The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Griffin Ellison was invisible. That’s the way he felt, but it was odd that it was that way. Odd because he was in the unique position of being the only African-American student at CHTC, where he was studying electrical engineering. He should have stood out like the burning bush on Mount Horeb. The Sunday school lessons of his youth still plagued him. Doom and gloom sound-bites from his father, pastor of the First Baptist Church of Kinnesaw were a staple of his subconscious.

He had decided to go to school at the technical college for just that reason. An escape from his father and the life that had always been centered around shame and self-deprecation. College was a chance to recreate himself. Unfortunately, the fear of change and ‘different’ manifested itself as a complete and total indifference in his new surroundings. He actually longed to walk into a room and have everyone stare at him, even to laugh and point; it had gotten that bad.

The complete and total lack of love-life options had definitely had the side-effect of making him an outstanding student. While he was studying standard electrical engineering, his passion had taken him in the direction of experimentation. The Tesla coil he had jury-rigged together with parts from old pawn shop appliances worked beautifully. Not that anyone would ever see it. Regardless, tonight he was trying to increase the power, having earlier reworked some things in the building’s circuit breakers to allow more draw from his tiny apartment. If I’m so invisible, he thought, no one’s going to notice that I’m stealing electricity from them, right?

Details. They were important. Griffin double-checked the second series of insulators he had built in to prevent the new level of charge from escaping anywhere other than the narrow discharge terminal. Everything looked to be fine. He wished that his father could see this as he lowered the safety glasses back down over his eyes. He checked himself when he realized that he hoped anyone could see this.

He turned on the recorder and made sure the viewfinder was getting a good shot of the terminal and the striker plate that would draw in the current. He followed the heavy-gauge wires back to his control board and settled into his seat.

“Moment of truth.” He said aloud to the lonely apartment.

Flipping the switch was anti-climactic at the very best. The lights went out. All the lights. As he stood and walked to the window to peer out the fourteenth-floor window of his tenement apartment building, he realized the whole block was out.

“Well, shit.”

Griffin realized that the blackout could be easily traced back to his apartment. He grabbed a flashlight and headed downstairs to try to cover his tracks. As he headed down the stairs chasing the weak beam of light, he only encountered one person.

“I’m going to see if I can get the power back on.” He said as the woman passed him to the right. She kept on going, not acknowledging him at all.

“Bitch.” He murmured to himself. Nothing new.

All in all, it only took him about fifteen minutes to re-route the electrical box. He wiped it down with the tail of his shirt, then laughed at himself. This isn’t fucking CSI, he told himself. On his way up, he passed a uniformed man heading down, CHP&L emblazoned on the patch on the breast of his shirt, along with ‘Chip’. This time, it didn’t bother Griffin that the man didn’t even look over at him; that was probably for the best.

When Griffin woke up in the morning, all the lights in the apartment were on and his Tesla coil was blazing away. It was probably the humming that had eventually stirred him. The power was back down to its normal level, though, after his rewiring job the night before. He struggled to his feet, feeling sore all over.

“Damn.” He said aloud, flipping the switch to the ‘off’ position. He stretched his neck and shoulders, feeling the stiffness in every joint and muscle.

Finals. Fuck.

Griffin took his eyes off from the damning clock, realizing that he might have time to finish the first one if he got out the door right away. A quick glance in the mirror gave him an adequate response; the clothes he had slept in would do. He squeezed into his shoes and flew out the door.

As he drove to campus, he felt like he had been granted a wish, but in the true fashion of a spiteful djinn, there was always a catch. Why the fuck is everyone staring at my car? He decided he needed to look at it, but after school. Maybe someone had sprayed a crude epithet on the passenger side sometime during the night. It could wait. Valedictorian was on the line; maybe then people would notice him.

The halls were crowded and he felt like he was playing Asteroids like usual, swerving to avoid the people who seemed to think they owned the walkway, forcing him to go around. Today it was even more annoying. The crowd converged to the point where he had no escape route and a girl with a huge armload of books slammed straight into him, knocking her down. The books landed on the floor in a clatter.

“Holy shit.” She said, looking up as she started to collect her books. “Where the hell did you come from?”

