The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The first time I got hypnotized was the third night of my college orientation. I had been looking around for stuff to do with my roommate, Ronnie, and his best friend, Chet, who he knew from high school. Ronnie was a pretty cool guy—he liked to goof around a lot, and get drunk, which was okay with me. My parents were really strict growing up—my dad was a successful real estate developer and my mom worked at a dental surgery practice. I guess like a lot of parents who immigrated here, they expected a lot out of me, and it got frustrating sometimes. I knew I could do well in school, but sometimes I got tired of trying, you know? I still pulled a solid B average, but toward senior year I started to really like goofing around and getting high.

Ronnie and I decided to hang together since we seemed to get along and college was a bit of an adjustment, and though we were looking for a party to hit up or something, we didn’t know where to go yet and figured we should probably do some Orientation stuff to try and get to know more people. Besides, some girls from down the hall had decided they were going to hit up the O-Fair and Ronnie had his eye on them, so he managed to talk me into going.

We fucked around on the quad for a bit playing bags and eating hot dogs, but around sunset the girls started talking about going to the Activities Center because there would be this hypnotist and did we want to go? So we were like sure, whatever, because we were looking to get into their pants.

When the show started and Master Rod asked for volunteers, Ronnie suddenly ran up in a flash and grabbed my hand. I think he just wanted to impress the girls by goofing off, but I still don’t know why he dragged me with him. He was just like, “Come on, it’ll be fun,” and I went along.

When we got up to the stage, we were in this row of chairs, and Master Rod started talking. I remember thinking it seemed like bullshit—he was telling us to keep breathing in and out, stare up at the lights above the stage, feel our eyes getting heavy. I remember thinking my eyes weren’t getting tired at all—or if they were it was just from the lights—but the breathing exercises felt nice, and I was pretty worn out from all the class signups and placement tests we’d been doing. After a while, I felt this bump on my shoulder that I realized had to be Ronnie, and suddenly I was like, “Is this shit actually working?” I think that was the only time I noticed my eyelids were half-closed—maybe even three-quarters by then—but for some reason I just kept staring at the lights. I guess if there was any moment I was going to snap out of it, it might’ve been then, but I was probably too far gone already. It wasn’t long until I felt that guy press down on my shoulder, and suddenly I was toppling over onto Ronnie, not even thinking about it, just down for the count. Chet said Ronnie and I were sprawled all over each other at the beginning—I was on top of him—and then we all had to cuddle together ’cause we thought it was cold.

When the hypnotist woke us up, I guess everyone was laughing ’cause Ronnie and me were cuddling the tightest. Master Rod asked if we knew each other and we said we were roommates, which made everybody laugh. Then Master Rod said he was going to make sure we were the closest roommates on campus and put us back to sleep. He whispered in our ears that any time he said the words “Room 69,” we’d stand up, walk to the center of the stage, lay down on our sides and stick our faces between each other’s legs and stay that way until he woke us up. I remember smiling ’cause I thought there was no way I was gonna do that, but when he said “Wide awake” I forgot all about it.

When he asked where we lived, we told him Albertson Hall, and then he asked what room. I said 337, and his eyes seemed to glimmer mischievously and he asked, “Really? After tonight I think your friends might start calling it… Room 69.” Suddenly I found myself standing up on autopilot, wandering to the center of the stage, lying down on my side next to Ronnie and shoving my face in the crotch of his shorts. I could hear the crowd going wild, but for some reason I just lay there perfectly still until I heard Master say “Wide awake” and suddenly realized what I was doing. Ronnie and I were both super embarrassed and got up quickly, and the hypnotist was admonishing us, saying a hypnosis show was no place for that kind of behavior and if we wanted to do stuff like that we could go down the hall to Room 69.

Well, Ronnie and I both wheeled around and got in the exact same position, and everyone was laughing and clapping, and we were both even more embarrassed the next time Master Rod woke us up. He said that since we couldn’t seem to keep our hands off each other he’d have to separate us, and he had me switch seats with some guy down the row.

Anyway, he kept going on like that, interviewing people, then putting them under and giving them commands—oftentimes seeming like they were based on some random detail the person said. He made one of the guys get up and slap himself on the butt whenever Master Rod said the name of our school, he had a couple of the girls cluck like chickens, and then he made one of the guys forget the number seven. When he started getting all Master Rod’s math questions wrong, Master Rod said that if he needed a tutor, he could find one in the Math department in Room 69. Then Ronnie and I got up and did our thing again. Once everyone finished laughing, Master Rod said our faces were slipping and we needed to hang on to the other guy’s butt to keep them pressed tight, so I reached around and grabbed one of Ronnie’s cheeks in each hand and he grabbed mine and everyone was laughing like crazy while we just lay there with our faces in each other’s crotches and our hands on each other’s butts.

