After-Effects Part 2

It was now a couple of days after I took complete command and control over the wills of my two jock slaves, Will and Moose, using the irresistible controls planted in their minds by our former 11th grade English teacher Mr. Rodwell. He hadn’t made them gay or attracted to me; he simply made small-endowed Will superobedient to anyone with a large dick, and made huge but smooth Moose utterly subservient to anyone with a good amount of hair on his chest. Then Will made the mistake of confiding in me, allowing me to seize his will with my sizable cock, and I ordered him to use his furry chest to take control of 6?8? musclebound Moose.

Once I had them both in a room together, after an hour of intense programming, during which a wide-eyed Will stared at my cock and a blank-expressioned Moose gazed at Will’s chest, I had managed to firmly insert into their minds that it was their moral duty to obey me without question. They still weren’t attracted to me—that wasn’t part of Rodwell’s programming, and I didn’t know how to do it—but they would do anything for me, regardless of what that meant for their friends, families, or anyone.
By doing this, I was able to prevent simple mishaps that had occurred before for Will and Moose, where casual statements by others (such as “Eat me”) might automatically turn into commands for the mind-fucked jocks. They could now fend these off somewhat by focusing their minds on their absolute duty to me whenever this happened. However, I was fairly sure that if someone showing a really big cock gave Will a direct and intentional order, he would be forced to obey. But that was unlikely to happen since no one else knew his secret.

The next day, Cal Redmond joined our little group. Cal was the best-looking guy in our English class, with the appearance of a blond Disney-style teen model with soft facial features and long blond hair contrasting with his firm swimmer’s build and bulging biceps showing under his tight shirts and wife-beaters. His Rodwell fetish had been easy to guess, as he stared at guys’ feet after class, particularly those wearing flip-flops, and as a result he had trouble trying to carry his books to cover his noticeable erection on his way back to his locker. Soon, after the last class in an isolated room on the top floor, he was staring at Moose’s size 17 feet as I firmly planted in his ‘open’ brain the fact that I was his absolute master.

The four of us met at the end of each day in that remote classroom, after our last class and before Will and Moose’s practice began. That didn’t give us much time, but it didn’t seem possible to meet anywhere else without arousing suspicion. Until I had firm control of a good-sized group of followers, I didn’t want to alert any other students, faculty, or families that anything weird was going on. I carefully controlled our meetings, adjusting orders and discussing how we could guess the perversions Rodwell implanted into the other members of his former English class, and fully exploit them.

After a few days, this routine seemed normal to all of us, and taking orders from me became second nature to them. I did observe, however, that the three of them also interacted without me in certain ways. For example, one day, Moose needed a ride home after practice. I watched him corner Cal, wiggle his toes in his flip-flops, and immediately Cal agreed to give him a ride, even though it meant Cal having to wait at school an extra hour and a half doing nothing, since it wasn’t swimming season. The next afternoon, I found out, Cal had cornered Will, rubbing the distinct outline of his own steely eight-incher through his pants, and ordered him to bring Moose to the top floor classroom where we had done our mind-programming. There, he ordered Will, and through him Moose, to strip and stand “statutized” at attention staring ahead blankly, as Cal went to town slobbering over and cumming on their feet. Cal then ordered Will and Moose to put their socks and shoes back on without cleaning off Cal’s cum and slobber.

And although I didn’t ask him about it, I’m also fairly sure that Will secretly used his chest hair power over Moose to force him to dump the beautiful, sweet girlfriend to whom he had been devoted since middle school, allowing ready-and-waiting Will to comfort her and pick her up on the rebound. I thought that was kind of mean, and I wished I knew how to get Will and Moose beyond wanting girls in the first place. But that was clearly beyond my ability.

Later that week, during gym class, I thought I noticed Coach Loman glancing over at me more than normal. What was I doing wrong, I wondered. At the end of the class, which was my final class of the day, Coach asked me into his office. Had he heard something from Moose or Will? I doubted it, since they were both under firm, reinforced orders not to tell anyone.

