Disclaimer: This is a work of erotic fiction. If you are under the legal age to read this, or are offended by the idea of male-male sex or mind control, DO NOT read further.
It was Friday, the last school day before the big Sunday planned for the "conversion" of Reverend Deere's super-conservative church congregation. I left my locker, headed to my first class, and—
Suddenly I found myself back down in the school's storeroom again, frozen in place at attention, with Evan Mason pacing in front of me. Man, I couldn't get used to the time shifts and loss of physical control that Evan was putting me through. It was then that I noticed that Evan and I weren't alone: also frozen in position near me was Axel, the Goth kid who was orchestrating the upcoming church takeover, and next to him was Morty, the superhung nerd that was enslaved to Evan's cum. Until Evan had told me about Morty and his endowment, I had never really noticed him before. Now I understood why he wore baggy pants all the time, and it wasn't to make a fashion statement.
"Big weekend coming up, huh?" Evan flashed me a big smile. "Yeah, I've been watching that webcam, too. The system lets me know who's watching each cam, and I traced the IP address. So when I saw that Coach's computer was watching Ethan Deere's bedroom webcam, I knew that was the one to watch. Oh, don't worry"—he gestured at the other two "statues"—"they can't hear us now, until I let them."
I replied, "Yeah, it's pretty amazing, but true. Ethan has 'installed' secret programming in the whole congregation over the last couple of weeks, ready to be triggered this Sunday. As a born-again sadist, I'm looking forward to watching the whole thing."
Evan said, "I asked Axel to force Ethan to install cameras around the church so we could see and record the whole thing. Axel was happy to accept the suggestion. Only one problem: Axel is completely straight. The fun he intends to have involves mass humiliation and submission to his will of the female half of the congregation. Not as much fun for you and me, is it?"
"I hadn't thought about that. Of course to some extent I can enjoy watching others being mind-fucked and humiliated regardless of their sex, but yeah, the excitement level could be higher."
"Which is why I've brought our friends in here. Axel, you're now able to hear and speak, although you can't move anything but your head."
Axel blinked and shook his head, as if he were waking up. "Hey, where am I? How'd I get here? I can't move! I remember walking into the school and—" He noticed Morty staring blankly into space. "What's with the nerd?"
"He's here to help improve your big Sunday church spectacular." Axel looked shocked. "Yeah, we know all about it," Evan went on. "Don't worry, Tommy and I are totally on board with your plan. Well, in return for a bit of help on your part. And it's totally in your interest, dude. Soon every female in that church will be crawling to accept your Goth seed. Just one problem: what's gonna keep the guys busy and distracted while you fuck their sisters and wives?"
"I thought they'd just sit there and take it, since it's punishment from the Lord," said Axel.
"Well, Tommy and I have an even better idea that will make us very happy, and add to the humiliation of the whole congregation." (WE have an idea? I thought. I never mentioned any idea.) "Once you've taken control of the female half, I'm proposing we use Marty here to control the other half."
Axel snorted, "Nerd-boy? What's HE got to do with anything?"
"Let me show you." Evan walked over to the frozen Morty and pulled down his baggy pants, followed by his clearly overmatched boxers. Briefs wouldn't have worked on this kid at all. Like an uncoiling python, out rolled this ridiculously disproportionate soft cock. I'd heard about it but still couldn't believe it when I saw it.
"Holy shit!" exclaimed Axel.
"Yeah," Evan said reverently, gazing at the soft snake-head grazing Morty's knees. "The first time I had him alone and frozen like this, I tried the third control word on him before I undressed him. It was like watching the alien suddenly pop out like in that movie. I had to send him home confused, wearing torn boxers."
"Third control word?" Axel was puzzled.
"Never mind, I'll tell you about it later. Meanwhile, I have an idea about how we can use the little nerd stallion here to improve this Sunday for all of us."
I said, "What makes you think Morty will agree to help? I thought you can't control people directly."
"I can't. But remember, he needs access to my cum. He'd do anything for it. Plus his own family is not part of Deere's congregation, so he's only helping to enslave people he doesn't really know, in order to satisfy his own 'minimum daily nutritional requirement'. That should make doing it easier for him."
Axel asked, "So what did you have in mind?" And Evan explained his idea...