“I understand that six-four black guys can be tricky to see.” He said, sarcastically, then followed up. “Sorry. I’m a little tense today.”

She was really cute, just the type of girl he’d love to hook up with, that is, if he wasn’t invisible. Since she was talking to him, though, he dug deep for the courage to ask her for her number. He helped her collect her books, then stacked them in her arms as they were before. The courage wasn’t manifesting itself.

“I’m so sorry.” She said, pulling a pen out of her binder. “I really just didn’t see you until I banged into you. Maybe I can buy you lunch or something to say I’m sorry.”

Griffin watched as she wrote something in her notebook, then tore the spiral-bound sheet out, confetti of torn edges fluttering to the floor.

“Gotta run though.” She said, handing it to him.

He looked at the paper.

DONNA—903-5768

Holy shit. Griffin folded the paper and put it in his textbook like a prized object.

Finals.

The amphitheater was packed with students, all with heads down, pencils to paper. A scattered few looked up as the door clanged shut heavily behind him only to return to their work immediately.

So the world hasn’t changed entirely, he thought.

Professor Martinez was sitting behind her desk at the edge of the lecture space, reading a book. She was his favorite. Relaxed enough to let the students call her Lisa, but a genius when it came to the theories and application of electricity. Not only was she gifted in the sciences, she was gorgeous as well. Some people are just blessed, he thought. Her features were striking and her body was perfection; at least from what he could infer from the hints her professional clothes offered.

“Sorry I’m late, Lisa.” He said, approaching the desk.

No response.

“Miss Martinez?” He said again, a little louder. He looked over his shoulder. Not one student had apparently even looked up as he spoke at full voice in the echoing amphitheater. Still no response. This time it seemed a little odd to him. She had never ignored him so blatantly like the others before this.

“Miss Martinez?” He said, touching her arm.

She jumped like he had passed a static charge to her.

“Shit!”

The two looked out to the seats following her startled outburst. No response, not even a wandering eye.

She shook her head as if clearing a fog. “I’m sorry, Griffin. I must have been woolgathering.”

“I’m sorry I’m late.” He said, reaching for a test.

“I hate to do this, Griffin.” Lisa said, her hand pressed down on the stack of exams. “It’s school policy that you can’t start an exam late.”

It was the last straw on an already shitty day.

“Fuck me.” He sighed.

Lisa looked up at him from her chair, her deep brown eyes going down to his waist.

“Okay, Griffin.”

“What?” He said, not putting the two statements together. His own question was answered though, when he felt her hand press into the crotch of his tight jeans.

He looked dazed, first at her hand, then her blazing eyes and finally back to the seated students. Nothing. Nothing at all. By the time his eyes returned back to the gorgeous professor, she was sliding down his zipper and the pants that had been becoming increasingly tight loosened once more.

“Uh, is this a good idea?” Griffin said as her hand wiggled itself into the gap his open zipper provided, working through the maze of fabric flaps until her skin made contact with his. His shaft jumped with the touch.

Lisa looked up at him, her full lips almost in a pout.

“But you said fuck me.”

“I was just…” Griffin froze as she drove onward. He arched his hips back a little, unconsciously helping her extract his rising cock through his fly.

He knew that if he wasn’t quite so dark the flush in his face would light up the big room. Why wasn’t anyone seeing this? Finally, he did see one student look up and directly at the desk, where he professor was slowly stroking her student’s shaft with both hands. She looked around the room, then stood and started heading down the steps towards them.

Griffin had that panicked feeling, the one from the naked in school dream, though this was so much more intense. He felt Lisa’s lips slide over him right as the student approached the desk. She looked around again, her eyes scanning right past them, then picked up one of the spare pencils on the desk and returned to her seat. Okay, definitely a dream, he thought as he felt the professor’s tongue on the underside of his head, rolling gently over the sensitive skin.

Embracing the dream, he placed his hands in her silky black hair, working one around to the back of her head. As she travelled further down his shaft, he exerted a little pressure and she took more. At least he probably wasn’t really missing his final, he thought, since this was only a dream. A fucking great dream, though. Even with the incredible sensations she was delivering to his body, his mind was wandering a little bit. Donna. He rolled the name off his tongue. He had never met her before, nor seen her in the halls. An odd and out of place detail for a dream.

