The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Cyndi groaned deeply, eyes closed tightly, rolling around underneath the covers. Her hands slipped deftly between thighs already wet and slick from her self-ministrations, easily finding her hard little nubbin, teasing it deftly as long tapered fingers plunged deep into her squishy soft depths. Her eyelids fluttered rapidly, deep in the midst of an erotic dream of submission, degradation, and pleasure, mirroring that of the night before, only more so. Just as she was about to reach the apex, however, the face of her dream lover changed, from female to male, becoming the familiar visage of her dearest closest friend. Instead of fighting it as she had days before, this time she accepted it, embracing it, spreading her legs wider as she dreamed of taking his powerful manhood deeper into her emptiness, and letting him fill her in ways she could only imagine.

“Oohhhh... Johhhnnnyyyy” she cried out in her sleep, cumming for the fourth time that night, before settling back into a peaceful night’s sleep once more. A soft sigh turned into a gentle snore, and she rolled over onto her side. Inside her sleeping mind, however, her psyche continued to process what was going on inside her, trying to reconcile the grossly conflicting sexual desires running rampant in her subconscious. At the very core of her being an ivory statue of herself, of Cynthia Jacobs, began to crack slightly, as her sexuality as a lesbian, the strongest part of her identity, began to come under doubt.

Why am I? she asked herself, as more cracks began to appear. I’ve always been so sure of myself... sure of what I was... what I wanted out of life... of who I was... More cracks began to form. How can I be feeling this way about a guy... about ANY guy, even Johnny? I love him... I’ve always loved him... but not THAT kind of love. More cracks, and small pieces of marble began to crumble and rain down. Now, suddenly... I’m so weak.. submissive... so unlike what I usually am... and fantasizing about having sex with a man... More bits of marble crumbled and rained down. What’s happened to me? Is it... mind control? Johnny... he did hypnotize me... he could have... changed my sexuality somehow? No... no. I trust Johnny. I trust him completely, more than anyone else in the whole world. He wouldn’t do anything like that. And besides... he couldn’t even if he wanted to. Hypnosis can’t change a person that deeply, it can’t make a person do anything they wouldn’t normally do. Cracks appeared further on the statue, now covering nearly every inch of the somehow still intact form... but no more pieces rained down, as the damage seemed to subside for the moment.

In bed, Cyndi sighed again, rolling back onto her back, drifting off into a calming, dreamless sleep.

I knew something was wrong the next time I saw Cyndi. She looked tired and restless, even though there was a blissful smile seemingly etched into her face. It was disturbing, almost like looking into the face of the Joker. I wondered if something had happened to cause such an obvious change in her demeanor.

“Hey, Cyn,” I said, welcoming her in my apartment. “You look beat, kiddo. Want some coffee?”

“Sure. A cup of Joe sounds really good right now,” she said yawning slightly. “Excuse me. I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep last night.” Her grin turned wicked. “What can I say? The Madam takes her play time seriously.”

I merely rolled my eyes, bringing her a mug of coffee, black with three spoons of sugar. “Gee, thanks for that. Some of us still sleep alone at night, you know? Anyway... how many ‘dates’ have you and she been on this week? Two? Three?”

“Nah. Last night was lucky number four,” she said, gulping down the hot acidic liquid like it was water. “Goddess... what a night! Have you ever heard of ‘pony play’, Johnny?”

I sputtered, nearly choking at her causal nonchalant tone. “P...pony play? Ah... y-y-yeah, I think I’ve heard the phrase before once or twice. Um... yeah. Sure.” Cyndi giggled.

“Oh wow. You’re actually blushing!” she teased. “Johnny, sometimes you are just too cute! I could just eat you up with a spoon!”

I chuckled again, softly, feeling strangely uncomfortable with the entire conversation. “Um, well... Cyndi... you’ve started being very, um... open with your new relationship. I know we’re pals, but you really don’t have to share ALL the gory details with me you know.”

“Why not? I’m not boring you, am I?” Cyndi replied, frowning. “I mean, you said yourself, it’s not exactly like your dance card is full at the moment.” She crossed her arms. “If you don’t want to hear about what I’ve been up to, then fine. I’ll just keep my mouth shut.”

