The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Come on, are you chicken?”

To be honest, I was. My whole childhood I had chickened out of everything. But on that day, a few weeks short of my 17th birthday, I was at the peak of a rising need to feel a little more “in”.

“Bwaak bok bok!” the shining chicken impression came from my “arch nemesis”, Shawn, the perfect, rich, athletic, popular kid. Now we were standing at the top of a 50 foot cliff overlooking the river. I looked down to the opposite bank... a dozen others from my school were looking up at Shawn and me. Most of them expecting me to chicken out, I imagined.

Over the next several years I would re-live this moment over and over. I remember the sequence of events exactly. Without another word, I took a step back, and started to run forward. At the same moment, Shawn decided he would simply push me over the edge. He didn’t realize I was going to move forward, so his push landed on the left side of my back. He pushed with just enough force to throw me off, causing my left foot to slip. I fell. Head-first, and too close to the cliff. I remember seeing this little tree, growing out of the side of the cliff, upside-down in my vision.

Then I didn’t see another thing for two years.

It’s hard to describe what happened in those two years. At first, it was like dreaming... a constant flow of visions, fleetingly remembered. I dreamed of falling, over and over, from a mountainous cliff topped with a fiery demon, tiny winged minions watching from the opposite shore, below me a bubbling vat of boiling oil dotted with patches of flame.

On my millionth plummet from the cliff, I wished for the millionth time that I could miss the wall of rock. For the first time, I did.

I didn’t end up in the water, either. I was in a restaurant, eating a huge burger. I finished, and the waitress came and asked if I wanted anything else. I asked fro a milkshake, and eventually ordered every item on the menu.

From there on, I had steadily increasing control of my dreams. I explored my own imaginary world. After a time, I realized that I wasn’t just asleep. I thought I might be dead, but it felt a little too much like sleep to be dead. As I was ruminating on my situation, it came to me, unprovoked.

“It’s a shame, he’s kinda cute.”

It “felt” odd. I concentrated on where it had come from.

“Head trauma... antibiotics... mystery...” The words came fleetingly. As I concentrated, I wished that I could tune in like on a radio.

And so I was sitting in a car, my old beat up car, with an old beat up radio. I reached down and tried to “tune” in on the words. A moment later it was crystal clear.

“Maybe after work I will go visit Amber. No, I should study...” I listened in, trying to understand. The words weren’t coming from my head. I thought maybe my ears were working, and I could hear someone around me.

“Oh no, here comes Dr. Hands. Maybe that’s not fair—I mean, it’s his word against hers. But the way he looks at me—there he goes again. He always looks down my shirt. I bet he misses the days when all the nurses wore skirts.”

I realized that I wasn’t hearing her speak—I was hearing her think. I listened as she went about her work, first taking my vital signs and what not and then going on to the next room. When she went to the room after that, though, I couldn’t hear her any more. I went back to my dreams.

Some time later, she came back in “range”. From her thoughts I judged it to be the next day. She was preoccupied with a tough test at school.

“Hello there, Sleepy,” she thought as she walked into the room. “How are you today?”

Over the next weeks, I didn’t try to change the “channel”. i just waited patiently for my evening nurse to come by so I could keep up on her life. As I learned to explore her thoughts, I found out that her name was Nancy, that she was 22 and a nurse’s assistant studying to become a registered nurse. She was single, mostly because of her busy lifestyle, and rarely dated, although all the male nurses and doctors were after her. I took this to mean that she was attractive, which she seemed to agree with.

Gradually I could tune in to her farther and farther away—I started catching her as she got off the bus. One night, I listened as she tried to pick her dinner at the cafeteria.

“Chef salad or quiche?” She asked herself.

I’m not a big Quiche fan. “Go for the chef salad,” I thought to myself.

“I think I’ll go for the chef salad,” she thought. I was a little intrigued at the coincidence. I started to wonder if it was more than that.

“Eat desert in Sleepy’s room,” I thought in the same way I had before.

Though she was a little puzzled at the idea, she took her pudding upstairs and sat in a chair in my room to eat it. She was feeling sorry for me and my family, and wondering if I’d ever wake up. She finished her pudding and went on her way, pausing on her way out to squeeze my hand.

An hour later she came back into my room with the stuff for my sponge bath. This was the first time I’d known her to give me one. She started with my upper body, taking her time and cleaning me as best she could. Then she moved down, switching to my legs. Knowing that she was working on my legs, I concentrated on them, trying hard to detect any sensation. I followed her thoughts as she did my knees, thighs. As she did my upper thigh I felt it: the gentle sensation of the damp sponge on my skin. I followed it briefly, then lost it.

Then, she pulled the gown all the way up. She chuckled. “Looks like sleepy is a little turned on! I wonder what that means? Maybe I should tell the doctor.”

“It’s normal, you don’t need to get the doctor,” I suggested.