That afternoon I was so horny from all the goings-on that I was ready to explode. But there was no good place to do it, and no one to do it with. Then, during English class, I remembered: The Bradford twins! The track and cross-country jocks who worshipped me regularly in their own bedroom, in front of a huge naked photo poster of me. I cast a glance back to where they sat together. Not even a flicker of recognition from either one of them. Either they could turn their reverence on and off, or they were doing a fantastic job of pretending not to notice me. I decided I had to find out which it was.
When class ended, I made sure I got out of the room first, since with their long, powerful legs their natural gait was fast and I'd lose them in the hall. As they began to pass me, I said loudly, "Nick? Charlie? A word?" They turned towards me, startled that I'd called their names—I don't think we'd ever said a word among ourselves outside of class—and they even seemed a bit frightened. I had no idea why two tall lean-muscled jocks would be afraid of little old me.
"I think this classroom is empty for the last period—let's go in here," I suggested / ordered. The twins followed me in, looking concerned.
"Look, guys, I know about your bedroom shrine to me. And I LIKE it!"
Their fearful expressions instantly changed to surprise—then relief. One began, "We weren't allowed to tell you, or anyone. So—"
"We're glad you know, Tommy." I didn't know which twin said what, no one could really tell them apart. Plus they had a tendency—actually more like a need—to finish each other's sentences.
"So you know how we feel about you. Even back in elementary school—"
"When we were little, we whacked our little weenies worshipping you."
I knew that couldn't be true, it was obviously just a false memory implanted this year by Rodwell. I was beginning to appreciate what Rodwell had done for me. Without telling me, of course. But there had to be a catch. It was how Rodwell worked. With him, there was no such thing as a free ass.
"So you guys have always been like this? I know I used to be able to tell you apart back in elementary school. Everyone could."
"We didn't use to be alike. Since we were little kids—"
"Our folks tried to make sure we had distinct personalities. That's why—"
"We have very different first names. And we used to dress differently, cut our hair differently, even talk differently. But ever since the beginning of this year—"
"We talk alike, dress alike, even finish each other's—"
This year. Ah, that explained it. A Rodwell personality modification.
"And we don't call each other Nick and Charlie anymore—"
"When we're alone we're TS1 and TS2."
I was puzzled. "What does that stand for?"
Nick—or maybe Charlie—blushed a bit. "It means Tommy's Slave One and Tommy's Slave Two. And sometimes we switch the two names around so that—"
"Neither of us is first all the time. We're just two interchangeable toys for you to play with. In one of our fantasies, we are nothing more than sex robots stored in your closet. Once while you're in your bed fucking TS1, a mechanical part breaks down, but no problem—"
"TS1 just wirelessly uploads its mind-image into TS2's memory, you put the defective TS1 back in the closet, pull TS2 out onto your bed, and continue fucking where you left off."
"You have fantasies about me?"
"Wow, yeah, lots of 'em. Like in one you've used your powers to transform us into puppies in your living room. So we're growling playfully at each other, tugging off your socks with our teeth, barking like crazy when one of your friends knocks on the door, and then licking him all over and humping his leg when he comes in."
"And another one where you're the prison guard, and we're the naughty juvenile prisoners, and you're doing a total cavity probe—"
"And you find joints up our asses, and spank us mercilessly, and we shoot cum on the floor while you're doing it, and you make us lick up every drop."
"In another we've been given superpowers and can fly, but our wills have been mostly erased, so all we can do is fly you around on command with your heavy marble throne on our super shoulders."
"We have neat super-costumes we created for that one, and even a fake marble throne. It was super-exciting, and carrying that throne helped with upper body strength. Hey, we'd love to model the costumes for you!"
I was overwhelmed. "Wow! Those fantasies are incredible. I'd love to help you experience them. By the way, how CAN I tell you apart?"
"The same way WE do. Look at our wrists." I did. Tattooed in an almost unnoticeably small size was the letter 'N' on the underside of the wrist of one of them, 'C' under the other's. "Wait, what do you mean, the same way YOU do? You mean you can't tell each other apart?"
"Well, since the beginning of the year—"
"There isn't really any difference between us anymore, so we only need distinct identities for things like driver's licenses. Other than that we're completely interchangeable. So—"
"We usually forget which of us is which, although it doesn't really matter." Wow, Rodwell did quite a number on these two.
