The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Mike Wilson was old-fashioned, to put it nicely. A less-nice but more honest descriptor was “bigot.” Specifically, Mike hated faggots. He hated the fact that they were everywhere you turned these days: on TV, in movies, in politics. As a former Army man, he hated that fags could now serve openly. Hell, even his new neighbor was a faggot, with the prerequiste rainbow sticker on his expensive car. Mike hated his neighbor, hated the fact that he even knew his name (Gus), hated that Gus’s home and yard looked nicer, hated that Gus was fitter with better hair, hated that he was always so friendly as if to spite him.

This afternoon, Mike was on his deck smoking a Camel and drinking, trying to take in the calm of a late summer day. To his dismay, Gus was on his deck as well, though at least their respective properties were fenced off and he didn’t have to see him with his stupid faggotty moustache and little faggoty shorts that revealed almost too much as he paraded around shirtless doing yardwork. In disgust, he was about to go back inside when he thought he heard Gus say his name.

He strained to listen. Yes, Gus was definitely saying his name.

“So, Mike, you ever smoked a cigar before?”

Mike wanted to shout, none of your fucking business, but then he heard another man answering Gus’s question. “Only on special occasions,” the unfamiliar voice said.

“Does our time together today count?” Gus asked. The other man chuckled and said, “Um, maybe.”

“I hope so,” Gus replied in a flirtatious tone.

Ugh! Mike W. quietly rose from his chair and crept toward the fence. Under his disgust, he hoped that the two men next door were up to something. If he could catch Gus doing something perverted outdoors, he reasoned, he could call the cops and make a report of obscentity or indecent exposure. Not only would that surely ruin Gus’s day, maybe he’d even have to register as a sex offender! Mike’s small, evil heart relished the thought. It would serve him right!

“Well, the day’s still young, Mike,” Gus said. “I hope you don’t mind if I go ahead and smoke one.” Mike watched him pull a rather hefty cigar from his shirt pocket, which he unwrapped and proceeded to cut and light, while the other, younger Mike (Mike W. hated sharing his name with that faggot) watched the process unfold with keen interest.

Gus toasted the end of his cigar and puffed it to life, sending thick clouds of smoke into his guest’s face. Faggot Mike breathed deeply, seeming to enjoy it. Straight Mike rolled his eyes; now even cigars would be ruined for him! And the way Gus wrapped his lips around the big cigar, sucking...

“Smells nice,” Gus’s faggot friend said, smiling.

“Got a great draw on this one,” Gus said. “Nice, even burn. You see how perfectly the end is lit? Just look it at.” He held the cigar closer to his guest, allowing him to appreciate his skill, rolling it around and waving it in front of his eyes. “Just look at that end from every angle. Look closely. See how even it is? See how nicely it’s smoking? Just look at it. Back and forth, so perfect and right. I can tell this is gonna be a great smoke. Smoking a cigar is always so relaxing, isn’t it, Mike? There’s nothing quite as relaxing as smoking a cigar. Even watching a guy smoking a cigar can be relaxing. You’re starting to relax now, Mike, which is perfectly natural. You can relax with me while I smoke, Mike. Just keep watching the end of my cigar and relax.”

Mike W. couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It was almost as if Gus was hypnotizing the other faggot with his cigar! Figures he’d be a weakling, probably in preparation for something disgusting, he guessed. Still, he kept watching the scene unfold, hopeful...

Gus put the cigar back in his mouth and puffed some more, sending aloft more dense bursts of smoke into the other Mike’s direction, who sat in his seat transfixed. Mike W. could smell it, too; a rich, pungent scent wafting into his yard.

