Disclaimer: This is a work of erotic fiction. If you are under the
legal age to read this, or are offended by the idea of male-male
sex or mind control, DO NOT read further.
I couldn't understand it. When we began our first semester as
freshmen at State University, we soon found each other as the only
openly gay residents on our floor of the freshman dorm. We were
both smart, read similar books, and had a similar outlook on life,
or so I thought. We even had similar physical features, sort of
tall and thin, with somewhat sunken chests without a hair on them.
We both needed glasses, although his were much thicker than mine.
And yet, and yet, while I was dying to talk about sex with him,
compare notes on the incredible studs we could see walking around
shirtless in the Jepsen athletic dorm across the street, maybe
even fool around a bit, he never once reciprocated. Whenever I
brought up the topic of sex in any form, he changed the subject.
I assumed I just wasn't his type. Also most evenings he wasn't in
his room; his roommates said he was in the library most of the
And now it was mid-November and he was gone. I came back from a
weekend at home, and when I dropped by his room, I saw that his
things were no longer there. His roommates said he had suddenly
and mysteriously left school, no reason given. I had a feeling of
loneliness sweep over me. Even though we had entirely avoided one
topic, he was still the closest thing I had to a 'compadre' at the
school, although towards the end I saw less and less of him.
That evening, as I reached into the drawer where I kept the
binoculars I occasionally used to gaze into the Jepsen windows
across the street (the jocks almost never seemed to have their
curtains drawn, no matter their state of undress), I found an
unfamiliar manila folder on top of the storage case. On it was
written, "Keys to the kingdom. Enjoy, but be careful." And in it
was a single piece of paper with some kind of simple diagram on it.
The drawing was a large rectangle that filled most of the page, and
it was filled with smaller rectangles, three across and five down
the page, with numbers written in them. Eight of the smaller
rectangles had been colored blue with a highlighting marker. At the
bottom of the page were the words "banana rhinoceros". And that was
I stared at it for awhile, looked for any other clues on the page
or in the folder, and couldn't come up with anything. The numbers
in the boxes didn't seem to be a code of any kind, in fact they
seemed to follow a simple sequence. But it had been a long day
driving from home, and I was tired, so I just put it carefully away
and went to bed.
I almost forgot about the folder the next day while attending my
lectures. But when I got back to my room, my curiosity refreshed, I
pulled it out and examined it again. The numbers in the top three
rectangles read 101, 201, and 301, with 201 highlighted in blue.
The next three underneath read 102, 202, and 302. And so on,
consistently down the page until 105, 205, and 305. Obviously no
secret message hidden in those numbers!
I sat there thinking. Since it was November, it was starting to get
dark at around 5 o'clock, after classes but before dinner. As I sat
by the window, the lights started coming on in the athletic dorm.
And suddenly a light went on in my head. I turned the paper
sideways, and sure enough, the diagram clearly represented the
Jepsen dorm: three floors with five windows on each floor. On the
page, the numbers had been written sideways to fit in the
rectangles representing windows. But why were some windows
highlighted? And what was the significance of "banana rhinoceros"?
Was this some kind of treasure hunt?
I went to dinner, trying to figure out how I could get into the
highlighted rooms without being noticed. And what would I look for
when I was in them?
After dinner, I took the folder from my room, crossed the street,
and went into Jepsen. This small dorm was the home of the most
elite athletes on the State campus, whose skills cut across almost
all the sports offered at the school. It was a reward to be
assigned there with some of your teammates. Jepsen was well
furnished, had a digital big-screen TV in the lounge on the first
floor in the back, and also had its own eating area, where each
athlete's specific nutritional needs were taken care of. I was
afraid of being challenged on the way into the dorm, but carrying
my folder and looking like I knew what I was doing seemed to do the
Sure enough, on the first floor the rooms facing the street were
numbered 101 through 105. On my "map", rooms 102, 103, and 104
were all highlighted in blue. The doors of 103 and 104 were open
and the athletes were lounging around in them talking loudly, but
102 seemed quiet, the door ajar and lights out. Unnoticed, I
slipped into the room, shut the window curtain, turned on the
light, and started to look around.
The room was messy and was permeated with the intense familiar odor
of jock sweat. Unwashed clothes lay on the floor, there were piles
of CDs strewn in the corner, and a few well-worn porno mags lay
beside a bed. The clothes in the pile looked huge to me; clearly
whoever lived here was a big boy. I didn't see anything out of the
ordinary, or anything resembling either a banana or a rhinoceros.