"But, what do you do when one of you wins a track event or places in cross country?"
"Oh, we just use either one of the names, it doesn't matter which. We switch 'em around so each name gets about the same number of trophies, awards, you know—"
"We win alot because we imagine it's YOU ordering us to do our best, so naturally we perform really well for YOU."
I never knew.
"Could you come home with us today? We have a playroom in the basement, and we can't wait to get—"
"Our lips and butts around that amazing cock of yours. We've dreamed of it and waited soooo long..." One twin licked his lips while the other wiggled his beefy ass.
I was beginning to have a pants-front-pressure problem caused by these tall, floppy-haired puppy-jocks gazing down at me with adoring, hungry eyes, as if begging for a bone. Which, actually, they were. And the bone wanted them right back.
"I guess I could come over. It's Friday night, I've got nothing going, as usual." Not something I would have admitted to anyone else in the school, but with these two, I had nothing to lose by being honest.
"Excellent!" they said in unison. And they practically ran out the door while I readjusted my painfully full pants front as best I could.
After last period, I looked around for the twins at the school's main entrance. While I was waiting, Evan Mason came by and clapped me on the shoulder.
"Tommy, my man. Everything's go for this Sunday. Say, why don't you come by my place so we can watch it together on my big screen? You know from my little planned 'add-on' that it would be better for you not to go to the church."
Of course, I had a BIGGER screen at my new house, but I didn't want to tell Evan that. Nor did I want to invite him into the inner sanctum of my home. With his abilities, I thought it would be a bit risky.
"OK, I'll be there."
"Great, see ya Sunday!"
The Bradford twins led me to their car. It was a classic Mustang, in beautiful shape. I was impressed. We all got in front, with one twin driving and the other sitting in my lap.
"Sweet ride! So what do YOU drive, TS2?" I asked the twin in my lap.
"I'm TS1 this week. And we only need one car. It's not like we would go different places! Unless we HAD to, of course—"
"I mean we CAN go separate places, we just don't LIKE to anymore!"
The twins were getting all worked up over what was about to happen when we got to their house. The twin driving didn't have his hands at 10 and 2, more like 10 and 6—inches, that is.
We got to the Bradford house, and the twins loped to the kitchen door, with me trying to keep up. Geez, everything those twins did was fast! We went in and saw their mother in the kitchen preparing dinner. She didn't seem at all surprised to see me, nor did the twins bother to introduce me to her. It was as if she knew me all along, as if I belonged there.
As we went down the stairs to their basement "playroom", I wondered if the accelerated pace that the twins seemed to do everything would be true for the action to come.
As they tore their clothes off, revealing their fine muscled lean jock bodies, they spoke in eager, high boyish voices.
"Which one of us do you want to—"
"Fuck first, Master?"
"Whoa, there, puppies. You gotta warm me up first," I said, removing my clothes slowly and deliberately, which seemed to drive them even wilder. Well, no wonder after such a long wait for their fantasy to come true. I continued my agonizingly slow "striptease" until I finally removed my underpants, at which point the dick worshipped by the twins came flopping out. Somewhat surprisingly given the circumstances, it was still soft. At this point, all I was wearing was a pair of athletic socks.
"You know, other than a cock, I've got feet and an asshole that could use some skilled tongue work," I pointed out.
Instantly, as if communicating telepathically, one twin dove for the floor at my feet while the other ran behind me and dropped to his knees. As the twin at my feet began to peel off my socks with his mouth, I felt the gentle lapping of the other's tongue at my back door.
And I was still soft. What was wrong? This was truly the hottest sex scene I had ever been personally engaged in, and for some reason my big balls weren't getting fired up to drown the eager puppy-jock slaves in super-splooge.
"Hold it," I said. The twins immediately stopped what they were doing, and moved to stand in front of me, looking distressed.
"Aren't we pleasing you, Master? Are we doing it wrong? Don't you find—"
"Us attractive?" said the second, flexing his arms and upper body as his hard fat cock bounced off his thigh.
"Oh, yeah, you guys are cute as fuck. But..." I suddenly realized what the problem was. It was Rodwell's diabolical catch. "Are you guys enjoying yourselves?"
