he Frat Control Experiment Parts IV-V
by: webb025@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: This is a work of erotic fiction. If you are under 18, or are offended by the idea of male-male sex or mind control, DO NOT read this.
This is the continuation of the story begun in Parts I-III in an earlier file. You'll have much more fun with this if you read those parts first. Also, I appreciate reader feedback. It helps determine what and whether I write, by proving that someone is actually reading this stuff! :)
IV.
It was the evening of the Monday before Thanksgiving. The weather was already brisk, and a fire was going in the fireplace in the living room, where Bill McPherson was currently serving as the ottoman to an easy chair occupied by Dennis, last year's star first baseman. Dennis sat back and talked on the phone while he absent-mindedly rubbed his large white-socked feet across what appeared to him to be a smooth, comfortable piece of furniture. Dennis was making plans to go home for the holiday.
The Grand Master was up in Lance's room with John, making plans for the first time many of the brothers would be leaving town since their unwitting involvement in the Master's various experiments. They had to make sure that nothing in the brothers' programming would cause suspicion back home. Kenny, Lance's freshman "personal assistant", having finished his school work for the day, sat obediently in the corner, licking clean the insides of a raunchy old pair of Lance's running shoes.
"I'm not worried about the 'ripe feet' guys, they'll be bringing each other's socks with them," said the Master. "Although at the last meeting I raised the stakes, and now they have to have a whiff of each other's socks every few hours. Steve is planning to drive home in the car James just bought for him, but he'll tell his folks he borrowed it. Or maybe he'll just have James drive him home wearing a chauffeur's cap. Bill the furniture guy won't have his compulsion when he's not here at the house. He doesn't even consciously realize he has it when he's here. Tomorrow is the last day of Doug's current enslavement to Bruno, so those two can just go home. They'd be far too embarrassed to tell anyone about their weekly arrangement, since they think that no one else knows. Dan isn't expecting to bring Shirley home for his family Thanksgiving, and so Charlie will be relieved that he can get away himself without revealing his true identity to Dan.
"As for Bobby Burston, I let him follow me into a laundromat downtown and steal a cum- and sweat-encrusted jockstrap of mine that I didn't change out of for a week. He'll probably wear it over his nose and mouth on his long drive home to Texas. He's still afraid to let me see him anyway, so his leaving town won't matter. You two are fine. That leaves Kenny, Tom and Dom, and Cliff and Cody."
At the mention of his name, and a look from Lance, Kenny took his nose and tongue out from deep inside one of Lance's fragrant shoes, frigged himself instantly to total hardness, and stood to attention, staring straight ahead.
"Yeah, that's right, we can't send Kenny to Duluth like this, can we?" said Lance affectionately. "I'm gonna miss him this weekend. We've developed an almost psychic bond."
"All right, when we're done here let's take him downstairs and make him as normal as we can. I'm not sure how we're going to make him temporarily forget his situation, yet remember enough to talk about his school days when he gets home. We'll figure it out later."
"I'm worried about Tom and Dom, though," said John. "They've gotten to the point of some regular physical abuse that both of them now want. We had to program the brothers who live in nearby rooms not to hear the noises from Tom and Dom's room. Of course, since they're on the swim team, Dom knows he can't leave visible marks anywhere but on Tom's ass. What can we do?"
"Well, I guess we could just order them to hide their 'true' situation from their folks, and pretend that they're equals while they're at home. It's only for a few days. If they need an abuse 'fix', they'll just have to leave their house to get it," the Grand Master decided.
"Okay, then what's the situation with Cliff and Cody?" Cliff was the 6'11" basketball center who lived with Cody, the 5'6" gymnast, with totally repressed mutual lust.
"Yeah, that could be a problem. They're kind of dependent on each other's presence, even though they don't know it. The next thing I was planning to do with them was give them the illusion that when they jerked off with each other's clothes, Cody would get taller and Cliff shorter. I wanted to see how that would change their relationship. I wondered if it would also affect their basketball and gymnastics abilities. What are their family situations? If they stayed here for Thanksgiving, maybe I could do the whole taller/shorter scene over the weekend."