I sighed deeply. “Cyndi, hon, it’s not like that. Sorry if I offended you. I’m just... I’m a little worried about you, that’s all. You just don’t seem... quite yourself.”

Cyndi gasped, whirling around to stare at me. I blinked, and she forced a smile on her face. “Wha... what makes you say that, Johnny? Have I been... acting strange?”

I knew then that something was definitely wrong. I considered all the parts of my well thought out and intricate plan, and the timeline, and everything Cyndi had told me about her current sexual activities, and added in her tiredness and the bags under her eyes. Two words came immediately to mind. Oh and Shit.

“So, um, Cyndi, you, um, you haven’t said what your plans are for tomorrow? Are you supposed to head back to home to the West Coast tomorrow evening, or are you planning to extend your vacation until your parents get back on Sunday?”

She sighed softly. “I dunno. I really do need to get back... even a freelance computer programmer-slash-technician can’t stay out of the office indefinitely. I was... going to break the news to Madam tonight that I had to leave town.” Cyndi sat back down on the couch, legs crossed, idly kicking her leg. “Not really looking forward to that. I know I know... it’s a casual relationship, no strings, just a couple of hot chicks meeting up then moving on... but still, there was a real connection between us.” She sighed. “I don’t really know what I feel about it. Part of me is sad at the idea of not seeing her again... but another part is... kind of relieved? I dunno... all I know is that I must have tossed and turned half the night thinking about it.”

I nodded slowly, watching her leg kick. Cyndi had really nice legs. Not that she liked showing them off. For the most part, she was content to cover herself in button up flannel shirts, faded blue jeans, blue or black, denim or leather, and kept her feet in either heavy biker boots or sneakers, like now. Until our date the first night last week, I hadn’t even known she’d ever owned any other types of clothes. It occurred to me that despite the closeness we’d shared growing up, there was a lot about this remarkable beautiful creature that I didn’t know.

I was something of a chess master, able to see the board several moves ahead, able to anticipate my opponent’s moves and plan accordingly, to guide them into whatever scenario I chose simply because I knew beforehand every possible outcome. The problem with choosing to muck around with Cyndi’s mind, and attempt to alter her sexual orientation was that I did not truly know her mind. Yes, I knew a lot about her personality, her likes and dislikes, and how she responded in certain situations... but I didn’t really know the reason for those reactions. Knowing the WHAT or the HOW is not the same as knowing the WHY, a very important difference when making changes to someone’s psyche. And I was very very concerned that I had made a really big mistake.

“Well, I gotta get going, Johnny,” Cyndi said with a sigh, getting back to her feet. “Madam requested a quiet evening in tonight, and I promised I’d handle the food.” She smirked. “And since the only thing I’m able to make without burning the shit out of it is cereal, I need to do some searching around for places that deliver.” She paused in front of him before heading to the door. “I’d invite you along too, but the Madam wanted tonight to be just a quiet night for the two of us. Anyway, I’ll stop by to see you before I head to the airport tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure,” I said hesitantly, wanting to hug her, wanting to kiss her, wanting to say the magic words to put her into a deep obedient trance so i could try and fix all of this before it got even worse. I hesitated... then she took the initiative and hugged me, tightly, pulling me into a deep embrace. So close that I could smell her, smell her scent, like strawberries and musk, and something else, a light vanilla scent... perfume, despite the fact that she HATED perfume, lipstick, and makeup with a passion. She pulled back a bit, smiling at me, looking me deep in the eye... and I simply couldn’t help myself. I kissed her.

And Cyndi kissed me back.

Strong wiry arms wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me in even tighter, her tongue surging forward, penetrating my lips, surprising me with its sudden boldness, and passion, as my beautiful lesbian best friend pressed her sexy body hard against mine, hungry for more. Breathless, I finally managed to regain something akin to sanity and pushed her away gently but firmly, two pairs of glazed eyes staring into each other.

“Cyndi,” I said, trying to catch my breath, “this isn’t you. You... you have to calm down...”

“No,” she said softly, her voice a growl, as she pushed herself forward, pushing me backwards, onto the couch. I yelped, falling backwards, as she dropped down lithely into my lap. “I want this, Johnny. I need this. I need to know... need to know if what I’m feeling is real... if I’m really the person I think I am inside... or someone else!” Hands moved down to my pants in a frenzy, trying desperately to free what had been growing steadily since the moment our lips had touched. Breathing rapidly, I paused for a second, almost letting her continue, letting her do EXACTLY what I’d wanted her to do all this time, freely, of her own free will...

