The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“You know what your problem is, Billy?”

“No, Yamir,” I said, rolling my eyes, “I don’t know what my problem is.”

“Your problem is that you take too damn long scooping the mashed potatoes.”

We were in the line for lunch. It was British Food Day!, complete with the exclamation mark, which meant mashed potatoes, some sort of beef stew, lots of gravy... Any other place would call it ‘Beef and Potatoes Day’, but when you attend a liberal arts college, even the lunch menus tend to get creative in a stupid sort of way.

“I do not take too long scooping mashed potatoes, young whippersnapper,” I said in my best John Cleese imitation, letting my current scoop of potatoes slowly plop onto my plate. “Nor do I go too fast. I take precisely, no, exactly the correct amount of time—ow!” Yamir had just smacked me across the back of my head.

“Hurry up,” he grumbled, “I’m hungry.” So I grabbed a bread roll and moved on, leaving the potatoes free for Yamir. I hurried towards the table where we usually sat, hoping to avoid Brandon and his leather jacket before he spotted me.

“Oh hey Billy. What’s up, daddy-o.”

Shit. So much for avoiding him.

“Oh, you know,” I said, “nothing much. Time to eat. See you!”

“Hey, hey, hold on, baby,” he said, flipped back the curl of light brown hair he always kept carefully styled to hang right down the middle of his forehead. Brandon was a wannabe Beat poet, complete with the leather jacket, black jeans rolled at the cuffs, motorcycle boots, white socks, a battered copy of Jack Kerouac’s On The Road always in his back pocket... You get the point. Brandon would snap his fingers at concerts instead of applauding. He called people daddy-o and made up bizarre expressions that would make the original Beat poets cut off their own heads from embarrassment. He was, in other words, amazingly annoying. He was also bisexual and seemed to have an unfortunate thing for me. I wasn’t interested. But he was horribly persistent.

“Look, daddy-o,” he said, “I got this message to give you from Kevin. He says he missed a class you guys were having this morning. Something about countering?”

“Counterpoint,” I corrected automatically. It was true that Kevin had been missing from Intermediate Counterpoint today. It was unusual for someone normally so organized and punctual.

“Yeah, anyways, he was hoping you could fill him in on what he missed and get him the assignment and stuff.”

“Oh. Yeah. I’ll do that.”

“Cool thing. Hey, where are you sitting today? Got a spare seat near you that I can keep warm?”

“Oh, no, sorry Brandon, it looks like the table I’m at is already full. Whoops!” I hurried to the usual table, which was already (thankfully!) packed, with only two seats left, one for me and one for Yamir.

“Oh well, it’s like the vulture flies,” he said. “See you, daddy-o!” He gave me a peace sign, lowered his sunglasses, and stalked off, almost walking right into Yamir, who was trying not to crack up laughing. He enjoyed watching Brandon bother me.

“’Like the vulture flies’ has got to be his best one yet.” he said, slipping into his seat, “I don’t know how he comes up with those ridiculous expressions. He’s like a reverse genius.”

“Shut up,” I said, stabbing my potatoes. “He’s an idiot and he deserves to be eaten alive by old people. Old people with dentures that keep falling out. That way, it’ll take them a long time to eat him, and his torture will be especially prolonged and awful.”

“What a pleasant imagination you have,” Yamir said in his slightly-sarcastic tone. The smug look on his face annoyed me, but it was almost instantly replaced with a look of longing. “Oh no. Look at Adam’s costume-of-the-day. Why does he have to sit in the same room? I can’t stand it.”

“You could just break your don’t-sleep-with-fellow-music-majors rule,” I grumbled, and turned around in my chair to look. It was kind of thrilling, I suppose. Adam was tall and wide-shouldered and, asides from being a concert-bassoonist-in-training, he also took intensive dance classes, so he had a very nice body. And right now, he was wearing a sailor outfit, which showed off his very nice body very nicely. Yamir moaned softly as Adam stood up and bent over to fetch a dropped fork. His butt was pert and round and strained against the white fabric of his sailor pants as he knelt. Then he straightened up, yawned, stretched like a cat, and settled into his seat. Damn dancers. They were always so graceful.

Next to me, Yamir was practically drooling. “Look,” I said, “it’s entirely your own fault that you’ve branded Adam as a forbidden fruit.“I paused for a moment, entertained by the pun I had unintentionally made. “Anyhow. You said yesterday that you wouldn’t be able to stand his constant costume changes anyways. I mean, sure, he looks nice as a sailor now. But remember two days ago when he came in with those pink bell-bottoms and that orange afro wig? Or last week, when he was wearing high heels and a slinky evening dress and extension eyelashes an inch long? Or even two weeks ago, when he had put on gray hairspray and broken glasses and giant plaid pants with suspenders, and he’d walk around with a cane like he was an old grandpa? I mean, I don’t know what his issue is, but he takes his costumes seriously.”

Yamir stroked his chin. “I heard that it’s because he wants to be an actor. It was his childhood dream. But, unfortunately, he can’t act worth beans. He stinks, and he knows it. So instead he does what he’s good at, which is play bassoon and dance, and he lets out his acting urge through his outfits.”

