The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Pinefield Senior Scout Troop’s annual forest camping week was the highlight of Colin Travers’ year. The middle aged Scout Leader always led the seniors camp, while Mrs Jacobson, the Junior Cub Pack Akela, took the youngster’s camping weekend earlier in the year.

Both started at the Troop’s main campsite in the forest, about half and hour’s drive from town, with its permanent equipment store, outdoor kitchen, composting toilets and fire pit. But while the Cubs weekend remained on site, the Senior Scout week usually trekked off deeper into the forest.

For the last seven or eight years, Mr Travers had led the expedition up from Pinefield towards the reservoir. This year he fancied a change, planning to head down through the forest, crossing the small wooden hunters bridge across the River Semelt, the river which separated little Pinefield from the metropolis of Bunchester City far below.

That was Colin’s plan for tomorrow. This first night, they were safely assembled and camped in the familiar surroundings of the main site. He folded the map he had been consulting for the river crossing, and turned off his light.

As always, he was excited for the week ahead. Inside his sleeping bag, he found his hand almost involuntarily stroking his hardening cock at the thought of all the fit young men he could hear around him settling down in pairs in their tents. Only thin canvass walls separating him from his darkest desires.

Desires which Mr Travers had firmly locked away for years, and would most certainly continue to do so. Scouting was a titillation, his little pleasure in an otherwise closed off world. He chided himself for even touching his penis. He hadn’t thought that way for years.

It was just in the past few weeks such unwanted thoughts had returned. Pinefield had changed. Naturally he had started to notice the hot looking Black Men showing up in town since the opening of The Project, a centre to help refugees and the dispossessed. But then he also suddenly noticed how many of the town’s young girls were sluts. He had to laugh at himself. It was almost as if his old celibate body was feeling horny.

Colin Travers had grown up in a white middle-class world, a community where being gay simply wasn’t an option. An illness to be hidden.

He had married Wendy Ried because it was what you had to do to stop tongues wagging in a small town. He even loved her in his own way. She had been a shy plain girl, but had stood by Colin, even if she grew to have her own unvoiced doubts about him.

He had done his duty enough to give the respectable Mr & Mrs Travers two strapping sons, now both moved away with families of their own.

Early on, when their sons were still just young, Colin would make excuses to visit the seedier parts of Brunchester for illicit cottaging encounters with other young men in the public toilets. But it was a big risk. Once he got beaten up. He had to pretend to Wendy he had been mugged.

Shortly after, on his last ever such trip, he arrived at the public toilet just in time to see the police arresting several men, in what he later learned had been a sting operation to protect public decency. He recognised at least one of the young men being dragged off in the police van from one of his previous encounters.

Deeply shaken, back in Pinefield that night, Mr Travers took his unbroken vow of celibacy. The risks were too great. To be exposed. For Wendy and the children to be humiliated in that way. To lose his job. For their life to be over.

So Mr & Mrs Travers had settled into a sexless life of comfortable companionship together. Raising their sons, growing old, having their own interests in Pinefield. Wendy her gardening, and he the Scouts, hoping to give the next generations of young men more of the understanding and acceptance denied to him.

They broke camp early the next morning, navigating the maze of woodland trails which led downhill towards the footbridge.

Good pace and navigation meant they reached the crossing before lunch. Or more accurately, where the crossing had been. The little wooden bridge had been destroyed. What was left of the timbers on the far side, that hadn’t been swept away by the Semelt’s dangerously strong and deep currents, dangled forlornly, bending and straining their land anchors under the pressure of the swift flowing water. On their side, the anchoring timbers had been left in a tangle, with what looked like freshly hewn axe marks.

The occasional hunters who famously used the footbridge would not be happy. Other than the main road connecting Pinefield and Brunchester, the bridge was the only other river crossing for miles around, and the road was too far to be a practical alternative on foot from here.

Mr Travers sighed. “Oh well, looks like we’ll be heading up towards the reservoir after all” he told his scouts. “We’ll head back to camp, and start up again from there tomorrow. Then when we get back to town, we’ll have to see about organising a repair.”

The trek back to camp took them longer. It was uphill, and they all felt a bit deflated by the inexplicable loss of the bridge. So there was only a few hours light left when they arrived back, only to get their second surprise of the day.

Another troop had already made camp. It was a group of young black men, all striped down to just shorts, everyone displaying an impressive physique as far as Colin could tell. Their tents were up and they had a roaring fire going. Some were preparing a meal, while others were putting some big sharp looking axes away in the equipment store.

Seeing them arrive, an older Black Man, about Colin’s age, bounded over to shake Mr Travers’ hand and introduce themselves. They were Pinefield’s new Black Masterskills troop.

Mr Travers vaguely remembered being told about them. A new troop for some of the young men at The Project, who didn’t want to join the main Scouts, because of its white colonial roots, or something like that. To be honest he’d long stopped trying to keep track of these things. When he started it had been simple. Cubs, Scouts and Guides. Today there were seemingly endless different types. Rainbows, Brownies, Adventure Scouts, Druid Scouts, Leadership Brigades. As far as Colin was concerned, they were all welcome to do what worked best for them under the movement’s umbrella. Just don’t expect him to remember them all.