Except, my stupid fucking shitfaced asshole of a conscience reminded me, it wasn’t of her own free will.

“No, Cyn,” I said firmly, marshaling the shredded remains of my self-control, grabbing her hands before she could pull down my zipper, “You can’t do this. You’re... not in control of yourself right now. You’re just... confused,” I added lamely. “It’s... it’s my fault. I’m sorry... I just.. I can’t let you do something that you might regret later—”

“But I won’t regret it!” she said savagely, pulling free of me, tumbling back to the other end of the couch. Placing both feet on the floor, panting softly, her face and body deeply flushed, she stared hard at me. “Dammit Johnny... don’t you get it? I have to do this... I have to know who and what I am!” A soft thunk sounded from the floor, and I looked down to see one of Cyndi’s boots hitting the floor. A second later, she kicked off the second one, and raised her sock covered feet up onto the couch, pointing her toes in my direction. “I know what you were feeling that night you called me in a drunken stupor and confessed your love for me,” she continued, reaching down to slowly roll down her left sock. She smirked now, knowing she had my full and undivided attention. “I know you love me, Johnny. I know... because I love you too. I always have.”

“No,” I whispered weakly, shaking my head, my eyes still glued to the floor show, as her long tapered fingers rolled the cotton socks down to her heels. “You’re just... just... caught up in the mood... you don’t really mean it...”

“Yes, I do,” she countered firmly, sliding her socks down even further, half-on, half-off her small thin shapely feet. “I have always loved you, Johnny... ever since that first day we met in Kindergarten. I knew you were special... that we were connected... that we were soul mates.” The teasing continued, as she rolled her socks down with agonizing slowness, with only the tops of her feet still covered. “And then puberty hit, and I discovered the wonder of loving another girl, of feeling her soft gentle curves against my own, the smell, the taste, the... mmm...” she sighed softly, losing herself in the moment, giving me half a breath to try and compose myself to resist.

“And I pushed aside what I felt for you,” she continued then, eyes bright and clear, looking back into my own once more, pinning me with her stare. “You, Johnny. You, singular. I was caught up in lust, so focused on the tingles in my pussy and the fire in my belly that I didn’t stop to notice the softer, gentler, less potent but just as real love I felt for you. The attraction was always there, Johnny... it just paled compared to what I had experienced with other girls. And... it confused me... because I don’t feel any attraction at all for any other guy. None. Zero. Zip. Only for you... and I just couldn’t reconcile the way I felt about you with the fact that you were male too. But now... I want to know. I have to know.” And with that, knowing she had me wavering, kicked the socks off the edges of her toes and reeled me in.

“P... pink...” I sputtered, breathlessly, my brain fogging up from lack of blood. Cynthia Jacobs, beautiful petite thing that she was, very much the image of a lipstick lesbian without the lipstick, who abhorred frilly, feminine, and prissy, who would only color her paint her fingernails on nothing less than pain of death, and even then, only black, had painted her toenails a soft pastel PINK! “Pink...” I said again, the word stuck on my tongue, in my head, in my vision, which was starting to seriously tunnel in from the lack of blood flow to my brain, even as ‘Little Johnny’ downstairs did his level best to become ‘Big Johnny’ and control the situation from here on in.

“Do you like them?” Cyndi asked demurely, curling her toes cutely. “I painted them just for you, Johnny, earlier this morning. Only for you. Not even Madam has seen my toes painted like this.” She reached down for my zipper again, and this time I was unable to stop her. She gasped aloud as my manhood sprung upwards and out, freed from captivity, staring at it in wonder as intently as I stared at her shiny pink colored toes. One hand reached out hesitantly, fear warring with curiosity, until finally curiosity won, I groaned softly as her warm soft hand enveloped my member, giving it a gently squeeze. “Wow,” she breathed softly, eyes alight with wonder. “It’s so... warm. And soft... and hard at the same time.”