Suddenly, the door banged open and in barged an angry-looking young
giant, slamming the door behind him. He already had his shirt
pulled off and his belt loosened for his arrival. His body was that
of a football lineman, at 6'6" not much taller than my 6'4", but
clearly weighing over 260 pounds to my 130. Cropped black hair cut
in a fade, bulging hairy chest, huge biceps, long sinewy arms and
huge hands, and yet with a face that made him look younger than me.
He stormed in my direction, demanding "Who the fuck are you? And
what are you doing in here?"
Thinking as fast as I could, I held out the folder to him, saying
"I believe this is yours?" He grabbed it out of my hand, snatched
the paper out of the folder, saying "What the fuck is this?" His
eyes lit on the only writing, at the bottom of the page. "What the
fuck is 'banana rhinoc...'" At this he froze momentarily, letting
the folder and paper drop to the floor unnoticed. Then he
frantically tore off his clothes as if they were on fire, actually
ripping his boxers in the process, and once he was completely
naked, long hose dangling from his crotch, he stood stiffly at
attention, eyes glazed, and said, in a completely flat voice with
no inflection or emotion, "I am Muscutron, athletic robot. You are
Master Engineer. I am in need of lubricating fluids. Will you
insert lubrication from front or rear?"
Relieved I was not going to be beaten to a pulp, but taken
completely aback, I stammered, "Er, uh, what do you mean?"
In the same flat voice, he said, "Invalid response. I am in need
of lubricating fluids. Will you insert lubrication from front or
I thought about what he might be asking, and I began to realize
the nature of the gift I had received in my desk. "Rear," I said,
waiting for the reaction. It was immediate.
"Muscutron" walked to the back of the room, and stood up against
the wall, face first, with his muscular back and the firm globes of
his glorious ass pointed invitingly towards me. He intoned, "Say
'go' to start lubrication assistance process."
Unsure what to do, I said "Go." Immediately he began to move his
ass and crotch forward and backwards in a rhythmic fashion. As he
did so, his cock, rubbing against the wall, began to rise from its
flaccid state to a rigid and impressive eight fat inches. I tore
off my clothes almost as quickly as Muscutron had, but found I
could not enter his ass while it was pistoning forward and
backward. "Stop," I said, and the pistoning action slowly ground to
a halt, the way it might with a machine that was shutting itself
Next, I ran into the common bathroom between rooms 101 and 102;
fortunately it was unoccupied. In the medicine cabinet I found what
I was looking for: a container of Vaseline jelly. I lubed myself
up, then ran back into the room to find Muscutron simply staring
straight at the wall, motionless. I positioned myself behind his
ass and found my way inside, then said, "Go." Immediately the
pistoning started up again, and I was in heaven. Fortunately I was
tall enough that we made a good fit: my legs were longer (but much
thinner) than his, and his torso was much bigger than mine.
I was well on my way to providing Muscutron with his required
lubricating fluids, when I heard the door open and shut again, a
pause, and then a voice half-shrieking, "What the FUCK is going on
here?" Immediately I popped out of the firm ass I was in, although
Muscutron continued to piston his crotch against the wall as if
nothing had happened.
As Muscutron's evident roommate came towards me with rage in his
eyes, I said, "It's not what you think, it's... banana rhinoceros."
And instantly, the roommate's face glazed over, he went through the
same emergency clothes-removal activity that Muscutron had done
earlier, then stood stiffly at attention and intoned: "I am
Lubritron, service robot. You are Master Engineer. Which unit am I
Now that the roommate was under control, I had a chance to look him
over more fully. He was only about 6 feet tall, sandy blond hair,
blue eyes, smooth where Muscutron was hairy, with a build as
perfect as Muscutron's in a smaller version. But there was one
other immediately noticeable difference: Lubritron's cock was
nearly as long SOFT as Muscutron's was HARD. I immediately saw why
my friend had chosen these two for their respective roles.
It was my guess that Lubritron had been used to insert fluids into
Muscutron on command on more than one occasion. I also figured
Lubritron could be ordered to "lubricate" me, front or rear, if I
wanted it. But I was horny to finish what I had started, and I
wasn't sure I was ready for a cock of Lubritron's size to be put
anywhere inside me. So, leaving Lubritron staring blankly into
space, I went back over to Muscutron, ordered him to stop his
pistoning, reinserted myself, and restarted the action. In almost
no time, I was ready to fill Muscutron with all of my freshly made
fluids. Exactly when I began to do so, he intoned, "Ejecting used
fluids" and produced shot after shot of cum over the wall in front
of him. Even after I pulled out after several of my own loads,
satisfied, he continued to piston and shoot.
