in,” he called, not looking up. The door creaked open and someone stepped inside.

“There you are,” Kevin heard Yamir‘s voice say. “I was hoping you’d be the first one. It makes for a neat sort of symmetry.”

“I’m sure I’m not the first one in the music building tonight,” Kevin said without looking up from his tuning. “People do use the practice rooms at night, you know.”

“That’s not what I meant. You’re very self-absorbed.” Kevin heard the shuffling of feet on carpet. Was Yamir barefoot? He glanced down. Yep, no shoes. Kevin sighed and focused on his tuning.

“Why aren’t you wearing any shoes?”

“I never wear shoes.”

Kevin opened his mouth to contradict him, but then closed it. Something wasn’t right. For a moment, he wasn’t sure it was, but then it hit him. Yamir’s skin was a rich sunny brown. The feet he had glanced at a few seconds ago had been deathly white.

The person who wasn’t Yamir spoke again, and this time, Kevin could hear a buzz to the voice, a distorting quality. “I’m not wearing any clothes, either. If you bothered to look up, you could see for yourself.” Goosebumps rose on Kevin’s arms. How had he ever thought this person was Yamir? His voice was completely different.

Kevin paused his tuning and slowly glanced up. He half-expected to see a deranged naked guy with a torture weapon aimed at his head. What he didn’t expect was a boy who looked like he could still be in high school. He was naked, though. His skin was so white it seemed to glow. Or was that just a trick of the light?

The boy took careful deliberate steps towards Kevin, like a fawn still learning to walk. Kevin watched him, mesmerized. The closer the boy came, the more he became aware of how pale he was… and how beautiful. It was rare for Kevin, but he actually felt it, a stirring in his groin.

The boy peered at him through heavy-lashed eyes. “I have something for you, but I’m going to need your help with this. I’m fairly weak at the moment.” A scent met Kevin’s nostrils, musky and intoxicating. He was surprised it could come from someone who looked so innocent. Kevin put down his cello and looked closer at the boy. He didn’t look like an abuse victim or someone escaped from a mental hospital. Kevin tried to keep his gaze on the boy’s face, struggling to keep a clear head. It had been a long time since someone had looked at him the way the boy was looking at him…

“What do you need help with?” said Kevin, his voice coming out an octave lower than normal and unintentionally sounding a lot more loaded with innuendo than Kevin had meant. The feeling in his groin was getting more intense and a muggy heat was spreading through his body and clouding his brain. He could almost feel it, the different parts of his mind shutting off one by one.

The boy didn’t answer, just smiled. Kevin suddenly realized that the boy had fully closed the distance between them and was inches from his face. Kevin watched his tongue trace his lips, moistening them. The boy leaned in, his breath ghosting across Kevin’s face. Kevin closed his eyes and let out a soft moan. He could feel sweat forming on his forehead. The last active parts of his mind struggled to form a protest, but the boy’s scent was filling the room, his presence sketching itself across Kevin’s closed eyelids. Reluctantly, Kevin opened his eyes. The boy was still watching him, big brown eyes unwavering.

Without breaking eye contact, the boy leaned in and gave Kevin a soft, sweet kiss. Kevin sighed in pleasure, and the fog coursing through his brain thickened into solidity.

Kevin would later have almost no recollection of what happened in the practice room. He remembered lying on his back, tossing his head around and screaming in pleasure, a pale figure in between his legs pounding relentlessly into his hole, filling him with a pleasure, and a need, that he would never forget. He remembered feeling as if his entire body was cumming, how he could feel every fiber of the carpet rubbing against his back and causing sparks of pleasures against his eyelids. When he used to arch his back to stretch, it would cause a pleasurable, almost erotic, sensation that faded quickly, but the thing he remembered most clearly as that strange white inhuman being ravaged his helpless body was a fleeting thought dancing through his dazed brain, how it was like stretching forever, never ending pleasure growing and growing and encompassing the whole body, no sharp edges, all smooth climax.

It was almost morning when Kevin came to, panting and flushed on the floor of the practice room. He was alone; the cello lay abandoned in a corner. Kevin struggled to his feet. He was clean and unharmed and had no clear idea of where the past few hours had gone, and by the time he managed to pull on his clothes, moaning softly at the feeling of the cloth against his skin, he had already decided it was a dream. He shouldered his cello and began the trek back to his dorm.

By the time he got back to his room, he was a wreck. What was going on? He was aware of his underwear with every step, his pants, his shoes, the cello strapped to his back, the sensations all pleasurable and driving him mad. It was as if someone had took the pleasure receptors in his brain and made them go haywire, connected to every nerve in his body, turning him super-sensitive. He shed his clothing and threw himself onto his bed, thrusting into his hand wildly till he came a mere few seconds later. His cum splattered out all over his chest, and Kevin slowly wiped it off with a tissue. Even the feel of soft tissue dabbing away the semen aroused him, and he stared with disbelief at his cock, which hadn’t even begin to fully soften before growing hard again. Kevin tentatively grasped it with his hand and hissed; this was too much. He couldn’t help it and pumped up and down, squeezing his eyes shut and relishing the sensations. It took him a bit longer to come this time, but not much longer. The cum splatter hit him in the face and Kevin blinked, surprised, lashes heavy with cum. He hid his face in his hand, embarrassed even though there was no one to see him. He lay in bed for a while, thinking, and finally came to a decision.