She looked closely at it, somewhat intrigued by the sign of life I was exhibiting. She seemed somewhat impressed by its size as well. From her impressions, I guessed it had grown over the last couple years.

She carefully cleaned my upper thighs and scrotum. I was shocked to feel more sensations—her gloved hands and the slightly rough sponge against my skin were electric, and inflamed my erection, making it throb slightly.

“Touch it,” I told her. Glancing behind her at the closed door, she tentatively touched my shaft with her hand. I felt the pressure clearly. If any sensation could get through from my body to my brain, it was a little attention from a cute nurse. “Stroke it a little, it will be good for him” I told her.

She looked around nervously and wrapped her hand around my cock. Slowly she moved her hand up and down around my cock, gripping it gently, as if afraid to hurt me. The sensation grew stronger, and I was thrilled.

“Take off the gloves,” I said.

She hesitated slightly but complied. The feeling of her smooth hands on my shaft was great. She started moving faster, gripping my dick a little more firmly. She was really nervous about getting caught, and wanted to get this over with.

“Suck it,” I thought, and she complied.

Now, even before the accident I had never gotten head. The sensation was more intense than anything I had ever felt. The nerves of my cock were alive with pleasure. The inside of her mouth felt like the smoothest velvet. She pressed her tongue against the bottom as she slowly bobbed up and down on it, holding the base with her right hand and rubbing my balls with her left.

She pulled up off me with a pop, giving my saliva-wet cock a stroke along its full length. Then she licked down one side of my cock to my balls, lavishing them for a moment, then went back up the other side to the top again. After lingering for a moment, she quickly sucked half of it back in, taking me to the back of her mouth. She went at it full-bore, sucking as deep as she could, gagging as my cockhead ticked her throat.

I was about to cum. “Swallow his cum,” I told her, “swallow it all.”

She pulled up some on my cock and stroked it as I began to spurt, leaving just the head in her mouth. I saw a bright light as my sperm shot into her mouth, over and over, two years worth of it, filling her mouth as fast as she could swallow. Some of it spilled out of her mouth over my cock and her hand, and dripping onto the sheet below me. As my ejaculation slowed, she stroked my cock slowly and attempted to lick the remainder of my cum from where it had spilled.

I realized with a start that I could see her. With my eyes. Physically. The first thing I could see since the little tree on the cliff was this hot little blonde nurse, in her floral-printed scrubs, hair in a bun, doing her best to eat all of my copious load. I could hear her lips smacking as she slurped all over my flagging cock. As she started to cover me up, I passed out.

When I awoke, I could hear but not see. I listened intently all day to the comings and goings. My brother came to visit, and read an entire newspaper to me. I was quite touched at his dedication. Taking a venture, I zeroed in on his presence, and was able to read his thoughts as well. It seemed he wasn’t the only one who was dedicated to helping me—between my parents, both brothers, my best friend, and sundry other people I knew, it seemed I hardly spent a day alone.

Over the next couple days, I started listening to everyone near me. Nancy wasn’t there—it was her weekend. I experimented with getting other people to say and do things—but nothing too odd.

When Nancy came by again, she was rather nervous as she came into my room. She went about checking my vitals and whatnot. She had it in her mind never to take such a chance again.

I wasn’t about to let that happen. I let her go on with her rounds but kept sending her signals. By the time her dinner break came around, she was ready. Her heart raced as she quietly stepped into my room and began removing her clothes.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she said.

Nonetheless, she pulled down my covers and pulled my gown up. My cock was already hard with anticipation. She stroked it lightly a few times and then sucked it into her mouth, lavishing it with saliva. I felt the weight of her body on the bed and then on top of me, and she lifted my cock up, holding it in position as she moved her moist slit over it, slowly pressing my cock-head against her hot vagina. Slowly she sank down on me, impaling herself, stifling a moan.

In moments she was riding me like a champion cowgirl. I felt my vision return and enjoyed the sight of her completely nude body bouncing up and down on my prone form. She didn’t see my eyes open, as she had closed her own, deep in her passion. The situation was overwhelmingly sexy for both of us, and in just a few minutes, we both reached climax, and she barely stifled a moan as my sperm shot deep into her depths. I closed my eyes then, not wanting her to notice yet. As soon as she had caught her breath, she quickly dressed and started to clean me. Once I was clean she covered me back up and leaned down to kiss me on the cheek.

As soon as she was close, I opened my eyes. She stopped in her tracks, eyes wide. There was a long pause. I felt my limbs, felt my control returning.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice hoarse and off kilter. She nearly jumped out of her shoes.

“How long...”

“I woke up just now. During,” I lied slightly. “I guess this is some kind of new therapy?”

She blushed deeply. “I don’t know what got into me, it just seemed like a good idea. Uh, look, though—can you keep it a secret? I’ll lose my job if anyone finds out.”