After Master Rod sent us back to our seats and made us go to sleep again, he made Ronnie, that ass-slapping guy and me think we were Chippendales and strip all our clothes off down to our undies. There was one more guy onstage but I think Master Rod didn’t include him because he was kinda chubby and Master Rod figured most people didn’t want to see that. The guy who was slapping himself was pretty muscular—I think he was on the baseball team—and Ronnie’s husky but in that beefy, corn-fed Midwestern way, so I guess the three of us qualified as eye candy.

As we were dancing, Master said that when the music stopped, we would all freeze, so that’s what we did, and one-by-one he put us back to sleep, standing in our underwear with our heads bowed. He told us we’d all believe we had our clothes on for the rest of the show, then woke us up and sent us to sit down again. I remember feeling really out of it, not even thinking about whether I was wearing anything or not, but the minute Master Rod said that if we needed to collect our things later, we could find them in Room 69, I found myself walking back to center stage, lying down and grabbing Ronnie’s ass as I shoved my face in his boxers. I remember I could feel his dick against my cheek through the fabric, but at the time I didn’t care.

After Master Rod woke us up again, he had us sit back down and go to sleep, then went around and whispered a few more commands in people’s ears. I remember him telling me that when he snapped his fingers, I would wake up and believe I was a sheep grazing for grass and crawl around the stage. He also told me I would feel very tired after the show and want to go home as soon as possible, but once there I would immediately google “Rodney Field hypnotist,” put the number on his website in my phone as “Rod H,” then send him a text with my name. Any replies I received from that number I would feel compelled to read immediately, and would obey without question. I just nodded. I was so far gone by this point he could have told me to do anything.

After that he woke me up, and I started crawling around the stage going “Baah! Baah!” and chewing at imaginary grass while Master Rod talked to the other guys. One by one they came over and kneeled behind me, grabbing me by the hips and pretending to fuck me in the ass while I kept eating grass and going “Baah! Baah!” I remember feeling annoyed because they were distracting me from my grass eating, and I didn’t like all the jostling, but at the time I didn’t understand it looked like they were railing me in my underwear or why everyone was laughing. To finish he had all the guys line up and run a train on me with everybody humping each other’s ass. Then he snapped his fingers and suddenly we were all awake and running back to our chairs embarrassed. But then he put us under again and it didn’t matter.

To end the show Master Rod had everyone onstage have a long, simultaneous orgasm at the count of three, which would be infinite for as long as he let it go, and would only grow stronger whenever he touched us on the shoulder. Of course, he spent quite a while going around tapping everyone a bunch of times and holding the microphone to our lips, so we were all screaming and groaning and writhing worse and worse while everyone was laughing. People said I was the most into it, because he kept coming back to me and just tapping harder and harder, so pretty soon I was screaming and panting and basically rolling around in my chair humping the air. Finally, he said at the count of three we would all be wide awake, fully removed from hypnosis, and that would be the end of the show. He counted like he said and snapped his fingers and that was it—suddenly I was awake in front of the giant auditorium, realizing I was in nothing but my underwear, and I was so embarrassed as I dashed around the stage trying to collect my clothes while everyone clapped and whistled.

As everybody else was heading back to their seats, Ronnie and that other guy and me were collecting our clothes while Chet wandered up. He asked how we felt and if it was real and we both said yeah, it was. The funny thing was that while I felt strangely full of energy after the whole thing—at least, once the embarrassment began to wear off—for some reason I still found myself saying I was beat and wanted to go back to my room. Chet kept trying to get us to go to this frosh kegger at one of the frats, but Ronnie said he felt the same as me and we could walk back to the dorms together.

As soon as we got back, Ronnie went to the bathroom, and I was glad, because I really wanted to hop on the computer for some reason. I realized later it was because Master Rod had planted the idea in my head, but at the time it just seemed like this totally out-of-control curiosity—I really wanted to look up whoever the hell had hypnotized me and see what he was about. For some reason, even though the rest of the show was hazy, I remembered Master Rod’s name clear as a bell, and I quickly googled “Rodney Field hypnotist” and found his website. The first thing I noticed was a Contact section at the top, with a phone number and email address, and for some reason I decided to put his number in my phone—since I still felt kind of out of it, I reasoned maybe it would be good to have in case there were any aftereffects I needed to have addressed. For some reason, I put it in as “Rod H”—I guess the H stood for “Hypnotist,” since I was too embarrassed to make it apparent I had a hypnotist’s number in my cell—and I sent a quick text with my name just to make sure the number was working.