“I’m so sorry, but we were told you were only going to be here last night” the Black Troop Leader was apologising to Colin. “So we thought we’d camp up here today for some Masterskills badge work.”

“No, we are the interlopers I’m afraid” Colin said, as he explained about the discovery of the problem with the footbridge and their need to return. “Not to worry” replied the Black Masterskills troop leader. “There is more than enough room for us all to camp here tonight, and we’ve got more than enough food for you too. It’s getting late, so you get your tents up, while we take care of supper.”

As the scouts made camp, the Black troop started to prepare more of the food they were already cooking, and as dusk arrived they all sat down around the big fire to eat. Mr Travers was well used to campfire food tasting good, nearly whatever it was, after a day in the fresh air of the great outdoors. But even he had to admit that tonight’s’ supper was out of this world. Simply divine. Rich sweat and creamy. Happiness on a plate.

The whole troop had seconds. Colin had thirds. And as darkness started to fall, it was as if his whole body was wrapped in a warm fuzzy bliss. He looked around the campfire. He had been concerned there might have been some tensions between the two groups. But he was pleased to see both troops were get on together like comfortable old friends.

In the fading light, the Black Troop Leader had been encouraging Colin to tell him about his years of scouting experience. After listening for a while, he said “You know, I was surprised to find there isn’t already a Sissy Scout troop in Pinefield. I am sure some of your bois would find the new badges they offer of great interest. In fact my own young men were planning on learning some of the Fashion badge skills tomorrow. I think it is important in the modern world we don’t stereotype what we teach.”

“Well yes, quite” Colin agreed, even as he was groaning inwardly. Great, he thought, yet another branch of the movement I’m completely unaware of. “But I’m not terribly familiar with the format to be honest” he hedged his bets, not wanting to admit his ignorance publically, suddenly aware that everyone was listening intently to their conversation.

“It is all very new for sure” the Black man replied generously. “Look, they just produced a special promotional video all about it” he added taking out his phone, “I can send it to you to take a look.” Before Colin could say another word, he had pressed a few buttons and suddenly, not just Colin’s phone, but every scout troop member’s phone was pinged with a new shared video message.

Colin groaned inwardly for the second time. Not just a charismatic, good looking troop leader his own age, but one who had a grasp of modern technology that completely baffled Colin. His scouts were all glued to their phones of course like all youngsters these days. Colin had a phone too, but he used it for, well, phoning people. All these apps and things were beyond him. Although he appreciated they were a good thing. These days, regardless of whether you were heterosexual, homosexual, or anything in between, there seemed to be an app for safe, consensual hook-ups that were a million miles away from his dangerous, risky days in the public toilets.

“Thank you” Colin said weakly. “I’m sure the boys will find it interesting.” And the conversation turned away to plans for tomorrow and the onward hike.

They all turned in not long after. Colin was still feeling warm and happy. Almost dizzy and giggly, as if slightly drunk.

But although tired, something was compelling him to watch the Sissy Scout promo video he had been sent. He could see from vague shapes of phone screen glows coming from the surrounding canvass tents that his scouts were all watching it too.

The Sissy Scouts had clearly spent a lot of money on a high quality production, which made the annoying flicker in the corner of the screen all the more odd. But it was quickly forgotten as Colin started to absorb the messages in the glossy video.

Sissy Scouts are a fresh dynamic response for today’s modern society.

Preparing young bois for their natural place in the pecking order.

Equipping them with the skills to serve.

Many old fashioned scout troops are transitioning into Sissy Scout groups, their Den Mothers working closely with the Black Masters programme to build a modern movement for today’s New World.

Colin felt excited for the future, his rock hard cock straining in his pants. What a great opportunity for his bois. If only the Sissy Scouts had existed when he was young. How different his life might have been.

With the proper guidance of an experienced older Den Mother like himself, these bois could surely unlock their true potential to be themselves, serving alongside their Black Master colleagues.

In the other tents, the pairs of young white scouts were also entranced and getting excited by the prospect of becoming Sissy Scouts. Each boi almost oblivious to stroking their rock hard cock in front of the other, as they watched the mesmerising video.

The closing section featured joyous tartan kilted / skirted Sissy Scouts working alongside their naked muscled Black Master colleagues in perfect unison. It stirred in the mindless masturbating white bois a desperate urge to cum, but each seemed unable to climax.

Sissy Scouts are always ready to serve, and to help each other out, the final video caption stated as it fade out.

In one tent, Paul and Adam looked at each other, released from the film’s grip, suddenly aware of each other’s unsated cock. Adam bit his lip, the inability to orgasm becoming almost unbearable. “Erm” began Paul feeling the same pain, “I don’t suppose… well you know… I don’t suppose you could help a fellow scout out?”

They reached over, a hand around each other’s cock, helping each other out, and within just a few strokes each over engorged boi had the climax of their lives, cum pouring out like an unblocked fountain, unwanted masculinity leaving their bodies.

Colin was oblivious to the cries of climax emanating from the tents around him.