“Huh,” I said. “Weird.”

“And so sexy...” sighed Yamir, watching dreamily as Adam got up from his table and walked across the dining room, carrying his dirty tray in one hand.

“Enough staring,” I said. “I need to go to class. I’ll see you later.” I slung my backpack over my shoulder and headed out of the dining hall, leaving Yamir still gazing at Adam’s retreating backside.

Meanwhile, Kevin was dozing fitfully in his bed. His normally tidy room was a mess. Books and folders that had been stacked on his desk were now scattered across the floor, as if someone had pushed them off the desk in a hurry. Papers had fallen out of the folders and settled in new places all over the floor, but Kevin hadn’t bothered to pick them up. His sheets were tangled and unmade. Every so often, he would shift in his sleep, and then a soft moan would escape his throat and he’d shiver a bit. His body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His penis, at least, was finally flaccid. He was finding some relief in rest.

Michael knocked quietly on Kevin’s door, and when Kevin didn’t wake up or respond, Michael let himself inside. He was carrying a take-out container of food from the dining hall. They’d spent most of the early morning fucking. That was how the books had ended up on the floor—Michael had decided he wanted to take Kevin on his own desk, and had been too impatient to clear off the books the old-fashioned way. Kevin hadn’t even protested at the mess. He had been too far gone.

They’d stopped when Michael realized he was running late for a class. As he was pulling on his clothes, Kevin lay back on his bed, his face flushed, a hand pressed to his forehead. “I feel like I’m burning up,” Kevin had said.

“Burning up with desire,” Michael joked, but Kevin didn’t laughed.

“I don’t feel so well...” Kevin lay back onto his bed, his eyes fluttering closed. “I think... I think I might call in sick today...”

By the time Michael was dressed and out the door, Kevin was sound asleep.

He was still that way when Michael returned after his class, eager for more fun with Kevin. Kevin had woken up then, but he had been too frantic at first, too worried about the class he had missed. “No!” cried, batting away Michael’s playful hand reaching for his nipple, “I have to get the homework from someone! We can’t do this until I let someone know to give me the homework, I’ve got to get dressed and find someone to ask...”

“Shh, shh, calm down,” Michael said, “look, Billy’s in your class, right? Brandon lives down the hall, I’ll tell him to tell Billy. You know how Brandon practically stalks Billy. He’ll jump at a legit excuse to talk to him.”

“Okay, do that,” Kevin said, so Michael slipped down the hall to let Brandon know. Brandon knew what was going inside Kevin’s room—he could hear the moans—and he gave Michael an earful about staying faithful to Ned, which was annoying as all hell because neither of them ever stayed faithful to each other. So what was the big deal? By the time he walked back into the room, he was in a grumpy mood, but it instantly lifted when he was met with the very pleasant sight of Kevin trying to finger himself. Judging from Kevin’s look of intense concentration and awkward motions, it was his first time ever attempting something like that. Michael laughed and closed the distance between them in a second.

“I’ll buy you a dildo later,” he whispered into Kevin’s ear. “For now, let me fix your problem myself.” His breath was warm against the shell of Kevin’s ear, and soon he was inside him again and they were moving to the familiar rhythm. Michael’s hands spread Kevin’s legs wide and grasped them at the ankles as he moved in and out. Kevin moaned softly beneath him as he opened his legs as far as they could go. Michael moved in for a kiss, letting go of Kevin’s legs, and Kevin wrapped them around Michael and arched his spine, rubbing Michael’s back with his ankles, encouraging him and pulling him in further, bucking up to meet Michael’s strokes as they came down and brought an intense and blazing pleasure that radiated throughout his entire body. They moved more calmly now than they had before, more intimately and with less urgency. They had lost count of how many times they had fucked. Michael was always horny, but Kevin had become insatiable. It made for a perfect combination.

They had stopped again for lunch. “Bring me something from the dining hall,” Kevin had asked weakly. He still looked flushed, as if he had run a mile without stopping. The flush was actually pretty sexy, giving him red cheeks and redder lips, but it worried Michael a little. If Kevin was sick, he hoped that it wasn’t something contagious, or he’d definitely catch it too. But now that he thought about it, Kevin never seemed sick or tired when they were having sex. He seemed full of energy then. It was only in between the pauses that he crashed, like coming down from a high, or like a drained sex-battery needing to recharge.

Michael shrugged. Whatever it was, it would probably pass in a few days. Nothing some antibiotics and bed-and-rest couldn’t cure, right?

I was walking towards the music building, running a little early for class, when I spotted an unpleasantly familiar leather-jacket-wearing creep making his way down an intersecting path. Brandon. Shit. If I kept walking at the pace I was going, we’d run right into each other, and then we’d be forced to walk to the music building together, to Brandon’s delight and my displeasure. Seriously, I had made it clear to him multiple times that I was not interested. He just didn’t give up. I ducked into the woods, deciding to cut through them instead. It would take a bit longer, but I was running early for class, so I could afford the extra few minutes.

