The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

My name is Jason Summers, and I was an average kid. I grew up and attended school in the suburbs, in a fairly decent neighborhood. It wasn’t quite as rural as some places, but it wasn’t big city either. Sort of in the middle; average, like me. There was a big mall in the city, and a shopping strip filled with national retailers. These attracted a lot of other businesses, all hoping to cash in on the attraction of the big sellers. One of these was a tiny little antique shop, called the Haller Catch.

That was where I worked.

It was a near minimum wage job that gave me just a little extra spending money. My parents didn’t provide me much of an allowance; none, in fact. Believing instead that I would spend my money more wisely if I worked for every penny I had. It really wasn’t fair.

The facts are that my family has always been a mess. My mother, Sharon, had been put in a bind when she got pregnant, and had made a couple of bad choices. The biggest was marrying my father. My real father had been a total bastard; and my mom had been pushed into filing for divorce when I was only four.

The whole experience messed her up for a while, and she spent some time in a shelter. When Sharon finally got her life back together she got an apartment, and started working full time while going to college. That was where she met Kenny. He was a real sweet talker; an older man who was rather well off. He had only recently been divorced himself, and his wife had left him with their daughter Karen, who was only slightly older than I was.

Sharon married him only a couple of months later. Ken was good to Sharon, and she loved him, even if he was only tolerant of me. But that was just fine, as long as my mother was taken care of, I didn’t mind any lack of love.

My new stepsister Karen, on the other hand, wasn’t simply intolerant towards me, she was outright hostile. She hated me, and I had never done anything to her. This resulted in me avoiding her at every opportunity. Which never seemed to do any good.

The problem was that she was a spoiled brat. Whenever she did something wrong, she got away without punishment. Even the most extreme transgression only seemed to earn her a slap on the wrists. And she always got anything she wanted. Ken simply adored his daughter, and his normally unbending rules would break in half if she asked him. That was why it wasn’t fair. My whole life hadn’t been fair.

At school it was many times worse. I’ve always been a bit of a nerd, so it was a simple god given universal fact that I would be picked on all the time by the big sports jocks, and I never got near any of the pretty girls. Most people ignored me, which was what I was used to at home, so I didn’t really mind. Other people went out of their way to make me miserable; to make me suffer.

And so I found myself working behind the counter when the man entered the Catch.

Haller Catch bought and sold antiques. If someone had some antique to sell, they could bring it in and the Catch would make them an offer on it. It was a large shop with a small store attached to the front, along a strip of stores just outside the mall. The concrete floor was only partially covered with thin industrial carpeting, and the stained wood countertop was in serious need of a new finish. But it was a peaceful place to work, and I enjoyed the solitude it usually brought me.

The bell dinged softly as the door closed, and I looked up. The man who had entered was in my mid twenties, with short black hair and a plain face. He walked to the counter carrying a cardboard box in front of him. It was a small package, but was clearly heavy by the thud it made as the man set it on the counter.

“What would all the power in the universe be worth to you?” The man asked.

“Ten dollars.” I offered. I guess I have a rather dry sense of humor. Or else I just don’t like dealing with that type of customer. If you’ve ever worked retail, you know what I mean.

“Best offer I’ve had all day.” He responded. Damn him. He was going to be one of those. Fine, I can play that game as well as any.

“Not surprising. What’s the universe worth anyhow?” I looked at him, waiting.

“Everything; Nothing.” He responded.

“Exactly! So I say ten dollars is a bargain.”

He turned suddenly serious. “Are you sure, boy?” At my puzzled expression, he broke off with a laugh. “Here, I want you to have this.” He said, opening the box. I started to shake my head. It was against policy to accept gifts from customers. But he paid me no attention. His eyes were fixed upon the item in his hands. He lifted a cast bronze lamp out of the box.

The bronze was polished and heavily engraved, the inscriptions on the side looked to be early Assyrian, or maybe Sumerian. Surprised that I know this? Well, I am a history nut, and remember, I did work in an antique shop.

The lamp had that long stem and bulbous center characteristic of incense burners. “All the power in the universe...” I muttered under my breath. The damned thing looked like it had come off the set of the Aladin movie. This guy might not have such a bad sense of humor after all. I pulled out ten dollars of currency and set the bills on the counter. The Catch would mark it up three or four times that. The man took the money, but looked as though he had more to say.

