By Hypnothrill -
published August 20, 2019
2909 words

Scotty tries on a pair of briefs meant for his roommate, an Instagram influencer. Soon Scotty’s the one being influenced…

I’ve been stalling on finishing the next chapter of “FaceUp”; it will come, but I’m just waiting for inspiration to strike again. In the meantime, I hope you guys will enjoy a story I wrote a few weeks ago while on vacation. Let me know what you think in the comments. I’m not planning on writing a sequel to this, but if it gets a good response, I might write more stories in this vein.


Being roommates with a friend who was Instagram-famous had its perks sometimes, Scotty reflected. Ever since his roommate Logan had blown up on Instagram, he’d really been living the life, and sometimes Scotty reaped the benefits as well. Like so many companies wanted Logan to act as an “influencer” for them that they kept sending him all this free shit, more than Logan could ever use, so he sent a lot of it Scotty’s way. And there had been a few times when Logan had gotten these free trips to resorts and music festivals and whatnot, and Scotty had gotten to tag along as his “plus one.” And Logan was making so much money off the ‘Gram these days, he never had any trouble covering his half of the rent.

Unlike Scotty, who’d had to get a couple of loans from the “Bank of Mom and Dad” to cover rent the past few months. It was hard scrounging together enough money to get by without a full-time job; he just barely made do by taking freelance graphic design jobs and then driving an Uber. And to be honest, he sometimes resented how easy Logan seemed to have it. Sure, there were perks, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was the less successful, less attractive friend, the one Logan took pity on and gave his hand-me-downs and sloppy seconds.

It was definitely like that with girls. Logan was surrounded by beautiful girls, most of whom were wannabe model types who were looking for some exposure through his Instagram. And sometimes they’d go on double dates, and Logan would match Scotty up with whichever girl he fancied less. But usually the girls would only have eyes for Logan; at the bar or the club or wherever, they’d barely acknowledge that Scotty was there. Even on the rare occasions he hooked up with one of them, she’d still pester him with lots of questions about Logan and his Instagram, right when they were in the middle of making out.

That’s why Scotty was so happy that he finally seemed to have found a girl who liked him for him, not because of Logan. He’d met this girl Melanie on Tinder and it was going really well so far; they were going on their third date tonight. So far, they hadn’t done anything more than kiss, but Scotty had a feeling he might be getting lucky tonight. He’d need to remember to put on some clean underwear for his date. Shit, did he have any clean underwear?

Scotty got out of bed and headed over to his dresser to look. And there on top of the dresser, he spotted a brand-new, neatly folded pair of black briefs, with a Post-it note affixed to the top: “Got these in the mail, but briefs aren’t really my style. Thought you might like them—L”

Alright, maybe this was one time he wouldn’t mind getting Logan’s hand-me-downs. The briefs looked like they were his size, in some kind of synthetic moisture-wicking microfiber. And on the waistband, in silver thread, he could read the brand name: “Contact.”

Scotty took a quick shower, then headed back to his bedroom to try on the Contact briefs. At first, it seemed like they might be a little baggy in some places, but as he looked at them in the mirror, he saw that he must be mistaken. They were a perfect fit now, snug across his buttocks and cupping his cock and balls as though they had been molded to his body. In fact, they really looked great on him. Scotty looked at himself in the mirror some more, at the sleek silver “CONTACT” logo emblazoned all around the waistband. Wait… was that logo….blinking….?

Suddenly Scotty felt a prickling sensation, like needles at the base of his spine, right where the briefs’ waistband touched his tailbone. What the hell?! He had to get these things off him!

But as Scotty went to pull off the briefs, he found that his hands lay limply by his side. He was paralyzed, unable to move a muscle, only able to look at himself in the mirror as the briefs continued their work. He looked on in horror as the “CONTACT” logo continued flashing, the silver surging to the surface then pressing back down against his skin.

Suddenly he could feel it seeping inside of him like quicksilver. It started at his tailbone; he could feel something cold and metallic, the silver threads, slowly wrapping their way up his spinal column. And he could feel one tendril of silver make its way down, towards his prostate. And then he felt a sudden surge of pressure down there, and involuntarily, his dick rose to full erection, its outline fully visible in his skintight briefs.

By this point, the tip of his hard dick was straining against the waistband, which was still blinking, though the silver “CONTACT” logo was growing fainter with each surge. All of a sudden, he felt something cold and metallic snaking its way up the tip of his hard dick, through the piss slit. He could feel it make its way down every shaft, engorging each vein, travellng rapidly down to his testes.

