The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I thought to myself: this is it. We’ve lost.

How stupid had we been, to sit there discussing the Throne, right in front of it—and so close to the woods?

And I thought: we’d lost because Michael had been right about one thing, which was that I was in a position even worse than Adam’s. All Yamir had to do was grab my horns and tell me ‘cum’ and I’d be useless. Heck, my body would probably join Yamir’s side and become his right-hand man. His personal cock-sleeve. Even now, I wanted to worship Yamir and let him do anything he wanted to me.

One of the guys behind Yamir said, “Are you going to summon him?”

Yamir replied, “No. First I’m going to take care of this little trio.” I could feel his grin burning into our backs. I kept my face buried into the ground. I heard him walking to the wagons that Michael and Ned had dragged to the Throne, and he began laughing. “Power tools? That’s all you came up with?” There was a loud crack, and then a clatter as Yamir dropped two pieces of a metal chisel to the ground.

He’d snapped it in half with his bare hands. Holy shit.

He was saying, “The Throne’s invulnerable, anyway, so long as He’s inside it. Not like Billy managed to do any damage with that sledgehammer yesterday. Honestly, Billy. Would have thought you’d have pieced that part together. You’re normally so clever.”

I felt his hand ghosting over my horns. “But not anymore. Now you are... very stupid. Or you will be. Soon.” And he grabbed hold of my horns and pulled tight.

I groaned. The desire to be dominated by Yamir increased tenfold, if that was even possible. I wanted, no, craved for him to degrade me, to make me shoot my brains out of my dick as soon as possible so I could begin my new life as his fuckslave—

But a small part of my brain wasn’t there yet. It was replaying what Michael had said a moment ago. The thing that lives inside the throne... He could take your demonic shell... he could expand you... stretch you further away from who you used to be... Then he could move right in... For me to be a perfect vessel, I couldn’t be this easily manipulated once he took over my body. Which meant...

If all I wished for on the Throne was for Yamir to ‘man up’, how did Yamir snowball into something like this? I remembered what Michael had been saying about how I’d probably been the ideal vessel, before Yamir turned out like he did, and became an even better contender. But what would the thing inside the Throne even do with a body like mine, a body that would betray him to anyone who grabbed its tail or his horns—

Oh. Of course. He’d expand and stretch it, into something where you couldn’t do that. Like Yamir had expanded and stretched.

It was like understanding a muscle you’d had all along, but had never noticed, or named, but there it was. Waiting for me to tense it, and flex it, if I was willing to risk the danger.

As Yamir pulled me to my feet by my horns, making me gasp from the erotic shock, I thought, flex. I felt my horns grow even longer, even taller—my arousal stretched with them, dangerously. I mewled and felt my balls churn, and Yamir laughed, thinking he causing it. I kept growing my horns. Kept flexing. I could feel them splintering at the top. The faint beginnings of antlers.

I’d closed my eyes, because I didn’t trust myself to not just orgasm at the sight of Yamir alone, not when everything about his body dripped liquid sex. But then I felt his breath on my nose. My eyes flew open. There was his face. Staring at me. Those intense, fuck-you eyes. Laughing at me. My toes dragged on the ground. He was holding me up entirely by my horns, my body limp in the palms of his hands. I groaned with neediness. My asshole spasmed. Before I knew what it was doing, it had released a spicy scent into the air.

Yamir dropped me immediately and I collapsed at his feet. He said, “What did you—Billy, what is that—” and then he moaned, coughing. Through my own cloud of lust, I thought. Ha. You’re not the only one with tricks up your sleeve.

He was shoving me onto my back, spreading my legs with his thighs. His muscular, granite-hard thighs—fuck. I wanted him so bad. I arched into his pelvis, muttered “Fuck, yes,” and lifted my legs high, wiggling my ass against his cock, so that he could spear me on it already and just fuck my brains out (wait, no! wrong! keep it together, Billy!) but goddamn it I craved it bad. Yamir was grabbing my ankles, pulling my legs wide apart. He leaned over me. His massive pecs heaved with each breath. I rubbed my claws down his abs, which flexed and tensed under my touch. I realized Yamir was panicking. He wasn’t fully in control of his body anymore. My musk was making him do this, and he was garbling out, “No, I’m supposed to make you cum first—I need to control—this wasn’t my plan—“

Without letting go of my ankles—because I knew he was literally unable to let go of my ankles, not when my asshole pulsed at him like that—he leaned forward over me and grabbed one of my horns in his teeth. It felt like someone had shot a bolt of orgasmic lightning up my spine. I keened and writhed below him. His tongue on my horns felt unbearably intimate, and I wanted to serve him, I wanted him to force me do everything for him—

He muttered, his mouth full of my horn, “Cum for me, Billy.”