He did.

“This is no mere lamp, but a magical lamp.” The man said with perfect seriousness. “Inside there is a genie, who has been imprisoned within this lamp for eons uncounted. This lamp has been with me for longer than I care to think about, but it is time that I pass it on.” He looked at me, his gaze piercing through me like the point of a spear. I withered underneath it. “It is yours.” He turned to leave. “One word of warning: all wishes have consequences. Keep your karma balanced or you will pay the price.” And just like that he was gone, with the lamp sitting on the counter.

“So much for ten dollars.” I said, picking up the lamp. I thought for a moment I might have felt something, but then the sensation passed and I laughed at myself for being superstitious. There was nothing to it. I set the lamp on the back counter and went back to work. I forgot about it for the rest of the day.

I woke up at quarter to six in the morning and jumped in the shower. School started at quarter after seven and if I wanted to get a shower at all I had to get one before my mother and my stepsister got started. I’ve tried taking a shower afterwards, but a cold shower is NOT the way to start the day. Sharon drove me and my stepsister to school before she went to work, and picked us up in the afternoon. Driving us was an inconvenience to her. The school levy had recently failed, and all of the buses were cut as a result. Sharon had to leave work almost two hours early every day in order to pick us up, and had been forced to work on the weekends to catch up. All of which conspired to put my mother in a less than pleasant mood. Karen got the front seat, as always.

When we got to school, my day didn’t improve much. I saw Peter and his gang of cohorts harassing some freshmen. The two girls were practically surrounded by the five juniors. I figured I had better go and get some help. I returned a minute and a half later with Mr. Henry; the vice principal; and one of the teachers; whom I had never met before. They immediately intervened. Peter gave me a look that promised retribution. I wasn’t worried. Nothing they did could be worse than what I was already going through; just more of the same.

I made it to my first period class almost ten minutes before it started. It was an English credit course that looked at writing techniques and summary skills. I had an extra elective and I needed the English credit, so I took it.

It was the both the best and the worst decision I have ever made.

In previous years, the course was taught by an older teacher named Arther. He was one of the greats; possibly the best teacher our school had ever had. I learned more from one year with him than I had from all of my previous years in school combined. For most of summer break I had been looking forward to being in his class. But when school started in the fall, we learned that Arther had chosen to retire, and that his class would be taught by another teacher: the Bitch.

Nobody liked the Bitch. She was a nasty old lady; a hag who lived to torment children. It would be safe to say that she felt much the same way about me. She would regularly call on me to answer in class, and often graded me at a much higher standard than the rest of her students. Everyone knew she picked on me, but no one said or did anything about it. It really pissed me off sometimes.

The one and only time I had ever gotten suspended from school was because of that woman. The bitch started talking about environmentalist policies – blabbering on about how we were destroying the world, how we had to make changes, and how we were now going to write a paper on the subject. She wrote down project subjects on slips of paper, folded them nicely in half, and threw the lot of them in a basket. Then she walked around the room and had everyone pick their project randomly from the basket. Naturally she came to me last. And naturally she ran out of project slips one student before me. She apologized for counting wrong and went back up to the front.

She wrote out a single slip and threw it in the basket. Then she came back across the room and held it out for me to pick. One slip. Not much in the way of choices. I took it and opened it up. Total bullshit. The bitch hadn’t counted wrong. She counted out perfectly. It was her intention all along to stick me with it. The worst project topic I could ever have imagined. I lost it right there. I started arguing with her and demanded a different one. Less than five minutes later I was sitting in the office talking with the principal. I hadn’t even raised my voice. All I did was argue. She said that I disrupted her class and landed me with five days out. This was the first time I had ever been written up, and I was landed with five days out for arguing. I never did do that project.

But the class wasn’t all bad. Out of the nineteen other students, only one of them was a boy. And he almost never arrived until second or third period, so it was almost always just me. Every day I came to school and spent the first hour surrounded by eighteen beautiful girls. I think the other guy must be crazy. I don’t think I’ve ever even been tardy. Four of those eighteen ladies made the list of the five most beautiful girls in school.

