The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It was a dark and, thankfully, not-so-stormy night. The forecast was for scattered showers without a spark of lightning for a hundred miles in every direction. He’d just cleared his browser history and temporary internet files to keep his mom from finding out where he’d been, but if she got onto his computer and found them both blank, she’d get suspicious. So, Hugo had typed “www..com” into his address bar, used the “cut” command, and was repeatedly pasting the characters and typing in random words and phrases between the dots. He had a pretty fast connection (for dial-up anyway), so the pages loaded up quickly, and his pop-up blocker kept any unwanted windows from cluttering up his screen. When he typed in “genie,” he stopped and stared.

“What the...” he said, gaping like a codfish at the absurd contents of his monitor.

“Welcome to GENIE.COM, the Wish-Granting Website!” it said, simply. This was followed by a brief Terms of Service paragraph detailing the rules, and a textbox at the bottom, surrounded by a multi-part graphic of a genie with his smoky tail.

“There’s gotta be a punchline in here somewhere.” he muttered. He scanned the page three times, but nothing stood out, really.

All text entered into the Wish Engine must be in the form of a Wish: A single sentence beginning with the words “I Wish” and ending in a period.

The User (hereafter “You”) agree not to attempt to discover by any means known or unknown the source code of the Wish Engine(TM).

You agree to recognize and respect the intellectual property rights of the Creator and not attempt to circumvent the Wish Engine(TM)’s prohibition against wishing for any of the following powers: Life and death, creation from void, judgment of souls and alterations to the fundamental laws of the universe.

You are only allowed to submit one Wish per standard 24-hour day.

You will not attempt to persuade (through bribery, coercion, nuisance or other means) any person to visit this site and make a Wish on your behalf.

You agree not to hold Genie.com, its parents, subsidiaries and affiliate, liable for any damages resulting from poor wording of Wishes.

“Maybe it’s the punchline to a joke posted somewhere else.” Hugo thought, remembering a graphic he’d seen somewhere about what would happen if companies lost too much revenue to pop-up blockers. Except for the usual smudges inherent in the JPEG format, it looked just like a real Windows error message. He figured, what the hell, and clicked inside the text-box, watching the cursor blink, wondering what to wish for. If the site was to be properly tested (or debunked), he had to wish for something that wouldn’t happen by accident, but wouldn’t get him thrown in prison.

His gaze wandered as he thought, and when it fell on the Penthouse magazine half-hidden under his mattress, he glanced immediately at the door to make sure it was still locked, and stuffed it back in place. He remembered some of the stories he’d read in the letters section. Since getting his first car (which so far was his only car, and a little the worse for wear), he had pulled over to assist numerous vans, minibuses and so on in distress, but so far none of them contained the kinky nudist supermodel twins promised in the magazine’s pages or any sort of horny, grateful female. His real problem was in his appearance. The majority of his 5′11″ height was leg and he had arms to match. His curly hair, less-than-chiseled features and bone-thin body (despite having the appetite of a Saiyan in training) made him look as though someone had stretched Screech on the rack. With a package like that, no one cared that his other “package” contained an 8-inch trouser snake. If anyone deserved to be cured of terminal virginity, he thought, it’s me. It took him a false starts to get the wish worded to his satisfaction. When he finally clicked “Submit,” his entry looked something like this:

“I wish to be sexually irresistible to attractive females who are not related to me.”

The connection dawdled for a second, and then he was taken to a new page that thanked him for his wish and told him he would be allowed to make another in 24 hours.

“Hugo! You’ve got school tomorrow! Get your ass to bed!” shouted his mother. Grumbling to himself, he shut down his computer, undressed and went to bed. When he woke up the next morning, he went to the mirror and looked at himself, but could discover no physical changes. Sighing, he dressed and got ready for another long, tedious day at school.

Candace was hanging out by the steps when she noticed Hugo Turner’s jalopy rolling into the parking lot. Nobody really said “jalopy” anymore, but if she said “rolling pile of shit,” she’d get suspended again. It wasn’t that she really liked school, or would mind a few days off, but they’d make her send in her assignments on time via her mother anyway, AND deduct thirty points right off the top of all of them before she even made her first mistake.