I emerged a few minutes later into the back garden of the music building. I checked my watch. Still five minutes to spare. I sank into The Throne, enjoying the sunlight coming through the leaves of the trees around me. This really was a nice campus. I sometimes forgot how nice.

I watched from the distance as Brandon stomped down the main path and disappeared behind the front of the music building. Behind him came Adam, walking at a slower pace, still in that sailor suit. I mulled over what Yamir had told me over lunch. It was kind of sad, actually. The closest he could come to his true dream was through the clothing... He would never be able to do what an actor could do, which was become the costume and transform into a totally different person. Adam would always just be Adam wearing a costume. I sighed. In a way, I wished he could transform into his costumes. If for every outfit he put on, he became that outfit, became a different person, just like a real actor...

“OW!” I yelled, jumping up and clamping my hands to my behind. “The Throne bit me!” And then I blushed with embarrassment, glad that no one had been there to hear me yell that. It had probably just been some spider or something. The odd stinging sensation was already fading. I rubbed my offended rear and walked to class.

Several years ago, Adam’s father had made a deal with Adam. Adam would forfeit his Christmas presents and his birthday presents. In exchange, his father would stop complaining about all the clothing bills that kept appearing on Adam’s credit card.

Adam accepted the deal gladly. When he had arrived for his first year at college, he had more suitcases than anyone else in his entire dormitory, but where the other students had brought books and CDs and multiple instruments and computers and television sets, Adam had brought clothes. Some of it was expensive and delicate and could only be dry-cleaned, but Adam was different from most people who carefully selected their outfits each day before stepping outside their door. He didn’t dress to be fashionable or stylish. Adam dressed as if each day was a masquerade ball.

It had come as no surprise to anyone in his family when he had come out as gay, which was a form of stereotyping that wasn’t especially fair to Adam, but then again, he had it easier than some of his actor friends. One of his friends, a straight guy named Pete, had had four long-term girlfriends and a plethora of short-term ones, but Pete’s parents went to Pete’s plays and watched Pete dress in drag for a historical reenactment of a Shakespeare play and then grumbled about Pete’s homosexuality and ‘faggotry’. They would never understand the transformations that were at the heart of acting, or how someone could lack bias towards gender roles in clothing and see all attire as fair game: to them, it was just Pete in a dress, and that was enough for them, no matter how many girls Pete slept with. In a way, Adam was lucky that he was gay. It made it easier for some people to swallow his costumes.

Now, the sailor outfit was one he was very proud of. He had found it in a Salvation Army, hidden pressed between two tweedy jackets. It was a genuine uniform, not a polyester costume, and as Adam had taken it to the dressing room, he had prayed that it would fit. His biggest bane was finding a beautiful and unique piece of clothing and not having it fit properly. At first, he would buy those pieces of clothing anyways, but then he noticed that he rarely wore them or incorporated them into costumes. He wanted his costumes to look real, to hang right, and they had to fit him exactly for the proper effect. And when he had slipped on the sailor’s uniform, it had fit like a glove. It had been perfect. He had grinned the entire way home and worn it for the next two days straight.

As Adam walked back from his music class, he stepped carefully, trying to avoid getting dirt on the white bottoms of his pants. The sun was setting, so the light was not good, and that made his task a little more difficult. His father would sometimes tease him about his natural caution and politeness, but Adam ignored him. He saw nothing wrong with being cautious or polite. The rest of the class was far ahead of him, walking at a normal pace, but Adam lagged behind, being careful not to dirty his suit. The only person walking slower than him was someone behind. Adam wasn’t sure who it was. From a glimpse he got from the corner of his eye, he thought it might be Billy. But he wasn’t sure.

Adam reached his dorm and opened the door and stepped inside. Behind him, he heard the dorm door slam, then open again as a second person let themselves in. Adam thought nothing of it. Billy was probably visiting a friend that lived in this particular dorm. Adam reached his door, turned the knob and went inside. It was only when he didn’t hear the door slam behind him that he thought to turn around. “Billy, what are you doing—” he started to say, but then stopped, his words caught in his throat. This wasn’t Billy.

“Hello, Adam,” said the stranger as he let the door softly click shut. He took a step forward and Adam took a step back, the backs of his knees hitting his bed. “It’s nice to see you looking so well. I have something to give you.”

“You’re naked,” said Adam bluntly.

The stranger laughed. “Indeed I am.” He was a deathly white, with a row of faint black marks etched on his arms and legs, like tattoos that were half-born and were just only beginning to blossom. He looked like he was about Adam’s age. Young, but definitely not a high school kid. He had to be at least a college student. The stranger took another step forward, his footing sure and confident. The whiteness of his skin seemed to be spreading out of the confines of his body, bleaching the air around him. “Yes, Adam, I am naked, but don’t worry. Soon you’ll be naked too.”

The blanketing white stretched further and further, wiping out Adam’s room like an eraser sweeping across a sheet of paper. Adam cringed back, his eyes wide with terror and confusion, as the whiteness began to reach across to his side of the room.