Coach shut the door to his office and sat down behind his desk. He looked at me uneasily for almost a full minute without saying anything. Then he began a strange story...
“I know what Mr. Rodwell did to your English class. I know because once he had your class completely under control, he started working on ME. I don’t know how he started, maybe he slipped something into my coffee in the faculty lounge, but one day after practice I found myself walking to his office. I didn’t know WHY I was doing it, I just knew I had to do it. I don’t even remember what happened that afternoon, but I do know it continued all that week, at the end of every day. And I know that each day, more and more, I came to worship him as a god. By the end of the week, I knew to drop to my knees when I arrived in his office, although I knew I couldn’t do that anywhere other people were present. And the next week, he moved out of his apartment and into the house I had just bought for me and my fiancee. I was soon forced to pick a ridiculous, vicious fight with her and break up with her. Soon, Rodwell was sleeping in my former master bedroom while I was sleeping on a rubber sheet on the floor of what had been my walk-in closet.

“Soon I was forced to fantasize about him all the time. I dreamt of him as Roman emperor and me as a street slave boy, or him as plantation owner and me as a muscular young field hand, or him as the angry cart owner and me as his workhorse. In all those dreams I was whipped, beaten, talked to like a piece of shit by this god, and just as it got its most intense, I came all over the rubber sheet, which I then had to lick clean to his satisfaction, knowing he would inspect it in the morning.
“However, to my intense frustration, he never laid a horny hand on me, never did anything sexual with me, however much he made me long for it. His real interest was in manipulating the students, I guess since he could ‘build’ their sexual identities from scratch, and he enjoyed watching them wrestle with, and be forced to surrender to, their newly implanted perversions. As for me, he just treated me as his absolute slave. I was never allowed to wear any item of clothing while I was in what was now his house. I woke him up, washed him in the shower, made him breakfast, drove him to school, and afterwards, drove him home, made him dinner, cleared the table and washed this dishes afterwards, spent an hour or two cleaning the house, then curled up alone in my closet. Sometimes a student would show up in the evening, a dazed expression on his or her face (usually HIS), and they would disappear into his room. I would hear all kinds of weird noises from in there. Sometimes it was animal-type noises, as if the student suddenly believed he was a dog, a pig, or a horse. Sometimes there would be intense begging, for sex, for punishment, or perhaps for a particular body part (“Please, I’ll do anything, I NEED to lick that golden drop of sweat in your armpit to survive”). Sometimes there were pleas for mercy that went on for awhile accompanied by slaps, spanks, or other loud noises. All the time, as I mopped the kitchen floor or dusted the closets, I would feel intense jealousy for whoever he was with in there. But he just tortured me by forcing me to desire him deeply and then never using me sexually.

“Rodwell told me he had his English class in his power, but that he also wanted the school’s top jocks to be his secret property. Most of the time they would live their normal straight lives, with classes, athletics, parties and so on. But with one command, they would suddenly realize that they were Rodwell’s property, body and soul, and change into his sexual playthings. I asked how he could make that happen, since they weren’t in his class, and he explained that it was MY job to convert them from independent, strong-willed athletic young men into simpering, obedient muscular sex toys on command. He taught me how to take control of people and reprogram them, making sure I would only use it for his benefit, never against him.

“Here’s why I called you in here. I heard and saw what happened between you, Will, and Moose, so I know what Rodwell did to you, and what you’re capable of. But ever since Rodwell left, I have a vast emptiness inside me, a desperate need for a cruel and arbitrary master. I need someone to take orders from, be punished and humiliated by, to serve completely. Just thinking of me lying helpless at your feet, unable to disobey, gets me to my full ten inches. You can have full run of my place, and full use of my hypnotic power unleashed on anyone you want. I can make your parents think it’s perfectly normal for you to live here instead of with them. And Rodwell already had me build restraints in the bedroom and buy a whole collection of sex toys for you to use on your growing harem. So you can take over his ‘command position’ in my, I mean your, bed while I go back to the rubber sheet on the floor of my closet.”