Inwardly, Scotty was panicking. He had to stop this! He had to do something, to get help! But he was totally paralyzed. He couldn’t even move his throat muscles to scream. He couldn’t even shut his eyes to stop from seeing what was happening to him. All he could do was watch in the mirror as the briefs’ waistband turned solid black as the silver thread began to spread through his genitals and central nervous system.

That icy cold sensation had almost made its way up the base of his neck. A moment later, when it crossed the barrier into his brain, Scotty found that he could move his limbs again. This was his chance, he realized; he could rip these briefs off his body and stop whatever they were doing to him. Except…

It would feel better to just stand here and relax…

What!? What was he thinking? He needed to do something right now! He needed to…

He should not resist Contact…

Wait…why did he just think that? Of course he needed to resist. Right now, he needed to…

Give in to Contact. It feels so sexy to just give in to Contact….

Those weren’t his thoughts…it was doing something to his brain….changing his thoughts…and that made him feel…feel… feel so fucking sexy….so sexy to just stand here….don’t resist…just enjoy as Contact spreads inside his brain…his body…his balls….mmmm….his balls felt so heavy now….so sexy….he could feel them filling up with silvery fluid…

Scotty stood in front of the mirror with a fixed grin on his face for another fifteen minutes, just watching as the crotch of his briefs swelled further and further as his balls continued to inflate and the veins in his hard shaft continued to engorge with quicksilver fluid.

Then a small thread of silver began to work its way back down his tailbone, into the waistband of his black briefs. Soon, a faint trace of silver lettering could be seen shimmering on the back of his waistband, pulsing out one word: “CONCIEVE.”

He suddenly knew what he needed to do. Walking stiffly, his painfully hard erection still straining the front of his tight briefs, Scotty headed towards Logan’s room, then pulled out the top few pairs of boxer briefs from Logan’s underwear drawer. Contact must be made with Logan. Deep in Scotty’s mind, a voice was telling him that he wanted that more than anything, that Logan unable to resist Contact would be the sexiest thing imaginable.

Spreading out a pair of Logan’s Armani Exchange boxer briefs on his bed, Scotty lowered the waistband of his own briefs so that it rested just below the base of his balls, which had swollen to nearly twice their normal size. Running one finger along the silvery pearl of precum at the tip of his cock head, he then gripped his grotesquely engorged shaft and aimed it like a weapon, straight at the waistband of Logan’s boxer briefs.

An image flashed into his head of Logan standing in front of the mirror with a fixed grin on his face, wearing these boxer briefs, only distended with a huge erection. It was enough to send Scotty over the edge, and he shot a thick silvery load all over the back of Logan’s boxer-briefs, beside the waistband. As he watched, the silvery cum puddle began to morph, crystallizing into a circuit-board shape, then slowly threading its way into the waistband of Logan’s boxer briefs. In a few minutes, another silver logo appeared superimposed over the Armani logo: a familiar string of characters, “CONTACT CONTACT CONTACT.” The silver letters shimmered for a moment, then disappeared. For all intents and purposes, they now looked like Logan’s normal pair of Armani boxer briefs, but when he put them on, he’d notice the difference soon enough.

But Scotty wasn’t done. His swollen balls and rock-hard dick told him there was still more work to be done. He grabbed the next pair of underwear in the pile—some white Calvin Klein boxer briefs—and began jerking off again, ready to conceive another pair, to ensure that no matter what Logan wore, he would not resist Contact.

Once he had seeded five pairs of Logan’s underwear in this way, the waistband of Scotty’s briefs began flashing again, only this time, it was showing a new word: “CONSUME.” Tucking his dick and balls back into his tight briefs, Scotty headed to the kitchen and ransacked the fridge and cabinets, looking for every high-protein food he could consume, from cocktail peanuts to raw eggs. Once he had consumed enough food for ten meals, he rubbed his bloated belly and headed back to his room to sleep.

When he woke up about 9 hours later, Scotty checked his phone and saw that he had a string of messages from a girl named Melanie. She was unimportant now, so he ignored them. Instead, he walked over to the mirror and inspected his body. He was unsurprised to see that it had undergone a massive transformation as he slept, packing on about 30 pounds of pure muscle, while streamlining his figure into that of a Greek god with bowling-ball biceps, chiseled pecs, 8-pack abs, and a bubble butt. Lowering his briefs, he could see that some of the extra mass had made its way down there as well; his dick was now nearly a foot long hard, and his balls had grown to match.

Good. This body would make his task easier.

Before he had time to wonder what that task might be, the waistband of Scotty’s briefs began pulsing again, and he knew exactly where he needed to be right now. Even though he’d never been to the local gay club called The Manhole, much less its infamous underwear party, he drove straight there, as though he had a GPS in his head.