He got out of bed and cleaned off as much of the cum as he could, gritting his teeth and resisting the urge to act on the erotic impulses every bit of skin contact brought him. He needed a cold shower, and some sleep, and when he woke up, this whole nightmare would be over. He hoped.

Kevin grabbed his towel and headed for the shower down the hall. He stepped into the stall and let out a spray of frigid water that made him yelp, but he didn’t move away. He prided himself on his self-control. What was a little cold water, anyways?

But his hard-on resisted all attempts at shrinkage, even though Kevin’s teeth were chattering by the time he gave up and turned the water off. Grabbing his towel, he pulled it around his shoulders for warmth. He opened the door and walked out. Right into

Michael.

“Oh, sorry,” said Michael, “I didn’t realize the shower was in use…” His voice trailed off into a wolf-whistle. Kevin blushed furiously and yanked his towel from his shoulder to wrap it around his waist, to conceal his raging hard-on. “That’s some erection! Had a crazy wet dream or something?”

“You could say that,” chattered Kevin through shaking teeth, trying not to look at Michael’s soft golden hair, his concerned eyes, his sculpted chest, his muscled arms… He squeezed his eyes shut. Damn it, what was wrong with him?

“Say,” said Michael in a suddenly husky voice, “if you need any help with that…” He gestured at Kevin’s erection. Kevin opened his eyes, his mouth open to declare his denial, and he might have gotten away safe, but Michael chose that moment to put his hand on Kevin’s shoulder. Electric sparks shot across Kevin’s skin at the contact, jolts of pleasure, and he moaned, loudly. It was much, much more intense when the skin contact came from someone else.

Kevin blushed and tried to explain but Michael had taken the moan as a resounding ‘yes’ and crushed his lips against Kevin’s. Kevin found himself responding, their tongues dancing against each other, their hands all over each other’s bodies. Kevin ran his hands down Michael’s back and grasped his butt, squeezing firmly. Michael hissed and grinned, pulling back from the kiss. “I always knew you were secretly a sex fiend underneath that celibate shtick you always went on about.” Kevin wanted to deny it, to cry and explain that he wasn’t usually like this, but then Michael grasped his painfully erect cock and instead Kevin screamed as he orgasmed. His vision turned white and his knees buckled as his cock spurted out shot after shot of cum. It was the most intense orgasm he had ever had in his life. Michael caught him with one arm as Kevin lost his balance.

“Wow,” Michael’s voice was awed, “that was… intense. And you’re still hard!”

“Please,” Kevin begged him, “please, I can’t stand this anymore. I need…”

“I know what you need,” growled Michael, misunderstanding Kevin’s intention, and he grabbed Kevin by the waist, flipping him around so that Kevin was on his knees, kneeling with his pert bubble butt raised at Michael. Kevin wanted to beat his fists on the ground, to shout that no, he needed to stop this, but Michael grabbed a shampoo bottle from the shower stall and trickled some onto his hand for lube and stuck in a finger and began probing around, and that was it for the last shred of Kevin’s dignity. It was as if the finger in his rear has flipped on the last of the switches that overrode Kevin’s brain with pure, raging lust. Kevin found himself not caring what happened in an hour, or in a day, and just wanting what was happening NOW. He thrust back, groaning, yelling, mewling at Michael, his insides burning with need, his cock jumping with every jab at his prostate.

Michael added in another finger, scissoring them and stretching him. Even with the shampoo for lube, it burned more than Kevin could have imagined, but his lust overrode the pain and he willed himself to relax, riding the waves of pleasure as Michael finger-fucked him. Michael’s stream of dirty-talk didn‘t help. “Oh yeah,” Michael hissed, “you like it dirty, don’t you. Moan for me, Kevin. Squeal for it like the sex fiend you are.” He jabbed his fingers in even faster, and Kevin squealed without meaning to and burned red with embarrassment, even as he thrust his ass back on Kevin’s fingers, desperately craving more. Michael just laughed and laughed.

Finally, Michael pulled out his fingers and Kevin bit his bottom lip as felt the head of Michael’s cock rubbing up against his hole. It paused, almost in, then pulled back, leaving behind a wet drop of pre-cum.

Michael’s voice was throaty with lust. “Beg me for it.”

“Please,” Kevin’s voice was so quiet, “please, Michael, don’t make me do this.”

Michael grabbed Kevin’s ass with both his hands, squeezed the soft flesh, kneading it with his fingers, digging in his fingernails, making Kevin squirm and moan. “Beg me for it!”