“Just watch my cigar, Mike, watch me as I smoke my cigar,” Gus urged with quiet calm. “You can see the end glow every time I take a draw, and the glow just fills you with warmth and calm. And it makes so much smoke, and yes, it does smell nice; it smells so nice as the smoke curls and spirals and drifts all around you, blanketing you in comfort. You love the smell of my cigar. Take a nice, deep, relaxing breath, Mike. Breathe in that smell. Breathe in my smoke. It’s so very relaxing to watch me smoke and it feels so good to breathe the smoke in, nice and deep. Nice and deep. You’re going nice and deep, falling into a lazy, comfortable state of mind. The smoke is so relaxing, your body is feeling so relaxed, your mind is so relaxed, just listening to my words and watching me smoke and breathing in my smoke and falling so nice and deep. Tell me, Mike, how are you feeling?”

“Relaxed,” faggot Mike sighed blankly, his vacant eyes staring at Gus’s cigar. “Nice and deep.”

Mike W. sighed as he continued to watch and listen, the smell of the cigar filling his nostrils. His eyes blinked lazily.

“Very good,” Gus said. “It just happens so naturally and easily. You don’t have to try, and you don’t need to fight, it’s just so easy to sink into your seat and let your mind float away on the smoke. Your worries, your cares, your thoughts feel so far away; they’re vanishing like smoke in the breeze. It feels so good to relax and just let go. That’s right, Mike, just take a nice deep breath and let it all go. It feels so nice to just let me talk to you and smoke. In fact, you’re so relaxed that you could probably just fall asleep. Your body is so relaxed, your mind so empty and peaceful, it would be very easy to just sleep. Your eyes are so heavy, Mike, getting heavier with every puff of smoke. They’re getting so heavy and you’re getting so sleepy that in just three more puffs off my powerful, manly cigar they’re going to close and you’re going to drift off into a deep, pleasant sleep.”

If Mike W. had any glimmer of self-awareness, he might have tried to tear himself away, to resist what was happening to him. Alas, he did not; and instead focused on Gus’s words and his powerful, manly cigar.

“One.” Puff.

“Two.” Puff.

“Three.” Puff. “And sleep.”

Faggot Mike’s eyes fluttered shut as his head dropped to his chest; at the same moment, Mike W.’s head hit the fence with a soft, quiet thud.

“That’s good, Mike, your eyes are closed and you’re in a deep sleep where you can still hear me and follow what I say. Feeling so calm and relaxed, it’s so easy to listen to my voice and let yourself just do what I say. You’re going to find that it feels so good to do what I say. You’re going to find yourself getting hornier and hornier when you obey my commands. Because that’s why you’re here, after all, you wanted to give yourself to a cigar master, you wanted to be hypnotized, so you’ll have no problem obeying my commands. It’s exciting and arousing to obey. You long to submit. Relax, submit, obey. Relax, submit, obey. Say it and drop even deeper.”

“Relax, submit, obey,” both Mikes quietly slurred, and each felt a tingle of pleasure at obeying Gus’s command.

“Good boy,” Gus said. “Now, Mike, when I count to three again, you will open your eyes but your mind will remain deeply asleep. Your body will remain relaxed but you’ll still be able to carry out my commands, and it will feel so good to obey me. Your dick gets hard when you follow my orders, and the pleasure will lull you even deeper under my control. One, two, three.”

Both Mikes’ eyes slowly opened.

Gus smiled at his conquered guest. “Come to me, Mike, and sit on Daddy’s lap while I feed you some cigar smoke.”

Young Mike slowly rose from his seat, the bulge in his shorts telling Gus everything he needed to know. With a blank, dopey smile he walked over to Gus and seated himself on the older man’s lap.

Gus was having so much fun swapping smoke with his boy that he didn’t notice his neighbor walk through his gate and up the steps of his deck until he was standing right there, his eyes blank, his mouth hanging just a little open, his dick tenting his jeans. Gus was stunned for a brief moment, but then he realized what must have happened and it took everything he had not to laugh.

“Um, have a seat, neighbor,” he said to Mike W., who plopped himself in the seat the other Mike had recently vacated. “Stay,” he added, then said quietly to the younger man, “Go inside and fetch a beer for Daddy. And another cigar.”