“Pink,” I said again, gurgling slightly. Dammit, I had something important to say, something I needed to express to my friend before the situation, which I’d obviously lost total control of, became completely FUBARed. “Pink, pink, pink,” I said helplessly, as ‘Big Johnny’ had now apparently appropriated the part of my frontal lobe responsibility for my vocabulary and language skills.

“Ahhh... I see,” Cyndi said mysteriously, releasing my cock, sliding back to the other end of the couch. “I know what you want, Johnny. And, actually... yeah... I think it might be better this way for both of us.” Unzipping her own jeans, she quickly shucked them off, tossing them to the floor, now lying on the couch in a baggy T-shirt, black lace panties, and her pink painted toes. Before I even begin to question what she was up to, she answered my unspoken question by stretching her legs and planting her feet in my lap... and wrapping her soft tender peds firmly around my cock, stroking it lovingly. A deep groan escaped from both of us at the same time, and I managed to tear my eyes away from the mind-blowing action happening at my cock to see my beautiful Cyndi had pushed aside her panties, and was furiously pumping away at her hot needy snatch.

“Uugggnnnn,” I managed to groan out, as her long slender toes curled like little fingers, stroking me with a skill I could have never imagined. My manhood grew impossibly hard from the sensation, harder than I’d ever been, and the part of me still capable of rational thought wondered idly why I hadn’t had a stroke yet from the sheer loss of blood to the brain Cyndi was causing me. “Uhhhhggnnn,” I grunted again, as my brain just gave up the fight and shut down, running on animal instinct instead, putting my energies in prolonging the experience as long as possible... something my rational side would have called an impossibility from the level of arousal I was at, and the sparsity of actual sexual release I’d had lately. I had apparently managed somehow, though, as moments later, I heard Cyndi’s own frantic cries of sexual need overshadowing my own.

“OOOOHHH GAAAAWWWDDEESSS,” she yelled, her waist humping hard into her own hand, her feet nearly gripping my cock in a death grip as she teetered on the edge of release. “Cum with me, Johnny,” she gasped, shuddering, her feet spasming as her toes spread and curled frantically, back and forth. “Goddess, cum with me... cum for me, Johnny.... cum for me... I need it... need to feel it... need to know... need to know... neeeeddd tttooo... ooohhhhhh gaaaaaaawwwdd yeeeeeessssss!!”

And boom goes the dynamite, Cleveland’s voice from Family Guy spoke in the back of my head as I followed suit, literally EXPLODING my pleasure. I shook, I groaned, I clenched and stretched, giving my very best impression of an epileptic in the midst of a seizure. I would have given myself second place, however, as first place would have gone to my beautiful sexy lover shuddering like crazy just a few feet away as her own orgasm ripped through her, wringing her out like a washcloth. After a few seconds—or maybe a few eons, my ability to discern time for the moment was spotty at best—we both calmed down, slumping back down to the couch, utterly sated. Cyndi’s legs were lying akimbo on top of mine, so I pulled them back straight, grasping her bare, cum soaked feet, and giving them a nice relaxing rub.

“OOhhhh... mmmm... that feels so nice,” she said softly, eyes closed. “Mmmm... I think about now... I could probably cum again... from just the way you’re... rubbing my feet...”

I sighed softly, giving her deserving peds a few more minutes of pampering as I let my brain reboot itself. I was still fucked, figuratively speaking, if not, technically, in the literal sense. I suppose in a way, that was my one saving grace. Because, as nice and enjoyable as everything was at the moment, I knew how fucked up it really was.

Cyndi had come onto me this way because I had damaged her psyche. I’d meant to make the transition more seamless, like a blending of sexual desires and kinks. The idea had been to, hopefully, make her bi-sexual, or at least bi-curious, to the point where she would open mindedly consider her attraction to me physically as well as emotionally. I’d meant to nudge the option to her, to gently poke and prod her with her, get it circling in the back of her mind, until eventually, she got used to it enough to accept it. Instead, the idea of her sexuality itself had been damaged, and with it her very psyche. I’d sent too many big changes at her too soon and too fast, and she hadn’t been able to cope.

The only way to fix this, to save her sanity, and hopefully undo the damage I’d already inflicted, was to solve the emotional paradox I’d stuck inside her head. I had to break the deadlock. And I had to reveal exactly what I’d done to her to put her into this state in the first place.

