Date: Mon, 02 Dec 2002 02:46:14 -0800
From: Shawn Webb <webb025@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Frat Control Experiment, Parts IV-V

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...