"I don't think we can do that," said Lance. "Cliff is from a big, close family. He has three brothers, one older, two younger, and they're all real tall. Even the 15-year-old is 6'8". Come to think of it, Cody has three brothers too. His older brother was an alternate on the Olympic gymnastics team. They all visited here last year, and all three brothers are that compact, muscular gymnast type."
"Wow. If we could get all the brothers on both sides to visit here at the same time, imagine the possibilities..." The Grand Master drifted briefly into some highly erotic thoughts: pairing them off into passionate couples by age, or possibly having all the short ones on their knees gazing lustfully up into the crotches of the tall ones, or possibly having the short ones climb onto the tall ones and forcing them to give them rides on their long, muscled backs or broad shoulders. "Well, that's a future project. Meanwhile, bring Cliff and Cody downstairs later one at a time, and we'll ease up the pressure just for the weekend. We'll have them each drop the idea around home of a family visit here in the spring. Oh, and don't forget, Cliff's body size means we need an extra portion of Kool-Aid, just like we usually do for Doug and Bruno.
"All right, I guess we're set for Thanksgiving. Now to some new business. Remember earlier this year when we were discussing possible pledges, and I mentioned..." One of the Grand Master's freshman pledge prospects, Jason Cole, had pledged Rho Tau Rho instead. Jason, a member of the volleyball team, was a tall (6'7") blond typical southern California surfer dude, with hair that fell in his eyes. Unlike many of the other pledge selections, the Master was sure from observation that Jason was bi, or possibly even gay. At least, Jason had never seemed to object when the Master lingered in the bathroom while Jason was showering, and sometimes even winked and seemed to be showing off while soaping up. And he had reason to show off; beyond his tall tight surfer's bod, he sported the biggest equipment the Master had seen to date in his short life, certainly more than any of the Sig Lam brothers. His cock was at least eight or nine inches soft, and on the hefty side. And from Jason's occasional soaping-up display, the Master could see that it would add several full inches when provoked. At Sig Lam, only Cliff even came close to matching Jason's length, although he was not as big around.
Naturally, the Grand Master's excited thoughts were more about controlling Jason than actually having sex with him. Since Jason had pledged RTR, the Master now began to plot an experiment together with Lance and John. Lance would meet with Roger, the RTR president, offer him a spiked drink, and then, while he was in a highly suggestible state, he would convince Roger to bring small groups of RTR brothers to Sig Lam on some pretext, where they would be programmed. The Master explained to Lance and John that he had decided to set up RTR as a hierarchy based completely on cock size. "If someone is slightly 'bigger' than you, he's your bud, but you're likely to believe him and follow his suggestions. If he's several full inches bigger, you'll respect him and do most of what he says. And if he's REALLY bigger, then you'll practically worship him, and be totally in awe of him. You won't even think about refusing him anything."
"Wow," said John. "That's going to change things around over there. I've seen Roger showering at the gym, and he's tiny, maybe a couple of inches at the most. And I've heard you describe Jason..."
"That's right. Jason the freshman will immediately become president of the frat. And Roger, I guess, will be looked down on by most of the brothers. They'll make fun of him, push him around. They'll probably make him scrub the toilets, wash the dishes, collect the garbage, run their personal errands. But he'll feel he has to do it, since his brothers are so much more godlike than he is.
"The part that's really interesting is that I'm sure most of the RTR brothers are straight, but their new president will be gay. And I'm sure Jason will be able to turn their immense respect and admiration for him into sexual favors. But will that 'turn' any of them around, with no more drugs or programming? Will they do it because they have to, or will they start to WANT to do it? THAT's what I want to know."
"Are you going to set up regular 'hypno-meetings' over there?" asked Lance.
"Heck no, I don't have enough time. But I'll control Jason, so I'll control his 'weapon', and his weapon will control the frat."
v.
It was eight o'clock on a late December evening towards the end of the term. Christmas was coming, and the Sigma Lambda Alpha fraternity was decorated for the occasion. In the brothers-only television lounge stood what they all considered to be a festively decorated Christmas tree, although if any outsider had stepped in, they would instead have seen it was really Bill McPherson, standing motionless, naked with his arms and legs extended, covered with tinsel and with decorative balls hanging from his fingers, hair, and genitals.