And I felt the command take hold, my balls churning, and then I thought, oh I would love to do that so much. I’d love to be your bitch.

But also, I’ve grown past that. I don’t have to do what you say.

I won’t.

I laughed at his shock, and rubbed my horn further into his mouth, the sensation of his teeth grinding on it sending shockwaves all over my body, making me gasp, and then I pushed my hips back against his body and sheathed his cock fully inside my ass.

Yamir groaned and collapsed onto me. I could feel his cock pulsing inside me with every beat of his heart, and he began moving. I growled at him, “fucking harder, you piece of shit!” and his hips snapped forward and he began pounding into me. I screamed and raked my claws down his back. I was gasping, wrapping my arms around his powerful body, pulling him tight against me. I wanted him to use me like a disposable fucktoy. I wanted to feel his weight pressing me flat into the ground. I wanted to be his forever. He turned his face and gasped into my ear, “Fuck you. I’m still going to make you come,” and he buried himself into me and my eyes rolled back in my head. Keep it together, Billy.

I locked him into a kiss, running my tongue against the inside of his mouth. My incubus tongue. Making him shiver, turning his mouth into an erogenous zone with every lick. I pulled back, a string of a saliva connecting our panting lips. I said, “Not if I make you cum first.”

I don’t know if he understood. I don’t think that he’d seen how, whenever I fed on a guy, whenever I made them cum into me, they’d pass out immediately after. The incubus-feeding daze.

But Yamir must have gotten the idea.

Whoever came first would lose.

He sat up abruptly, yanking me into his lap. Around us, all the guys from the woods were groaning and masturbating, overwhelmed by the pheromones in the air. Adam and Michael were still buried face-first into the ground, helpless with blind worship. It was all on me. I ground into Yamir’s lap, relishing the feel of his cock speared inside me. I stared deep into his eyes. He stared back, stubborn as always, fucking determined. I felt a flair of affection and I thought, Yamir, is that you? Inside there somewhere? He snapped his hips up, over and over, and I yelled with delight, my cock pulsing, hold it in, and I ground my ass back into his lap. I dipped my head toward his chest as he thrust into me, suckling on one of his massive pecs, licking and biting at his pert nipple. I heard Yamir growl deep in his chest, and my asshole spasmed at that sound, his velvet voice, and then he corkscrewed up and did something incredible, and I keened into the night. My entire body was vibrating and shivering. I felt like I was close to blacking out, and I hadn’t even come yet.

Yamir panted at me. “Always wanted to see you make that face, Billy—always wanted to fuck that smug look right out of you, make you drool for me—” He snapped his hips up again, and again, and my entire body began to bounce up and down in time to his thrusts. My ass slapped against his thighs each time I landed back in his lap, impaled even further on his monster cock.

One of his hands grabbed my tail, began rubbing and stroking it, and I spasmed. I thought, no, too soon! and scratched desperately at Yamir’s pecs, pulled him into a vicious kiss, released as much pheromone as I could manage, squeezed my asshole tight and fluttered it, anything to make him cum first—Yamir pulled back from my kiss and put his hand against my cheek. He whispered to me, eyes wide, “Fuck, Billy. You look so fucking hot. Going crazy like this, just because of my cock—“

I don’t know why that did it. Something about those words, coming from Yamir—sounding like my old friend for just a second—and I was abruptly on the edge. He buried himself in me one last time. And that was it. I was shooting like a geyser. I thought, no no no no no and my cum rained down all over Yamir’s heaving chest, pooling down his abs, and I could feel my brain emptying out, pouring out, and my last coherent thought was that he’d won after all, all this effort, and he’d still won—

Man below me groaning. Groaning, screaming. He pulses deep into me. My eyes roll back. I feel his essence pouring into my ass. What bliss.

I feed from inside. What utter bliss.

Silence. Gasping, as I catch my breath.

Man below me. Collapsed. Flat on his back. So beautiful. So... masterful. So... unconscious. I want to worship him. Lick him.

I twitch my ass, keep his wonderful cock and his wonderful cum, still buried inside me. I lean forward and begin to lick. I lick all across his body, licking all my spilled cum back into my body.

And, eventually, I am Billy again, and I pull off Yamir’s flagging cock with a groan. I stand up on shaky legs, exhausted.

Behind me, Ned and Michael are rising too, looking flushed and overwhelmed. Right. I got to cum, but they didn’t.