“Holy moly!” her friend Sandra gasped. This was her first time viewing Turner’s car. The girl switched into an Obi-Wan voice. “It’s more Bondo now than car, twisted and evil!” The girls laughed. “I gotta go. Tell your boyfriend ‘hi’ for me if he lets you say anything before he puts his dick in your mouth.”

Candace frowned at Sandra’s back as the girl headed for the other side of the campus. Sure, Peter was more than a little pushy, but that was Candace’s business, not Sandra’s. She turned away, and found herself staring open-mouthed at Hugo in undisguised lust.

It was crazy. Physically, he was nothing like the guys she usually lusted after. Mentally, too, he was, well, a freak. He knew more about computers than she’d ever cared to learn about any of the boy bands whose concerts she attended along with hundreds if not thousands of other shrieking girls. It just wasn’t healthy to care THAT much about any single subject. It was crazy. But Candace could no more resist it than she could gravity. She felt herself being drawn inexorably toward Hugo, every inch of additional proximity increasing her sexual desire exponentially.

I want his babies! shouted a primal part of herself, drowning out the logical part of her mind with its intensity. It wasn’t an actual thought, more of a visceral, animal demand. Hijacked by her own body, she ran toward him, pouncing. He cried out in terror and confusion as she landed on top of him, and started pulling off her shirt. She felt him stiffen underneath her as the rest of her clothes came off. Good! her animal-brain remarked (again, not words; her mental processes were reduced to positive and negative, a binary code of yes and no, pleasure and pain, reward and punishment). To have sex was pleasure, to be without, pain. She tugged insistently at his pants until the snap came undone and the zipper was forced downward by the motion. His boxers fared little better than wrapping paper on Christmas morning at the children’s home. The sight of eight inches of sex meat sticking up in the air made a pleasurable shiver run down Candace’s spine. She maneuvered herself into position and slid down on the pole. It felt good going in. Her hips knew the rhythm, and her mate was in no position to struggle. The eruption of his semen inside her set off fireworks behind her eyelids. She screamed a carnal scream as she shuddered through her release.

Strong hands pulled her off him. She gave voice to her body’s cry of protest at the forced separation. She was carried away and put in a bare room and kept there while her mental faculties slowly reasserted themselves.

What had she done? She despised everything Hugo Turner stood for, everything he WAS, and yet she had practically raped him in the parking lot.

Not practically, she realized. I raped him within an inch of his life. Why? I have a boyfriend. Okay, his thing isn’t as long or thick as Hugo’s... (at that, she tried but failed to suppress a moan of renewing desire) ...but I’m supposed to be HIS girlfriend. Peter’s, not Hugo’s. Peter. Hugo’s Peter. Hugo’s dick. Dong, schlong, cock, meat, pecker, cum-hose...

“Stop it!” she shouted, slapping herself. The sting helped, if only briefly. What’s making me act like this? I...I’m like an animal, an animal in heat. Pheromones? Did he buy pheromones online, like from the spam emails they send me because they don’t know I’m a chick? Whatever it is, it’s working. She felt a mixture of relief and profound sadness, knowing that Hugo’s big eight-inch penis was nowhere near her. She moaned, curling up in a corner and hugging herself. She no longer cared what had been done to her. She was like a junkie in withdrawal, her body’s need drowning out everything but thoughts of how to get her next fix.

“Oh, God.” she whispered, realizing where her thoughts were going. From everything she’d learned in Health class, she was showing all the signs of a classic addiction. How strong was it? Could she break it with therapy? Did she even want to? Could she even want to? No, she couldn’t. She’d had the best orgasm of her life. She needed to feel that again.

She would feel that again.

Principal Charms sat behind his heavy metal-and-faux-wood desk, his glasses sitting on top of his bald head, squeezing the tear ducts in obvious distress. Very little about the incident in the parking lot fit. Candace was one of the Popular Girls, with a long history of teasing and harassing those less popular than herself. There was nothing, however, in the girl’s psychological profile (painstakingly assembled by a series of school counselors in the district) to ever presage the kind of sexual depravity he’d witnessed. He’d pulled the girl off of young Mr. Turner, and she’d fought like a bobcat being separated from its kill. The scratches on his face, chest and arms still burned under the bandages.

