The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“It’s ‘Lars’ when I’m wearing this.” The man Tom knew as Langley squatted beside him and tapped the name badge on his coveralls, the badge that read Lars.

“What are you doing here? Why are you dressed like ...?” Oh, right. Spy stuff, probably. Langley—Lars—was the “government liaison” and person for Tom’s dad’s research. Tom wasn’t sure what agency Langley worked for, but it probably had a cluster of letters for a name—C.I.A., F.B.I., D.O.D., N.S.B.—hell, maybe P.E.T.A. for all Tom knew. The late-twenties man, tall and muscular, always wore his red-blond hair in an efficient crewcut, always bore a stoic I’m in charge and I can break you in half air of alpha-male strength barely restrained, probably gained from serving in some elite military fighting unit before his current assignment babysitting the secret research project Tom’s dad was running. Langley was good-looking, sure, but Tom always thought his coolly detached attitude made him seem unattainable and thus elevated him to sexy as hell status.

Tom unfolded the towel, tried to hide his wet, jock-strapped body behind it. He was suddenly ashamed at having been caught sitting there in the showers. He hadn’t cared if anyone found him, but now that someone had—and Langley, no, Lars at that—Tom as mortified. Fortunately, under the guise of drying his hair, Tom could use the towel to hide his head.

“What’s wrong, kid?” he heard.

All Tom had to say were three little words: It’s all connected or maybe All my fault. But then what? Would Langley understand? Would he take care of everything? Would he arrest Tom, or whatever government agencies did? And what about the risk to Tom’s dad and his professional reputation? Shit, too much was at stake to just confess!

“Nothing’s wrong.” Crap, had Tom’s voice really come out as a half-sob?

“Don’t bullshit me. I know what goes on around here. I know that bastard just fucked you.”

Maybe anger could end the embarrassment over sounding like a five-year-old? “Go the fucking hell away and leave me alone.” Nope, now he definitely sounded like an angry five-year-old.

“I think you could use a little help. Get up.”

Tom felt hands under his armpits, lifting, practically effortlessly. Holy fuck!—Langley was strong!

“That coach is a real bastard.”

Tom choked out an attempt at a laugh. “Well, yeah. That’s kind of his job.”

“Stop bullshitting me. You know what I mean. What he does to the other guys is bad enough, but when he does that shit to you, I want to kill him.”

Tom looked up at this point. He hadn’t thought anyone but his dad would ever say that about him, much less Langley.

“I’m sorry,” Tom said, standing, wrapping the towel around his jock-strapped waist. “I need to get out of here.”

“What you need to do is dry off, get dressed, and let me take you home.” Langley’s arm around Tom’s shoulders was a quiet strength that guided him toward the lockers. Just how strong was this man? Tom was strong himself, played football and lifted weights, but he had the feeling Langley might be even stronger than he, the kind of casual physical presence that says I could force you if I wanted to, and I’d win.

Tom fumbled with his locker. “Can I ask why you’re here dressed like a janitor? Without compromising any state secrets, I mean.” He meant that as a joke, but his father did super-classified research projects for the government, classified enough to warrant a handler-bodyguard usually hanging around nearby.

Langley gave a measured breath. “Well, as you know, a sample of a chemical your father was researching came up missing a while back.”

Tom froze. Langley knew about that? But how much did he know?

Tom had been in the office talking with Coach and one of the assistants. He’d mentioned his father made an accidental breakthrough in developing a chemical with military applications. The chemical, fast-acting when consumed or absorbed through the skin, reduced a target’s inhibitions to negligible levels. In effect it dampened free will, made the subject compliant, willing to follow any instruction, do anything he was told, confess any secret, though the effect only lasted a few minutes.

Neither Coach nor the AC believed him, and being called a liar angered Tom. He made a plan. He’d gone by his father’s laboratory ostensibly to say hi; everyone there knew him, so no one paid much attention to him. When no one was looking, he’d palmed one of the small test bottles with the spray applicator from the tray, replaced it with an empty bottle so no one would notice. The bottles weren’t secured during the testing—why would they be? No one knew about the chemical yet, and everyone in the lab was trusted. If anyone found the empty bottle, they’d think it got swapped by mistake, right? Besides, Tom wasn’t really stealing it, just borrowing, and he would bring it back. Once he swapped it back tomorrow, nobody would be the wiser.