“Don’t worry,” the stranger laughed, suddenly right next to Adam, his lips close to Adam’s ear, “it won’t hurt a bit.” And then the whiteness reached Adam, and his clothes vanished along with the rest of the room, and it was just Adam and the stranger, both nude. “In fact,” the stranger whispered, shoving his knee in between Adam’s legs to spread them apart, “I think you might even find it enjoyable.” And then the whiteness rushed in and filled Adam’s eyelids, and he felt something burningly white plunging into his ass. Whiteness filled his body and electrified his nerves, and the stranger was right after all. Adam didn’t mind it one bit.

He had no clue what time it was when he came to, lying naked and suddenly awake on his bed. He jerked up, gasping, and looked around for signs of the stranger. Nothing. His sailor suit was neatly folded and sitting on his chair. There was no sign of anything strange. Adam lay back down. It must just have been a very peculiar dream. He closed his eyes and drifted to sleep, his face settling into innocent sleeping lines, his blanket the only scrap of cloth covering his body.

The next morning, Adam rose and stretched, feeling strangely refreshed as he began going through the morning exercises he did each day to help himself wake up properly. His mind was already busily working on the problem of what to wear that day. As he grabbed his towel and headed for the shower, he considered outfit after outfit, thinking up new outfits, weighing old ones. As he rinsed soap off his body, the outfit of the day began to solidify in his mind. A baseball cap, yes... He wasn’t sure yet if it would be forwards or backwards. He decided he’d keep it forwards for now, and maybe turn it backwards later in the day. And then, a pair of white shorts, and a tight blue t-shirt, and a pair of red suspenders, and high white tube socks, and red sneakers... Yes, today he’d be a very American baseball-playing sort of guy. He came out of the shower smiling, ready to put his outfit into action.

He rooted around in his underwear drawer and pulled out a clean white jockstrap. Perfect. As he slipped his legs into the straps and began to pull it up, he felt a sudden rushing of tension in the air, almost like a thunderclap about to hit, and a split second later the jock strap was up and secure and Adam let go of it. He straightened up, feeling a very strange sensation wash over him. He grinned at the wall and yanked open his closet door, shoving the different articles of clothing aside as he searched for the shorts, instead of carefully pushing them aside as he normally would.

There they were! The white shorts had maybe shrunk a tiny bit since he had last worn them from too much time spent in the dryer, but they still fit. Besides, thought a new part of Adam’s brain that he didn’t remember being there, they’ll make my ass look snug, give the guys something to look at. He slipped his legs into the shorts and pulled them up and buttoned them. They tingled, and the sensation spread outward across his body, and Adam almost laughed aloud. He just felt so cheerful all of the sudden.

The tight blue shirt came on next. Adam shoved it over his head and pulled it down, running his hands a few times quickly over it to straighten it out, rushing carelessly through his dressing routine instead of paying it the usual precise attention. He found the red suspenders and clipped them on, straightening up with a new feeling of confidence. The tube socks were at the bottom of his drawer, and he pulled them on while whistling a few notes. He’d never really learned to whistle, never really managed to get the knack of it, but suddenly he realized just how to purse his lip and blow the air and get the notes he wanted. He grinned and found his red sneakers and pulled them on, feeling confidence and well-being oozing from his soles and up into the rest of his body. He stood. All that was left was the hat. Ah, here was a nice white one! Adam snatched it up and jammed it onto his head, and with that, the joyous bouncy feeling that had been growing inside him the entire time he was dressing just burst and Adam couldn’t help himself. He burst out laughing. He didn’t know why he was laughing, but that didn’t stop him from letting out loud chuckles as he slung his backpack over his shoulder and sauntered his way to class. He didn’t know why, but he just felt like today would be a great day.

“Woah.” Yamir stared vacantly over my shoulder as we stood in line for lunch.

“What is it?” I turned around. “Oh. Adam again. He does look nice in a baseball cap, I guess.”

“No,” Yamir shook his head, “it’s not that. Watch him move.”

I watched and waited. The line shifted forward, and Adam moved with it. “Woah,” I said. I had seen it too. Adam’s normal delicate cautious steps had been replaced with a sort of joyous athletic bounce. It reminded me of the way jungle cats walked. I had never before thought that the way a person walked could be sexually thrilling, but I found myself really enjoying watching Adam walk.

We reached the end of the line and began scooping slices of turkey onto our plate. Today was ‘Thanksgiving Dinner!’ day. Sometimes, I really hate the way my college names thing.

“Huh, turkey!” said a voice behind me, and I turned around to meet the sight of Adam’s giant grin. “For some reason I thought it would be ‘Spicy Taco Day!’ or something.”

“You don’t like tacos?” I asked.

“Nah,” he said, “I spent a summer with my aunt in Texas once, and she kept trying to teach me Spanish at the dinner table. I was so bad at learning it and she’d always make fun of me. Now, whenever I see any food that’s even a little Tex-Mex, all I can think of is her face scowling at me at the dinner table. It puts me off my appetite! So I’m glad it’s turkey day today instead of tacos.“

“I guess you’re just lucky,” said Yamir, trying not to stare too obviously at the way Adam’s muscled chest molded his blue shirt and red suspenders.