First is Sandy. I’ve had a crush on Sandy since the seventh grade. Her skin is lightly tanned, and her hair is a light blond that fits her name. She has an athletic build, and stands only a few inches under me. Her eyes are hazel, and she has, quite possibly, the sexiest body I’ve ever seen.

And what’s more: she knows it. She wears clothes that show off as much of her body as the school rules allow. Her hips sway when she walks, and she moves with such sensual authority that it draws eyes from everyone. But mostly I love her legs. Long and smooth, her legs show her personality. She draws circles on the floor with her toes when she is thinking, and crosses them back when she is annoyed. Her legs are what draw me to her so strongly.

Second and third are the twins: Megan and Rachael. They have the oddest and most exotic heritage that I’ve ever seen: half Japanese, and half Cherokee. I can’t even begin to guess how their parents met or what their family is like, but they are beyond doubt two very beautiful human beings. Megan and Rachael are identical twins with dark tanned skin and deep blue eyes.

They have light brown hair, and perfectly shaped breasts. They are not as well toned or athletic as Sandy, but they are much more dexterous and could probably fold themselves up like origami and squeeze into my backpack. They stand about half a foot shorter than me. But they have the amazingly attractive faces. If I said they were beautiful, I would be committing a misdeed. They are absolutely gorgeous. Works of perfection wrought by god almighty. It was the slant of their eyes, the prominence of their cheeks; but mostly it was their lips. My whole body would feel good when I saw them smile.

Fourth and lastly was Terra. Terra was shy and funny. She was also very cute. Her skin was pale white and never tanned, and her hair was a glossy black that fell halfway down her back. Her eyes were shallow green, with a touch of blue. Her chest was flat, but it hardly mattered. She had the sweetest voice of any girl I knew, and she sung very well. She was also a bookworm and studied her schoolwork religiously. She wore glasses when she was reading, but they didn’t take away from her beauty in the slightest. If anything they enhanced her look.

Her body is very lightly built, but she is almost taller than me. I love her attitude and her personality. She knows what she wants out of life, and she is always full of confidence and good cheer. She is also the only one of these four girls that I actually know personally. We are even close enough friends that I have her phone number tucked away in my address book. Occasionally she’ll help me with my English and I’ll help her with Math.

The class started to file into the room, and I watched with enthusiasm from my seat in the back. Soon enough the Bitch walked in and started handing back freshly graded papers. I took my C minus with a sigh of relief. When I looked back up, Terra caught my eye and flashed me her grade. She had an A stamped on her paper. I couldn’t help but chuckle.

Nobody got a plus after their letter. Not from the Bitch.

Class went on and so did the school day. Eventually I found myself in the cafeteria. I sat alone at a table near the far side of the room, and ate my shit of the day lunch in silence. When the bell rang, I dumped my half eaten food in the trash and headed for my next class. It happened shortly after I entered the mass of students in the hall. It was a sucker punch to the gut that doubled me over. Peter leaned forward and whispered in my ear. “If you ever rat on me again, I’ll kill you.” Then he shoved me to the floor and stepped on my back. I tried to get up but got a kick across my temple for my trouble. “Remember Jason, I can and will kick your ass.” Then he got off of me and walked away.

I actually think I got off easy. If he had waited until after school to get me, it would have been much worse, but he did it in a public place, so his retribution was limited by what he could get away with. And with his message already delivered, he had no reason to come after me again. Still, my head was bleeding from where his shoe scuffed me, and I might well have a concussion. I got up and went straight for the nurse’s office.

Dr. Keller was the school nurse. A fine redhead in her early twenties, it was hard to think of her as a graduate of medical school. She seemed young enough to be a student. She looked up as I came in, and sighed visibly.

“At it again Jason?” She asked. “Go ahead and sign in.”

“I tripped and fell, Dr. Keller.” I told her, putting my signature on the sheet.

She shook her head. “That’s twice this week, and five times this month. Procedure says I have to report this to guidance.” I cringed.

“A shrink won’t help me.” She stood up and got out a medical kit. A cotton swab dipped in hydrogen peroxide wiped across the gash on my temple, and I did my best to ignore the sting.

“Maybe they can stop the bullying?”

I harrumphed. “More likely the problem will just escalate further, but instead of happening in public where it can be seen it’ll be taken off school grounds. It’s bad right now but not so much that it’s intolerable, and certainly better than the alternative.”