Over at RTR, freshman and president Jason Cole was enjoying the start of the second month of his exalted status. When he wasn't playing volleyball or working out, he'd spend the evening in his room reading and doing school work, with the door open, wearing nothing but boxers, sprawled on a reclining chair with his long muscled legs stretched out and one big foot over the other. Occasionally he would raise a hand to brush his long straw-blond hair out of his eyes; occasionally he would lower the hand to absently stroke the symbol of his authority, semi-hard and poking well out of his underwear. He was now living in the largest room in the house, which formerly was Roger's room, and although it was on the top floor, many of the brothers would find an excuse to pass by his door and admire this incredible man. Originally, the straight ones among them would have a pang of fear when Jason called out "Yo dude, come in here a minute" as they passed his door, but as time went by, they began to look forward to it, and would even linger a bit by the door hoping he would call them in. The sheer honor and excitement of serving someone that great gave them such a rush that they began to imagine themselves doing it while they were jerking off in their own rooms. Almost every room secretly had a copy of one of Jason's volleyball photos under the bed. An important milestone in the experiment had been reached recently when Mark Hilgren, a senior and lifelong confirmed heterosexual, found that he had to imagine himself serving Jason in order to have sex with his long-time girlfriend. She was none the wiser, but Mark worried that it was just a matter of time before only the real thing would do.
The tone of the frat had changed quite a bit in the past month. Most of the brothers were decent, nice guys, who would never be inclined to inflict humiliation on a smaller-dicked, and thus weaker-willed, brother. But Craig Hodgson, the member with the second-largest cock in the frat, had a latent nasty side. When he would come home drunk from town, he would occasionally pick on one of the smaller brothers, using his cock-boosted willpower to forcibly involve others who would not otherwise have wanted to participate. Thus, there would be four or five brothers forcing the unfortunate victim to kneel before them, begging them to grind their shoes into his groin, to force him to lick out a urinal, or whatever else happened to cross Craig's drunk mind. Usually Craig sobered up by the end, ordering the victim not to tell anyone what happened. To the victim, of course, his ultra-masculine word was law.
Roger, the former RTR president, was now living in a small room on the first floor with Wally, a skinny, freckled pledge with oversized horn-rimmed glasses. Wally had pledged the frat as a legacy, since his dad had been a member. Wally had been resigned to being at the bottom of the social totem pole, as he had been in high school. Now, though, his five-inch-when-erect cock was double the size of his new roommate's, and put him in complete charge. After a month or so, he found he had a sadistic streak he never realized, ordering Roger around, and occasionally using him as a punching bag or delivering a kick to his privates when he was angry or frustrated. But the more he did it, the more respect he saw in Roger's face. Having a senior and the former frat president look up to him so much excited him, made him feel like a real man. His resulting self-confidence carried over to his day-to-day activities, much to his benefit.
Meanwhile, as Roger's self-esteem withered, he found himself cowering more and more in the room his free time. His brothers had long since commanded him to break up with his girlfriend, saying he wasn't man enough to deserve one, and of course he was forced to agree with them. While Craig, or some of the other brothers acting under Craig's big-dick influence, would recreationally find new ways to humiliate him -- or rather order him to humiliate himself, sometimes in front of their girlfriends or even in front of strangers -- at least being in the room with Wally was a more predictable environment, and he knew ways of keeping Wally happy so his punishment would be kept at a minimum. Often a back or foot massage after a long day would keep Wally purring contentedly. Wally was such a great man. Roger was grateful to still be in a fraternity of such great men.
Back at Sig Lam, some new experiments were underway. The Grand Master had admired the physique of Dennis the baseball player, so now whenever Dennis was anywhere in the house, he wore nothing but his white socks. In the television lounge, at the dinner table, in the rec room playing pool, Dennis was always dressed, or rather undressed, identically. Naturally, no one noticed this, least of all Dennis. This led to some highly amusing scenes: Dennis at the coffee machine in the morning, naked among a group of brothers heavily dressed in warm winter clothes; or Dennis naked in the living room chair with Bill the ottoman under his socked feet, each brother largely oblivious to the other. Of course, the humor in all this was only apparent to Lance, John, and the Grand Master during his visits.
