The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Monroe’s indoctrination went off as planned. He spent pretty much the rest of the week parked in front of the computer, his lips always bulging with nicely packed loads of copenhagen, butt naked and strokin’ his shaft. When i set him up in front of the computer on the 4th morning, i noticed that his dick was as smooth as mine and Trav’s. His pubes were gone now, too. I was so proud of my little brother. Just months ago he showed up looking like some slug-thug white boy. He slumped and slouched and tried to talk hip-hop slang he had to have picked up off the satellite dish on the television up in his room or at the central high school that was nearly 30 miles away. Out on our farm there wasn’t any streets and there weren’t any thugs for him emulate. Now he had decent role models and mates and he had turned himself around nicely.

The weeks since his birthday had passed so quickly, it was now after thanksgiving and christmas was fast approaching. He was on the way to finding his true calling and the Marine Corps was not part of it. Munroe had gone out the beginning of November and got himself a job at a little indie record store. Well, they didn’t have many records, mostly cd’s. The tats that he now displayed were taken in stride by his co-workers and the customers alike. As was his eyebrow piercings and the the tunnels that were in both his lobes.

“Oi, mate, i want to head over to the shop, care to come?” Roe asked of me. I didn’t need to ask which shop he was talking about.

“You think you can get over there without me?” i chuckled back. “Hell ya!”

He was my little brother, but i no longer dictated what he could and couldn’t have done to himself. I’d be fucked if HE was gonna have some ink laid or hole punched without me matching or bettering him. For the first time, i tossed him the keys and he just smiled as we headed out the door. It was almost in unison that before opening the car doors we reached to our hip pockets and removed our tins and packed a couple nice ones for the drive over.

“Ya know, I really like our mates, but Weis, he’s getting where he doesn’t fit in with us.” Roe casually mentioned to me in passing.

“How ya figure?” i asked as i began thinking about his statement. And with no further prompting my little brother outlined all the reasons he had said what he had about Weis.

It certainly wasn’t due to ideological differences. We were all on the same page there. It pretty much had to do with appearance and how involved he was with transforming everyone else in the house. In little over a year Weis had profoundly opened my eyes and head. He was directly responsible for me getting my individuality back. He’d done the same with Trav, and now Munroe was well on his way to permanently displaying to everyone what he truly was. Weis had remained relatively unchanged. He was our mate, no doubt. There was zero questions as far as his honor and character. Munroe and i both agreed that Weis needed to show a bit more of the same character that we’d developed. We’d talk to Trav and see how he felt about it. Then the subject turned to Monroe.

“So,” i asked cautiously, “what you think about yourself?” wondering to myself if he had any regrets as to what we had done to him.

“Actually, I was going to ask you the same thing.” he said absently as his focus remained on the traffic around us. “You always liked girls... Me, well, there’s a reason that i was a virgin until i came here... There was a reason why i didn’t go to the prom or my senior ball....” he left his declaration dangle in the air. “That’s one of the reasons why I wanted to go into the Marines. To prove to myself that i was a real man.” his voice now trailed off.

I wondered how many times that same thought forced so many young men to do just what Munroe had originally planned on doing. Now i was thanking the stars that we had the chance to show him his true self without him enlisting just to prove a point; or more accurately to disprove something that was obviously true but he’d been brought up to reject as being wrong.

The crushed stones shifting under the tires brought me out of my thoughts. Munroe parked the car and soon we were heading up the stairs. Only the owner was in the shop.

“Where’s all the GOOD help?” I shouted, entering, as greeting to him. He smiled as he recognized the voice and turned towards us.

“Gentlemen, and i use that term loosely, what’s up with you guys today?” he asked with a big bear of a grin on his face.

“We came to partake of your services, sensi.” Munroe chimed in, smiling also. Roe walked towards him and hugged and gave him a friendly pat on the back. The owner reciprocated.

We shot the breeze with him for a bit, slowly the conversation got to the purpose of our visit. First i discussed what i had in mind, then it was Munroe’s turn. The owner waited for Roe to finish and then he brought up an idea he’d been pondering.

The owner wanted to know what Munroe thought of the idea of having a planned body of ink, with a common theme. Roe’s eyes twinkled when what the owner finished his explanation. He’d be the first in the house to have a thoughtfully designed, woven design on as much of his body as he cared to embellish. Roe’s head snapped in my direction as the concept sunk in. I smiled and nodded. I now found myself trying to tie all my individual pieces together. With a master plan, like what the owner had in mind, Roe wouldn’t have that same problem. There was some more discussion as to the general theme and Munroe finally decided on celtic designs with strong skinhead images included. With a general idea of what Roe was looking for, the owner let him know that it would probably be a week or so to give him time come up with some ideas. It sunk in then that he wouldn’t be getting any ink today. He seemed to be okay with it. So i was be the only one getting ink today. Roe would get to watch.

One of my pieces was finished, the other about half way complete when the owner’s son arrived with meals in hand. I was getting wrist bands, celtic style on both wrists. They were almost 2 ½” wide and looked awesome. While i remained focused on my work, Munroe was chatting up the son.

“You want to eat while your food is hot?” I asked the owner.

“Hot food? Probably throw off my stomach. It wouldn’t know what to do with hot food in it.” he responded, jokingly. He was intent on finishing my left wrist. Within the next half hour the final filling in was done and i was set. I rose up to check them in the mirror. Another fine job.

Munroe was just about done too. He had an eye brow pierced and the son was dabbing away the last of the blood from the septum piercing that Roe now sported. He hadn’t gone gonzo wild the way i had. The son had expertly placed a 12 gauge niobium retainer between Munroe’s nostrils. I smiled to myself. The smile of utter satisfaction, then surprise when Roe said “My treat today.” He reached into his right hip pocket and wedged his wallet from his bleachers. I offered to leave the tip and got a scowl as a response from him. Guess it was just a small “thank you” for what i had done for him.

“You need to use the head before we leave?” i asked, smiling at Roe. He knew what i meant. He was sporting a raging boner, too. After assuring me he could wait until we got home, we bid the two of them goodbye, hoping they’d enjoy their meals which were surely cold by now.

I offered to drive back. I knew how watery you eye could be and sensitive the nose was after getting a septum pierced. Roe assured me he was fine. Before climbing back in the passenger’s side, i flipped out my old wad of cope and placed a fresh load in. Munroe didn’t bother removing what he had in, he just packed more in on top. He had to squeeze to get his lips to meet. I saw him wince as he was reminded of his fresh piercing.

It was on the trip back to the house that Roe and i hatched our little plan. We just had to make sure that it was only Weis that viewed what we had worked up.

And work, it did. In just under 6 weeks Weis was transformed. At least when he was in the house. We now had three skins and our skindog, Weis. He was re-wired so as soon as he passed through the doorway his triggers would automatically take effect. Weis was cute moving between us skins on all fours. With his daily re-enforcements and the progressive programming, the formerly tough little skin stud was now looking to it’s house mates for attention, love and comfort. Travis, after he figured out what Roe and i had started kept tweaking the programs to fine tune our skin dog’s behavior. Weis was now living pretty much all his time off base in his skindog space. There were a few complications. Travis reported that more and more as he drove them into work that Weis didn’t come out, back to the marine-self until sometimes as they were getting ready for formation. But Travis also said he didn’t want to back down on the amount of warping that we were doing to Weis’ brain.

“Bro! What ya think of this?” Roe yelled to me. As i closed in on the screen, i smiled as Roe was staring as a page that had a butt plug that had a long extension, that of a dog’s tail. It was perfect. It was pure agony waiting the 10 days for it to finally arrive. The nice thing was it was built even better that it appeared in the web page with it’s description.

The one thing that all of us agreed on during the whole transformation of Weis was we’d still allow him to dip. Of course we had to pack the pup’s lips cause he thought he didn’t have anything but paws; no opposable thumb on our skindog. We simply placed a bowl on the floor along side his feed and water bowls for him to spit. When our dog was curled up next to us as we sat in the living room we’d relocated the bowl to be convenient for it. The amazing thing to me was just how well he adjusted and relished being our skindog. He had no worries. Everything that any good pup could hope for was provided to him by one of us. Of course there was only three skins sharing the bed. Our skindog had a sleeping bed on the floor next to us. It was funny as hell when when our pup would try to relieve himself. He’d hump the bed, hump our legs, whimpering the whole time. We’d all chide him and scratch him behind his ear when he calmed down. We took perverse pleasure in bringing our skinpup so close and then backing him off. It was almost a month into his full conversion as our skindog that our pup wouldn’t back down while he was humping Roe’s leg. It took a tall glass of ice water splashed on it’s nuts to get his attention and get our pup back under control. “Have to tell y’all what happened today.” Travis recounted what Weis had done at work during noontime lunch. Just about all the guys in the shop had left. For some reason Travis let out one of Weis’ triggers. There wasn’t even any hesitation in Weis, his programming was solid. He dropped to all fours and started living as he did in our house. Only thing, a couple minutes later the gunny popped back into the shop, finding Weis on the floor on true doggie fashion. The gunny just looked at them both and continued moving through, into his office to grab something. As he came back out he stopped and stared at them both.

“He’s trying to find sumthin’ he dropped, gunny.” Is what i told him, Travis stated, trying to keep a straight face. The gunny rotated on his heals and headed back out the shop. Shaking his head. Travis, having a full wad of copenhagen in his mouth then started dropping gobs of his juice on Weis’ head. Soon Travis brought Weis back up, acting like a marine again. Weis was instructed by one of his skins to rub the juice into his head and keep it there for the rest of the day. He did as instructed and never thought any more about it. But Travis had struck onto something. It now seemed that Weis’ natural role was that as our skindog. It took a lot of energy for him to pretend to be a marine during his working hours. And his personality around the shop was very different than prior to us working on his new role around the house.