Adam laughed. “I guess you could say that. What about you, Yamir? You’re not a fan of turkey?”

“Not really,” Yamir grumbled as he added some stuffing to his plate. “Turkey’s not real meat, if you ask me.”

“Oh, you only like to swallow real meat. I understand.”

Both Yamir and I glanced sharply at Adam, who just kept grinning at us as he shoveled fried potatoes onto his plate. Had he just... Did he really... I shook my head to clear my thoughts. No, Adam didn’t have a sense of humor. He didn’t make innuendos. It just wasn’t Adam’s style.

“So,” said Yamir slowly, “does that mean that you don’t like to swallow real meat?”

Adam shrugged. “I like all kinds of meat. What can I say? I’ll put anything into my mouth.” He flashed a smile at Yamir and sauntered off towards the tables. Yamir stared at Adam’s retreating ass as it swayed back and forth, tightly encased in his white shorts.

“You know,” I said, “I always thought Adam was a vegetarian. I guess I was wrong.”

Yamir punched me in the arm. “Come on, let’s grab a seat. I could have sworn he was flirting with me... But Adam doesn’t flirt. He’s just... too passive. I dunno. Too cautious. This is kind of weird. But also cool.”

“What do you care?” I said as we pulled up seats at our usual table. “You’re not going to do anything with him anyways. He’s a music major, remember? You and your rules.”

“I don’t know,” said Yamir, a thoughtful look on his face as he watched the table where Adam was sitting, “I’m really considering just saying ‘screw the rules’.”

“So that you can screw Adam. I see.”

Yamir slapped me upside the head and speared a potato with his fork. “Well, if he was flirting with me, I’m going to flirt back. You watch. I’ll do it.”

“I believe you,” I said dryly.

“You better believe it! Because it will happen.”

“Yes, so you’ve said.”

“Oh look, Billy, it’s Brandon. Brandon! Over here!”

“I fucking hate you, Yamir,” I hissed as Brandon noticed Yamir’s waving arms and walked over to our table.

“Hey, dads, what’s shaking.” Brandon straightened his leather jacket and pulled up a chair.

“I’m not your dad,” I said, irritated.

“Hey, hey,” Brandon held up his hands, “look, man. We’re all connected. Everyone’s my dad. Every man in the world.”

“I guess your mom was busy,” Yamir murmured into his apple juice. I snorted with laughter and began choking on my turkey. Yamir slapped me on the back till I recovered. Thankfully, Brandon hadn’t heard what Yamir had said.

“Well,” I said, “I’m younger than you by a couple of months, so I think that would mean you’re my dad, not the other way around.”

“Yeah,” chimed in Yamir, “you’d better start calling him ‘sonny-o’ if you want to get anywhere with him. Ow!” The last bit was from me kicking Yamir under the table.

Brandon opened his mouth to reply, but what he would have said, I’ll never know, because at that moment Adam got up from his seat, and Yamir rocketed out of his seat as well, shouting “Done with my lunch, bye everyone!” as he grabbed his half-finished meal and ran to intersect Adam. Unfortunately, he ran right into Adam instead of intersecting him, and his unfinished apple juice went flying and splashed all over Adam’s shirt.

“Shit!” Yamir said, mortified, “I’m so sorry!”

“Oh,” said Adam, staring at his stained shirt, the apple juice leaking through the blue fabric and down to the white shorts, ruining the clothing. “It’s alr—i——ght— ...I don’t feel so well.” He clutched his head. “I’ve got to... got to go.” He stumbled his way out of the lunch room, a pained expression on his face.

I went over to Yamir, who had turned pasty pale as he watched Adam stumble away. “What happened?” I asked.

“I have no clue,” he said, “but I’m going to find out. If he’s allergic to apple juice or something... It’d be all my fault. I’m going to go find him and see if I can help.” Yamir left.

“Hey,” said Brandon, appearing next to me, “looks like it’s just you and me left at the table, sonny-o. Let’s go finish our lunches.”

“Not hungry,” I growled at him, and I left as well. Sonny-o indeed! I’d kill Yamir the next time I saw him. I still needed to find Kevin and give him his missing homework assignment, so I decided I’d spend the remainder of my lunch break doing that.

Adam lurched into his room, his vision blurred and spinning. He clutched as his ruined stained clothes. They stung at him, and he began pulling them off. As each article of messed-up clothing came off, he felt his mind floating more and more free. The migraine-like pain that had abruptly struck his temples lifted, as did most of the strange optimistic confidence that had filled him the entire morning. He rubbed his eyes. All that was left to remove was the unstained jockstrap. He pulled it off, and the last of the foreign personality was gone.

Adam stared at his reflection. It stared back, its eyes blank and devoid of expression. He felt like he ought to be annoyed that his clothes were stained and messed up, or confused about his behavior for the entire morning. But instead, he just felt blank. Like a white canvas, waiting to be filled. It almost unsettled him, but he was too serene in this state, too calm to be unsettled. He turned to his underwear drawer. He would have to make a new outfit for the remainder of the day.

