The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Marvin woke up smiling. Cindy had visited him the previous night to tell him their plan had worked. She’d hypnotized Biff and planted the suggestions Marvin had thought up, and they’d worked. Biff was disgraced, humiliated, off the football team and looking down the barrel of expulsion. And his programming was still in place; things could only get worse for him. After attacking Cindy the way he had, he deserved it.

The icing on the cake was that Cindy had handed back the pendant without a fuss. If he’d had to, of course, he could have put her under with her trigger phrase and made her cough it up; her programming made sure he was in charge even without the inducer crystal. But he hadn’t needed to, and now the pendant was safely stashed. After Cindy had gone, Marvin had heaved a sigh of relief and gone right to bed.

He dressed quickly, shaved and headed for the cafeteria. God, he was starved this morning!

Cindy woke up smiling. Thanks to Marvin’s magic pendant, Biff had made a monkey of himself, paying him back for what he’d done to her after the Halloween party where she’d done that wild strip act. She still didn’t know where that had come from! Anyway, she’d gotten Biff good.

And she still had the pendant. After she’d seen how powerful it was, she’d decided not to give it back. So she’d gone to see Marvin, pretending she was going to hand it over, and then used it on him. She giggled, remembering—he’d gone out like a light, even faster than Biff. She remembered reading somewhere that dumb people were harder to hypnotize; maybe Marvin’s being so smart made him extra susceptible. Or maybe he was secretly submissive or something.

Certainly he’d done everything she asked while he was in trance.

Cindy grinned. She’d really put him through his paces. Who’d have thought such a shy, nerdy guy would be such an energetic sex partner? He must have been bottling up an awful lot. And afterward, she’d put in a suggestion, a, what was it Marvin had called it before, a trigger, she could use to control him later, even without the pendant, and told him to forget everything except that she’d given him back the pendant and gloated with him about Biff. Then she’d led him carefully through a fantasy in which he’d taken back the pendant and put it away, watching as he acted it out; he hadn’t even seemed to notice she was still holding the thing. Then she’d brought him awake again, none the wiser, and gone home.

She’d have to see how well the post-hypnotic commands she’d given Marvin worked. If Biff was any example . . . She licked her lips. And if not, well, she still had her secret weapon.

It was funny, really. All this time, she’d been chasing after Biff and treating Marvin like dirt. Who’d have guessed she’d end up hating Biff and getting up close and personal with Marvin?

Of course, the power was part of it. That was a real turn-on, knowing she could make a guy do anything. But if that were all, she could have stuck with Biff, turned him into her personal pet. Marvin, though—Marvin had helped her when she really needed it, helped her with studying as well as with Biff, and never tried anything. There was a nice guy inside that geeky body. She almost wished she could really go out with him—but no, the crowd would never let her live that down. Dating a nerd! She sighed.

Cindy dressed carefully, combed her hair and headed out to eat. God, she was starved this morning!

There was an autumn chill in the air. Biff Matthews hardly noticed. He was seething. Off the team, threatened with being kicked out, people avoiding him. And somehow it’d all started Halloween night, when he’d tracked down Cindy after the bitch’d taken her clothes off at the costume party.

Sure he’d been rough with her. But hey, she’d humiliated him right in front of everybody! And it wasn’t as if the stuck-up cunt didn’t have it coming! Biff grunted. What he had to do was get her alone. Then he’d remind her who wore the pants in their relationship. And if she got a little banged up along the way, who cared?

Biff shook his head, and instantly regretted it. He’d started drinking Sunday afternoon and kept it up till he passed out. This morning, it felt like a jackhammer was running inside his skull and his mouth tasted like the bottom of a birdcage. He’d shaved badly, cutting himself, and the whites of his eyes had looked nearly all red in the mirror while he was doing it. He hadn’t gotten that drunk, or this hung over, since after the big game the previous year.

Cindy wasn’t in her room when he arrived. She’d already left the cafeteria when he checked there. He knew she didn’t have any classes Monday morning; her schedule was funny that way. Where could she be hiding out?

Spotting Bonnie Akerlie, one of Cindy’s cheerleader friends, Biff came up to her and asked roughly, “Where’s Cindy?” Bonnie shrugged.

Biff growled, “C’mon! I know you know where she is, bitch! Spit it out!” He grabbed her arm.

The next thing he knew, three big guys were holding him and Bonnie was screaming. Suddenly he realized he’d done it again, jacked off in public. He hadn’t been able to stop himself! Again! Oh God, oh no—!

His interrogation by the campus cops was a nightmare. It only got worse when the real cops arrived. Bonnie was pressing charges. He was dead meat. . . .

Expulsion was a foregone conclusion after that. And when he came home and his parents heard the story, his dad beat the shit out of him as bad as he’d ever done when Biff was a kid.

The next day, one of his high-school pals, Mike Morris, came to visit him. The two of them went for a walk outside, Biff moving very carefully; he was sore all over, and his left eye was swollen completely shut.

“Wow,” his pal said, “your dad really laid into you, didn’t he? It looks like he just went bananas!”

Biff gasped, and his good eye widened; then he hunched over and stated hopping around, arms out monkey-style. “Eek-eek-ah, eek-ah, ook-ook!” he began gibbering.

“Jesus, Biff! Stop it!” Mike was freaked. “Stop, for God’s sake!”

Biff went right on. A crowd began to gather as passers-by saw his antics. People began to point and laugh. . . .

“Hunh?” Biff grunted. “What’s so funny?” Then he remembered what he’d been doing.

It was too much. For the first time since he’d been nine years old, