The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I sighed as I stepped out of the shower, wrapping the towel around my waist. Reaching out, I grabbed my tin of gel and smeared some on my fingers, running it through my short dark hair. The strands immediately sprang to attention, close-cropped and pointy. I stared at myself in the mirror and ired my tan complexion—everything still looked good despite the last day or so of excess.

Since leaving college, I it I had become a bit of a gym rat and developed a rather monastic lifestyle. It wasn’t that I was trying to disengage, just that I’d always wanted to take better care of my body and, being away from negative influences, had finally found time to really turn my attention to it. I moved into the city, got an internship and then a job, a girlfriend, a nice place, and so on. Some of the other guys hadn’t quite moved on in the same way in the decade since. In a way it felt weird to be back.

Even my vacation attire felt unfamiliar: working a finance job and dating a self-itted “high-maintenance” girl, I had grown used to a perpetual uniform of silky dress shirt—with tie or half-unbuttoned, depending on the circumstance—tucked into a cleanly-pressed pair of slacks. As a consequence, it felt weird hanging out at boys’ weekend, back to a tank-top-and-cargo-shorts routine I had largely abandoned. But I fit right in with Marco, stuck in perpetual bachelorhood and a fuckboi for the ages, who still dressed like he was ready to hit up the local frat house for a weekend kegger. Ron was somewhere in between: having moved to the suburbs, pumped out a couple kids and really leaned into the whole Dad-core thing, he was still in all right shape, but starting to show a little paunch under his Hawaiian shirts, and he was cultivating an undernourished mustache and socks-with-sandals aesthetic he would’ve cringed at a decade ago. Cy, meanwhile, was basically the same—skinny as a rail and hardly a snazzy dresser. I think we’d had more in common in college, not least for being the only two Chinese guys in our frat, and though I’d changed in the intervening years, deep down, I still felt like I was kinda just as big a nerd as him. Talking last night, it made me feel good to know we still had a lot in common.

And finally, there was Jason, who had always been more the sensitive artistic type. He was honestly really handsome, in a quiet kind of way (obviously not that that was my cup of tea, but I know it when I see it). He was slimmer, with more of a track-and-field body, and this wavy, auburn hair that, in tandem with his delicate features, just seemed to drive chicks wild. True to his look, though, he was a romantic type, and tended to be a serial monogamist. A few years after college, he’d met a girl at his design firm and fallen head-over-heels, and now here we were, all back together again for the first time in a decade, waiting to usher him into married life. Since we all knew about his Sensitive New Age Guy persona, it was pretty clear he wasn’t gonna want to go to a strip club—much as Marco wished otherwise—so we’d settled on renting a cabana down at the local beach resort. It was slightly after season, so the rates were good, and the weather was thankfully balmy, so we’d managed to luck out. The whole thing felt like our own cheapjack tropical getaway.

Bounding downstairs after my shower, I finally felt halfway human again, refreshed after the whiskey-fueled debauchery and soul-bearing of the prior evening, not to mention whatever the hell had happened this morning. Honestly, I’d largely put that incident out of my mind, but it was my bad luck to find out the guy we met had left Jase and me with some other… “surprises.”

A roar of laughter greeted me as I entered the living room, and I turned to see Marco, Cy, and Ron all sprawled on the couch as Jason stood behind them, looking over their shoulders at Marco’s phone with his hand over his mouth.

“Oh, no, wait, that one’s Alex!” laughed Ron, waving me over to a spot next to Jase. Looking down at the phone, I was shocked to see a video of me furiously humping Marco’s hairy leg. “…Wide awake,” intoned a voice, and a pair of fingers slipped into frame and snapped. I slowly stopped, then looked up in bewilderment. “…aaand sleep,” said the voice again, snapping, and I watched myself collapse to the ground.

“Dude, come on, I don’t wanna see that!” I fumed, honestly disgusted to watch myself being manipulated like that. It was bad enough I’d somehow fallen for that guy’s mumbo-jumbo—chalk it up to being exhausted, I figured, and my brain being nuked by too much alcohol—but to see it played back was particularly humiliating. I’m not gonna lie, as much as I liked looking good, a lot of the workout stuff stemmed from some racist shit I’d had to deal with as a kid, and I always had this weird complex about proving myself as a result—something Marco’s competitiveness invariably stirred up in me.

“Chill out, dude, it’s all fun and games!” said Marco, exiting back out to his camera roll.

“Wait, show him the one where he had itchy balls!” giggled Ron.

“Guys, enough. Come on. I can be a good sport, but I’m getting sick of it. I don’t wanna think about it, and it’s over now. Let it go,” grumbled Jason.

“Oh is it?” grinned Marco, and Jase gave him a raised eyebrow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, man, just wondering if you were gonna photobomb us anymore today,” Marco smirked.

Without a word, Jason turned around, bent over and pulled down his shorts, sticking his scrawny ass out at the trio as Ron and Marco rolled around the couch in fits of childish laughter and Cy rolled his eyes: “Seriously, guys, isn’t it getting kinda old?”

“C’mon, bro, Alex hasn’t even seen it yet. Let’s take another pic!” giggled Marco.

“Get in here, dude,” Ron ushered. I looked on in shock.

“He left him with like… one of those instructions?”

“Yeah, come on, it wears off after a few seconds. Jase is gonna freak when he sees all his bachelor photos are of him with his ass out,” Marco laughed, always the most infantile.

Already Jason started rising, pulling his shorts up.

“Photobomb,” Marco said again. “Come on, dude!”

He yanked me by my arm into their huddle, then reached out with his phone, framing all four of us with Jason’s pale rear end in the background. Marco was sticking out his tongue and flashing bull horns while Rob, typical dad, made a stupid face and gave a big thumbs up. Cy and me just looked annoyed, trying to make it clear we were here under duress.

“I’ve got like five or six of these already, it’s hysterical.”

“Come on, leave him alone. It’s kinda fucked up that guy left him with a trigger. We’re his friends, we shouldn’t be taking advantage,” said Cy.

“That’s what it’s for! He’s the Bachelor Man, he’s gotta get wild somehow. Consider it a Rite of Ass-age,” laughed Ron as Jason pulled up his shorts.

“That’s fucked up, though, seriously,” I said. Of course, some childish part of me did find it funny being able to toy with my friend like a dancing monkey, but given my issues with being picked on, I certainly didn’t want to imagine the shoe being on the other foot.

“I sure hope that asshole didn’t do anything like that to me,” I added, trying to make it clear I was not down for this shit. I had had more than my fill of hypnotism for the day.

“Anything like what?” Jason asked, turning around and apparently none-the-wiser.

“Anything like this…” Marco smiled, and suddenly I was blinking at him from across the room. I glanced down—where had my shirt gone?

“Looking for this, Magic Mike?” Ron laughed, tossing it back to me from across the dining table.

“What the fuck, dude?” I asked, looking around in shock. What did I do?

Marco hopped off the couch and strode over with his phone. “You just got a little flexi-sexy, bro, don’t worry about it,” he laughed, patting me on the shoulder. He held the device out and I saw photos of myself posing like a bodybuilder.

“Fuck. Goddamnit, this is degrading!” I protested.

“Lighten up, dude!” Marco said, followed by something else, and moments later, I was staring at him again from a couple feet away, my shirt now resting over the arm of the couch.

“I told you that guy was gay…” Ron laughed. I stormed to the couch and grabbed my shirt.

“Seriously, this needs to fucking stop. I have half a mind to go find that guy and kick his ass!” I fumed, yanking my tank top back on in a huff.

“Don’t worry, bro, he said it’ll wear off after the weekend,” said Marco, flopping back on one of the couches.

“Yeah, well, I don’t really want you having carte blanche to make me perform like a chimp for the next two days. This ends, now,” I stated firmly, pointing at the ground.

“All right, man, all right. Jeez, we’re just foolin’ around,” Ron stepped forward, trying to deescalate.

“Ron, didn’t he give you his number or something, in case there were any issues?” asked Cy.

“Yeah, so?”

“So, maybe we should bring them back and have him undo it? Fun’s fun, but honestly, it’s not cool.”

“He didn’t make me do anything like that, did he?” asked Jason with hopeless naivete.

“Oh no, man,” grinned Marco. “After all, you’re the bachelor, bro. He wouldn’t make an ass outta you!”

“Come in, guys, come in. What can I do for you?” smiled the man, ushering us inside.

I cut right to the chase: “Look, dude, you gotta undo whatever shit you did to us, okay? It’s not cool.”

“Yeah, they keep taking pictures of my butt!” Jason protested.

“I said I’d delete them, dude, Jesus,” Marco huffed, squeezing in behind the rest of us. Pretty much all of us were here, though unfortunately, right as we were about to leave, Cy had gotten a call from his girlfriend and had to stay to deal with some bullshit, so Jason and I were stuck being escorted by these two jokers. I was honestly pretty pissed, since they had persistently proven the two most likely to take advantage of our handicap, but what could you do? They were still our friends, and ultimately I trusted them. Cyrus had made them promise to go back with us and ensure the guy put us back to normal—no more horsing around.

“Oh, I’m sorry, guys, I just meant that as a bit of fun. I didn’t intend for it to get out of hand,” said the guy apologetically. “I figured since you were with friends they wouldn’t push it too far, but maybe that was the exact wrong instinct. Often, I’ll leave some people with little instructions like that during my intermission, but you’re right, a whole weekend of that probably isn’t a lot of fun.”

“You’re damn right, dude, now can you please switch it off?” I fumed. The guy seemed apologetic, I just wanted to make my position clear.

“Obviously, I don’t mean for anyone to have a bad time. Of course, I’d be happy to undo everything—unless maybe you’d prefer I give your friends some commands instead? You know, mutually-assured destruction?” he laughed.

“It’s not funny, dude, just switch it back,” Jason said, seemingly wanting things rectified as badly as I did.

“I’m sorry, you’re totally right. Have a seat. I’ll get you guys fixed up in no time,” the man gestured to a small couch toward one side of the living room. All the cabanas (at least the non-luxury ones) were similar, with three couches arranged around a center table and a big TV across the room at the opposite end.

Jason and I trudged over and took a seat. I looked up, eyeing the guy reluctantly. I was loath to go under again, seeing as he had already messed me up enough, but I also didn’t see any other way around it. Unless I hit up Google and started looking for a hypnotic de-programmer, my fate was kind of in his hands. Besides, I knew deep down this was all just some stupid joke that had gotten out of hand, and Ron and Marco were keeping an eye on things.

“All right. Just focus on that breathing again and it should be very easy to get you back under,” said the guy, squatting in front of me and grabbing my hand in my lap. Almost instantly I felt my breath slow and a strange, gauzy calm start to overcome me.

“Just a few minutes here and you’ll be on your way. Now just take one of those nice deeeep breaths for me like before, anddd… sleep.” He gently tugged my hand, and immediately I collapsed, out like a light.

Curling up in my warm bed, I nuzzled into my pillow, drawing a deep breath through my nose. This vacation had been wonderful. Honestly, aside from a blip or two I didn’t really care to think about, it was impossible not to feel at peace, waking up after a good night’s sleep. Whatever we did last night had certainly been nicer than Friday. It was wonderful to wake up feeling rested and refreshed, instead of bleary-eyed and hung over.

Nuzzling further, I realized we must have had a really nice evening, as I felt the soft form of something warm beside me. Had we gone to the bar last night, grabbed a couple drinks? I couldn’t believe I’d brought someone back with me—this was definitely going down the memory hole for when I got back to Sofia—but damn if it wasn’t nice right now.

I leaned in, kissing the warm cheek of the girl beside me. She felt soft and sweet against my lips. Outside, a gentle rain pattered against the shutters. I smiled and kissed the lady again, softer and even more ionately. I felt her gently cupping my shoulder, squeezing it tenderly, and with hot breath she leaned over and whispered sensuously in my ear: “And as I snap my fingers, wide awake…” What did that mean?

Snap.

I blinked, stirring in my bed. Lifting my head, I realized I hadn’t been lying against a pillow at all, but some other round, soft object. Yanking my head back, I realized I had had my face buried sideways in Jason’s asscrack. The side of his left cheek even glistened with the saliva from my kisses.

“Oh, FUCK YOU!” I screamed, leaping to my feet and pointing at Marco and Ron. The two were doubled over laughing, Marco barely able to even hold up the phone he’d been recording with. The guy we’d come to see just smiled and patted Jason on the shoulder, and he seemed to come to, looking bewildered as he realized his hands were tightly gripping the waist of his lowered shorts.

“Hey… what, GODDAMNIT!” he yelled, reality finally seeming to hit home as he pulled his pants up and looked at the two assholes rolling around in front of us. “You guys, you are FUCKING DICKS,” he yelled.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… It was too good to resist. He gets you both so easy!” Marco was crying, clutching his sides.

“Yeah, it was too good. Seriously, for real this time, he’ll fix you, dude,” Ron was gasping.

“Nah. FUCK this shit. Put them under too!” I told the hypnotist, who was watching our fight with bemusement. For some reason, despite him being the one who had made us do this, I didn’t really hold him responsible. After all, Marco and Ron put him up to it. He was a good guy.

“Nah, no way man, no way. He’ll fix you up, then we’ll go,” Marco was pulling himself together, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“No, I’m serious. We’re not leaving ‘til you get a taste of this too,” I huffed.

“Yeah, you know what, that’s not a bad idea,” scowled Jase, clearly as pissed as I was—though he wasn’t the one who’d gotten stuck with his face in a sweaty butt crack!

“Nah, dude, after all that? Hellll no!” Ron laughed, crawling back to his feet.

“Yeah, seriously. Beers on me for the evening,” said Marco, following behind.

“I’m not kidding. Will you do them too?” I asked the guy, who was still standing there eyeing us bemusedly.

“I mean, it’s technically my off-season, but… You guys are a pretty fun group.”

“Dude, come on… he doesn’t want to,” Ron protested.

“All right. Well then you’re walkin’ home,” I said. Being the one who drove us all out here did have its advantages.

“Yeah, you guys have been fucking shitbags. You know what, it’s my goddamn bachelor party. I want five minutes to mess with your minds. We won’t even give you any long-term stuff, I just want you to see what it feels like to wake up not knowing what the hell’s going on,” Jason said. I think his petulance must’ve gotten to them—Ron and Marco did genuinely look like they felt bad.

“Dude, come on,” protested Marco, at least treating the situation with gravity.

“What’s the matter, you can dish it out but you’re too big a pussy to take it?” I sneered. “It’s just fun and games,” I quoted him back to himself.

“Hey, fuck you, it was a joke. I’m sorry, okay? I it it got out of hand…” Marco was getting defensive, which was a good sign. That usually meant it wasn’t long until he started to worry about looking like a pussy.

“You know what, fuck it, I’m not gonna fall for this shit anyhow,” he said, plopping down on the opposite couch. “Bring it, dude, go right ahead,” he raised his hands at the hypnotist.

Right on schedule. Now it was just a matter of peer pressure…

“This is dumb…” Ron muttered, flopping down beside him with a look of resignation. I think deep down, they both realized it was kind of BS we’d been the only ones making fools of ourselves. But neither looked too thrilled to be served his just desserts.

“You got a bathroom, man? Can I wash my face?” I asked, eager to see what was about to go down but still all too cognizant of where my right cheek had just been. The hypnotist smiled and gestured at a small door off the living room, and I bounded over, not wanting to miss the action. I had to it, anticipating watching Ron and Marco make total idiots of themselves, that sadistic streak in me was awakening again. I knew part of it was just the prospect of getting revenge, but maybe there’s some secret part in the psyche that also just thrives on this shit? After all, why are all those online prank videos so popular?

Splashing some water and a quick hand soap lather on my face to get Jason’s butt germs off, I dried off with the hand towel and strode back into the living room, where it seemed the show was already underway. Despite Marco’s earlier protestations about being resistant, both he and Ron were following the older guy’s finger like hawks, their pupils sliding back and forth rhythmically under lazy lids. Soon, their eyelids were so low you could barely see anything but their whites twitching underneath, and then the guy gently snapped his fingers next to each of their ears and lowered their heads down to their chests. A few more snaps, and Ron and Marco’s bodies melted back against each other, splayed out on the couch. I tiptoed the rest of the way, intent on not disturbing things and letting either off the hook.

“Looks like they’re just as susceptible as you guys,” the dude smiled at me and Jase. “Now, what did you have in mind for revenge?”