Finally, when he was done, he turned from the wall and said flatly,
"Rear lubrication complete." That gave me the idea I needed to
activate the frozen Lubritron. Walking over to him, I said,
"Lubricate the Muscutron unit, front!"
With a "Yes Master Engineer", Lubritron "robotically" walked over
to where Muscutron was standing at attention and said, "Commencing
front lubrication". Immediately Muscutron dropped to his knees in
front of Lubritron, said "Ready," and opened his mouth wide and
extended his tongue. Lubritron then began to mechanically stroke
his cock, which rose to an incredible near-ten inches, which would
have looked impressive on a body like Muscutron's but seemed
especially out of place on this smooth baby-faced blond only 6 feet
tall. Lubritron inserted himself into the mouth of the waiting
Muscutron, who somehow swallowed it all without gagging or
hesitating -- clearly these two had done this before many times --
and then Lubritron began pistoning in and out of Muscutron's
impassive face. Muscutron's flexible deep throat was getting all
the exercise it needed with this action, but it was big and strong
enough to take it.
Even though I had just cum, this scene was so hot that I was
getting excited again. On a whim, I said "Faster," and somehow with
no hesitation Lubritron seemed to double the speed of his pistoning
in and out of Muscutron's throat. Soon, Lubritron was shooting load
after load into Muscutron, who managed to take it all in without
any seeming effort. Finally, Lubritron said "Lubrication complete",
and pulled out, and stood once again at attention, staring forward.
Right afterward, Muscutron stood and did the same.
I didn't want to push my luck, so I forced myself to calm down and
go soft despite the incredible scene I had just witnessed, not to
mention the hot sight of these two mindfucked football robots
standing at attention awaiting orders. I wasn't sure what to do;
how did I turn them "off"? And did I really them to go back to
normal while I was still in the room?
To help eliminate the evidence, I ordered: "Muscutron, Lubritron,
lick the wall and floor clean of used fluids, then turn yourselves
off." The two "robots" dropped to the floor and began the process
of eliminating the evidence. As exciting as it was to watch this, I
felt I had better get out of there while the getting was good. I
threw my clothes onto my still-dripping body, let myself into the
hall closing the door behind me, and flew back across the street.
[To be continued. Feedback and suggestions appreciated.]
Disclaimer: This is a work of erotic fiction. If you are under the
legal age to read this, or are offended by the idea of male-male
sex or mind control, DO NOT read further.
This is the continuation of the story begun in a Part 1 file. This
part will make a lot more sense if you read that part first.
When I got back to my room after my adventure "robotizing" the two
football linemen, I was still excited by the feeling of control I
had had over them. As my obedient robot toys, Muscutron and
Lubritron (or whatever their real names were) could perform sex
acts on each other, on me, or on anyone I brought around. But had I
"turned them off" correctly, or were they standing frozen, awaiting
orders? And did they remember what I did to them?
After thinking about it, I realized that the two could not possibly
remember, or they wouldn't have been completely surprised by my
presence and unaware of what I was about to do, since they had
obviously been "robotized" many times before. So that was good. I
looked through the window to see if the robots were still frozen,
but the curtains were still shut (almost alone among the dorm
windows). The feeling of absolute control over the two musclegods
got me once again totally hot, and even though I had only recently
fed my seed into Muscutron's rear lubrication pipe, I had to jerk
myself off imagining even more humiliating and obscene commands for
my two robot toys. For example, I could have them buy additional "
parts" to add to themselves -- clips to attach to their chest "
electrodes", cleaning and expanding devices for their lubrication
systems, and so on.
After I was done, I got to thinking about the other rooms
highlighted in the diagram. What kind of adventures awaited me
there? I found it hard to sleep.
The next morning, I looked across the street. The curtains to room
102 were now open, and as far as I could see the room was empty.
There was no unusual activity that I could see anywhere in the dorm
through the other windows. Excellent -- it looked as if there were
no consequences to my adventure the previous night. I washed,
dressed, and went to my first lecture, but I couldn't help
daydreaming about last night. The day seemed to crawl by until the
end of my last class.
After dinner, I went to my window to look across the street. The
lights were on and curtains were open in most of the first floor
windows. In 102, I caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a de-
robotized Muscutron walking by the window, in a T-shirt and shorts,
totally unruffled. The sight caused a brief stirring in my pants,
but I suppressed the thought before it got out of control.
Looking over at room 103, the next room on my highlighted list, I
thought I spotted some movement but couldn't see what was going on.