Since Ronnie was still in the bathroom, I scrolled down the webpage and saw a bunch of photos—mostly high school kids and people at corporate events running around acting like animals, slapping their butts like that one guy had been doing, taking their shirts off for a striptease, you know. A lot of these photos brought back flashes of things that had happened that evening that I had totally forgotten about, and I was just about to click another banner at the bottom that said “College / Comedy Club Adult Shows” when I heard my phone buzz on the table beside me. The message bubble said “Rod H,” and I thought that was weird he had replied to my test text, but I decided to check it anyway. The message just said “Call,” and I did, feeling worried I had bothered him. When he answered, though, he just asked if this was Zaid and if I was alone, and I said yes, and then he asked if I was sitting down, and I said yes, and then he said to keep the phone pressed tightly to my ear and close my eyes and go back into trance.

When I opened my eyes again, I realized I had to get going because I was late for a meeting with a guest at Palms House, the campus hotel where our school put up out-of-town visitors. I couldn’t quite remember who I was meeting, but I was sure it was a hot girl or something and I needed to get there right away. As I grabbed my things and headed out, I noticed the door to the bathroom was open and Ronnie was gone—when had he left?

It only took about 15 minutes to walk across campus, and when I arrived at Palms House, I found Ronnie outside. He had a key card that would allow us to skip the main lobby and enter through one of the side doors—though I had no idea how he had gotten it as they were only for guests—so he took me around the side of the building and we went in, and he took us up an elevator to one of the top floors.

As he walked me down the hall to one of the rooms, I didn’t even think to question where we were going, or why Ronnie was there, or who we were going to meet. It all seemed so natural and I just knew I had to get there. When the door opened, I recognized Master Rod from earlier, and I think there was a part of me that was surprised, but I was also kind of happy because since I’d been googling him, I figured I must be pretty curious about him.

Master Rod told us to come inside, and kept praising Ronnie for doing such a good job bringing me to the room while asking him repeatedly if anyone had seen us. Meanwhile he told me to take a seat on the bed and go into trance, so I did. I remember noticing that other, fit guy from the show sitting in the plush guest chair. He had his arms on the armrests and his head was slumped with his chin touching his chest as he took deep breaths. It looked like he was asleep. For some reason, that position seemed very familiar to me but I couldn’t recall why. A little ways away, in front of the room’s desk, another guy, young and scrawny looking, was sitting in the turned-around desk chair in a similar position. The chair had no armrests so his arms were just dangling by his sides, but his head was slumped forward just like the other guy and it looked like he had passed out from studying. I took a seat on the side of the bed and immediately felt my whole upper body begin to relax, shoulders loosening, head dropping instantly just like before, and my mind fading out like a light, right back to where I had been onstage. I think I was supposed to remain seated on the edge of the bed, but without even realizing I just keeled over and sprawled to the floor, feeling more relaxed than I ever had in my life.

When I next opened my eyes, I was sitting on the edge of the bed again with Ronnie, and we were wearing nothing but our underwear, though for some reason I wasn’t thinking about that and didn’t care. Everything felt foggy, like I was drunk or high but without the giggliness, just removed from what was going on. But I felt excited because I knew we were going to see hypnosis and I’d been waiting for that all night since I missed out earlier. The hypnotist said the name of our school, and that baseball guy who was still sitting across from us in the armchair got up, turned around and pulled his pants down, yelling whatever he’d been yelling in the show but smacking his bare ass instead and even pulling it open to reveal his butthole. Ronnie and I were both laughing, and that scrawny guy was still in his desk chair, down to his tight briefs, and he had his hand down his pants and was playing with himself, though he didn’t seem like he was aware of it. Finally, Master Rod told the jock guy to sit down and he did, pulling his pants up but looking like he barely even realized or cared that he had been exposing himself.

The hypnotist asked if Ronnie and I liked that routine, and I remember nodding and smiling even though it felt like I was a million miles away. He said that routine always killed during shows, and the only one that usually did better—when he could get away with it—was “Room 69.”

For some reason, when he said that, without even thinking about it—though I knew I had been waiting for him to say it—I found myself standing up, pulling down my black briefs and tossing them aside, and crawling up onto the bed alongside Ronnie, lying down on my side flipped head-to-toe with him and putting his cock in my mouth. I’d never sucked a cock before, but somehow I knew exactly how to do it—I seemed to recall Master telling me that it was just like sucking a popsicle, except you didn’t want to bite. Somehow, I just lost myself focusing on the licking, and it was easy to lose track with my eyes closed just imagining it was a popsicle. I just lay there on the bed happily slurping, and I guessed Ronnie was doing the same, since I started feeling really good in my dick even though I was barely thinking about it consciously.

