The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Arriving home from an unsurprisingly unsuccessful date, I immediately went and found my roommate to bitch to him about it. It wasn’t hard—he was in my room, trying to fix the strange colors that my monitor was suddenly showing. It started when he put some anti-virus software on my computer, so I guess he felt responsible.

“How’d it go?” he asked, as I slumped onto my bed, my unhappiness obvious.

“A disaster. Again.”

Simon knew well of my recent dating problems. I kept him updated—he was always happy to lend an ear, thank goodness.

“There,” he said. “That should fix it.”

Standing up, he went into the lounge room, and I followed him, scuffing my feet. I collapsed onto a couch, and he fetched me a drink (I don’t know why it took him so long) and sat on the sofa opposite.

“Now,” he said, staring me straight in the eyes. “Tell me all about it.”

For the next fifteen minutes, I regaled him with the tale of the latest in a string of truly terrible dates. He nodded, sympathized and laughed at all the right places as I drank down the whiskey and soda he’d fetched me, and tried to ignore the steady, rhythmic ticking of the clock (was it always that loud?) in the room with us.

“I just don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I eventually sighed, and fixed him with a strong glare as he unsuccessfully tried to hold back a smile. “What? What is it?”

“Oh, come on…” he scoffed. “Are you kidding me, Karen?”

“What?” I asked defensively. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s the elephant in the room, Kaz. Or the closet, I suppose.”

“Are you saying…”

“Yes, Karen,” he said, staring intensely into my eyes, a slightly unusual tone entering his voice. “I’m saying you’re a lesbian.”

We sat there in silence for a few seconds, maintaining eye contact all the while as I finished my drink and tried to work out how to respond.

“Why do you say that?” I eventually asked, and a slight smile came across his face.

“Well…” he said, hesitating slightly.

“What? What is it?”

“I mean, to begin with, you must admit—you’ve got an awful track record with men.”

I wanted to deny it, but I couldn’t. I’d never dated a guy for more than a week or two—it was if something about me actively repulsed them. I know I’m attractive, mind you—I’ve got a great body, and I’ve never been shy about showing it off. I figure if you’ve got boobs and an ass like mine, why not let the world see them?

And since I’d started watching the exercise tapes Simon had lent me, I’d gotten into way better shape. I’ve always been curvy, but to my surprise when I started losing the pounds, my boobs stayed huge. I guess I’m just lucky.

“What else?”

“Well, there’s that friend of yours—Leslie. You and her are always hanging around.”

“Uh, yeah.” I said, rolling my eyes. “Sometimes people have friends. You should try it.”

Simon’s not a super-nerd or anything like that, but he doesn’t really go out much. He spends most of his time in his room, or working on little projects around the house. Just a month or two ago, he insisted that we switch the whole house to solar power, and replaced all our light globes with fluorescent ones. They’re better for the environment or something like that, but they have this weird flicker. It was annoying at first, but I got used to it pretty quickly.

“I know she’s your friend, Karen, but…is that really all she is?”

“Yes!” I replied immediately, my cheeks burning up. I didn’t like where these questions were going.

“Fine,” he said. “Fine. What about your haircut?”

“Oh please!” I said, surprised by how much I was letting his words work me up. “Lots of straight chicks have short hair! What next, you’re going to say that I must be a dyke because my tongue is pierced?”

“Well…” he replied, and I stood up angrily.

“This is ridiculous! I’m not a lesbian!”

“C’mon, Kaz—it’s the 90s. It’s fine! Besides, I wouldn’t mind if people knew I had a gay housemate. It’s time to come out.”

I glared at him—I couldn’t have people thinking I was gay. Sure, it had become more acceptable over the years, but there was still a stigma about it that I didn’t want attached to me.

“Cut it out, Simon! Come on—what would I have to do to prove to you that I’m straight?”

“Look at my cock,” he replied instantly, as if he’d been waiting for me to ask. “Stare at my cock without being grossed out, and I might start to believe you.”

A part of me wanted to storm out, but I knew that he’d take that as a sign that he was right, and never let this drop. So after a few seconds of inner turmoil, I rolled my eyes and agreed to his terms.

With a smile, he stood up, pulled out his dick, and watched my face carefully.

And, I’m sad to say, I flinched. I don’t know why—his cock was actually quite beautiful. By far the best-looking one I’d ever seen.

“Ah ha!” he cried. “I told you!”

“No!” I said, hating how defensive I sounded. “Come on, that’s not fair—I wasn’t ready! And we’ve friends for six months now—of course I’m going to be a bit weirded out.”

“No, no,” he said, his cock slowly hardening before my eyes. “I’m right, and you know it. That’s why you’re having so much trouble with the guys…you, my dear Karen, are all about the ladies.”

I didn’t really want to do what I did next, but I just had to prove to him that I was gay. So without speaking, I stepped forward, wrapped my arms around him, and kissed Simon as passionately as I possibly could. He froze in shock, but soon his hands started roaming my body—which, I had to admit, felt nice—and actually seemed disappointed when I pulled back.