With his guest occupied, Gus turned to his neighbor and looked him in the eyes. “Now, Mike, you will focus on my words and you know they are true. My words become your truth, and you will answer my questions honestly. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Mike W. said.

“You are deeply hypnotized,” Gus said.

“I am deeply hypnotized,” Mike W. affirmed.

“You enjoy being hypnotized, and you are very vulnerable to my hypnosis. Say it.”

“I enjoy being hypnotized, and I am very vulnerable to your hypnosis.”

“Tell me honestly, Mike, why were you watching me today?”

“I hate your guts and wanted to catch you doing something perverted and call the cops.”

Gus sighed and asked, “Why do you not like me, Mike?”

“Because you’re a faggot,” Mike W. answered impassively. “I hate faggots.”

Gus clucked his tongue. “Maybe that used to be the case with you, but not anymore. You actually like me. You like me a lot. I’ve always been nice to you, so it’s easy to like me. Say it, Mike: you like me, and realize that it is true.”

“I like you,” Mike W. said, smiling stupidly as he obeyed. “A lot.”

“In fact, a secret about hypnosis is that it can’t make anyone do anything they really don’t want to do. So when you came over here, it was because you actually wanted to, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Deep down, you truly wanted to sit in my lap while I smoked my cigar, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“The thought of sitting on Daddy’s lap while I smoke makes you horny, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Gus smiled. “Yes, I can tell. Imagine for a moment that the butt of my cigar is connected to your nipples. Everything I do with the butt of my cigar, you will feel in your nipples.” He brought the cigar to his lips and rubbed it lightly against his moustache, then flicked the end with his tongue, rolled his tongue around the end, then sucked. Lightly at first, then harder, as white smoke cascaded from his lips. Mike W. moaned, excited by the sensations he was experiencing.

“You like that, neighbor?” Gus asked.

“Oh, yes!” Mike W. said.

“Now imagine that the butt of my cigar is connected to your cock. Everything I do with the butt of my cigar, you will now feel in your cock.” Again, he teased Mike W., rubbing the end of his cigar around his moustache, licking, sucking...

“Ohhhh....” Mike W. writhed in his seat, surrounded by Gus’s smoke.

At that moment, younger Mike emerged from the house and presented Gus with a fresh beer and a new cigar.

“Okay, neighbor,” Gus said, “I’m glad we’re friends now. You’ll find it feels much better to live in the world without holding hate in your heart. You can feel all that animosity just melting away, like you’re setting down a heavy burden. You’ll find yourself being kinder to others, and kinder to yourself, and free to do what makes you happy, and taking greater joy in the happiness of others. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“Yes, that sounds nice.” Then he added, “Thank you.”

Gus beamed. “You’re very welcome. Now, neighbor, I’m going to give you a special gift. This cigar is very special, but you won’t realize it until you smoke it tonight. When you do, you’re going to feel so, so good. So very happy. So intensely horny, and so very sexy. You’ll just love sucking the smoke in deep, and it’ll feel amazing throughout your entire body, giving you sexual thrills in ways you’ve only imagined. But you won’t remember anything that happened today, no, you won’t remember it at all. It’s fading from your mind already, fading, fading, and now it’s gone. All you’ll remember is that I was smoking a cigar out here and we had a nice conversation; I gave you a cigar and we became friends, and you’ll know that you can always reach out to me the next time you want one of my special cigars and feel good. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand. Thank you.”

“Great. Take your cigar, return home, and take a pleasant nap, forgetting everything I told you to forget, remembering only what I told you to remember.”

Gus watched Mike W. take his cigar and go. Once he and his guest were alone once more, he puffed on his own cigar and blew a dense cloud into the young man’s face and rubbed the bulge in his pants, eliciting a happy sigh from the hypnotized stud. “Now,” he said, “Where were we?”