There was a knock on Adam’s door, but Adam, so lost in thought, did not hear it. After a short while, his door opened quietly and Yamir peered inside. He had hoped to just make sure that Adam wasn’t passed out or something, but the sight of Adam in all his glory froze him where he stood. He meant to pull away and close the door, giving Adam back his privacy, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He watched Adam’s back as he moved towards his drawer and pulled out a pair of green boxers and slipped them on. He didn’t appear to be injured or hurt in any way. Yamir eyed the discarded juice-stained clothing that sat in one corner. What had been up with that?

Adam reached into his closet for a white dress-shirt and a pair of black dress pants and slipped them on. Then he pulled out an ornate blazer and put it on too, puzzling Yamir. What costume was he going for? Finally Adam completed the outfit with a straw sombrero, and Yamir exclaimed, realizing Adam was imitating the look of a mariachi band performer. Adam whirled around at the noise and accidentally stubbed his toe. “Ow!” he yelled, and began cursing in a string of fluent Spanish as he hopped up and down.

Yamir froze, remember the earlier conversation. Adam had said he didn’t speak a word of Spanish... What was going on? And he had been so strange and different during lunch, his personality almost unrecognizable and so very cheerful. Yamir knew that Adam couldn’t act at all, so this couldn’t be acting... Slowly, a crazy theory began to form in Yamir’s head.

“What are you doing there?” Adam said to Yamir in lightly accented English, suspicious at the invasion of his privacy. “Why didn’t you knock?”

“Woah! I just wanted to check up on you to make sure you were feeling okay! You kind of freaked me out during lunch today.”

“Yeah, well, I’m fine, so you can go now. I don’t need your help.”

Yamir was surprised at this un-Adam-like directness. “Are you sure? You’re acting a lot... different... than you were a few minutes ago.” Yamir began to slowly inch into the room. “Are you sure you didn’t have an allergy to the apple juice? You seemed really sick. We should probably get it checked out at the Health Office.”

“I said I’m fine!” retorted Adam, just as Yamir suddenly shot forward and grabbed Adam’s hat off the top of his head.

“Wow, where’d you get this hat?” said Yamir, waving it in front of Adam.

“Hey!” Adam exclaimed. “What gives? Give that back!” He charged at Yamir, but Yamir side-stepped and grabbed Adam’s blazer instead, pulling it right off Adam’s back as Adam went by.

“And this blazer! Was it a gift from your aunt, the one who couldn’t teach you to speak a single word of Spanish?”

“What are you talking about?” said Adam, suddenly disoriented and muted. Yamir noticed, and he dropped the hat and blazer to the ground.

“I don’t think that outfit you’re wearing is doing it for you,” said Yamir. “Let me help you change it.”

“What do you mean?” Adam peered down muzzily at his plain outfit of a white shirt and black pants. “It seems okay enough to me...”

“Well, after your morning outfit, it’s just such a comedown... You need to come up with something more exciting. Let me help.” Yamir was already opening Adam’s closet and rifling through his clothes.

“I dunno...” said Adam, but he was already beginning to unbutton his shirt. He couldn’t think of a reason to ignore Yamir’s advice.

“Trust me,” whispered Yamir, appearing behind him. “Here. Let me help with you that.” He removed Adam’s shirt, drinking in the sight of his muscular back as it was revealed to him.

“I do trust you...” said Adam, speaking slowly, as if he was only half-sure what the words meant.

“Good,” murmured Yamir. “Now, take off your pants and your boxers. We’re going to start from scratch.”

Adam had only a moment’s hesitation before he removed his pants and tossed them to the side. The boxers came off easily and were also discarded. He stood in front of Yamir completely naked, his eyes wide and blank and innocent.

Yamir opened Adam’s underwear draw and rooted around, emerging a moment later with a bright blue silk thong dangling off one finger. “Listen,” he whispered into Adam’s ear, “and tell me, what do you feel right now?”

“I feel... calm.” Adam closed his eyes. Beneath his eyelids, it was like a white ocean, smooth and serene. “I feel empty.”

Yamir put the blue thong into Adam’s hands. “Put this on, and keep talking, describe to me how you feel. I want to keep hearing it.”

“I feel at peace,” said Adam softly, opening his eyes and looking at the thong. “I feel... submerged?”

“Go on,” Yamir urged. “Put it on.”

“Alright.” Adam began to slip the thong up his legs.

“Keep talking,” said Yamir, watching Adam with hungry eyes.

“I feel... I feel strange.” The thong crawled up Adam’s legs, inching up past his knees. “I feel like there’s a cloud forming inside my head.”

“What color is it?” whispered Yamir.

Adam finished pulling the blue thong up and it snapped into place. “It’s blue,” he said, and licked his lips.

“How do you feel?”

“I feel... hungry.” Adam smiled a slow seductive smile. “I feel like I need something.” He shifted his weight from leg to leg, making his ass sway slightly. “I really like the way this thong feels. You were right about needing to change my outfit. This is much more... satisfying.”