I decided this would be my next destination, if nothing went wrong.
Leaving the folder in my drawer -- I knew the trigger phrase and I
knew it worked whether I said it or the target did -- I once again
crossed the street, slipped in unnoticed, and headed down the hall.
The door to 103 was ajar, so I knocked briefly, stepped inside, and
shut the door. Sprawled out diagonally on his bed, in all his 6'10"
glory, huge feet dangling over the edge, wearing only his boxers,
was our basketball team's star center. Everything about him seemed
extra long: his well-muscled legs, his arms with the prominent
biceps, his hands and fingers, even his straight chestnut-colored
hair was long, flopped over parts of his face. Hearing me come in,
he languidly brushed his hair out of his eyes, and said, "What up,
dude?" Quite the contrast with my uptight football toys.
Wondering what kind of robot he would become, I said the magic
phrase. There was an instant transformation in his expression, from
a lazy "Whatever, dude" attitude to an intolerable urgency, and he
jumped up as I expected and tore off his boxers. However, instead
of coming to attention, he ran to his closet, opened a drawer,
grabbed a cloth bag out of it, and ran into his bathroom. I
couldn't see what he was doing in there, and wasn't sure I wanted
to go over there and watch, so I just shut the curtains and waited
In a few minutes, an astonishing sight emerged from the bathroom.
The huge basketball center was wearing a pretty pink top and a pink
skirt (with obscenely-sized frilly underwear clearly sticking out
from underneath). Where he got the pink girl's open-toed shoes in
men's size 16, I have no idea, but his feet were squeezed into them
rather tightly, long toes bulging out the front. A tarty shade of
lipstick had been applied to his lush, full lips. He came up to me,
walking as gracefully and femininely as a little girl, timidly
almost, and said in a falsetto girl's voice, "I'm pretty Polly, I'm
15, and I like rough, nasty sex with real tough boys like you that
can beat me up." And then he/she flashed me a winning, flirtacious
Me, a tough boy that could beat up this tree of an athlete? Even at
6'4", my mouth only came to just above his nipple level (although
now he had a pectoral-filled bra on under his top), and my upper
body was absolutely no match for his, his biceps bulging out of his
sleeveless top. What should I do? On a hunch, I grabbed his arm and
twisted it behind his back. He squealed in pain, but didn't offer
any resistance, and couldn't break my grip. Of course, ordinarily,
he would have brushed me off like a fly. But while he was "Polly",
I discovered I could completely dominate him physically. And the
sight of this 6'10" giant submitting to me totally turned me on
I tore off the top and skirt, leaving Polly in her bra and
underwear. I put the helpless Polly into several nasty wrestling
holds, which caused him/her to squeal in pain. But I noticed a very
long and growing bulge under the frilly underwear as I did this.
Clearly Polly was getting very turned on by this dominating action.
Finally, the underwear could no longer contain the long, thin pole
that popped out from under. And no amount of my abuse of this near
ten-inch "clitoris" seemed to lessen its excitement, although
Polly's huge but weak, limp hand struggled vainly to remove my
"powerful" thin fingers from it.
Next, I sat on the bed and pulled Polly onto my lap, face down, ass
directly over my knees. I took off one of her huge open-toed shoes,
and began to spank her with it. Her large muscles flexed
helplessly, but she could not roll off or free herself. Her lengthy
cock was trapped between my upper left leg and under my right thigh
and was hard as a rock as I continued to redden her sizeable
bottom. Finally, she couldn't take any more, and she erupted in
volley after volley of cum. When she was empty, she slid off my lap
onto the floor, cowering in fear.
I pulled her up onto her knees between my legs. Her torso was so
long that even with my long legs dangling from the tall bed, while
kneeling her face was well above my raging cock. I grabbed her head
and pushed her face down onto my cock. At first she tried to keep
her mouth shut, but I smacked her on the head and said "Open,"
which she did, and I inserted myself into her large mouth. I had to
smack her once again when her teeth scraped my cock, but she didn't
make that mistake again. With my right hand, I shoved her face
completely onto my cock, which slid down her throat without a
problem. Grabbing her hair, I then repeatedly pulled her head up
and down onto my cock, fucking her face until I exploded into her
mouth. She had clearly been used this way before, because she
managed to only spill a little onto her bed. I dragged her face
over to the spill and she promptly licked it up.
I pushed her onto her back on the floor, putting one foot on her
face and the other on her once-again rising cock. Again, she
struggled to push my foot out of her face, to no avail. "Lick," I
said, swirling my foot around her nose and mouth. When she didn't
respond, I applied painful pressure with my other foot on her cock,
and she relented, her tongue working on the sole of my foot and
between the toes.