“Enjoy the dream, asshole.” He said aloud. Still no response from the room.

He whistled loudly. Nothing.

Enjoy. He watched the beautiful genius sliding those sexy lips back and forth along his shaft, a sensation he hadn’t felt since he had moved away from home. She looked up at him and the eye contact only served to intensify the situation. He started slowly thrusting into her mouth, arresting her own movement, taking over the pace and depth of the strokes.

It was a dream, so he didn’t bother to warn her. The first stream of come rocketed into her mouth and he felt her gag a little, but she didn’t pull away. Her lips tightened their embrace on his shaft each time she swallowed, forcing another spasm, making the process repeat until he was completely drained and his knees felt weak.

He pulled out of her mouth and she continued to stare up at him with lust in her eyes.

“Are we going to fuck now?” She asked. It was in fact the single most incredible sentence anyone had ever directed at him.

He looked around the room once again.

“Let’s just forget about this for now.” He stammered, zipping up his pants.

“Okay.” Lisa said. Was there a hint of disappointment in her voice?

Griffin’s head spun as he found his way back to the door, wanting to run away but lacking the energy.

“Fucking get out of my way.” He almost shouted at the mousy girl that collided with him as he entered the hallway. She scrambled back to the wall, cowering as he passed.

I need to wake up, he thought. Nothing was happening. He snapped his fingers in front of a student’s face as he passed. Not even a blink.

He was starting to feel dizzy. He staggered to the front entrance, wondering how he was going to keep going. All the energy seemed to have run out of his body like a dying battery. As he fell, his head landed on the feet of a tall girl wearing a flowing skirt.

She jumped back away from him, his head hitting the tile floor.

“I need help.” He said, weakly.

“What can I do?” She replied, going to her knees beside him and touching his face.

“Need to go home.”

Sandra reached out, her hand catching the leg of someone walking by. Why wasn’t anyone helping? He looked down at her touch, then came down to her level.

“What happened to him?”

“I don’t know, but we need to take him home.”

As Griffin felt himself slipping away, he felt someone pull gently at the lanyard around his neck.

“His address is on here.”

He finally drifted off. Maybe this would end the dream. He secretly hoped not.

Griffin awoke, his brain pounding and throbbing a staccato rhythm against his eyes, making even the room around him pulse, rising and falling to the thump of his beating heart. He realized he had missed finals. Even the realization that he had no idea how he had gotten back to his apartment held less import than that glaring fact. He checked the date on his watch, secretly hoping that the whole episode was a dream. The date held immediate recognition to him. It was the day after his final exams. Normally, as one day passed into the next, he simple passed through with them, but yesterday had been foremost in his mind. Circled on the calendar, popups on his personal computer, even sticky notes on the walls. He had missed it.

He noticed the flash of the indicator light on his answering machine. It pulsed and throbbed, eventually matching the pounding in his head, as if it was somehow silently mocking him with its incessant red flashes. He climbed to his feet, causing the world to move violently under his feet before he caught his balance. He crossed the short distance and pressed the button on the ancient device, not particularly wanting to hear it, just wanting the light to stop aggravating him.

“Griffin. This is Lisa Martinez. Hey, I’m worried about you. I wasn’t like you to not show up for your exams. I even checked with your other professors and they all listed you as a no-show. Look, you’re the best student I’ve had in years and I hope that you’re okay. Please give me a call on my office line and maybe we can figure out a way to get these exams knocked out.”

The machine beeped loudly and finally the light went off. It had been a dream, obviously. Usually people aren’t quite so cool and nonchalant talking to someone they just gave a blowjob to in an amphitheater full of people. Well, at least he imagined that would be the case.

It was too late to call her now, he saw from the clock on the wall, then he looked again. It had stopped. A glance at his watch confirmed both that the clock was dead and it was indeed past Professor Martinez’s office hours. If she was really going to offer him the opportunity to take his exams, he was going to make the best of it. He scanned the room and saw his textbook on the catch-all table by the door. He tucked it under his arm and carried it and a cold beer from the fridge and sat down on his one battered chair, twisting the top as he looked at his jury-rigged Tesla coil.