Michael said, “How long is he going to be passed out like that?”

I said, “Not so long. But Michael, I think that if you stick your finger in his mouth, and tell him to pass out longer....”

Michael nodded. He got the idea.

In the end, Michael shoved his finger in Yamir’s ear and made Yamir’s mouth open like a puppet, so that his voice could command all the naked confused guys around us to go to their rooms, take a shower, and go to sleep. We’d deal with them later. If there even was a later. Because we hadn’t won just yet. We’d just bought us some time.

We huddled over Yamir’s body. It lay by the Throne, by the abandoned sledgehammer and the chisel he’d managed to snap in half with his bare hands. I couldn’t believe he’d gotten so inhumanly strong. Yamir’s eyes kept twitching. Michael said, “I keep putting him under, but it doesn’t seem to stick... I don’t know how long I can keep him down. If he wakes up, we’re fucked.”

I said, “Leave him there for now. We’re fucked even if he doesn’t wake up, because what we really need to do is destroy that Throne.” I jerked my head up, pointing at the sky. “They said that too. That’s the only way to get rid of him, to... undo all of this.” I rubbed my eyes. “Listen, I just... I just want things to go back to normal, you know?“

Ned rolled his eyes, “Yeah, destroy the Throne. That’s what our original plan was, dumbass, before you showed up all scary-like—”

“But your plan wouldn’t have worked, not the way you were doing it!” I argued back. “Didn’t you hear what Yamir said? As long as He’s in there... the Throne is invulnerable.”

“Oh, no.” Michael shook his head. “I do not like this at all.”

“It’s the only way,” I said.

“Wait.” Ned was staring at both of us. “You’re going to call Him out? Really? Doesn’t that seem, I don’t know, really dangerous?”

I said again, “It’s the only way.” I sprang up and begin sorting through the wagons of chemicals and tools that Michael and Ned had dragged up the hill. “Here. We can prop some chisels into the cracks in the seat, and then, the moment one of us calls him out, the others can begin hammering at the chisels, and start splitting the Throne—”

“Yeah, and how are you going to keep him occupied while you’re destroying his genie bottle?“

I smiled and pointed at Michael. “You.”

Ned looked confused, but Michael understood and turned pale. “Oh, no. I don’t know if that will even work. I mean, my power barely works on Yamir. You really think it’ll be able to hold back the... thing... who gave it to me?“

I ran my hands through my hair and tugged at my horns. “It’s the only option we have! Do you have any better ideas?“

“Okay.” Michael sat down slowly. “So... someone sits on the Throne. And they wish that...”

I said promptly, “They wish that the thing inside the throne would submit to have you put your finger inside them. And then, once you have your finger inside them, you... do your thought-thing... and hold him. While Ned and I destroy the Throne.”

Ned was saying, slowly, “What ‘thought thing’...? Michael, what’s going on...”

Michael looked at me, his face pleading, and he said, “Listen, Ned, I’ll explain later, okay? Just, trust me for now...”

Ned settled back into his complacent daze. “I do trust you.”

I shook my head and sighed. I had a feeling this would be an ugly conversation between the two of them, once this was all over with. If we managed to get this other with.

I couldn’t bear to think what would happen if we fucked it up.

Michael was rubbing his hands together. “Okay. Let’s do it. There’s no point in waiting around.”

Together, the three of us set up the chisels. I dragged over a bunch of hammers. Even with two of us chipping away at this thing, I didn’t know that we’d be able to break the Throne. But maybe we didn’t have to break it completely. Maybe just damaging it would be enough to destroy what’s living inside of it...

I lowered myself onto the Throne. Michael and Ned watched me expectantly. I thought carefully about what I wanted to say, and then I said:

“I wish that the entity who is bound inside this Throne should exit the Throne and appear before us, do what we say, and submit to having Michael put his finger into any of its orifices, without any repercussions or damage to Michael as a result.”

A voice behind me said, “Sure. Yeah. That’ll work.”

I leaped off the Throne. There was someone sitting there now, who hadn’t been there a moment ago.

The three of us backed away slowly as the pale god stood up off the Throne and towered over us. His antlers stretched over his head, scraping at the sky.

I felt my knees give way. Besides me, I could hear Michael and Ned moaning in fear as they collapsed to the ground as well. Our bodies were acting without conscious control. I realized, then, that we couldn’t make him do what we said if he could control our mouths. If he controlled our bodies, he could stop us from talking. Oh fuck. He was laughing at us. A horrible sound.