He’d left Turner in the nurse’s office, with a replacement pair of undergarments. Fortunately, there wasn’t much damage to the blue jeans, other than being soaked by vaginal secretions. He hadn’t even protested as the police had swabbed him in several places to test for artificial pheromones. For his part, Hugo had seemed more confused than anything. Then again, you never could tell with emotional trauma, at least not without a degree in psychoanalysis.

Hugo lay on the cot in the nurse’s office, thinking about what had happened with Candace, and about his wish. Is this from my wish? he wondered. Looks like I’ve got a few things to learn about wishing. Good thing it didn’t work on my mom, but that’s probably because I specifically told the computer to make the effect happen to women who AREN’T related to me.

But what an effect! Candace couldn’t get enough. She’d been on him like white on rice, and from the look in her eyes, there wasn’t a thought in her head except fucking him until one or both of them were dead. It was kind of scary, and the worst part was he’d have to wait until around midnight to undo it. He looked at the clock. 9:21 am.

“Hello, Hugo.” chimed the nurse from the entrance. “I wanted to see how you were doing.” Despite himself, Hugo checked her out. She was dressed in a stereotypical white nurse’s uniform which managed to show off her curves without showing any skin other than her arms, neck and head. “I...ohh...” That last part came out as a kind of moan. She pulled his pants and the replacement boxers off him. Her face filled with a smoky expression of lust, and her eyes took on that wall-eyed look he’d seen in Candace.

“Uh-oh.” he muttered as she hurriedly threw off her uniform, except for her nurse’s cap, stockings, shoes and stethoscope. Despite himself, he found himself growing erect as the clothing flew randomly around the little office. Then, she straddled him, lowering her wet pussy onto his stiff cock. She pinned his hands up over his head as she began to ride him in a mindless frenzy. Animal grunts and moans were all that came out of the nurse’s mouth. She had seven orgasms, and he had three before the principal showed up.

“Nurse Adams!” the man shouted. He stepped in and peeled her off of him. She fought, still lost in animal carnality, but the principal had been a wrestler in his youth, and knew some good holds, in addition to still having the strength needed to separate and/or subdue a pair of jocks fighting over a girl. Hugo crawled off the cot and curled up in a corner, behind the file cabinet. It took him a few minutes to remember to wipe up and put his pants back on.

Principal Charms put the nurse in a bare holding room next door to Candace’s, closed it and locked it. Just like Candace before her, she started banging on the door like an animal in a trap. If she continued to follow the pattern (if pattern it was), it would take upwards of ten minutes for her to start using words again, and another five before she would stop demanding release. He went back to his own office and checked the closed-circuit feeds from the four holding rooms. Candace was curled up in a corner. Nurse Adams was still throwing herself at the door. It wouldn’t do her any good. The contractors who had donated the doors for the holding rooms had tested them against professional football players. A nurse of diminutive stature such as she would have no chance of opening it by force.

The Principal frowned at the screen. Meredith Adams was a professional, twenty-eight years old, not to mention happily married to a great guy with whom she had a seven-year-old daughter and a three-year-old son. Unless Hugo was prosecuted, and the D.A. could prove coercion, all of that was going in the toilet. It wasn’t a situation Charms was happy with. He rose from his chair and headed for the nurse’s office. Maybe, just maybe, he could get Hugo to admit to the source of his “woman troubles,” and then the D.A. would accept his testimony in a case against that source in return for a lesser charge. He walked down the little interior hall of the office suite and saw a female student approaching the door, clutching her stomach.

“The nurse is...indisposed at the moment.” he told her, making shooing motions with both hands. “You’ll have to call home or stick it out.” He didn’t like having to do that, but it was a violation of policy for anyone except the school nurse to dispense so much as an aspirin on school property. He walked into the nurse’s office. Hugo was still crouched in the corner, as if afraid another female might walk in and repeat the performances from before.