“What do you think I should do then? Next time you come in here you might have a broken arm or worse. And if I don’t call it in, it will be seen as my fault.” She pushed a gooey antiseptic out of a tiny plastic bottle and smeared it across the cut.

“Just wait until after school today. I don’t want to deal with it right now.”

“Fine. But you know they’ll be calling you down first thing tomorrow.”

“I can deal with it then.” I said, standing up to leave. “Thanks for patching me up.”

“Be more careful Jason.”

The second half of the day went by in much the same manner as the first half, only with less violence directed at me. The car ride home was somewhat interesting. My mother arrived just after three to pick me and my stepsister up, and she immediately saw the gash on my head.

“What happened!?” She exclaimed.

“I tripped and fell.” I lied. Best not to discuss such things with my mother. Sharon can be an annoying parent when she gets started on something.

But I guess my luck was turning back around, because my stepsister had just walked up and overheard my reply. “What a load of crap.” She told my mother. “He got his ass kicked by Peter for being a twerp.” Oh shit. My stepsister’s done it now.

Present arms! “Jason!” Take aim! “What the hell did you think you were doing?” Fire! “You’re grounded for the rest of the week. You don’t go anywhere but work and school. And I don’t want to hear any complaints about it!” Bayonet charge! “Make it two weeks because you lied to me about what happened!”

Totally predictable. And totally unnecessary, if only my sister had shut up. I mouthed a meaningless apology to my mother, and she saw right through it.

“What the hell were you fighting for?” She was getting motherly again, trying to make up with me and pretend like she didn’t just sentence me to exile.

“Nothing.” I said. “Leave me alone.” If I put her through a guilt trip, she might actually let up after only a couple of days. My stepsister was having none of that, though.

“He started something with Peter, messed with him and made him look bad in front of the teachers. So Pete decided to mess him up right back.” She smiled at me as she said it, and I mouthed unmentionable words under my breath. The whore.

We finally got home and I went straight to my room. I didn’t come out until I decided it was time for me to leave for work, and I got there just before four thirty, even though I was scheduled to start at five. I walked into the back room to log my time and saw the lamp from the previous day was still sitting on the shelf, right where I’d left it. Haller was sitting at his bench, examining a new shipment of somethings under intense light.

“Afternoon Mr. Haller.” I called to him.

“You’re here awfully early today Jason.” He said.

“Trouble at home, I wanted to get out of that house for a while. Family is a mess.”

“By all means, work as much as you like.” He said amenably. Haller was a friendly sort, elderly and really skinny, but awesomely smart, too. He knew more about history and archeology than any of the teachers at school. His gray hair matted to the sides of his head and his glasses pinched his nose, tied back with a loop of string as he bent over his work.

“Did you look at that lamp on the shelf?” I asked him.

“No, I haven’t had the chance yet. You bought it yesterday?” He asked. I nodded. “I’ll get to it eventually, unless there was someone who wanted to buy it right away?”

“No customer, but I was interested for myself. There was something about the man who sold it, a curiosity I guess.”

“How much did you buy it for?” Haller asked.

“I gave the man ten dollars out of the safe.” I said, wondering where this was going.

“Tell you what, if you want it, you can have it.” He laughed, turning back to his work.

“Really? Thanks Mr. Haller.” I walked over to the lamp and carefully put it in my bag.

“You’ve been a good employee, and ten dollars is really nothing.” Haller said, not even turning away from the tapestry roll he was examining.

I closed the shop and went home at quarter after ten. I avoided my family and again went straight to my room. I threw my bag on my bed and fell into my recliner, flipping the television on with the remote. After about ten minutes of mindless news I turned off the tube and pulled the lamp out of my bag. “All the power in the universe.” I muttered.

Yea, I could think of plenty of things I would do with that. Let there be absolutely no doubt, these would not be altogether pleasant things. I wanted to get revenge on all the assholes who ever fucked with me. I wanted to make people give me the respect I deserve as a human being. I wanted to make them love and worship me, to bow down and grovel at my feet. If I was going to fantasize, I wasn’t going to do it halfway. All the power in the universe. Right.

And of course, the genie chose that moment to come out.