He was saying, “You thought you could pull this off? I’m nearly corporeal by now, and that’s when you decided to try screwing with me? Like, okay, let’s fuck with Linden now, when his human avatar is nearly complete for takeover, and he’s got almost all his power back. I mean. Good luck to you.“

Linden was stepping forward. I instinctively tried to shy away, but I couldn’t move an inch. He knelt in front of Michael. “What was it you wanted? To ‘stick a finger into my orifice’? Go on, baby. Let’s see what happens.”

He opened his mouth. Sharp, grinning teeth. Michael’s hand moved, like it was being puppeteered on a string. Michael’s finger extended, and moved into the laughing mouth.

Beside me, Michael jolted, like he’d been shocked with electricity. Linden laughed softly and let Michael’s hand fall out. “Amateur. As if your ‘thoughts’ are a match for mine. What a joke. Alright. Up you get.” He raised his palms and I felt my body levitating under his control, rising off the ground.

The three of us were floated now, suspended in front of him. I could feel his power tight around our throats, half-strangling. He stood in front of us, grinning and tapping a finger on his chin. I thought, he’s trying to decide what to do with us.

Because if we weren’t going to be his vessels, then we’d just be in his way, wouldn’t we, once he broke free from the Throne for good, and was unleashed onto the world.

So, naturally, he was going to dispose of us.

“Oh,” he said, as if some bright idea had just come into his head, as if he hadn’t intended it all along. “I have a fun idea. I had to stay locked inside that lump of stone for hundreds of years. Why not put it to good use? There was only room for one of me, inside it. But you’re all so small. So insignificant. I’m sure you can fit nice and snug, packed tight inside it—“

“Packed tight inside this?” said a voice, and the antlered god whirled around, howled at the sky, flew toward the Throne, where Yamir had woken up, where he’d pushed aside Michael’s compulsion halfway through Linden’s speech—Yamir had grabbed the sledgehammer lying by his side and was raising it high, saying “Yeah, okay, only I’m allowed to fuck with my friends,” and he smashed the sledgehammer down, with all his inhuman strength, onto the Throne.

My head erupted with a wild impossible blare of noise, like the air around us was being shot with red agony. I felt myself dropping in the air, collapsing onto the grass. I massaged my neck, taking in deep breaths, staggering to my feet. Everything around me was still screaming, all of reality vibrating, Yamir was clutching his ears, I could see the Throne crumbling from the impact of what Yamir’s impossible strength had done to it—

Sudden, total silence.

I could hear the trees, rustling in the wind.

Ned said, very quietly, “Did we win?”

“No,” I said. I could still feel my tail, my horns. “Not yet.” I remembered what the things in the sky had told me, when I’d been an incubus—I was still an incubus, and Yamir was still an overpowering demigod of sex, and we hadn’t won yet—

“There!” I yelled, “catch it!”

A ghostly white hare was emerging from the crumbled ruins of the Throne.

At the sound of my voice, it scampered off into the woods. I screamed, and ran after it, but Yamir took off even faster, vanishing into the forest like a bounding tiger. I yelled after him, “You have to catch it, and kill it, and then something else is going to come out of it, and we have to catch and kill that too—”

Ned, who’d read as much Old European lore as I have, understood at once. “Oh shit. It’s like Koschei the Deathless, isn’t it.” He and Michael sprinted into the woods, close behind me.

I was running after Yamir, but I managed to pant in response, “Similar...principle...”

There was a grunt. “Got him!” We ran into the clearing just in time to see Yamir squeezing the struggling hare in his hands, and then it popped like a soap bubble and there was a white bird, screeching and soaring in the sky, and I yelled “NO” and summoned those damned incubus shadow wings, and I was soaring after it. The white bird skimmed higher and higher, spiraling towards the clouds, towards the invisible wind roads that passed above the college—looking to escape—I thought, oh no you don’t, and I put on an extra burst of speed and grabbed the bird in my hands and squeezed—

It was an egg, now, dropping to the earth, getting smaller and smaller, a minuscule fish egg the size of an ant, it would disappear into the ground and we’d never find it—

“Got it!” yelled Michael, who had played baseball for years before throwing in the towel and applying to a liberal arts college like the rest of us, and the egg dropped right into his waiting palms, and he smashed them shut, crushing it—

A wisp of white smoke spilled out from his hands, unwound into a snake, and shot off into the woods, heading straight for the Garden of Mirrors, which were clattering in the wind and making a racket—and the snake ran right into Ned, who had been waiting for it, and he stomped his foot down grimly, crushed its head beneath his heel—

It erupted again, into a fluttering pale moth.