Hugo grumbled to himself as he was at last let go. The principal had questioned him at length, as if the explanation of a wish-granting website were too ludicrous to even be investigated, and then waited until everyone else was gone before releasing him. He’d also waited until everyone else had eaten before going to the lunchroom and bringing him a tray of greasy, cold meatloaf from the corner of the pan, peas, corn, spinach and a carton of milk (white, not chocolate). The dessert option was noticeably absent. On his way out, he almost ran into Assistant Principal Hiro Ito (the name was Anglicized, with the given name first and surname last).

“Mr. Turner, I’m afraid we caught another student vandalizing your vehicle.” he said. “We have him in a holding room at the moment, but we’d like to know if you want to press charges.”

“Let me see.” Hugo said. “I’m not gonna get the law involved if it’s just a key job.”

“Uh, the damage is...substantially more severe than that, I’m afraid.” the assistant principal said as he followed Hugo to the parking lot.

“Sweet merciful crap!!” he shouted when he caught sight of his vehicle. It looked like whoever had done this had done everything it was possible to do to a car with just a crowbar, an iron spike, two working hands and a lot of anger. The tires were all flat, leaving the car squatting in a pool of darkness formed by the combination of all its fluids. The windows had been broken, the upholstery was shredded all to hell, with springs sticking up every which way, the ashtray with his spare change in it was gone, his radio looked like somebody had driven an iron spike into the front of it several times, and his collection of audiocassettes was strung over it like ticker tape. The vandal had popped the hood and gone to town in there as well, ripping out all the cables and hoses he could get at, as well as the sparkplugs. The iron spike that had flattened the tires and made Swiss cheese out of his radio was wedged firmly in the engine block. “Who did this?” he demanded in a low, angry hiss.

“Peter Race.” the assistant principal responded. Hugo kicked the door of his car, leaving a dent in the fiberglass.

Candace’s boyfriend must have found out what happened and decided... His mind refused to put the rest of it into words. “Toast him.” he told Mr. Ito. “Nail him for whatever you can charge him with without perjury.” Ito led him to the office so he could sign a statement authorizing the school district to press charges on his behalf.

Hugo was pissed. His mother worked forty miles away, so he couldn’t call her to have her take him home. He was left with no choice but to walk home. He was glad it wasn’t raining, at least for now. He walked down roads less traveled by to avoid arousing the attentions of some woman or other. He wasn’t sure if he’d survive if someone caught him with no one around to pull her off. Eventually, however, he did have to rejoin the main road. He managed to get to the Shell station on the edge of town without being seen by anyone who would be affected by his wish. Then, he was spotted by an all-female biker gang.

“Oh, no.” he muttered as they dashed after him, their minds far to sex-addled to consider that the pursuit would be easier if they hopped on their bikes and chased him down that way. That, and a hundred-foot head start, gave him a chance where he otherwise would have had none. He ran hell-for-leather (or rubber sneaker soles as the case may be) for the sanctuary of his home. He’d never run so fast in his life—but then again, he’d never been chased by biker chicks intent on raping him before. Tires squealed on the highway as soccer moms in SUVs and teen girls on their way to the mall sighted him and pulled over to join the chase—often forgetting to put their vehicles in park. A man in a pickup had to slow down to drive around the throng behind him. Hugo took advantage of the fact that the large vehicle wouldn’t be back to full speed immediately, by jumping onto the back. “Keep driving!” he shouted at the man.

He had the man let him off at his driveway. He was exhausted, but managed to make it into his house, lock and deadbolt both doors and make sure the latch on the storm cellar was secure. He went upstairs, locked his door and curled up under his bed, waiting for the time when he would be able to undo his wish.

It was a scene of chaos at the precinct house. The police had been swamped with reports of women forcing their way into people’s houses, searching everywhere and then leaving. Over three hundred had been arrested already, and more were coming in as the officers who booked them went back out for the next load. The Sheriff’s Department and Highway Patrol had been called in to help. For a ten mile swath the all-female rampage continued. A SWAT team had gotten ahead of the group and formed a barricade to keep the army from going further. SWAT officer Carolina Cook couldn’t believe the determination of the women. All of them were between fifteen and forty, with breasts larger than 32B, and all of them acted like it was Christmas Eve, and the police were standing between them and the last Furby (or whatever the current fad toy was).