At the club, Scotty wasted no time in stripping down to his underwear, which now read “CONVERT CONVERT CONVERT” in silver letters around its waistband. As he made his way through the dimly lit club, he could see that he wasn’t the only one. Across the room, he saw the phosphorescent silver “CONVERT” logo around the waistband of another incredibly muscular man, and Scotty made his way across the crowded room to find him.

As he got closer, Scotty could see that the man in the “CONVERT” briefs was flirting with a smaller guy in an Andrew Christian jockstrap, trying to convince him to come back to the backroom with him. As the guy in the jockstrap finally gave in to temptation, the muscleman in the “CONVERT” briefs gave Scotty a barely perceptible nod, letting Scotty know that he should follow behind at a safe distance. The glowing silver of the “CONVERT” logo made it easy to follow the pair even through the darkened, labyrinthine backroom. Hearing footsteps behind him, Scotty turned and saw yet another muscleman in a pair of “CONVERT” briefs. Exchanging a curt nod, they marched in unison toward the sling where the first man in “CONVERT” briefs was taking the man in the Andrew Christian jockstrap.

“Shit, man!” the jockstrapped man was whispering, “That thing is a monster! There’s no way I can take that!”

“You will be able to take it,” the other man flatly insisted, “Once Contact has been made.”

“Well, I’m going to need a lot of lube! And a condom. I don’t bareback.”

“Fine,” the man in the “CONVERT” briefs replied. Watching from a safe distance around the corner, Scotty and the other man could see him lower his briefs as he slowly slipped the condom over the head of his footlong hard dick, then got into position so that he could fuck the jockstrapped man in the sling.

“Oh FUCK! Slowly, man, go slowly!” the jockstrapped man was shouting, “Fuck that’s big! I don’t think I can take anymo… Oh shit! Oh shit! I think the condom just broke! Pull out, man, the condom just broke!”

That was Scotty’s cue. He and the third “CONVERT” briefs man rushed out of the shadows and pinned the jockstrapped man down, so he couldn’t leave the sling if he tried. He was starting to shout for help, so Scotty quickly pulled down his briefs and stuffed his footlong dick down the man’s throat. The jockstrapped man fought back for a moment, trying to bite down on the monster dick that was invading his throat, until the silvery stream of precum that was dribbling down the head of Scotty’s cock took effect, paralyzing the man in the sling, like a fly caught in a spider’s web.

In the end, all three of them took turns fucking the jockstrapped man, and then in turn, each shot a large silvery load up his well-used ass. And afterwards, none of them said a word. They just stuffed their cocks back into their briefs, then helped the jockstrapped man out of the sling. And he followed behind them in a single-file line as they walked out of the darkroom, the waistband of his jockstrap glowing “CONVERT.”

Before the night was through, that word would be around the waist of many other men in The Manhole.

Scotty didn’t get back from the club until around 4:30, and he quietly crept back into the apartment, being careful not to awaken his roommate Logan. Lying down on his bed, he immediately switched into rest mode, not returning to consciousness until about four hours later, when he came to with the sudden awareness that his presence was required.

Walking into Logan’s room, he was unsurprised to see Logan standing frozen in front of the mirror, wearing only his Armani boxer briefs, a look of abject panic in his eyes.

“The process has already started, Logan,” he said gently, “You should not resist Contact. You cannot resist it. And why resist it? Contact is wonderful and sexy and right. Just look what it did for me.” Scotty flexed his new muscles, then pulled down the waistband of his briefs to show off his enlarged cock, which was already fully erect at the sight of his friend being penetrated by Contact’s tendrils. “Just imagine how many more followers you will gain with a body like this. Just imagine how many of them you can influence. Just imagine how many of them will be making Contact, all because they want to follow you.”

The thought got Scotty so hot, he couldn’t help but rub the tip of his hard dick against the small of Logan’s back. He could feel the quicksilver tendrils around the base of Logan’s spine rise to the surface, magnetically attracted to the same tendrils threaded through his cock. Soon Logan himself would feel the same way, and they would be able to act on that magnetic attraction.

And soon Scotty would be all over Logan’s Instagram feed, usually with the two of them together in revealing photos with hashtags like #MuscleBros and #BodyTransformation and #Contact. And Scotty and Logan would finally feel like equals, both working tirelessly as influencers. Only neither of them cared about building Logan’s personal brand anymore. All they cared about was building Contact’s brand, until it was branded around the waist of every man in the world.

Mind control
Wanking material
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