Sparks popped against the back Kevin’s eyelids. When Michael positioned the tip of his cock against his hole again, rubbing it so softly around the sensitive skin, he couldn’t take it anymore. “Please, Michael, I need it, I need you to fuck me so bad!” Kevin babbled, his mind gone haywire with lust. “Jesus Christ, Michael, you have no idea how much I want this, it feels like my body’s going to explode! I feel so good, I can’t even think straight, I just need it, it’s all I can think about!”

“Need what?” hissed Michael, rubbing his cock up and down along Kevin’s ass crack.

“Tell me what you need! Need WHAT?”

“I NEED YOU TO FUCK ME!” Kevin screamed. “FUCK ME, PLEASE! POUND MY ASS TO A PULP! I NEED YOUR COCK IN MY ASS, I NEED IT SO BAD! I WANT YOU TO FUCK ME HARD AND MAKE ME MOAN LIKE A BITCH, PLEASE, MICHAEL, JUST FUCK ME ALREADY, PLEASE!”

Michael grinned and dug his hands into Kevin’s hips and thrust all the way in. Kevin screamed in raw pleasure as Michael drove his cock into his hole, slamming against his prostate. “YES, JUST LIKE THAT! POUND ME HARD!” Michael pulled all the way back and slammed back in, his cock stretching Kevin’s ass and rubbing every side and angle and filling it exactly as he longed to be filled. Hot crackling sheets of ecstasy rolled across Kevin’s skin as Michael pounded in and out, his hot breath hissing on Kevin’s back. Michael reached around a hand and rubbed Kevin’s chest as he fucked him like a rabid dog in heat, his fingers taking hold of Kevin’s nipple and squeezing, eliciting a squeal from the panting Kevin. Kevin thrust his ass back as hard as he could, trying to get as much of Michael’s cock inside as he could, throwing his head back, panting with need.

Michael pulled out of Kevin and flipped him over onto his back. “Want to look at you,” he grunted, and he shoved his cock back into Kevin’s abused hole. Kevin moaned and writhed around Michael’s cock, his legs spread as wide as they could go as he let himself be helplessly fucked by the man above him. Michael leaned in close, their chests rubbing against each other as he pounded in and out, driving his cock with an even more powerful brute force than before.

“Gonna cum,” he grunted into Kevin’s ear, licking at his flushed panting face, leaving trails of saliva on Kevin’s red cheeks and panting lips. Michael roared and bit down hard on Kevin’s shoulder, and he thrust in as hard as he could go for one last time and exploded into Kevin, his cock pulsing as he came. Kevin gasped, his mouth gaping wide, drool trickling out, eyes bugging, and as his body convulsed, he came too. His red and angry cock swelled up and his balls churned, and shot after shot of hot white cum splattered against his chest, across his face, onto his tongue, getting into his hair, even marking the wall behind him with angry white streaks. Kevin’s ass contracted repeatedly as he came, milking Michael for all he was worth.

Completely spent, the two men collapsed against each other, listening to each other’s soft breath. The bathroom reeked of sex and the smell of cum. Michael was the first to break the silence. “I don’t say this often, but I think that was the most intense fuck session I’ve ever had.”

Kevin breathed out. “I don’t say this often either, but… yeah…” Kevin snaked around a hand to poke at his softened cock. “Thank god it went down. I was worried I’d be stuck with a hard-on forever.”

Michael grinned. “For future reference, if you ever find yourself with a hard-on that won’t go away, don’t bother with a cold shower. I live right down the hall.”

Kevin laughed, embarrassed, a shred of his old self-dignity awakening in his head.

“No, really,” Michael insisted. He gave Kevin’s butt a playful squeeze, and Kevin inadvertently moaned. Michael’s laugh of amusement, however, quickly turned into one of surprise as he realized that Kevin’s cock was rapidly rising to full mast. A second squeeze of Kevin’s butt confirmed his suspicions. “Well,” he whispered, more to himself than Kevin, “now I know what to do if I ever need to get an instant reaction out of you.” He looked down on Kevin; just yesterday, he was perfectly groomed and mannered, proudly celibate, a perfect sexless Adonis, and now, here he was, hair messy and sticky with cum, lips bruised and red, cheeks flushed, naked and panting and moaning with desperate need, not caring who saw him or even who it was between his legs. Michael licked his lips. It was like a fantasy come true. Raising his voice, he said to the moaning lustful Kevin, “Ready for round two?”

“Billy, you awake yet?“ Yamir hammered on my door.

“Coming, coming,” I grumbled, grabbing my backpack and stomping out into the hallway. It was early and the sun was barely up, but Yamir and I had an early-morning class, so here I was, awake and trudging up to the music building at the crack of dawn. As I paused on the edge of the hill around back to rub sleep out of my eyes, I thought I saw The Throne pulsing with light, but when I rubbed my eyes harder and looked again, it seemed normal.

“What’s wrong?” said Yamir, noticing my pause, but I just shook my head and continued my walk to the music building.

“Nothing,” I told him, “I’m just tired. It was probably just my imagination.”