“Piece of shit.” He said out loud, tipping his beer to it in salute.

He set the beer down and cracked the book. From the use he gave it, it usually opened at or near the page he had last read, the spine cracked and torn from years of heavy use. Used books were generally his only option and he had learned to put up with the torn pages and doodles of cocks sprinkled through like cut-rate graffiti.

A folded sheet of college-ruled paper slid out into his lap. Griffin stared at it motionlessly for a moment as images of his ultra-vivid dream came back to him. He felt silly just staring at it, but he couldn’t bring himself to touch it, much less open it to reveal what he was afraid was written on it. He pictured Lisa Martinez’s lips around his cock, her eyes sparkling up at him in the glow of the flickering fluorescents. He traded the book for the beer on the table next to him and tipped it back, putting the vast majority of it down in one long draw, his vision temporarily blocked by the brown, condensing glass.

“Get a fucking grip, Griffin.” He said, setting the beer down and picking the page up off his lap.

DONNA—903-5768

He read it over and over again, picturing her in his mind’s eye. Donna. Lunch.

“Yep, losing your goddamned mind, Grif.” He said to himself, putting the page on top of the forgotten textbook.

Staring at the city skyline out the window, Griffin considered things. It was something he always did when he had to solve a problem, whether it was personal or academic. Friends back home had called it ‘spacing out’, but it was nothing of the sort. His eyes would blur a little bit and the change in visual stimulation served as a focusing point for his thoughts. He approached it from an experimental angle. Prove it was a dream. He had outlined at least the first three proof points when his eyes came back into line, everything in the room returning to its normal sharpness. Drab, but sharp.

He knew he had to write his thoughts down before he lost them, a habit he had formed from years of tormented nightmares that faded within a few minutes of waking. Instead, he picked up the phone and dialed the already memorized number.

“Is this Donna?” He asked when the call connected.

“Yeah, who is this?” The voice was right. He searched for a pen and paper, cursing himself for not doing it before.

“Hello?” She repeated.

“Sorry.” Griffin stammered. “This is Griffin Ellison. This is going to sound like a weird question, but…”

He heard a tinkling laugh at the other end of the line.

“But did I smash into you like a mountain in the hallways yesterday?” She said, interrupting his train of thought.

“Yeah.” He sighed.

“That would be a yes.” Donna said, her voice bright and cheerful, not something he was used to of late.

“I’d hoped you would call me for lunch.” She said.

“Sorry. I’m not having a very good day.” He admitted.

“You did look out of sorts. I really didn’t see you though. Hey. Do you want to do dinner instead?”

Griffin sat down hard in his chair, wondering what other amazing events the week had in store for him. She was asking him out on a date, sort of, wasn’t she?

“That would be great.”

“I’m over in the Dale, if that’s not too far.” She said. “Around six?”

“Six is good.” Griffin said.

“Okay.” Donna said, her voice again sparkly and happy. “I’ll meet you at the front steps.”

“See you soon.”

Griffin watched the call disconnect as he held the phone in front of him like it was a foreign object. The Dale. Richie-Rich land, he thought. A far cry from his tenement down here in the CH. Why would a girl like that be interested in me?

He realized finally that the page with her number was plenty, and there was already a pen on the table. He used the textbook as a writing surface and started to outline his thoughts.

DREAM OR REAL?

1. If there’s no Donna, it was a dream.
2. If Martinez doesn’t remember, it was a dream.

“Shit.” He said, looking at his watch. Two hours until he was supposed to be up at the Dale. The next bullet point he was going to write was ‘If my car is in the parking lot downstairs, it was a dream’.

He went down to the basement garage, noting the usual avoidance of eye contact from one of the ubiquitous old ladies in the elevator. Before he even got there, he could see that his car wasn’t there. If it wasn’t a dream, it was parked in the CHTC lot. Back on ground level, he looked up the hill to his destination, then started running. He was a decent runner, and he was damned sure not to miss out on a date, whether she considered it one or not, because he didn’t have a car.