My mind was reeling, but I was really unprepared for what happened next.
“Here’s an example of what I can do for you, as your worshipful slave.”
He stood up and opened the office door. In walked the two senior captains of the school’s winning football team, perhaps the two most revered jocks in the place. Bruce Underhill, the quarterback, was tall, rangy and fast, with mature good looks; Gary Derst, the defensive captain, was compact and super-built, but had a cute pouty babyface.
Bruce began to speak in a flat voice. “Ever since we were kids, I looked up to you, I wanted to be like you.” This was complete bullshit; we never knew each other, he was a year ahead of me, our families were in very different neighborhoods and social circles, and I was always a relative nonentity at the school while he was like a god. I knew right away this false “history” had been planted in his head.
He continued, “As I got older, I knew I was gay and wanted you badly, but I couldn’t say anything.” A sizable bulge was forming and lengthening down his left pants leg. “So I dedicated all my athletic achievements to you. Every time I threw a touchdown pass, or ran for a score myself, it was for you, to impress you. I always fantasized that someday I could be your... girlfriend, dressing up in pink frilly things for you, letting you do whatever you wanted with me.” At this point the steel-tube-shaped bulge had grown almost halfway to his knee and seemed to threaten to burst through the pants fabric.
At this point, as if on command, Bruce stopped talking and stood at attention, and Gary started HIS speech. As he spoke, he removed his tight shirt revealing an almost absurd arrangement of bulging muscles on top of muscles. They seemed more suited to a bodybuilder than a football player. “And I built this body over the years for YOU,” he said matter-of-factly, striking a series of muscle poses. “Every time I did a rep, every time I pushed myself to the absolute limit, I was thinking, would this please YOU?” Unlike Bruce’s descending drillpipe, Gary’s cock seemed determined to push its way UP and over his waistband, into the open. It was not as long as Bruce’s, but made up for it with its incredible thickness. “I was hoping to get enough strength and endurance to maybe serve as a piece of furniture in your room, a chair, a couch, or a bed extension. Once you were asleep I could curl up contentedly next to your bed, sniffing your discarded socks or slippers, waiting for us both to wake up so I could serve you again.” Like in Jack and the Beanstalk, his thick root continued reaching for the sky.

Suddenly, Coach clapped his hands. Bruce shook his head as if to clear it, and the pressing bulge in his pants softened and eased back up. Gary put his shirt back on, his cock receding back down into his pants. They both looked dazed. Bruce opened the door, and the two jocks stepped out of the office, closing the door behind them.
“Wow,” I said. “You’ve changed reality in the memory of those two?”
“Well, no. I’ve just provided an alternate reality for them that can be called up instantly. Actually, they don’t know anything is different about them now. They’ve already forgotten what happened in here. In fact, right now they’re headed out on a double date with their girlfriends.” Coach smiled.
“And you can do that with anyone?”

“Well, almost anyone. A few people seem able to resist, so I just let it go. They’re aware that something unusual happened, but they don’t suspect what I was REALLY trying to do to them, so they don’t tell anyone. But Rodwell managed to capture your entire English class with no exceptions. It’s probably because I’m not as good as he was, or not as experienced, or most likely, that he didn’t teach me quite everything he knew.”
As he said this, he began to strip completely. It’s a good thing he got his sweatpants off before his cock began to expand, because it wasn’t clear how he would have gotten the pants off if that thing had gotten to its full ten inches. He got down on his knees before me, staring down at my shoes, and spoke meekly, almost begging.

“So what do you say? Will you accept me and everything I own as your personal slave property? Will you treat me cruelly, punish me anytime you feel like it, humiliate me in front of others, use my hypnosis knowledge to build your personal harem, use my dungeon-bedroom for a slave orgy with the football team? Let me create alternate realities in other peoples’ minds so they can be ‘reminded’ that they’ve always been your best friend or greatest admirer?
“Will you accept my voluntary total enslavement?”

I looked down at his prostrate form and smiled at the top of his head. “Well, you drive a hard bargain. But since I’m a nice guy—actually, since I’m now a nasty, immoral, cruel guy—I’ll take you!”
The second I said this, cum blasted out of his huge cock like a rocket. Since he was kneeling and looking downwards, most of it hit his face, but some reached the wall several feet beyond.