I scratched my head, not really sure. What did people do in hypnosis shows? I could think of them clucking like chickens and stuff on TV, but that seemed kind of dumb, like kid’s stuff.

“What do you do with your volunteers?” Jason asked, rubbing his neck like a kid.

“Tell you what, why don’t you guys just sit back and let me take care of it? I’ve got a few favorite routines up my sleeve,” the guy smiled.

Jason plopped down on the perpendicular couch sitting forward, looking eager to watch the antics. Shuffling over, I dropped down beside him.

“Now let’s see…” mused the guy, pacing about and wandering behind us. “Oh, I’ve got it, I know just how to start.” He leaned forward, placing a hand on either of our shoulders as he looked at our new prey.

“Sleeeep…”

We hadn’t been entirely honest about leaving out what were called “triggers,” but the guy had certainly been more subtle with his new ones for Ron and Marco. After leaving his cabana, the four of us met back up with Cy at the house and decided to hit up a nearby bar for some dinner and pregaming. Everything seemed pretty normal as the waitress got us seated, and as she went to take our drinks, Marco loudly called out, “This round’s on me!” The rest of the guys gave him a hearty applause, and Marco basked in the adulation, even while looking—to the keen observer, at least—a bit nonplussed by his own generosity. What it would have taken even a keener observer to notice, however, was that under my breath, right as the waitress had been taking out her pen, I had very softly and stealthily whispered, “Persimmon.”

The night continued like that, with Marco enthusiastically declaring every time the bottles ran low and our server came back, “This round’s on me!” After the next couple, the guys started to protest, saying he really ought to let someone else pick up some of the tab, but it was only after the fourth or fifth round that something finally clicked in Cy’s head and he leaned over, whispering in my ear: “Wait a second. What happened when you were there? Did that guy do something?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I waved him off, grinning. “Marco’s just a really generous guy who loves a fresh persimmon.”

“THIS ROUND’S ON ME!” Marco proclaimed again, suddenly blushing and looking bewildered as his behavior no longer made any sense.

“Yeah, I got you…” muttered the waitress, getting bored with his schtick, and the other guys looked around in bewilderment too.

“Marco, what’s with you tonight?” Ron asked, looking at him askance. Marco was definitely a party guy, but, if anything, kind of a freeloader. It was weird for him to demonstrate such magnanimity.

“Dude, I… I don’t know, I’m just excited. This is really big for Jase,” Marco said, raising his quarter-bottle of Corona and trying to deflect with a toast.

“Persimmon,” I smiled.

“THIS ROUND’S ON ME!” Marco yelled again, dropping his bottle and looking unnerved.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Ron asked, seeming like he was seriously getting worried.

“Persimmon,” I smiled.

“THIS ROUND’S ON ME!”

“Marco…”

“Persimmon.”

“THIS ROUND’S ON ME! Fuck!” Marco clamped his hand over his mouth. Suddenly he turned blazing red and shot me daggers. “Goddamnit, Alex.”

“What was that, Persimmon Boy?” I grinned.

“THIS ROUND’S ON ME!” Marco knocked his bottle so it rolled across the table, dribbling the remainder of its contents.

“Relax, bro, we’re not gonna make you pay the whole tab,” I laughed.

“Not so fun when the shoe’s on the other foot, huh?” Jason grinned, delighting in the final revelation of our conspiracy.

“Wait, so that guy put him under too?” Cyrus asked.

“Both of ‘em,” I laughed. “Serves ‘em right.”

“You said no special words,” Ron said.

“Yeah, well… you said you wouldn’t go overboard with the stripper shit,” I said.

“Hey, we got way more photos of his ass,” Ron protested. “Seriously, though, did I get one too?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t… DILF,” I grinned again.

Ron stood up and unbuttoned his Hawaiian shirt: “ANYBODY WANNA SEE A DAD-BOD?!” He started rubbing himself for a couple seconds, hands sliding up and down what was honestly a fairly normal body, just starting to show the tiniest paunch from its sedentary suburban lifestyle, when suddenly he snapped back to consciousness, looking down and turning red. A couple ladies at a nearby table giggled and Ron plunged back into his chair.

“Seriously, guys, I take it all back,” he grimaced, quickly re-buttoning.

“I don’t know, that was pretty funny, though…” Marco laughed as the waitress came back again.