Storm clouds were building just as his quadriceps were burning from the steep incline leading up towards his car and his first date, be it as it was, since leaving home and starting school. The air was heavy with moisture, only serving to add to his discomfort.

“When it rains, it pours.” Griffin thought, laughing as he ran, his spirits buoyed by the thought of the sweet little pixie with the curly red hair. Those thoughts were derailed though, jarred from his mind by the siren and flashing lights behind him. “Yeah, not entirely invisible.”

“What’s the rush, son?” The police officer said, approaching Griffin where he had sat down on the curb to catch his breath and wait for the inevitable pointless interrogation. Running while black, he thought, crime of the century.

He gave the best explanation he could, mindful of his grammar and syntax, wanting to express himself well. From his experience with the police, it was worth its weight in gold, unless you went too far over the officer’s head. He thought he gave a good explanation, especially since he hadn’t done anything wrong; following the officer’s eyes and body language as he spoke.

“I guess I can let you be on your way, son.” The officer said, flipping the cardboard cover of the cheap notepad back over the still blank page.

“A ride up the hill would be nice if you wanted to be helpful.” Griffin mumbled as the officer was walking back to his squad car. He wanted to kick himself when he realized he had been heard, seeing the face once again as the uniformed patrolman turned around.

“Hop in, kid. I’ll give you a ride.”

If his legs would have been any more tired, Griffin thought that he would have fallen down. He practically shambled over to the passenger side of the car and slid in, thanking the officer.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, son?” The officer asked as Griffin climbed out of the seat, his car practically alone in the parking lot. “Always like to be helpful.”

Griffin was tired and he wasn’t sure if the officer was being facetious. Normally, he would have thanked him and moved on, thankful the situation hadn’t gone bad as it had in the past with him and his friends back home. Exhaustion usually bred sarcasm in him, though.

“Fifty bucks?” He joked. “It’s always fun to choose between a date and paying the rent.”

The patrol car swung around in a circle and Griffin laughed it off. He was going on a date with Donna! The car finally slid next to him and the driver’s side window rolled down. What now?

“All I’ve got is forty, but we could run by the ATM.” The officer said, handing two folded twenties to him out the window.

Griffin wanted to look around, waiting for the camera crew to rush out. He gingerly took the bills from the officer, checking his eyes closely. Nothing but sincerity.

“No, this is really cool of you, officer.” He said, offering a rare smile.

“Hey, anytime kid.”

Griffin approached the driver’s side door and frantically searched for his keys, his heart stopping briefly until his fingers finally brushed them. He sighed and unlocked the door, more prepared to go home and go back to bed rather than have to be ‘on’ for a date. Suck it up, kid, he said to himself, evoking the officer’s voice. Suck it up.

It wasn’t a black or white thing. People like Griffin didn’t usually drive through the Dale, and he was concerned that he might be stopped again, which would be just his luck since he was cutting it awfully close. The Dale was a planned community. Planned for rich people, but it mostly consisted of million-dollar plus houses, along with a dormitory-style apartment building where most of the more affluent students at CHTC lived. He had just assumed that it was where she meant, and he was correct. As he pulled into the circle drive, he saw the perky blonde leaning against a pillar, head down in her cell phone.

Griffin put the car in park and walked around to her.

“Donna?” He said, her eyes still glued to the screen. She started.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you, Griffin.” She said, her cute face suddenly becoming even cuter as she smiled. It was certainly contagious.

“Oh, and a gentleman, too.” Donna said as he opened the car door for her.

“My mother would kill me if I wasn’t, so it’s more self-preservation than kindness.” He said, his own smile feeling strange yet comfortable.

Donna laughed, a sweet sound that could easily be mistaken for being patronizing, but he didn’t feel that, not from her.

“Where to?” He asked as he bucked his seatbelt. “I’m afraid I don’t go out to eat much.”

“Oh, anywhere is fine.” Donna said, looking over at him but also looking around the worn but clean car interior.

“It’s not much, but it runs.” He said, feeling a little on the defensive.

“Did you buy it yourself?” She asked.