But how much did Langley know? Did he suspect Tom had taken it? Did he know how awry things had gone?

The next day, in the coach’s office again after practice, Tom had triumphantly placed the bottle on the desk and declared, see, he hadn’t been lying. The AC had picked up the bottle, examined it skeptically. Coach quick-plucked the bottle from the AC’s hand, and before Tom could react, turned and spritzed Tom in the face. Fsst! Unable to flinch away in time, he felt the mist hit his nose, cheek, neck, a mild tingly-burning sensation. And then he felt odd, not bad, just not quite thinking clearly. His body felt somehow aroused, and he started to get an erection, and the coaches definitely saw it. The chemical made the subject do whatever he was told? They tested that, ordering Tom to do all sorts of things he would have been too embarrassed to do normally, including take down his shorts, show off his growing hard-on, and give it a few strokes while they laughed and dreamed up new, even more demeaning things to make him do.

After a few minutes, the effect started to wear off, and the coaches seemed disappointed. The AC said that maybe hypnosis could extend the suggestibility—the spray would start the process, and once the subject was cooperative, the hypnosis would bring on a real trance that would last longer, even after the effect wore off. The AC had a degree in sports psychology and used to date Paul, Tom’s dad, for a while last year; they’d often played hypnosis games together—the AC knew how.

So they tried it. Since the first dose hadn’t fully worn off yet, Tom wasn’t able to work up any resistance when Coach sprayed him again. Then the AC started an induction, telling Tom “relax,” and “everyone experiences hypnosis differently,” and “just breathe,” and “sleep.” Tom hadn’t fallen asleep, or not real sleep anyway. He felt as if he were half-aware and half-dozing, eyes half-closed, just drifting inside his head. All he knew for certain was that he wanted to be hypnotized like the AC said, and now he was hypnotized. The AC seemed pleased, was telling Coach how quickly, how deeply, Tom had gone into a hypnotic state, how this would definitely work.

The AC was laying the groundwork, telling Tom how easily he would return to this entranced state, and Tom couldn’t do anything but listen. He couldn’t warn the AC before Coach shot him with a burst from the spray bottle. Then Coach started reciting the induction he’d just heard the AC give Tom, and the AC went down into hypnosis too. That was the start. Over the days that followed, Tom couldn’t stop Coach from using the chemical and the hypnosis on him again, and on his teammates, one after another, until now a good percentage of the team ...

Tom wriggled down his wet jock-strap from underneath without taking his towel off, not wanting to expose himself—though he knew Langley had already seen his bare butt, seen him almost naked, so what was the big problem? And Tom wondered whether he should just confess to Langley about being the one to take the bottle. After all, Coach kept threatening to blackmail him with that secret. But if Tom confessed, then what? Would Langley be angry, haul Tom off to prison or wherever people who messed with top-secret research projects disappeared to?

“Look, Tom, you know you can trust me, but I need you to help me fill in some gaps. I know your father had some kind of security breach; I know the coaching staff has some kind of hold on you; and I know it has something to do with this.” Langley held up his hand, and Tom saw a thin metal chain and a crystal dangling from it.

Tom’s hand went to his throat. His own necklace was missing. How had Langley—? That arm around his shoulders earlier—must have been when Langley—

“Professor Johnson, your dad, wears one too, so are all these things connected? Does someone have a hold on Professor Johnson too? I need to know. Help me out. Tell me what you know.”

How could Tom explain to Langley that he liked sex while hypnotized? Tom and his dad had been fucking for a couple of years now. But when Coach started—Well, Tom loved his coach, had loved the sex at first, at least early on before Coach got so ... How did Tom explain to Langley? I told Dad to hypnotize me and he did, and it felt do damn great, and we loved it, and he was into it too, so now sometimes we both ... Yeah, Langley would freak out over that. Incest? Mind control? Coach’s potential blackmail? Nope, no telling what damage those pieces of information would do to his father’s research grants and professional reputation.

Tom squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t deal with this, not consciously. Maybe his subconscious could handle it? Tom opened his eyes, stared at the crystal Langley held as he waited for a response. Sleepytime, sleepytime, sleepytime, Tom chanted in his head, hoping to escape into a state where nothing bad could touch him.

Langley flipped his hand like a stage magician, and the crystal disappeared from sight. “Hey! Hey! Stop that! What are you trying to do? Where were you trying to go in your head just then?”