“Sure. So long as you let me take you to dinner once I can get around again. How long have I been like this anyway?”

She picked up my chart and looked at it. “Two years. They were starting to change your prognosis.”

“Well, how’s it look now?”

“I would say, good.”

Like a whirlwind, there were a dozen people there. Doctors, nurses, parents, family, then reporters. I couldn’t stand or walk very well so I stayed in bed. They kept me down for a week while they ran some tests then they started me on physical therapy.

After a couple weeks of PT, I could stand, walk and get around okay, although I was a little slow. Everyone was amazed. On my last visit to the therapist, I figured I’d try another kind of therapy.

The therapist’s receptionist was hot. She was a young college student, probably 19 or 20, a short raven haired mexican beauty. She always wore fairly short skirts, and was quite entertaining to watch walk around and do her work. She had full hips and a nicely rounded ass that minimized the length of any skirt, and wore soft silk blouses with low necklines that showed off her amazing cleavage. She had seen me on the news and was quite interested in me. Her name was Maria.

I suggested that the therapist leave and send in Maria. He put up a sign and went to lunch, so we wouldn’t be bothered. As she walked in, I suggested to her that she was bored, horny, and wanted to do something naughty. She already seemed to be attracted to me, but I pumped that up a couple notches. I didn’t tell her to accept my advances, I wanted to try it myself.

“Hi,” she said, “Dr. Thomas asked me to help you fill out this paperwork. She sat down next to me at the table and wrote down my answers to the questions. I looked down her blouse as she read me the questions. I could see much of the form of her amazing boobs, including part of one nipple. Reading her mind, I knew that they were a little over a D-cup.

As she finished the paper, I put my hand on her knee. She gasped and locked eyes with me. Looking deep in her brown eyes, I slid my hand up her skirt, feeling the soft skin of her thighs. I felt heat radiating from her crotch, and I could already smell the scent of sex permeating the room. My hand reached her thong panties and started feeling and teasing the skin around her mound.

“I was thinking, I’m done with the doctor’s therapy, but I could use some of the kind of therapy you can give me.”

I waited for her response. It was physical, not verbal. She lunged forward, pulling me into a passionate kiss. We explored each others mouths, breaking only briefly to pull each others tops off. I fondled her breasts through her bra. They were amazing... soft, warm, heavy in my hands. They had an amazing posture... even once I removed her bra, they stood out amazingly, for their size anyway.

I was lost in her breasts, but she had other plans. She pulled one of my hands down to her now sopping pussy. I pushed the panties aside and started stroking her soft lips up and down, wetting my finger, rubbing her clit, reading her mind to find out just where her favorite spots were.

Suddenly I stopped and stood, leaving her panting. I pulled her to her feet and pushed her over the table. Her amazing breasts were squished between her and the table, emerging excitingly from the sides of her body. I flipped up her skirt and looked at the amazing sight of her ass while I undressed. The round orbs of her ass beckoned me, set off nicely by her skewed thong underwear, and jiggled ever so slightly when she moved. She wiggled her pussy at me.

“Come on, put it in, hurry, I need to cum!” she begged, looking back over her shoulder. I stepped forward and moved her thong to one side, then slowly pushed my hard cock in to her wet pussy. She was very tight, and I could tell that she’d never been with a guy as big as me. I started moving back and forth slowly, and her depths gradually opened to me. After a dozen strokes, I was pushing against her cervix, my cock almost fully engulfed inside her.

I grabbed her by her luscious hips and started building up speed. She was loud, moaning and urging me on. I reached around and pressed one finger against her clit, rubbing it in a circle. Immediately she came on my cock, her pussy pulsating and her body shuddering. I slowed down for her orgasm, then started fucking her again, even faster than before.

“Come on, take my cock!” I told her, smacking her fleshy ass cheek with my hand.

“Ooooh yeah baby bring me off again!” she was pushing back to meet me on each stroke and the movement was causing her tits to shift back and forth under her, still pressed against the table. I pulled out and moved her to the sofa. Laying her down, I slid back in and picked up my rhythm. I started squeezing her boobs again, sucking on her hard nipples. I loved the way they felt in my hands, the perfect embodiment of womanly sexuality. I squeezed them in time with my fucking, alternately pressing them together and pulling them apart.

“Are you on the pill?” I asked her.

“No,” she said, panting.

I made a suggestion to her: when I bite your nipple, you will have an orgasm.

I took three more hard, fast thrusts and then bit down on her right nipple. She sprung like a coiled spring. She began bucking and thrashing around on the sofa, one hand going to her breast, the other to her pussy as I pulled out. Giving my cock a quick stroke, I shot my load, the first gob crossing her arm as she reached down across her smooth tummy, the second clear up to land on her orgasmic face, biting her lip, eyes closed. The remainder went everywhere, covering the dark skin of her stomach, breasts, and neck with my hot white jizz.

And so began my new life.