I thought, is this it? We catch that moth, and crush it, and this nightmare is finally over? I skidded over to the slow-moving moth, cupping my hands around it—

It landed on the surface of one of the mirrors that had been suspended from the trees, quivered its wings, and sank inside.

The four of us stared at it.

I felt like crying. I could see the moth, fluttering around inside the mirror. Inside the reflection. Completely, totally out of our reach.

Ned whispered, “Do we... break the mirror? I mean, we still wouldn’t reach it... it would still be inside the glass, untouchable...”

I groaned. I knew he was right. We’d lost after all. After all this.

Then Yamir said, “Wait,” in that new deep velvety voice of his.

I glanced up.

The moth was caught, struggling.

It was Adam. Adam’s reflection. The real Adam, who had been sheared off from his body by Linden and left to wander, free.

Adam’s reflection examined the struggling moth in his hand. Its wings beat futilely. Adam seemed bemused, a little curious. I held my breath.

Adam crushed it between his hands.

The entire world burst into whiteness.

I was floating. Was I floating? My body was lying in the woods. But my awareness was floating. I could feel the awareness of the others—the others who had been Throned, like me.

And there was Adam, the current king of our reality. All of the power inside the Throne, the power of Linden, had broken free, like a yolk spilled from an egg.

And Adam was holding it in his hands. Current master of our existence.

I could feel him do something. A small tweak. I thought, he’s fixing himself. Then I realized, he’s fixing himself and adding to himself. Oh, of course. He was giving himself what he’d always wanted. The ability to be an actor. Nothing more, nothing less.

And Adam moved on. He left our awareness, returned to the mundane world. He’d gotten everything he’d wanted and he didn’t care about the rest. But the power remained, floating free.

I felt Yamir reaching for it, slyly, beginning to make changes of his own, and I thought, yeah, I don’t trust you with that anymore, and I shouldered his consciousness aside and ripped it out of his hands and grabbed the power for myself—

Oh god. It was intoxicating. Like swimming through an ocean of lightning.

I could see the past week spread out before me like a map. All the events, all the people. I thought, I have the power to make everything worse. To become master of reality. Like Linden had wanted to be.

Or, I had the power to fix things, and undo what had been done.

I moved gently, person by person. There was Kevin, lying in his bed, panting even in his sleep. I undid the wish on him. I restored him, healed him. I laid mental bandages on his psyche. I whispered to him, I unbind you.

Adam had taken care of himself, unbound himself. I moved on to Nickel, and Ivan, locked in a new dynamic that neither had chosen. I untangled what Linden had done, and what Yamir had done when he’d been poised to become a new Linden. I separated Nickel and Ivan. I lay Ivan in his bed in his apartment, placed Nickel on his bed in his dorm. I unbind you. I absolve you.

I moved on to Michael. Michael, and Ned. I cleared out Michael’s thoughts from Ned’s head, gave him back his full will. I unbind you. I remove the tainted power from Michael’s body. I unbind you too.

Yamir floated in front of me. There was something he’d added, something he’d done himself just now, with this unmoored power, and that was something I could not touch. But everything else: I could fix everything else. I return you to who you were. I remove the unasked-for influence. I undo you, I unbind you.

And then... I was almost laughing. Brandon! Annoying, foolish Brandon. He’d been caught up in this too, but all by himself, out of our sight and without affecting us at all. I saw what had happened to him, my accidental wish, and I laughed, and then felt pity, and I undid that as well.

And then, as an afterthought, I added a change to him of my own: you’ll leave people alone if they ask you too. No more stalker-ish tendencies, please.

I went, one by one, among all the college students who Yamir had touched and influenced and changed, and I removed the roots of what Linden had seeded through Yamir, and I dampened their memories, like wiping watercolors with a wet cloth, giving them the gift of thinking it had just been something like a dream, a nightmare, a fantasy.

I soared over the college, and allowed the past week to fade like a dried leaf. People wouldn’t question any strangeness that they’d lived through, wouldn’t think too hard about what had been happening on the campus for the wild week that Linden had almost broken free. The gift of returning to normalcy.

And then, I came to myself. I thought, I don’t want to be an incubus. So I undid that. Freed myself from what Linden had laid onto me. Back to my normal body.

And then I thought, here I am with all this power. What do I do?

I thought for a moment. Then, hesitantly, I added a few things to myself. I thought, just a few changes. A few safeguards. Some perks.

I stepped back, cautiously satisfied.

Then I turned to the power, to what had formerly been an antlered god, and I told it: I abjure, I absolve, I undo you, I annul you. I snuff you out like a candle.