“Look, I can’t handle this. I’ll answer any questions you wanna ask, but ... Look, all you have to do is hold up the crystal and let me do this. Then you can ask me whatever you want and I’ll tell you, and it’ll be the truth. But I can’t—I ... Look, please, okay?”

Langley narrowed his eyes, but pulled the crystal pendant from a pocket, held it up. Tom repeated Sleepytime, sleepytime, sleepytime, over and over in his head. Yeah, he could feel something start to happen, a slipping, falling ... but he seemed to go only partway and got stuck. Dad used an induction. The coaches used the chemical and a keyword. But Tom had never before tried doing this all by himself.

And the process didn’t seem to be working.

“Look deep, son,” Langley said. “Look deep and relax. It’s sleepytime.“

How did Langley know the special word? He said it, Tom realized, not like Coach but exactly as his father did. Had Langley been listening in on their private lives? Did he have their home bugged? Tom would have to worry about that later, because he was already slipping away.

A time later, Tom heard, “That’s it,” along with, “Come on. Open your eyes.”

So Tom did, looked up. Langley stood over him, the tiniest hint of a smile on his otherwise typically stoic face. Tom sat on the changing bench in front of his locker. His towel must have slipped off, because now it has been draped at an angle over his lap and crotch. Part of it stood up, because Tom’s erection underneath pushed at it. Tom was so used to having sex every time he got hypnotized, his body responded automatically.

“That’s it,” Langley told him. “How do you feel?”

“I feel ...” All his worry and fear were gone. Just like that? How? The tension in his body was significantly reduced. All he felt was a profound and quiet trust, a confidence that Langley would take care of everything. All Tom had to do was relax and trust him. “I feel good ...”

Langley sat straddling the bench, facing him, a few inches separating them. “That was an interesting conversation. You any of what we talked about?”

Tom shook his head no. His thoughts seemed to be moving so slowly.

“Well, don’t worry. You’re not in any trouble. I’ll try to keep you out of it. But this is a problem I need to clean up.”

“I understand.” Tom felt such a warm and open trust in the man, a pure affection. Before today, Langley had been an occasional presence, but Tom had never gotten to know him. Now he felt a deep, profound faith in the man. He didn’t need to keep any more secrets. He could trust Langley, reveal everything; that feeling of trust was so much stronger now. Had Langley suggested this while Tom’s mind was open and receptive? Probably, but Tom didn’t mind. Letting someone else take on the worry felt ... good. Having someone else to deal with the problems felt comforting, almost too comforting.

Tom shifted, and the towel across his lap slipped down enough to show the root of his stiff cock. “Sorry,” he mumbled, and he reached to pull the towel over his crotch again. Why were his hands moving so slowly, clumsily? The way he felt—everything, emotionally and physically, felt so intense and so dense, as though he were moving through water instead of air, cock so hard, everything so much stronger than it should have felt. This was the way he felt when he was ... When he was what? Sleepytime.

“Don’t worry; you don’t have to worry about anything when you’re like this. And no one’s going to come into the locker room this late, except the janitor,” Langley said, tapping the Lars nametag on his coveralls, “and I’m the janitor.“

“I’m ... not ...” Tom had trouble forming the thought, making the words. “Not ... wake ... You said ... open eyes ... not wake ...”

Langley’s mouth gave the briefest quirk of approval. “That’s right. In some ways, if I understand hypnosis correctly, you’re still asleep, even though you might seem awake. You’re a smart kid—you figured it out pretty quick.” The man moved a little closer. “You said Coach likes to fuck you when you’re hypnotized. Is it true I can do whatever I want and you’ll say yes?”

“I ... Yes ... Maybe .... Yes ...”

“Because there’s something I’ve been wanting to do a long, long time.” Moving his hands to the jock’s knees, Langley spread them. “I know your coach just fucked you, but I think he missed the best part,” the man said as he lowered his head and eased the towel away. Tom was shocked, but his dick knew exactly what was happening; already three-quarters hard, it reacted by stiffening further, pulsing, a flush of arousal when Langley kissed it. Tom inhaled a slow, short breath when Langley took the tip into his mouth. By the time Langley had taken a couple good sucks on it, Tom’s dick was a full-fledged boner again.

“I don’t suck cock that often,” Langley came off of Tom’s prick to say. “Usually I’m the one that gets the action. But you’ve got a nice cock for sucking.”