At Thanksgiving, Cliff and Cody had successfully lobbied their families to arrange a school visit at spring break, and all their respective brothers planned to show up. When Cliff got back to the frat, the Grand Master used him to initiate the basketball team experiment he had planned a month previously. Cliff brought each team member to Sig Lam, where with a drink and some induction the Grand Master put him under. The Master learned that all but one of the twelve basketball team members were straight (actually, all but TWO, since Cliff himself had been firmly reprogrammed). Fine, he thought, that would make the experiment even better.
Visiting a local skate park, the Grand Master rounded up a dozen 14- and 15-year-old skater dudes, and brought them to the house with the promise of free new equipment. Since he wasn't much older than they were, and was bringing them onto the college campus, they weren't in the least suspicious, and happily drank the Kool-Aid they were offered. Once they were all in a trance, each one was brought into a room with an equally zonked basketball player. There, the player became convinced that before each game, to be able to focus, to be the best player he could be, he NEEDED the protein in a freshly-made hot cum drink willingly made by his skater. Meanwhile, the skater became convinced that it was a very natural thing for his college basketball player to want to suck his cock.
And that was it. The basketball player was under no direct compulsion to do anything the skater said, but the skater was in a great negotiating position. Desperate for cum from his skater, each player would have to do something for him, depending on the skater's whim. The player couldn't threaten or force the skater to cum, of course, since scaring a skater, especially a straight one, would hardly result in a willing orgasm. So before each game, the helpless player would have to perform for his skater. On a few occasions it might involve something sexual, like jerking the skater off, or offering him the use of his (hypnotized) girlfriend, but more often it involved a personal favor, a piece of new equipment, or an act of public humiliation in front of the skater's high school friends -- calling him Sir, licking his skate shoes, sniffing his pits, performing a strip act. (The skaters were however programmed to keep things discreet, since the Grand Master didn't want any of this experiment publicly known.) The player would be caught between disgust at the humiliating acts, and lust for the cum. The Grand Master wondered if the latter would eventually overcome the former, and cause relationships that lasted past the final game of the season.
Now that the basketball season was underway, the Grand Master was entertained at various times with the sight of a tall muscular basketball forward, or a smart, strong floor-general guard, with the well-exercised legs, defined upper body and biceps of a Division I college basketball player, serving at the pleasure of a scrawny teen skater dude. As the months went by, the skaters would go a little further each time, testing their pet player's limits. The Grand Master would sometimes stand invisibly in the room, noting how far each skater was trying to go, and he would wonder how far the desperate player was willing to let the skater take it.
The Master also used his basketball experiment to finally resolve the Room 27 situation with Cliff and Cody. As he had arranged, they had secretly longed for each other for over a month, and each longed to be tall/short like the other. Cliff was the only basketball player who didn't room with another player or room alone, so bringing together Cliff and his skater dude cum god each game day and avoiding Cody was a tricky proposition. The Master had hand-picked Josh to be cliff's controlling skater dude. Josh was gay, 15 and 5'8" tall, with silky black hair and totally smooth, pale skin. He had a scar over his upper lip, sported an evil grin, had penetrating pale blue eyes, and had a fondness for black leather clothes. At first, he was satisfied each game day with receiving a full-body tongue job from Cliff, who would lick him clean of sweat before getting his cum reward. Seeing the 6'11" redhead's muscles tense and flex while he went about his job would get Josh off quickly, much to Cliff's relief. After all, Cliff loved Cody, his buff gymnast stud, not this scrawny... yet amazing... cum god.
After a few sessions, though, Josh brought in a dog collar and leash, and made Cliff wear them. Before he would let Cliff at his cock, he would lead him around the room, Josh in his leather clothes and Cliff crawling on the floor completely naked, degrading Cliff further by placing his boot on Cliff's large back or crotch, or forcing him to lap water out of the toilet. After Cliff had tongue-cleaned his leather pants, Josh would tease him with his cock for a while, watching Cliff's long tongue trying to catch it, and would then grab Cliff's curly red hair and slam his face into his crotch. Sometimes he would pull away from Cliff and shoot his cum somewhere else, like on his own boots, or on Cliff's size 16 feet, or even in Cliff's hair. Then Cliff would desperately go after the cum while it was still hot, scooping and licking until every drop was gone.