Griffin thought of the long hours working through the summer back home, watching every cent knowing he would want to have a car in college. “Yep.”

“Well, that’s better than me.” She said, her bright blue eyes meeting his for a brief moment. “It’s better than the no car that I have.”

He felt comfortable with another human being for the first time since moving away from the relative peace of his hometown. He started heading to one of the few restaurants that he knew.

“Fazio’s?” He asked. Italian. A little ghetto, but the food was outstanding, at least in his worldview.

“Ooh, I love that place.” Donna said, then paused. “Best breadsticks in town.”

“You can say that again.” Griffin said as they blended into the traffic of the main thoroughfare.

“Best breadsticks in town.” Donna said, a perfect repeat of her previous phrase, down to even the basics of intonation.

Griffin looked over at her, about to laugh at her joke, but he just didn’t see it on her face.

“My parents don’t like to go there, but I went there with some friends once and it was the bomb.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty good.” Griffin said, trying to dismiss the oddity of what she had just said. He was having a hard time getting the dream, or his reality if it wasn’t one, out of his mind. He just kept ticking off his failing points for proving it was a dream in his head. Donna. Car. CHTC. Lisa Martinez.

“You look troubled.” Donna said. “What’s up, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Griffin tried to shake off his thoughts.

“Nothing, just having a pretty odd week.” He said. “I got stopped by the cops coming to pick you up.”

“That sucks.” She said. “Did they give you a lot of hassle? Some of them can be real assholes around here.”

“Actually, he gave me a ride and gave me forty bucks.” Griffin said.

“You’re shitting me.”

“I shit you not.”

Donna laughed again, but Griffin’s thoughts didn’t entirely clear. It was a little odd, if you thought about it.

“Maybe it’s just that natural charm and charisma.” Donna said, looking across the console at him. Jeez, don’t get all moony for her so fast, Grif, he told himself.

Lisa Martinez. Was that real? It became a mantra in his head as he tried to maintain the light conversation and keep them on the path downtown. It couldn’t possibly be real. Too many people there and why would she have not mentioned it on the phone, not even hinting at it? How had that even started?

“Fuck me.” He heard himself saying. No. Flashes of the ride to school, the havoc he created in the hallway, the non-response of the students in the amphitheater, then the kicker. “Let’s just forget about this.”

“Did you really not see me in the hallway?” Griffin asked, the non-sequitur hanging in the air. “I’m kind of a big guy.”

Donna looked over at him. “Yeah, it was weird. I only saw you once I ran into you. I am blonde, though.”

Griffin smiled. “You’re in the EE program, right?”

Donna nodded.

“Well, you can’t be too blonde.” He said, just as they pulled into the Fazio’s lot.

“I looked up your standing.” Donna said. “You’re not so blonde yourself.”

It was Griffin’s turn to laugh.

“Well, I’m glad I ran into you.” He said as he opened the door for her. “My lady.”

Donna took his hand as she climbed out of the car and whether or not it was a romantic thought or not, he felt an electric charge pass between them.

Dinner was fun and light, at least between the two of them. Griffin’s own internal monologue was as active as ever, though. He was getting the best service of his life, the pretty waitress practically falling over herself to get him anything he asked for. Donna eventually noticed it too.

“I think she’s got a thing for you.” She said, watching the server walk away.

“Yeah.” He said, turning to look. “I’m normally not the ladies’ man.”

“Don’t discount yourself, Grif.” Donna said, looking down at her food as she said it.

He had hated the nickname since he was a kid, but it sounded right coming from those strawberry lips. He called himself that, but only internally.

“Well, she doesn’t hold a candle.” He said, mustering all the charm he had learned from his father.

Donna blushed.

“So what do you want to do after dinner?” Donna asked, pushing through some obvious discomfort at his flattery.

“Go back to my apartment and go to bed.” He joked, though it was true. He was so damned tired and the day had just been so confusing.

“That sounds great.” Donna said. “You’re definitely a man who knows what he wants.”

Griffin found himself waiting for her to laugh for a second time in as many hours. She didn’t laugh or show any sign that it was a joke.

“Check please!”