It was getting late, time to leave. I told Polly, "Put your clothes
away and wash up, you disgusting little bitch. Look at the lipstick
you got on my cock!" She hesitated, and I flexed my scrawny arm and
raised a fist: "Now!" Frightened, the obscenely tall and muscular
little girl scurried into the bathroom, showered for a minute, and
came out with her clothes in the bag, which she put away.
"Now go to sleep, and I'll be back later to check on you!" I said,
as I dressed, left and hurried back across the street. Another
incredible adventure! I was already looking forward to the next
As darkness fell after yet another long day, my window
reconnaissance showed me that there were several people in my next
target room, 104. They were not reading or lying still, either;
each was in motion on his side of the room, although again I
couldn't see who it was. So tonight would involve multiple
jockslave action, I thought. But I had no idea what to expect,
since the first two nights had been very different from each other
(although equally exciting)! I went across the street and entered
Slipping into the room, I surprised the occupants working out with
hand weights. I immediately recognized them; they were the Nelson
twins, freshmen star gymnasts who were alternates at the last
Olympics. They were about 5'6", with bowl-cut blond hair, well-
built smooth upper bodies and nicely muscled legs with a bit of
downy blond fuzz. As they looked up, startled, I said the magic
phrase, and they went blank, stripped, dropped on all fours, and
became Mop and Flop, two naughty little puppies who couldn't keep
their noses and tongues out of anything. And their favorite place
to stick those cute little noses and tongues was a butt -- each
other's or mine.
They were feeling very playful, with their imaginary tails wagging
constantly. At one point Mop jumped on me, pinning me down with his
powerful arms while he licked my face all over. Meanwhile, Flop was
sniffing and licking Mop's doggie butt, getting it ready for his
perky 6" cock. He then proceeded to take Mop doggie-style, while
Mop yelped in delight.
When Flop was done, the hypnozonked gymnast-puppy pulled out and
demonstrated one of the benefits of his flexible worked-out little
bod: he rolled over, raised one leg, and proceeded to clean his
cock off with his tongue. I was finally over the top and was so
horned that I had to do something. I grabbed Flop, positioned him
on his hands and knees, and took HIM the way he had taken Mop.
Meanwhile, Mop came over and started to work my ass with his nose
followed by his tongue. It wasn't too long before I was pumping
load after load into Flop's ass.
Exhausted, I climbed into their lounge chair and lay back. Both of
them came over and began to sniff and lick my feet -- my size 13s
took their cute little tongues awhile to get around. Then they
curled up contentedly at my feet and dozed off.
Both Mop and Flop were covered with cum and sweat. I knew I had to
clean then up so there wouldn't be any obvious evidence of the
incredibly hot session we had just had. I woke each up in turn and
dragged them into their bathroom and into the shower, where I had
to soap and rinse their muscular chests and asses. They weren't
very cooperative -- they kept trying to shake the water off as I
washed them -- but eventually I got the job done. When I dried them
off and brought them back into the room, they immediately fell
asleep again at the base of the chair. I sat down to contemplate
what had just happened.
As I sat there stroking their hair and faces with my feet, I longed
for the day when I could buy them each a collar and leash and lead
them around the dorm naked, or even the campus. Of course, they
would be straining at the leash to sniff every butt and pair of
shoes they could get to. Bad puppies!
The second floor rooms had their own joys. There was the room with
the two tall, lean senior swimmers who dropped to the floor and
became Sssssteve and Sssssam, snake boys with obscenely long
tongues who slithered across the floor on their lean stomachs and
knew how to use their prodigious tongues all sorts of ways. Then
there was the room with our star sophomore quarterback, blond hair
and blue eyes and all "Aw shucks", who could be regressed back to
any age, including early ones where he liked to put everything in
his mouth, and later preteen ones where he completely believed
everything you told him, as his much older brother, about the facts
of life. Third, there was the room with the super macho, deep-
voiced, trimly muscled 180-pound class wrestler, who on command
helplessly became the most mincing, effeminate fag you ever saw,
still constantly cursing and badmouthing gays even as he
desperately tried to get fucked by one. I could just guess why he
had been selected for this role.
But something different was waiting for me on the third floor...
[That is, if anyone wants to follow me up to the third floor! The
hypnotist's latest and most refined and subtle work was performed
there. Feedback, and suggestions, appreciated. I know what will
happen in room 301, but 303 is still a mystery...]