“Cyndi, hon,” I said wearily, sliding her feet out of my lap as I stood up. “I need to tell you something... and show you something. I need for you not to get upset... or freak out... at least until I’m finished, okay?” She opened her eyes, still smiling, languishing in the bliss of aftershocks. “Can you do that for me, hon? Please?”

“Sure, thing, sport,” she said with a sigh. “I’d do anything for you.”

Just giving the ol’ dagger a final twist. “Cynthia... I lied to you. I tricked you. I set you up... set all this up... and even if you hate me for it, even if you never want to talk to me again, I have to tell you the truth. I... I took advantage of your trust in me... and while I had you hypnotized... I put the idea of you being sexually attracted to me in your head.” Her smile faded. “I’m sorry. I just... I wanted to show you... prove to you, that it was possible,,, that you COULD enjoy sex with a man, one you knew and were close to, one that you were already friends with... one who you shared secrets with... one that cared about you as deeply as you cared about him...”

“Wait... wait a minute,” she said in a low soft voice, sitting up. “Are you trying to tell me that everything I’ve been feeling over the past week... was a lie? That this... indecision... this... this... feeling that has been driving my literally out of my mind for the past week... this was your doing?”

Okay. She was pissed. Very pissed. But she hadn’t gotten violent yet, so that was a good sign.. wasn’t it? “Yeah,” I admitted, looking down, unable to meet her eyes anymore. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t... it wasn’t supposed to work out that way. The commands I put in your mind were supposed to just leave you open to the possibility... supposed to just make you curious, maybe eager, to explore new things... to try something outside your normal comfort zone. That’s all! I wanted you curious about what it would be like... not haunted or desperate to find out. I made a mistake—”

“Damn right you did!” she snapped angrily, hands clenched into fists. “You... you toyed around inside my head, Johnny! In my head! ME! We’re supposed to be best friends! I mean... not that I would wish this last week on my worst enemy or anything,” she snarled, making me flinch inwardly, “but dammit, how could you do this to ME of all people? I trusted you... and you used that trust to get in the sack with me!” Her face was red, and her nostrils were flaring. She was barely restraining her rage now, I could tell. “Your little ‘open-minded’ commands... that’s probably why Madam and I hit it off so well, isn’t it? She was a Domme, looking for a challenge, a new girl to break, to train into her obedient little sub,” she said bitterly, eyes starting to tear up. “She’s the kind of woman I’d normally shy away from, the kind of girl I’d never go home with... but because of what you did to me, I let her completely redefine who I was... who I am! Now, I’m supposed to meet up with her tonight, to let her know that I am going back home to San Jose. tomorrow. How am I supposed to face her? Huh? What do I say to her? What can I possibly say to explain the reason why I let her do all those things to me?”

“I...” I said, closing my eyes. This part was the worst part of all. The straw that would break the camel’s back. What would be worse, I wondered, mustering up the courage for this last step, to hurt her emotionally this way but restore her sense of self, her identity... or to spare her this one last thing, and trust that it was enough to seal away the self-doubts she had about herself and her sexuality? My bloody shit of a conscience was laughing darkly, muttering a non-stop litany of ‘I told you so’s’ just to put things into perspective. This was going to suck... but even if she hated me forever, at least she would be herself again.

“Cyndi... you don’t have to worry about explaining yourself to Joanne.” She looked at me again, eyebrow raised, knowing something else was coming, just waiting for the other shoe to drop to know how to react. Unfortunately, it was one of Shaq’s size sixteens. “Dr. Joanne Sutton... doesn’t exist. She’s a.. figment of your imagination... .she’s well...” Deep breath. “She’s me.”

“What?”

“I’m Joanne,” I said dimly, looking down at my feet. “Another little, um... hypnotic command... whenever I say the phrase, ‘Extreme Dislocation’—”

Cyndi blinked in surprise, taking a step back as, in her eyes, I transformed into a beautiful sexy black woman with short wavy hair. “—you see and hear me as Joanne, or Madam, as you’ve come to know her. Er, me. I mean... you know what I mean.” I looked up, laughing weakly. “And, um… ‘Disenfranchised Elocution’ returns me back to my normal look. Heh. So, um... there’s no need to worry about hurting her feelings—”

At which point Cyndi hurt me physically by punching my lights out.