“Good,” said Yamir, smiling, his eyes not leaving Adam’s ass, enjoying the sight of the thong vanishing into the curves of Adams bubble butt. It seemed like his theory just might have been right. “Now put this on,” he said, handing Adam a pair of cut-off jeans that were little more than denim booty shorts, “and keep telling me how you feel.”

Adam took the material into his hands, letting the skimpy shorts hang from a finger. “I feel alive, somehow. It’s like there’s something inside me, crawling around and wanting to get out.” He began to pull on the cutoffs. “And I’m not sure what it’ll do when it gets out, and I feel like I should be worried about something, though I’m not sure what, but—” He cut off in mid-sentence as he finished pulling up the shorts. He held them there, unfastened, in a daze.

“Yes?” prompted Yamir. “You were saying?”

“I think it just got out,” purred Adam, and he buttoned the shorts. He licked his lips again, but this time he let the tongue run slowly across them, leisurely stroking them with his tongue as he kept his gaze fixed intensely on Yamir. He took a step closer to Yamir. “I don’t know, Yamir. What do you think?”

“I think,” Yamir gulped, unable to tear his eyes off Adam slinking his way towards him,” that you should put on this tank top. Keep talking.” He offered Adam a red tank top, and Adam took it, winking as he let his hand linger over Yamir’s arm before removing it.

“Does this turn you on?” said Adam, letting the words roll in his mouth. “Me telling you how I feel? Does it turn you on, knowing that with every move, I can feel this thong rubbing against my asshole?”

“Oh god yes,” whispered Yamir, unable to look away.

“Well,” panted Adam as he began pulling on the tank-top, “that makes me feel hot. Oh look. My nipples are hard.” He pulled down the tank top and hard nubs poked out through the cloth. Adam took hold of them with his fingers and began tweaking them. “Oh yeah. That feels nice.”

“Let me help you with that,” Yamir said, reaching to run his hands over Adam’s chest. Adam moaned at the contact.

“Oh yeah! Twist my nipples! Let me feel it!” Yamir grinned and twisted hard. “Oh god! Yes!” Adam panted harshly and grasped Yamir’s arms with his hands. “Kiss me.”

Yamir pressed his mouth against Adam’s, relishing the feel of his lips. Adam responded eagerly, wantonly, opening his mouth and pulling in Yamir’s tongue, sucking on it passionately. Yamir moaned appreciatively and pulled out of the kiss. “Is my tongue the only thing you want to suck?”

Adam just licked his lips in response and sank to his knees. Yamir grasped Adam’s head with one hand and unzipped his pants with another, letting them fall to the ground. His erect cock poked out, and Adam dived for it instantly. Yamir groaned as Adam’s tongue flicked across his shaft, enjoying the sight of Adam looking up at him imploringly as his full lips moved up and down over his cock. Adam moaned, and Yamir could feel the vibrations from his throat. He tightened his grip on Adam’s head and began face-fucking him, forcing him back and forth. It just seemed to excite Adam more and more. Adam’s erect cock began to poke out of his cutoffs, a drop of precum glimmering at the tip. He pushed his ass out, wiggling it back and forth as he sucked off Yamir, and Yamir’s eyes widened in appreciation at the sight of Adam’s blue thong riding up out of his denim booty shorts.

Yamir pulled Adam off his cock and up into a wet kiss. Their tongues dueled with each other, Adam’s face flushed with lust. Yamir pulled out of the kiss, panting. “I am going to fuck you so hard,” he growled into Adam’s ear, and Adam moaned appreciatively. They stumbled to the bed. Yamir stripped off his clothes, but when Adam moved to remove his clothing as well, Yamir stopped him. “No,” he said harshly. “Keep it on.” He shoved Adam forward, so that he landed on his knees on the bed. “Where do you keep your lube?”

“In the nightstand drawer,” panted Adam, pulling himself up with one arm to point.

Yamir yanked open the drawer and pulled out a condom and a bottle of lube. “Good.” He yanked the cutoffs halfway down Adam’s thighs, making sure that they still remained on, and adjusted the thong strap so that Adam’s asshole was exposed. Then he coated one finger with lube and began to push it into Adam. Adam moaned and writhed on that finger. “You like that? Tell me how you feel.”

“I feel great! I love it. God, don’t stop. Give me more! I want more!”

“You little slut,” said Yamir, slapping Adam’s ass playfully.

Adam giggled and shook his ass at Yamir. “I am, I am!”

“I know you are,” murmured Yamir, smiling, adding under his breath, “it’s all in the clothes,” and he wiggled his finger around in Adam’s ass, enjoying the way Adam squirmed beneath it.

“I want more,” moaned Adam, “fuck me!”

“Happy to oblige,” said Yamir, and he pulled his finger out and slipped on the condom before lubing it up and pushing inside. Adam’s moans got louder, and he gasped when he felt Yamir pull all the way inside. “God,” whispered Yamir, “so tight.” He grabbed hold of the back of Adam’s tank top, pulling Adam up so that he was standing on his knees, pressed against Yamir, and he wrapped his arms around Adam’s chest. Yamir’s bare chest rubbed against Adam’s clothed back. “My little slut,” hissed Yamir into Adam’s ear, before pulling out and then slamming back in, beginning his relentless fucking.