Later, after waking from an afternoon nap, Mike W. saw the cigar Gus had so kindly gifted him sitting on the counter. The sun had just set, and the heat of the day had given way to a still, temperate evening: perfect cigar weather. He went out onto his deck, took a deep breath, and marveled at the sublime beauty of the world.

He took a seat and unwrapped the cigar before cutting off the end. He rolled it between his fingers, passed it under his nose, and inhaled the calming scents of good tobacco and cedar. He propped his feet up on the patio table and struck a match, puffing the cigar to life.

It tasted fantastic. He struck another match to really get the cigar going, and was rewarded with a mouthful of creamy smoke. He could feel tension evaporating from his body. He took a long draw and sucked the smoke into his lungs. Damn, was it smooth! He felt a lovely tingle caress his body, and felt it especially in his crotch. He was feeling quite good, and surprisingly horny, and slowly his free hand moved to the bulge in his jeans and began to massage his cock through the denim. He took a solid drag, exhaling the smoke down his bare chest, watching it flow downward to envelop his erection.

Unbeknownst to him, Gus and the other Mike were watching him through their side of the fence with perverse satisfaction, enjoying the sight of the formerly uptight and homophobic man who was secretly treating the pair to a display of smoky bliss and uninhibited, masculine sexuality.

“Wow, I can’t believe it,” young Mike whispered.

“Seeing is believing,” Gus whispered in response. “I bet it makes you pretty horny watching him smoke my cigar and getting off. I know I’m horny. So get on your knees and suck my cock, boy.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Mike W. was in heaven. Gus’s cigar made him feel so hot, so horny, so good. He parked it in his mouth, seeing Gus in his mind while he teased a fat nipple and undid his zipper to free his dick. He wondered what Gus’s penis looked like, tasted like. He imagined sharing a cigar with Gus naked, their cocks rigid and exposed. He’d never wanted anything like that before, but the smoke had gone to his head and awakened something inside him that he had suppressed for too long.

Meanwhile, Gus enjoyed the sensation of the blowjob, savoring his control over the sweet, young man at his feet and gratified at the changes he now observed in his neighbor; in his own small way, he had surely helped to make the world a better place. “Slow down,” he whispered to his guest, not wanting to come just yet.

Mike W., thinking he had privacy, or perhaps simply too worked up to care, pulled his jeans down a bit more for better access. He rubbed the moist butt of his cigar against the head of his cock, loving the sensation, and collected a drop of precum before returning it to his mouth. Fuck, it tasted great as it mixed with the spicy flavor of the smoke. He tickled his scrotum and tugged on his nuts, then went even further to rub a finger against his hairy butthole. Again he imagined Gus, wondering how his neighbor’s moustache and tongue would feel as it teased him down there, driving him mad with desire. The forbidden novelty of the idea made his dick so hard it almost ached. He kept touching his hole and stroking his slick shaft, until at last he could hold off no longer. He puffed furiously on his cigar, sending clouds of smoke into the night as he gave himself over to climax, sexy images of his neighbor dancing through his stupefied mind. He gasped in ectasy as rope after rope of cum hit his chest.

This was what Gus had been waiting for, and he shot his load (his second of the day) down the throat of his attentive servant. “Good boy,” Gus whispered, stroking his head affectionately and leaning down for a tender kiss. “Let’s go back inside. Quietly now, we wouldn’t want him to be embarrassed.”

Mike W.’s head was reeling from the power of his orgasm and the strength of the cigar, which was only halfway smoked. He set it down to burn out on its own as he staggered to his feet and shuffled indoors. “Whoa,” he said breathlessly, and stumbled toward the shower. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, observing the semen clinging to skin, feeling desirable for the first time in a long time, and eager to explore. He wasn’t sure what to tell Gus, how to acknowledge this new aspect of himself, but he knew he’d be talking to him soon. Perhaps they’d even get to share a special cigar together...