"Oh yes, master. This is—"
"A dream come true."
"THAT's the problem. You guys have been clearly programmed to be my pleasure toys. But I'VE been programmed to get excited only by causing people PAIN. I mean, if I were grinding my feet into your nuts, I might get excited." At this thought, I chubbed up a bit. "Or if I were plucking out your pubic hairs one by one—or your few chest hairs—that might work." My cock grew a bit bigger. "Maybe if I were slapping your cocks around as painfully as possible—" Another inch. "Or even choking one of you on my huge cock without letting you breathe—" Almost there! "Or if I could chain you both up to the wall here, side by side, and apply a good whipping..." Got it! I was now at full mast and ready to go.
But they weren't. Not anymore. Their fat jock cocks were now limp.
"But Master, we don't like pain. We're—"
"Sex toys, fully synchronized to bring you pleasure. We like—"
"Cuddling, kissing, sucking, getting fucked—"
"Sniffing and licking everywhere—"
"Worshipping powerful body parts—"
"But if you whip us, you're punishing us for doing something wrong. We don't want to do anything wrong. We just want to please you!"
I was getting that sad puppydog look from the both of them, as they felt they had displeased their Master, and I realized just how puppylike Rodwell had made them. They could only be happy if they caused me physical pleasure, and I could only be satisfied if I caused them physical pain. This was clearly a torture, or challenge, that Rodwell had set up for me.
"Still, you're our Master, and we exist to please you—"
"So if you have to torture us to be happy, we have to help you do it—"
"We can change our little 'pleasure palace' down here into a dungeon, if that will make you happy."
"All we want is to make you happy."
My cock, having deflated a bit during the first part of this conversation, perked up again at the thought of this cheery room becoming a dungeon lined with pain-causing devices. But for some reason I actually cared about these 'pets'. And I suddenly realized that I had an asset at my disposal that Rodman wouldn't have anticipated: Coach's hypnotic abilities!
"Say, guys, I have an idea. What if I had a way to make you ENJOY being caused pain for my pleasure? What if, after a few sessions, I could have you BEGGING me to stomp you, whip you, punish you? What if I could make you constantly CRAVE humiliation and pain? What if you suddenly found you could only cum while licking dogshit off my boots, or being kicked in the face?"
The twins seemed to wince at each mention of a particular torture. But then they realized what I was offering them. "You mean we could be your pain slaves and—"
I chuckled. "More like NEED it, LUST after it, think about it all the time. While you're sitting in class at school, you'll be staring at my back and daydreaming that I have you chained to the wall hanging bigger and bigger weights on your balls. Instead of competing with each other to suck the most cum out of me, you'd be competing to take the biggest weights without screaming in pain. And the winner would get a faceful of cum and a bellyfull of piss straight from my giant cock. The loser would feel so deprived!
"Or I could just force you to stand at attention on either side of me while I'm watching TV, and order you to stay hard without touching yourselves and not to move the whole time. After an hour or two when one of you goes soft or budges an inch, he would be locked in a small cage while the other would have full access to my body for the whole night."
The twins came over to me, each one leaning into one of my ears and whispering: "We don't think that standing near you and staying hard—"
"Would be that difficult. Change us into your torture toys!"
Now it was Saturday, and I had nothing planned. I idly thought about ordering a few of my slaves to come over to be played with. But then I realized I had hundreds of channels of "Must See TV" at my disposal, in the form of the webcams. (I planned to introduce "Must Obey TV" in a variety of classmates' homes soon, but that idea was for later development.)
Sitting at Coach's, I mean my, big-screen-linked computer, I discovered that if I held my finger on a webcam icon for a second instead of tapping it, I would get info on where that webcam was located. One of the named icons particularly stirred my curiosity. It involved a guy from Rodwell's class whose muscles had grown grotesquely bigger over the last few months, until he stopped showing up in class. He had obviously been spending many hours each day doing bodybuilding work, to the point where he had to quit the basketball team because he was building bulk and muscles to show off, at the expense of his speed. He seemed to interact less and less with other class members, in fact with anyone in school, until he stopped showing up. I had assumed he had moved out of town or something.
But here was his name on the icon. The living room was the only cam showing motion, so I selected it. What I saw was pretty mind-blowing.