The power blinked out of existence, died from the world, and we were back in our bodies, in the woods behind the music building. The sun was coming up into the sky.

Later, the campus gardeners would grumble and wonder about where did all these damn linden trees come from? Because they’d sprouted up everywhere, all over the place, and they were blooming unseasonably too, their little white flowers filling the campus for the next few weeks.

I’d thought the linden trees were Linden’s fault, at first. It made sense when I hadn’t known any better. But after holding his power in my hands, I understood. They’d been part of his binding. A linden grove, to bind the antlered god. They had been part of the prison laid onto Linden himself. If those trees had grown to full strength, uninterrupted, around him, then they’d have sealed him back into the Throne, just like what had happened in that small European village, all those centuries ago...

But, in our case, he would have broken out from the Throne for good, long before the trees would have finished growing. It was frightening to think how close he had come.

I walked along campus, breathing in the perfume of the linden trees, and I thought, what matters is that he didn’t, and we’re alright now. Things are alright, more or less.

Michael and Ned had broken up. There are some things that are hard for a relationship to endure, I guess. Bad communication is one of them. But I think Michael had taken bad communication to a new level. He still remembered everything that had happened, of course. Michael, and Ned, and Yamir, and me. We all remembered it. It felt wrong for any of us to forget it, when we’d all been involved in the final moments.

Ned might forgive Michael, one day. Or at least, I think that’s what Michael was hoping for. I don’t know if Ned was planning on it.

Kevin seemed okay when I saw him in class next. Back to his old, cheerful self. And Nickel, he seemed fine too—though, I noticed how Professor Ivan had gotten way less strict with him, and had gone to more or less ignoring him. I wondered what either of them thought of each other, through whatever haze of memories that might be left of their ordeal. I wondered if either of them maybe looked at the other and had a brief surge of emotion before wondering, wait, where did that come from.

I wondered if maybe they’d reconnect at some point. Or maybe not.

Adam switched his major to theater. I saw him, later, in a campus production of Twelfth Night. He was very, very good. He wore less costumes these days. I guess he didn’t need them anymore. He’d gotten what he’d wanted—he didn’t need the clothes as a crutch anymore.

As for Brandon... Well. He wasn’t bothering me these days, that was for sure. He seemed a lot more subdued these days too. I heard his grades were improving, since he’d began focusing on his classes more instead of goofing off. I was also there when Brandon tried to hit on Michael. I passed by their dorm on my way to lunch, and I heard Michael saying incredulously “But I thought you insisted that you were a top? I mean, you know I don’t really get off on bottoming—” and Brandon was rubbing his neck sheepishly and saying, “Yeah, about that... I might have discovered some new things about myself...“

When I told Ned, he snorted. “Yeah. They deserve each other. Now that would be funny. Brandon and Michael!” I could tell he was still angry. And even if he wasn’t talking to Michael these days, the idea of him with someone else still made him mad.

But they might talk, one day. I wasn’t sure. That was up to them, really, not me. They would be okay even without me interfering.

And as for Yamir, and me?

Well... we’re kind of dating now, actually! Yeah, I know... It’s a bit weird. Ned definitely doesn’t understand it.

But then again: Ned had never been fucked by Yamir.

That was one of the things Yamir had kept for himself, when he’d briefly had full control of Linden’s power and made some shifts to the fabric of the world.

He’d kept his stupid fucking sex-god body. And he made it so that he didn’t need to do anything to maintain it, and he made it so that no one seemed to realize there was anything weird about him suddenly turning into a muscular sex god with no explanation.

Honestly, there were even moments when I’d forget what he looked like before. I mean, Yamir was still himself. Same face, same attitude. Except, now he was also sex on legs.

He’d also kept that fucking velvet voice. His voice made me hard, whenever he talked to me for too long. Or talked too close to my ear. Or whenever he murmured nonsense to me while shoving his hot cock up my ass, making me pant and gasp as he fucked me into my mattress—

So yeah. I had a hard time saying no to his cock now, okay? But I’d like to see you try. These days Yamir had a tendency to bring out the inner sub in everyone.

Sometimes I wondered what Yamir would have done if he’d had full rein with Linden’s spilled power. If I hadn’t grabbed it out of Yamir’s hands before he could do too much on his own.

Luckily he didn’t seem to bear me any grudge for having snatched the power from him and taken it over. Well, I say luck, but obviously there wasn’t any luck involved, because that was one of the changes I’d made: that Yamir would have no rancor over that particular act.

And so he didn’t.