“Would a lesbian do that?” I asked, and felt my fury begin to rise as he simply shrugged in response. “Oh come on! Are you serious?”

“Making out doesn’t count,” he said coolly. “Everyone knows that. Go to a gay nightclub some time—lesbians and guy dudes make out all the time.”

“Fine,” I said. “How about this?”

A strange smile came across my roommate’s face as I knelt down in front of him, leaning forward and taking his cock in my mouth. I think he said something, but I shut my eyes and tried to focus entirely on giving my first ever blow-job, praying that I was doing it right.

For the next few minutes, my mouth bobbed up and down on his erection as I tried to avoid thinking about what I was doing. When I felt I’d made my point, I pulled away from his wet cock and smiled up at him triumphantly.

“Well?” I said, and again he just shrugged.

“Tasting a cock doesn’t make you straight, dude. If you were a lesbian trying to prove a point, of course you could lick my head for a few seconds—it doesn’t count unless you make me cum. Seriously, just leave it—so you’re a lesbian. So what? It genuinely doesn’t bother me.”

I wanted to speak, but I knew that I’d just go on a diatribe that would do nothing but confirm my homosexual status in Simon’s mind, so I went back to loudly sucking him off, attacking his cock with passion. I have no idea how long it normally takes, but after close to twenty minutes I felt Simon beginning to blow his loud.

Standing up, I crossed to the trash can in the corner of the room and spat it out, before turning back to Simon.

“Made you cum,” I said with a grin. “I told you I was straight.”

It took him a few moments to get his thoughts together, but when he did, he gestured at the receptacle that was now holding his seed.

“You spat it out,” he said in response. “And I don’t even think you got off from that. I’m sorry, Karen—maybe you’re just in denial—but you’ve got to admit, all the evidence points toward you being a total lezzo babe.”

I was so angry that I couldn’t even speak, and by the time I’d calmed down enough to retort, Simon had gotten up and left the room. I considered knocking on his door and inting on blowing him once more, but I’d had enough humiliation for one night. Instead I retired to my own bedroom, listening to the mix tape Simon had made me, just trying to calm down before going to sleep.

The next morning, I woke up to find music in my ears—apparently I’d fallen asleep with my headphones still in. To my surprise, I was still incredibly worked up—so much so that even though he was the target of my anger, I was considering crossing the hall and insisting that Simon hypnotize me, just so I could relax. A few weeks ago, he’d done some kind of online course, and I’d found sessions with him to be incredibly calming.

Instead, I tried to work out how I could convince him that I was straight. Remembering it was a Saturday, I glanced at the clock and saw that it was still early—Simon’s traditionally a late riser, especially on the weekends, and that gave me an idea.

A few minutes later, I had donned my sexiest set of lingerie, crossed the hall, and crawled onto Simon’s bed.

He awoke with a start, staring at me in shock.

“Karen?” he said groggily, and I removed his cock from my mouth to shush him.

“It’s okay…” I replied. “Just relax and enjoy.”

For the next fifteen minutes, I slowly and languidly gave Simon a blow-job. To ensure that my heterosexuality was as clear as possible, I played with myself as I did, one hand slipping between my legs to play with my clit, the other toying with Simon’s swollen balls.

Before long, he was again cumming inside my mouth. I’d carefully timed my orgasm to coincide with his, and after my eyes had finished fluttering with pleasure, I opened my mouth to show him the gift he’d given me, before loudly swallowing it.

Simon just stared at me, gobsmacked, and confident that I’d made my point, I blew him a kiss as I sauntered out of the room, confident that he was staring at my sashaying ass as I did.

He avoided me for the rest of the day, possibly embarrassed by how incredibly wrong I’d proven him to be, but around lunchtime, I heard a knock on my door, and leaped up to greet him (and accept the inevitable apology that he owed me).

“Hey Simon,” I said, tilting my head to the side and waiting expectantly.

“Hey,” he said, seeming distracted. “I need your bike helmet back.”

One of Simon’s little projects had been a bike helmet that was meant to be twice as safe as your normal helmet—I don’t know exactly how it worked, but it was covered in wires and made a weird humming noise for whole two-hour to and from work each day.

“Is that all?” I said, my disappointment evident on my face.

“Oh, that little stunt this morning?” he said dismissively. “Come on, Karen. Be honest—as soon as you got back into your room, you changed out of those panties and back into some nice, huge, oh-my-god-what-a-lesbian granny panties.”

“No,” I lied, a huge blush appearing on my face. What can I say? I’m a girl who likes her underwear comfortable.

“Go on then,” he said with one eyebrow raised. “Show me.”

“No!” I said, and as a huge smile spread across his face, my heart sank.

“You see?” he said. “If you were really straight, you’d be leaping at the chance to show a guy your underpants.

He took the helmet and left me shaking with fury.

I was going to prove to him that I was straight if it was the last thing I ever did.