There, lounging naked on an easy chair, was not my classmate, but a kid I vaguely recognized as a freshman. Oh yeah, Biff's younger brother, Skyler. He shared Biff's easy grin and tall body, but none of Biff's buffness. Kneeling on either side of the chair, also naked, were two of the hottest senior girls from the school. Their tongues were eagerly double-teaming the youngster's above-average cock, rock hard and bobbing around happily. Skyler had one hand firmly gripping the hair of each senior, positioning their heads to make sure their tongues would reach the right erogenous spots.
But there was more. Under Skyler's left foot knelt his naked older brother Biff, looking even more absurdly muscular than when he had last been in class. He had a frightened look on his face, and sweat was dripping off his body. Under the kid's right foot, looking like Biff's mirror image, was Greg, a fellow junior and basketball player who had not been in Rodwell's class. Greg's muscles also ballooned out to ridiculous proportions, and he too was scared and sweating. Biff and Greg looked like bodybuilder parodies, like taller versions of a young Arnold Schwarzenegger, squared. As Skyler's footstools, they were nicely matched.
This hot scene was interrupted by the entrance of a naked older guy, tall and good-looking for his age but scrawny by comparison to Biff and Greg, carrying a tray with snacks. "Put it over there, dad," said Skyler. "I got no flat lap surface right now, as you can see," he chuckled. The father put the tray down to the side, then bowed and left the room.
Then I noticed something was playing on the screen at the front of the room. Using the webcam's controls, I zoomed in to see what was playing. It was a video of Biff and Greg, wrestling. It was incredible watching those mountains of muscle going at each other. Then I realized, it wasn't an ordinary wrestling match. With erect cocks and extended tongues, it was a battle of sexual domination! Each was trying to roll the other one over in order to assume fuck-control of the other. It was Hulk vs. She-Hulk, and whoever ended up being She-Hulk was going to be held down and fucked mightily! I made a note to get hold of that video somehow. I heard Skyler start talking, so I turned the cam back in his direction.
As he basked in the tongue attention of the two stacked senior girls, Skyler sighed, "I am SO glad you guys happened to be going out on a double date the night that Biff's English teacher came over to do an hour of tutoring. I gotta say, we all learned alot, like who was really supposed to be the boss around here. And it was so cool when he told Mom she should move to Greg's house and become Greg's dad's maid and sex plaything, to make up for Greg moving in here." The girls, eyes closed and big breasts heaving as their heads were manipulated to better service Skyler's rock-hard cock, didn't seem to hear this speech. But the webcam's resolution was high enough that I could see a tear forming and dropping from the frozen Greg's eye.
Taking his foot off each muscledude, Skyler planted a foot on each of their substantial glutes and pushed them off their knees face-down onto the floor.
"OK, I'm going to fuck the bitches now. You guys go off to the kitchen where Dad has your special nutritional formulas and evening steroids ready, and then it's off to the gym downstairs to work on your bodybuilding stuff."
As Biff got off the floor rubbing his big butt, he whined, "Do we have to? We've already done nearly eight hours of it today already."
And Greg started HIS whine. "I don't wanna get bigger, you've already made me a freak as it is."
Skyler laughed a cruel laugh. "Aaah, stop whining like ten-year-olds. I didn't order you to believe you were ten-year-olds, did I? Or did I? Hmmm...
Skyler said, sounding strict, "Now Biff and Greg, you know your purpose in life is to get big, to serve me. I'm making a fortune on the videos we've been doing, and I expect to do even better when I start pimping you out for untraceable bitcoins. Also, I'm glad that my 'equipment' is now bigger than either of yours. A fun side effect of the steroids, don't you think?"
Biff and Gregg weren't happy, but they knew Skyler was right about their purpose for being. That night of Rodwell's "tutoring" visit had showed them that. Eyes downcast, the mind-altered muscleslaves went to the kitchen obediently to be fed and dosed.
I closed my view of the cam. Being gay, I wasn't particularly interested in watching Skyler 'fuck the bitches'. I did however greatly enjoy watching him exert total control over his family, plus the others who had fallen into his power. I wondered if I should have Coach teach him a few tricks so I could watch him add to his harem.
To be continued?