To Cliff, the cum tasted like the nectar of the gods. Whenever he swallowed it, he felt himself growing stronger, smarter, more adept. He felt the cum making him more of a man, more a member of a winning team. Instead of harboring a longing feeling of missing something, he felt whole; he felt complete. He would look gratefully up at his cum god for making him a man. When the team would assemble before the game, he saw the joy and confidence in his teammate's faces and knew they had just gone through the same thing.
As the weeks went by, Cliff was going through an emotional transformation. He still loved Cody, and dreamed of living a life with him. His game day cum lust didn't change that. But he suffered a shock one day towards the end of the season, when Cody walked in unexpectedly while Cliff was busy licking the last of the cum from Josh's boots. As Cliff turned and looked up at Cody, feeling humiliated, Cody was at first amazed, then excited, and finally extremely jealous of Josh. For a moment, they just stared at each other.
BUt Josh had been programmed to be prepared for just this eventuality by the Grand Master. Stiffening to attention, he uttered the frat's control phrase, which caused both Cliff and Cody to instantly go into a trance. After working them deeper into their trances as he had been trained to do, Josh began to alter their programming. "Cliff," he said, causing Cliff's head to perk up with his eyes still closed. "You love Cody. You always have. While you enjoy being my cum slave on game days, it's Cody's tight muscle bod you want to curl up with, it's Cody you want to live with forever." Cliff grunted in agreement.
"Since you've been a good cum slave, I'm going to give you a great gift. Whenever you jerk off using Cody's sneakers or old clothes, you'll become shorter and tighter. You'll notice your clothes getting looser, your shoes seeming bigger, as you become like him. This is what you've always wanted, to be trim like Cody, not overgrown like you are." Cliff again grunted in agreement.
"And Cody..." Eyes closed, Cody's head perked up. "You love Cliff. You know he's my cum slave, but he's just doing it to play basketball better. You're not jealous of me. You want to be in his arms for the rest of your life." Cody groaned, "Yessss..."
"Here is your gift. When you put on Cliff's shoes and jerk off with his jersey, you'll feel yourself growing taller. You'll feel your feet getting bigger in his shoes. You'll feel your arms getting longer. You will become big like him, not small and insignificant like you are now." Again, Cody groaned, "Yessss..."
"When you, Cody, become taller than Cliff, and you, Cliff, become shorter than Cody, you will be able to reveal your love to one other. Your days of hiding will be over. The great love of your lives will then begin. Other people will still act as if you, Cliff, were still tall, and you, Cody, were still short. They won't see the change. But you two will know it when you are standing together, and you, Cliff, are gazing way up into Cody's eyes, with your small hand enveloped in his huge one, his immense tongue filling your mouth.
"You will remember all this subconsciously. But for now you will forget... forget... forget..."
Having reached the end of his own "program", Josh shook his head awake. Having forgotten everything that just happened, he looked down and noticed his cum slave looking dazed and contented, with a few drops of cum left on his lips, and his slave's roommate, also dazed, looking off into the distance. Satisfied at having gotten off, Josh zipped up his pants and left the room. When Cliff and Cody slowly awoke, they stole glances at each other with frustrated longing, but also with a buried sense of great hope that they had never felt before. They had no idea where the sense of hope came from, but they were soon destined to find out. The Grand Master didn't mind if one of his experiments ended in great happiness for the subjects.
And so the Grand Master's basketball team experiment played itself out. The mentalities of most of the players were slowly altered across the season to where they actually looked forward to their pregame activities, much as one might enjoy a pregame workout. The funny part was, the team played considerably better than expected. They seemed more focused, and played as a team as never before. They rose in the college ranks, won their league, and were invited to the NCAA tournament. Of course they had to pay to arrange to have their skaters come to the regional tournament in order to have a fresh supply of cum. The Grand Master didn't want to miss being in the hotel room where the scene unfolded of the wiry shirtless skater dudes, standing in a row with their arms crossed, looking down fondly as their tall muscled jock cum slaves, naked and on their knees, sucked their teen cocks for all they were worth. Clearly, all of them, even the "straight" jocks and skaters, were getting enjoyment out of this. The full season had obviously worked changes on them all.
The tournament began the next day. Even though they were in way over their heads, the team won their first round game before losing in the second round by 4 points to the eventual tournament winner.
Incredible what the power of the mind can do, thought the Grand Master from his box seat at the first round game. Next year, I've got to set up something between the football team and the high school chess club...