Carolina was surprised to see her friend Shelly Elwes among the mob. She was even more surprised when Shelly clocked her with an improvised club (a tree branch she picked up). She recovered relatively quickly, and dove at Shelly’s legs, wrapping her arms around the woman’s calves and sending her tumbling to the ground.

“Shelly!” she shouted. “Get a grip on yourself!” Shelly growled and kicked viciously.

“You won’t stop me!” she shouted, and regained her feet. Carolina wished she could give chase, but more women were converging on the momentary hole. She returned to her spot and called for backup. This time she blocked with her shield when another woman got the same idea Shelly had. Unlike the male officers flanking her, she had no childhood admonitions against hitting women to overcome. She belted her newest assailant in the jaw and sent her sprawling, then brought her club to bear on another one.

Hugo had come down momentarily to re-lock the front door after his mother had come home, then returned to his hiding place, which was now much cleaner thanks to the Swiffer job he’d given it after five minutes of sneezing. He’d rearranged his boxes into walls, just like he’d done when he was a kid playing Hide and Seek. Now, just as then, the object of the game was to not be found. Unlike then, however, there was no “base” to retreat to if he was discovered and had to make a run for it. To pass the time, he’d been working on the wording of his wish by flashlight.

“Hugo! Kayla’s here! She left her UNICEF box in your room.” his mom called. Kayla was their next-door neighbor’s daughter, only a year younger than him, cute as a teen pop idol and sexy as a centerfold. He heard someone try the knob.

“It’s locked.” said Kayla’s voice.

“Hang on, I’ll get my key.” For the sake of their friendship, Hugo emerged from hiding long enough to open the window and return, arranging the boxes again as he heard his mother unlocking his door. He turned off the flashlight. “The little shit snuck out!” his mom said, seeing the open window.

“Mrs. Turner!” Kayla gasped in mock-shock.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I should save that kind of language for when he gets home. You get your box.” Hugo peeked out from his hiding place through a crack between boxes. Her tight backside and perky breasts almost tempted him to show himself. He controlled his urges until she left. The memory of his ravishment at the hands of Candace and Nurse Adams helped. His mother planted a chair next to his dresser, and sat down to wait.

Great. he thought to himself. Now what?

Candace eyed the bars of the cell she was sharing with several other women who had seen Hugo since...whatever. The school nurse was there too, crying. Candace was just wishing the bars were wide enough for her to wiggle through. An officer approached. “Hey, what’s it take to get some heat in here?” she asked. “Feel how cold my hands are.” She held her hands out through one pair of bars. The officer grasped the fingers gently.

“They’re not...” he started. Candace threw all of her weight backwards, pulling him hard against the bars. She grabbed his handcuffs and slapped them on his wrist, then fastened the other end to a bar as far away from the ones his arm was poking through as possible. “Hey!” he shouted, reaching for his gun. She knocked it from his hand and grabbed his keys. The door only opened part of the way, because of the obstruction of the handcuffs, but it was enough to get Candace out.

“Come on!” she shouted to the others. “You DO want to see him again, right?” They didn’t pause to ask who she meant. They poured out of the cell like ants from a kicked mound. Candace let them go first. The overtaxed officers set upon them, trying to get them back under control. Candace slipped into a computer room and queried Hugo’s file. Once she had his address, she crept into the garage, trying out her stolen keys on every car there until she found the one that matched. She pushed the enforcer-modified Crown Victoria to the limit and blazed past the city limits sign like a comet.

It was two in the morning when a knock came at the door. Grumbling to herself, Hugo’s mother rose from her chair and headed downstairs. Hugo softly came out of hiding, then closed and locked the door as his mother threw open the front door. She’d barely managed to demand who was there when there was a smacking sound, followed by a thump as she hit the floor. Someone ran up the stairs and tried every door on the top floor.