I don’t know how long Master left us sucking like that, but I know he took pictures because I saw them later in his collection of photos. I’m not sure if he made any of the other boys do anything in the meantime, or if they just watched and laughed, but the next time I was aware of Master’s instructions, he was telling me and Ronnie to sit up, get back on the edge of the bed and return to trance, which we did. He asked us to raise our hands if we liked eating pussy, and I guess Ronnie must have raised his, but I didn’t. When Master Rod asked why, I said—well, mumbled, really—that I thought I would like it but I had never tried, and he said that was all right because there was a first time for everything, and that when we awakened, we were going to be in a pussy eating contest and Scott—that must’ve been the scrawny guy—was going to be the judge. When he woke us up, I noticed that baseball player standing in front of Ronnie, not just mooning him but pulling his firm cheeks wide open, and Ronnie dove in, spreading them wider and digging his tongue inside, going to town.

The scrawny guy across from us had his underwear around his ankles and was stroking like a maniac, but I just kept staring at Ronnie, trying to reconcile what my eyes thought they were seeing—my roommate eating out some dude’s ass—with what I knew was going on: we were in a pussy eating contest and Ronnie was going to town. I guess Master Rod must’ve noticed my confusion, because he sat down beside me and put an arm over my shoulder, pressing a finger to my temple while whispering in my ear. I felt myself swoon into him, becoming completely light-headed and focused only on what he was saying, which was that I was so excited about getting to eat the world’s sexiest pussy, and when he snapped and I came to again, that pussy that looked like an ass was right in front of me and I knew for certain I wanted to eat it no matter what it looked like, so I just dove right in.

The hole was still moist with Ronnie’s spit, but despite his tongue-cleaning, I could still smell a bit of funk from this person’s no-doubt busy day. Nevertheless, I forged ahead, running my tongue up and down the wet crack and using the tip to stimulate the tight, winking hole. I loved the feel of the firm, smooth cheeks on either side of my face—it was like a strange, sexy massage.

Finally, Master Rod tapped me on the shoulder and I pulled away, and he exchanged some words with Scott and then put his arm around me and I felt him snapping in my ear—I guess that meant I lost—and the next time I came to I was back up on the bed on all fours, going “Baaah! Baaah!” again with my ass in the air, grazing for grass.

I felt someone come up behind me, and as I glanced to the left looking for more grass, I could dimly perceive Ronnie with his face once again up that baseball player’s butt, so I knew it had to be Scott behind me, and then I felt his long, thin dick begin pressing itself straight into my asshole. Since it was really going in this time, it wasn’t easy to ignore like in the show, and I found myself crying out “BAAH! BAAH!” at the top of my lungs, so Master Rod quickly came over, told Scott to stop, and had me focus on the wallpaper across from the bed and nothing else, until I was completely relaxed and lost in the pattern. Then he told Scott to resume, and it was easier than before to ignore the burning pain as he jammed himself the rest of the way in, and I went back to muttering “baaah, baah” quietly as I lost myself focusing on the wall.

Eventually, the hypnotist told the other two guys they were sheep-fucking perverts too, and had them line up behind Scott, and the three began taking turns on me, each pumping for a couple minutes and then pulling out, standing to the side and stroking while waiting for the other two. Meanwhile, Master Rod stepped in front of me on the other side of the bed, telling me I was a baby goat who needed to suckle, and proceeded to pull a mother goat’s teat out of his pants, which I wrapped my lips around. I stayed there, happily sucking on the teat as my roommate and the other two strangers took turns fucking me. As soon as each of them started, I noticed each of them would say, almost blankly, “I love to go deep for Rodney Field,” then they would jam themselves into me straight up to the balls and start pumping, as they and the hypnotist leaned together over my body and kissed.

Finally, one by one, each of the guys began to blow his load up my ass. Scott was first, then the baseball guy, and neither of them were that bad, though when Ronnie started pumping away, it really began to hurt because he had the biggest dick and it was really getting swollen and hard as a rock by this point. I began to cry out “Baah baah baah” as he came in me and that just seemed to get Rod off even more, because I quickly felt hot jets of his cum pumping all over my face and down my throat.