Tom understood: Langley was trying to give him some type of reassurance. As the man returned to sucking, Tom relaxed. All of his problems seemed to turn into liquid and flow out of the end of his cock. Was this something Langley had told him to feel? The pain from his ass subsided. Tom felt comforted and cared for. Langley was more of a man than Coach would ever be.

Nearly half the team had felt Coach’s wrath and been made to submit to his control, suck his cock, get their asses fucked. Coach oversaw who was on the team, who played, who kept the athletic scholarships that kept them in this college, but now he had half the team hypnotically by the balls and took what he wanted when he wanted. This was different. Sure, Langley had started sucking Tom’s dick without asking, but he wasn’t making an animal attack on Tom’s body like Coach did. Langley was showing a tenderness that Tom had only felt before with a couple of guys.

Tom spread his legs further. Langley sucked for several minutes, seemed to enjoy Tom’s cock in his mouth. He wasn’t rushing to take Tom’s load, but seemed want to spend time making Tom feel good first. Langley released the rod, slowly licked downward. After tonguing the sack-skin, Langley opened his mouth and pulled first one ball into his mouth then the other, finally sucking both of them at the same time. Tom was getting hot. The coach had fucked him brutally. His father and his ex-boyfriend Devin had always made tender love to Tom’s ass. But all of them had mostly wanted to fuck his ass. Tom’s dick almost never got all the attention it wanted.

Langley released Tom’s nuts from his mouth and kissed each. His palm on Tom’s chest pushed the boy down, lying along the bench. Quick kisses upward along the athlete’s taut belly brought the agenr to Tom’s erect nipples. Tonguing and gentle bites sent ripples of pleasure through the boy’s body. More tender kisses brought Langley up to where he was looking down at the cute jock. They kissed several times.

“I want your ass,” Langley said, sliding his hands down Tom’s sides and under his butt. Tom tensed. He had taken the coach’s rough fuck, but Coach wasn’t that big. Tom could see a lump in the crotch of those coveralls; it didn’t promise the longest cock, but Langley packed a lot of bulge there, and Tom wondered what it looked like, what it might feel like splitting his ass. Did he want that?

Langley must have felt Tom tighten up. “Relax,” the man smiled, kissing Tom again. “I don’t mean I want to fuck you. I want to eat your ass.” When Tom didn’t relax, Langley added, “Or I could just suck your cock a while.”

Langley pulled away, unzipped the front of his coveralls, revealing a wide chest of carefully trimmed red-blond hair. Langley’s arms and chest were muscled for efficient strength, the torso of a Viking warrior. The coveralls slid down. The chest hair tapered to a thin line at his navel before disappearing into his underwear, white briefs. The pouch of his briefs was bulging, pulling away from his thighs. Tom could see the rugged tubular outline of a monster cock. Langley’s hooked thumbs pulled down the waistband. Into view came his erection, about five and a half inches long and man-thick, one of the thickest Tom had seen, heavy foreskin already pulling back, the knob-head wider than the shaft, atop a sack of large balls, then muscular thighs. Tom wanted to suck the substantial cock, but he couldn’t move.

Naked now, “I think you need your cock sucked some more,” Langley said, “and I’m just the man to do it. Coach didn’t get you off, did he? You got a big load of cum worked up? I’m going to suck that big load out of your nuts. If you like it and ask real nice, I might suck you off a second time too.”

Tom didn’t mention the weak orgasm he’d used to break the parting gift; that wasn’t important, and Tom would happily cum again. Langley knelt between Tom’s thighs. Inside the big man’s mouth, Tom’s dick felt great. Usually his ass was the part that got the action. Blow-jobs, whether before or after getting fucked, had always seemed more a courtesy or a step, like hiking the ball to move it from point A to point B on the football field. Langley was sucking him as if sucking alone was all that mattered, the point of the game, the goal. As distant as his thoughts felt, Tom could just sit there and observe, like he was studying Langley’s technique, as the man took Tom’s dick all the way down and rubbed his nose in the soft crotch hair that Tom had trimmed a few days before. One hand cupped and massaged the athlete’s nuts; the other alternated between Tom’s erect nipples, pinching first one then the other. Tom didn’t try to hold back. These days, now that his hero-worship for Coach had turned into something like resignation, Coach’s dick in his ass didn’t turn Tom on, but the head of it banging against his prostate always felt good and got his arousal flowing. Now, this big, beautiful man was giving him the best blow he had ever had.