Hugo rushed to his computer, typing in the address for the site before his computer had even finished dialing. The connection noise continued for several minutes. Hugo was wondering what was taking so long. A woman kicked open the door and pounced, dragging Hugo’s computer chair around the floor as she tried to get his pants off. Finally she threw him to the bed and tried again from there. Impatiently, she ripped off the boxers just as Candace had before. His penis knew what was coming, and was more eager than he was. With an animal growl, followed by a purr of pleasure, the woman lowered herself onto him, moving her hips in a delicious way designed to bring both of them off as soon as possible.

He crested after her third orgasm, shooting a dose of sperm into her womb. One wasn’t enough, however. No matter how many times he came inside her, or made her cum, it would never be enough. His mother had recovered by the time he went off a second time, and she tried to get the woman off him, but an elbow in the jaw sent her sprawling again. A squeal of tires heralded the arrival of a police car outside. Stomping footsteps up the stairs, and Candace appeared in the doorway. She made a primal sound that was almost the word “Mine!” and pulled the stranger off of him with inhuman strength. She ripped her clothes off and tried to take the stranger’s place, but the other woman pounced, wrapping her arms around Candace and dragging her to the floor. They fought like lions and hyenas. Hugo saw his chance and went back to his computer. His modem had failed to connect. He clicked again.

Candace took the upper hand and forced the woman outside. Hugo would have locked his door again, but the stranger had broken the doorjamb. Instead, he prayed they’d keep each other busy. The page loaded. There seemed to be more pop-ups this time, slowing him down as each one fought against his blocker. Finally, he was able to start typing. Candace pulled him away from the computer and shoved him to the bed. She slid her silky wetness onto his shaft and managed to ride him through two ejaculations before the strange woman appeared again and resumed the battle. Hugo couldn’t remember what he’d practiced. His penis was diverting too much blood away from his brain. He typed in a wish anyway. Candace and the stranger pulled him down. He fought them off, ripping off his shirt in the process, and stabbed his finger at the Enter key rather than waste time on the mouse.

Candace was hanging out by the steps when she noticed Hugo Turner’s jalopy rolling into the parking lot. Nobody really said “jalopy” anymore, but if she said “rolling pile of shit,” she’d get suspended again. It wasn’t that she really liked school, or would mind a few days off, but they’d make her send in her assignments on time via her mother anyway, AND deduct thirty points right off the top of all of them before she even made her first mistake.

“Holy moly!” her friend Sandra gasped. This was her first time viewing Turner’s car. The girl switched into an Obi-Wan voice. “It’s more Bondo now than car, twisted and evil!” The girls laughed. “I gotta go. Tell your boyfriend ‘hi’ for me if he lets you say anything before he puts his dick in your mouth.”

Candace frowned at Sandra’s back as the girl headed for the other side of the campus. Sure, Peter was more than a little pushy, but that was Candace’s business, not Sandra’s. She turned away, and was treated to the unimpressive sight of Hugo’s so-called physique. Honestly, it should be a crime to be so decidedly unattractive. He kept his head down as he approached, as if his Velcro sneakers were of some fascination. She scoffed and headed toward the building herself. Hugo heaved a sigh of relief. She’d seen him, but hadn’t attacked. He walked through the gate into the courtyard formed by four buildings surrounding a grassy area with sidewalks under the awnings.

“Hey, Hugo!” Kayla called. She bounced happily up to him.

“Come on, Kayla, he’s a senior but you can do better!” someone else shouted.

“Don’t listen to them, Hugo.” she said, taking a place beside him as they walked. “It’s not like it has to be about sex all the time, right? There’s other stuff people can do together.”

“Yeah.” Hugo conceded. “If there weren’t...people like me would have nothing to do.”

“Don’t talk like that.” she said. “You’ll find somebody.” The bell rang, and they split up. Hugo watched after her cute bottom and bouncy boobs. Her optimism was almost encouraging, but Hugo knew what it took to get a woman to go to bed with him. Most of those things, Hugo didn’t, and would never have.

Unless, of course, he worded his wishes VERY carefully.