In fact, he understood why I’d did it, and didn’t seem to mind at all. But that did make me wonder, later on, if I’d accidentally created a snowball effect to his personality when I made that change. Because the other thing that happened with Yamir is that he started to do a lot of soul-searching, after. He even went to deliver a very serious and formal apology to Adam—who, apparently, was very puzzled by whatever Yamir was trying to do and ended up getting bored and leaving before Yamir had finished. Adam finally had what he wanted, and was focused exclusively on that—he really couldn’t care less about the rest of it, these days.

Yamir had tried to explain his change of heart, during one of our evening walks around the campus. “I guess there was something about seeing Linden come out of the Throne, and it made me realize that, wait, this was who I was becoming. This absolute monster, who was going to—he was going to kill you guys, you know? Or do the equivalent of killing you. He didn’t give a shit about anything but himself. And I realized I’d only come that close to becoming a perfect avatar for him, for Linden, because of all these things I’d done before he even got to me. And I was like, fuck! I need to make sure I never be that person again!“

“Yeah,” I said dryly, “I look forward to the day when you begin making progress,” and he laughed and said “Shut up you asshole!” and shoved me playfully down the path and I laughed and shoved him back, and then he was shoving me, and I was shoving him, and then I was pushed up against a tree and we were making out, which is something that just keeps happening a lot these days, and the make-out session started heating up, and we were rutting against each other, and I was sliding down to my knees (which is also something that just keeps happening a lot, these days) and pulling his cock out of his pants so that I could pant over it and bury my nose in his balls to snuff at his scent and lick up and down his shaft before swallowing it whole.

“Fuck, Billy,” murmured Yamir, that fucking velvet voice making me moan and leak precum all over my jeans as I desperately fisted my own cock, flushed with arousal as I swallowed around his throbbing member. He ran his fingers through my hair as I deepthroated him, “You’re so fucking hot for my cock...”

After we’d both finished and tidied ourselves up, we held hands, and continued our evening stroll.

We stood at the back of the music building, looking at the ruins of the Throne. I said, “They haven’t cleaned it up, huh.”

Yamir surveyed the crumbled ruin and said, “I really can’t believe I managed to do that...”

I thought to myself, yeah it was probably for the best that you didn’t manage to keep your super-strength too. Just your ordinary giant-muscles strength, which is good enough for me, honestly... I could see his biceps and shoulders straining at his jacket, and the rounded fullness of his pecs pulling at his jacket’s zipper... I thought, okay, calm down, you literally just blew him and came a minute ago, you really don’t need to jump him again.

And then I thought, yeah like that ever stops me.

I sauntered over to the ruins of the Throne. It was incredible, how totally destroyed it was. Barely any piece of stone left larger than a baseball. The most intact piece was one of the lion-head arms, lying on its side and roaring at nothing. An e-mail had gone out from the administrative office, about the dangers of student vandalism, and how they were definitely going to catch whoever did it... but let’s be real. They weren’t going to catch anyone. And no one could really explain what had happened to the Throne, or how it had been destroyed so thoroughly by a ‘student prank’. There were already some wild theories about what really happened. How it had gotten struck by lightning, or hit with a mini-earthquake. (Personally, I liked the rampaging-bear theory the most.)

I bent over, pretending to examine the fractured stone base. I could hear Yamir’s intake of breath behind me as he stared at the pert fullness of my ass. I said, innocently, “When do you think they’ll admit that there’s nothing valuable left here, and that they need to scoop up all this rock and throw it out? Maybe they’ll replace it with a new throne—like, a plastic lawn chair, I bet, look how cheap their budget’s been lately—”

Yamir’s hands gripped my waist. He’d stalked up quietly behind me. I grinned, and said, “Woah there buddy. What are you doing?”

He growled again, that velvet voice, and I ground my ass back against him, shivering, and he said, “You know what your ass does to me, prick,” and I said, pretending astonishment, “But I thought that was only when I take off my pants!”

“Yeah, well,” he said, and he shoved down my pants, and I smiled and bit my lip in anticipation as he plunged his face into my ass, his tongue swirling around the rim of my hole before flickering further in. I groaned and spread my legs, giving him better access, and then reached behind me to shove the back of his head further in. “Fuck yeah...”

“Goddamn, Billy,” muttered Yamir, his voice vibrating into my asshole and sending shivers up my spine, “can never say no to this ass... this fucking magic ass... Can’t even control myself... so fucking tasty...”

So, yeah, so that was one of the other things I’d done. Because I saw the changes Yamir made to himself with the remnants of Linden’s power, and I thought, someone needs to keep that in check, or he could wreak some serious havoc on the world.