Adam’s moans grew louder and louder, drowning out the sound of slapping flesh as Yamir pounded into Adam’s ass. “Tell me you feel!” Yamir yelled as he fucked him.

“I feel great!” moaned Adam. “I feel so good! Oh god, don’t ever stop!” His moans got higher and higher in pitch as Yamir fucked him harder and harder, until he was squealing with each thrust, his body trembling with pleasure. Yamir rubbed his hands against Adam’s chest, finding his clothed nipples and twisting them hard as he nuzzled Adam’s neck, licking and nipping at the exposed flesh. Adam rotated his head around to give Yamir better access to his neck and Yamir caught sight of his dazed eyes, his puffy lips open in a gasp. He pulled Adam into an aggressive kiss, their tongues fighting with each other, and reached one hand down to grasp Adam’s erection as he fucked him mercilessly. Adam groaned into his mouth, and suddenly his ass was clenching in an incredible way as he came and shot all over Yamir’s hand, soaking his thong and his cutoffs with his cum, crying out from the intensity of his orgasm. It was too much for Yamir, and a second later, he was coming too, pumping his seed into Adam’s hot ass.

Yamir held Adam there for a moment, pinned to his cock and pressed against his body as he gasped from the strength of his orgasm. He pressed his lips to Adam’s neck and left a small kiss. “How’d you like that, slut,” he murmured.

“I loved it,” Adam murmured back, clenching his ass around Yamir’s cock. Yamir chuckled and let Adam go, slowly pulled his deflating cock out of Adam’s ass. Adam collapsed on the bed, exhausted. Yamir watched him, drinking in the sight of his crush resting on his bed in a delicious just-fucked pose. After a minute, he heard a soft snore. He nudged Adam and got no response. He had fallen asleep.

“Figures,” said Yamir, chuckling to himself. He watched Adam sleep for another minute, enjoy the lusty grin on Adam’s face, present even as he slept. Out of curiosity, Yamir slowly began to pull down the cum-stained cutoffs. Then, hesitating slightly, he also took hold of the thong and pulled it down too. All that was left was the tank top. Yamir was more careful with that, making sure not to wake Adam up, but before long, it, too, was discarded. Adam lay on the bed, completely in the nude.

Yamir watched Adam’s expression now. It was no longer the lusty grin it had been a minute before. It was blank now, calm, but also, maybe, a little sad. He no longer looked like a slut who was enjoying a nap after a hearty fucking. He looked more like someone exhausted, someone getting their only chance at peace and quiet in their dreams. Looking at Adam like that, Yamir’s smile faded. He wasn’t sure how he felt now. Conflicted, maybe.

“I’m sorry for that,” he whispered, and leaned down to kiss Adam softly on the cheek. “But I don’t know if I won’t do it again.” He left the room quietly, making sure not to wake Adam up.

I grumbled to myself as I made my way to Kevin’s dorm to give him his homework assignment. “Stupid Brandon, with his stupid dads and his stupid leather jacket...”

“Look,” someone shouted down the hall ahead of me, “it just seems super weird to me, okay?”

Uh oh. I recognized Brandon’s voice. I ducked out of sight, waiting for him to leave. The person he was shouting at responded in a more quiet tone of voice. “That’s not your place to judge, now is it? He needs it, so I give it to him. What’s your issue with it?” And the second person was Michael. I knew him, sort of.

“Well, Michael, aren’t you and Ned dating? How would you feel if Ned went around, sleeping with random guys?”

I mentally slapped my forehead. Brandon really was dumb sometimes. Everyone knew about Michael and Ned’s open relationship.

“I’d feel better than you, I expect,” Michael was icily responding, “considering you can’t get laid to save your life.”

“Rude!” shouted Brandon, and he stormed off in my direction. I pressed myself against the wall, hoping he wouldn’t spot me. Luckily, he was so angry that he just marched right on by and didn’t notice me at all. I headed down the hallway.

“Oh, hey Billy,” said Michael, noticing me. “What’s up?”

“Hey Michael,” I said. “Do you know where Kevin lives?”

“Oh,” he said. “Um. Yeah. It’s the last door on your left.”

“Thanks,” I said and walked onwards.

“Knock first!” Michael shouted after me as he walked away.

I knocked, wondering why Michael would bother to remind me of something so obvious. When I didn’t get an answer, I knocked again. Still no answer. Well, I’d leave the assignment on his desk, and he’d get it when he came back. I opened the door and stepped inside.

Not much could have prepared me for the sight that met my eyes: straight-laced asexual neat-freak Kevin lying on his back in his messy bed, his legs spread wide as he pumped a dildo in and out of his ass. I’m pretty sure I said, “What the fuck!” but he didn’t seem to hear me. I backed up, reaching for the doorknob, and in a split second, I was out of his room. After a moment’s thought, I rummaged around in my backpack, got out the assignment, and slipped it under the door where he could find it when he was finished. Then I walked away, still stunned at the sight that I had just seen.

Seriously. What the fuck was going on?