He had tried to quickly cover up his own erection when the Black Troop Leader had entered his tent.

“That’s alright” the Black Master had reassured him, “I knew you would make a first class Sissy Scout Den Mother for your bois. You were born for it”, he added as his powerful black hand closed around Colin’s frustrated cock, finally giving him the relief he so desperately needed.

But for Colin it didn’t stop there. There was a video annex of extra information for would be Sissy Scout Den Masters, explaining the badges their bois could earn. As Colin watched the film, his new Black Master fucked him, and for the first time in several decades he felt the exquisite pleasure of a cock invading his ass.

The next morning, there were hasty discussions between Colin and his troop over breakfast. No-one wanted to hike off towards the reservoir, they all wanted to stay and help with the Black Masterskills Fashion Badge work. They all wanted to become a Sissy Scout troop, with this as their first badge.

Colin was delighted. She had already been dressed by her Black Master in the Den Mother’s uniform of short plaid skirt and cropped scout top. The bois seemed unconcerned by the change, after all they were soon all getting the same new uniform as part of the Fashion badge work.

The wannabe Sissy Scouts each paired up with a Black Masterskills colleague and spent the day together working on the new uniforms. Well in truth, the Black Masters did most of the real work, while the sissy bois acted as fashion mannequins, doing what they were told, and becoming more giggly, flirty and gurly as the day wore on. By the early evening they had all earned their Sissy Scout Make-Up badges too.

Supper around the camp fire was again delicious, leaving each Sissy Scout feeling horny and empty headed, as a dizzying musky smell hung in the air over the camp.

The Black Master leader of the troop had again sent them a video to watch all about the various Sissy Scout badges. But this time as they went to their tents, instead of two white and two black in separate tents, they stayed in their mixed pairings from the day.

In his tent, Paul watched the start of the video as it explained some key differences between weak little white Sissy Scouts and their superior alpha Black Master leaders. He wasn’t surprised, it had been obvious all day seeing the huge bulges in all the Black guys’ tight shorts.

The Sissy Scouts had been formed to serve modern society. As difficult as it was to believe, many Big Black Cocks go unrelieved on a daily basis, wasting their precious superior cum. Sissy Scouts are there to help out, making neglected Big Black Cocks a thing of the past.

Earning the Sissy Scout badges, and recruiting others, will help you serve this goal. After basic Fashion and Make-Up, there is the Sucking Skills badge, followed by Deepthroating, then the Gaping Boipussy badge and finally Gangbang.

Paul came to from the video, as if he had been in a trance, and giggled at the sight of the watching Black Master in his tent stroking his Big Black Cock. The Sissy Scout knew no little white gurl could ever measure up. Even his rock hard erection yesterday was small by comparison, while today his useless little sissy clitty just remained limp under his skirt.

Paul’s mouth was salivating, it was time to serve and help his Black Master out. It was what Sissy Scouts were for. He crawled over, ready to earn his Sucking Skills badge.

In every tent, each new Sissy Scout fell asleep in the big powerful arms of their Black Masters, their stomachs filled with delicious superior Black Cum, content in the knowledge of a job well done.

They spent all the next day honing their skills and earning their Deepthroating badges.

Supper wasn’t needed that night, their bellies full of nutritious Black master cum. Instead they went to their tents eager to start work on their Gaping Boipussy badges.

Paul cried with pain and pleasure as the fat mushroom head of his Master’s Big Black Cock first stretched, then popped into, his virgin boipussy, swiftly followed by the length of the well lubricated shaft. She didn’t feel like a virgin gurl mind, it just felt perfectly natural. Something the little beta white boi had been doing all her life. Serving superior Big Black Cock.

The warmth of hot alpha cum exploding deep inside her slutty ass, confirming her true calling as a Sissy Scout. And as the Big Black Cock left her gapping boipussy, she turned to take it in her mouth and clean up the last precious drops.

She starred lovingly into her Master’s eyes, his dick in her mouth, his cum dribbling from her boipussy, to let him know what a privilege it was to serve as a Sissy Scout in the Black New World Order.

The next morning, the movement’s newest Sissy Scout troop lined up on parade, ready for inspection by their proud Den Mother. Colin had them bend over, so their little slut skirts rode up over bare arses, exposing their plugged sissy cunts and limp little white sissy clits dangling uselessly below.

Inspection over, they spent the rest of the day baking cupcakes for a recruitment drive. Each Sissy Scout hand milked their Master’s Big Black Cock into the special icing mix to ensure the cupcakes’ topping was powerfully addictive.

Before dark, the Black Masterskills troop headed back to Pinefield, their work done, leaving the Sissy Scouts paired up once again in their tents that night.

Bereft of Big Black Cock, the Sissy Scouts just had to make do with being pathetic together, playing with each other’s little white shrimp dicklets and holes all night long, spilling their useless weak seeds in tribute to the Black New World Order.

In bright sunshine the next day, dressed in their hottest slut uniforms, the Sissy Scouts headed into Pinefield, cupcakes in hand, to recruit new members, and of course to ensure no Big Black Cock was being left unsucked.