But also, I may have been thinking with my dick a bit too much, in terms of deciding how someone should keep Yamir in check...

Honestly I had a hard time telling who was keeping who in check, these days. As he lined up his cock against my hole, as he wrapped his muscled arm around my chest and pulled me tight against his back, his breath ghosting against my neck—

I groaned and pulsed my asshole, fluttering it gently, releasing a faint trace of that spicy pheromone, lubing myself, and Yamir moaned and his cock sheathed inside me without any conscious input on his end. I shuddered at the sensation and ground my hips gently against his, moving him inside me. He pressed his palm against my mouth, gagging me, and began to slowly fuck me.

He whispered, “you’re fucking insatiable, fucking whore for my cock” and I moaned into his hand clamped around my mouth to keep me quiet while he fucked me for the sixth time that day.

Later that evening, when we’d spread out on the floor of his dorm room, both doing homework for our assorted classes, he asked me, “Are you still going to be a music major, then?”

I chewed on my pencil. “For now, maybe? I’m not sure.”

“I thought you said—”

“Yeah I know what I said.” I’d told him about this idea I’d had, based on what I’d seen in the sky, back when I’d been an incubus.

The thing is, it’s hard to just go back to normal life when you find out there’s a whole other layer to life, skimming over the surface of your reality.

And I kind of wanted to go on adventures? And... find out more about these secret layers, and meet people who’d also had encounters with them, and learn secret things?

That was another of the things I’d given myself, with the remnants of Linden’s power. A special sight, so that I could see the supernatural. I could see the wind roads above the college, now. I could see when certain buildings had a special glow, too. Or when some objects had a feeling to them; sometimes glittery and warm, and sometimes malevolent.

I’d given myself protections, against being affected or taken by those type of things. Though, I questioned how effective they really were, considering how much of a slut I was for Yamir’s cock. But I’d also left myself with a bit of that memory-dampening power—mostly because I’d been nervous, at the time, that I’d have forgotten something with all my fixes. I was afraid I’d need to call on the ability to make people’s memories of certain things fade to the background of their minds, while I tried to fix whatever I’d forgotten.

All in all, though, they were pretty good tools for a detective hunting down the supernatural—“Yeah,” growled Yamir, “those aren’t your only tools,” palming my ass again, and I groaned and rolled away, avoiding looking at him because I knew I’d melt in an instant at the sight of his fucking hot body and cocky smirk and I’d find myself riding him like the vacant-eyed drooling cock-sleeve I was so happy to become for him—no, concentrate, Billy!

I said, speaking into my notebook, “I figure I’ll stay a music student for now because it’s kind of hard to picture a career path that ‘supernatural detective’ would take, if you know what I mean? You have to pay the bills somehow. And also: musicians travel! Traveling musicians! Think about it! I could aim my music career at that sort of thing. I’d be the sort of musician who is flexible, versatile, good with more than one instrument... Dipping in and out of various bands and groups... Hunting for supernatural secrets in my spare time while stomping the floor and fiddling my way across seven continents...”

“Got it,” said Yamir, “so you’re going to learn to play the violin,” and I yelled, “I do know how to play the violin, you ass!” and Yamir was laughing and I was laughing, and I looked up at him, sitting cross-legged on his bed, and I thought, when did he get naked.

He was still chuckling to himself, his pecs bouncing. He was rubbing his thumb over one of his nipples and smirking at me, his cock pulsing tall and erect against his abs. It was so thick. So beautiful. My mouth had gone suddenly dry.

He looked me in the eye. I could see his pupils dilating and he said, “Fuck, Billy.” He was standing up, walking towards me, those muscled thighs tensing with each step, making his cock bob at me. He was breathing shallowly, pulling up close to me. “Fuck. There’s something about seeing you look at me like that—there’s something about seeing you aroused, I just—I can’t help myself—” He was pulling off all my clothes, and I was burying my face into his neck, mouthing at the sensitive skin above his collarbone. He hissed at me. “Billy, fuck—” His cock was rubbing against my ass, and I pulled him into a kiss and turned around, and I let him sheath himself into me. I gasped as his cock sank all the way into me. His massive arms pulled me close to his chest, his warm body pressed against mine as he began pounding into me, making my ass bounce with every thrust, and I groaned and thought, well, if I’m a traveling musician, this is something I’ll miss for sure.

But maybe I could take Yamir along with me. I had a feeling I could convince him to come along whatever adventure I ended up on.

After all, I thought to myself as I shuddered and shot hands-free while Yamir bit my shoulder and flooded me with his cum, I had gotten pretty good at persuading him, lately.