After everything was finished, the hypnotist had Scott go get a towel and clean the other three of us up. He even convinced Ronnie my ass was another pussy and had him help out with cleanup, making sure he got as much wet spunk out of my butthole as he could. With everyone clean again, Master Rodney had Scott lie down on the spare bed in the room and sink into a deep sleep. He had me wait in the armchair and do deepening exercises, counting back from a thousand and repeating “deeper and deeper” between each number until I lost my place and had to start over, while I imagine he spent some time brainwashing both Ronnie and the baseball jock into forgetting everything that happened. Obviously, at the time I wasn’t aware of any of this, but in my position as Master Rod’s assistant, like Scott, I eventually learned some of these things.

I have no idea how long I spent deepening myself, but by the time Master Rod told me stop, I would’ve been surprised if you’d told me I had a heartbeat. My mind was simply still, dead and empty and open in a way I had never felt before, though would feel plenty of times since, and my new master began efficiently and insidiously inscribing his will into my brain:

Master Rodney informed me that when I awakened, I would return immediately to my room and sink into a profound, deep, and restful sleep. I would forget everything that had happened tonight. If I should remember any fragment, I would realize it was a strange dream and put it out of my mind. I would have no interest in exploring any thoughts I might have about what I did tonight after the hypnosis show. I would remember simply that I had been tired and returned to the dorms as quickly as possible. If I felt any physical discomfort, particularly in my anus, I would remember I had eaten something that seemed off for dinner and it had given me diarrhea in the middle of the night. That would be the obvious and logical explanation for any rectal distress, as well as why I wanted to go to bed so early.

Over the next few days and weeks, I would begin to develop an increasing fascination with Master Rod and his hypnotism show. I would remember rushing home to look up his website the night after the performance, and would try to find as much time as possible to return, becoming fascinated with the photos and videos that were up as samples. I would look at them obsessively, focusing on the men in them, and wonder if they were having the same experience I had while under hypnosis. I would begin to imagine myself in their place, particularly for routines I hadn’t participated in, and become jealous, wishing to know what it was like to be made to perform them. Master Rod even gave me a special password that would allow me to access some secret pages on the website’s backend with especially racy photos. I would become more and more obsessed, wanting to know what it was like to sink even deeper into Master Rod’s control, to obey any and every command without question. It would give me sexual pleasure imagining being made to perform humiliating acts under his hypnosis.

Finally, Master Rodney told me I would also become obsessed with the Upcoming Shows page, that I would dream and fantasize about sneaking off to one of his shows at a private club, and that by the end of the month, I would be so obsessed with submitting myself again to his hypnosis that I would find any way I could—discretely—to make my way to his club performance in Barnstow. I would tell no one I was going, but would make sure to text him I was on my way so he could get me in, since the club was 21+.

After asking if I understood these instructions, Master Rod began bringing me out of hypnosis, which took a while because I had gone so deep. When he snapped his fingers, I opened my eyes blankly, not even thinking about where I was or what was happening, just knowing I wanted to get home as soon as possible so I could sleep. Master Rod ushered me out the door, and I made a bee-line across campus, back to my bed and under the covers and into the deepest, most incredible sleep of my life, where I dreamed of performing whatever was desired under Master Rod’s command.

“You’re getting me so goddamn hot I need to fuck you again,” groaned Sal, pulling Zaid into a passionate kiss.

“Anything you like, sir,” said the boy, after accepting the deep probing of his new master’s tongue.

“How much more is there to this story? I’ve never had anything a guy told me get me so hot.”

“Well, I can tell you about the night I finally went to the club and watched one of Master Rod’s shows. It was quite a new thing to experience from the outside, and afterward he had a lot of fun with me and one of the participants.”

“Fuck, I do wanna hear that but it sounds like a whole other thing.”

“I guess it’s a story of its own,” shrugged Zaid. “I’ve got a thousand of ’em.”

The soft tweeting of a bird outside the window penetrated the stillness of the bedroom.

“Shit, it’s nearly morning,” said Sal, glancing at the clock. “I need to hear this but I want to enjoy it,” he continued. “Why don’t you tell me tomorrow night? There’s no need to wipe a mind as full and sexy as yours just yet.”

“As you wish, sir. I live only to serve,” said Zaid, and his master pulled him in for another kiss.

“Now sleep for me, boy. Deeper than ever before,” Sal said, pressing a finger to the young man’s forehead and sending him melting back into his pillow. Zaid exhaled deeply, relief flowing through his body that he’d managed to buy himself more time. Each night with his new master was bound to be a battle, but his knowledge was currency, and if he could keep Master Sal suspended in anticipation for long enough, Zaid knew could find some way out.