The 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...

Go Back