Without warning, as Langley tickled his nuts and tongue-teased underneath his cock-head, Tom felt his climax begin. The first warm wave of orgasm slow-climbed through his body and spread through his awareness. His heavy nuts tightened. The first bolt of ball-juice, thick and forceful, pumped through his rigid dick and into Langley’s throat.

Rai, the man worked on just the head of Tom’s prick as that rod filled his mouth with sperm. Tom was cumming so forcefully that his body tried to push off the bench of its own volition. Langley held the boy’s hips to keep the jerking cock in his mouth. He swallowed with practiced efficiency.

When the flow subsided, Langley took Tom’s subsiding cock all the way down a couple times before releasing it. Standing, he leaned over the boy and kissed him. Tom could taste his cum still clinging to Langley’s tongue as he returned the man’s kiss. Langley’s erection was pointing directly at Tom’s head. The athlete wanted to taste that too, but wide-stanced Langley wrapped his own fist around it, pumped his cock with fast, competent strokes. Ten seconds, and Langley’s head fell back. “Nnnn!” His cum spurted across the space between his cock-head and Tom’s chest, spattering there.

The jets ended. Langley released his cock. His chest glistened with a light sweat. He ran a thumb over Tom’s chin. “I see why,” Langley said. “You look so good, jock-boy, sitting there hypnotized and covered in my cum. I could maybe get used to this.” He stepped back. “We made a mess. I think we both need a shower now. Think you can stand up for me, or do you need more sleepytime?”

Tom was already hypnotized, so the word didn’t shove him down into darkness the way it usually did. But the word did reinforce how he felt; the slowness around his thoughts toughened, made staying half-sleep like he was easier. He nodded, tried to stand.

Langley’s firm grip assisted. The man’s arm around Tom’s shoulders guided him toward the showers again. “First we shower, then we eat,” Lars told him. “If you want to eat my dick while I eat your ass, that’s okay. Let’s get your little butt clean.”

In the shower Langley ordered Tom to wash him, and then Langley reciprocated, making sure to have Tom bend forward so that the man could wash all traces of Coach’s cum and lubricant from the jock’s ass. A couple of fingers in the hole itself also helped. To Tom, the man’s thick and confident fingers felt like a small cock, and the slow strokes soothed his tortured ass. He pressed his hips back against Langley’s hand, hoping to get deeper penetration, maybe another finger.

Somewhere during the shower, the fingering, Tom woke up, really woke up, as the hypnosis finally wore off. At least he was pretty sure he was awake when Langley crouched behind him and cupped his ass with big, muscle-dense hands. Spreading Tom’s cheeks, the man raised his head and started licking around the tight little hole. Oh, fuck, yeah! Tom thought as he tried to relax and widen his sphincter for the tongue. The tongue in his ass was good, but Tom wanted Langley’s cock in his mouth; he liked sucking and thought Langley’s thick one would be a real challenge.

By now Langley was shoving his tongue deep into Tom’s hole like a semi-hard dick, as if dedicated to showing Tom how good a tongue-fuck could be. Tom couldn’t help jacking himself as Langley licked and probed. He might even try to take the agent’s prick in his ass if Langley agreed not to tear him apart with it. But the double action of getting tongue-fucked and jacking off took a toll. Before either of them wanted, Tom groaned and started shooting his latest load.

When Tom was spent, Langley ignored his own hard cock and turned off the water, indicating an end. Tom was disappointed but didn’t dare say anything; he didn’t want to seem needy. Drying off quickly, he followed Langley back to the locker room.

“I hope you enjoyed that,” the man said, making no effort yet to dress.

“Sure did. I thought my ass was about to fall in love with your tongue,” Tom said, hoping he didn’t sound too cringeworthy.

“Promise?” Langley said bending in and kissing Tom.

“So what do we do next?” Tom asked, meaning—Well, he wasn’t sure what he meant.

Langley’s face was all stoic angles again. “About Coach Ass-Raper? Let me worry about that.” He bent over and retrieved something. “But first, I’m going to hypnotize you again. I’d like to ask if you’re willing, but truth is, this isn’t optional. I can’t risk you accidentally calling me Langley or letting slip that I work for the government, so I’m going to make you forget for a while. When you wake up, you’ll know me only as Lars the janitor.” Before Tom could digest this, Langley lifted the crystal in front of him and told him, “It’s sleepytime ... sleepytime ...”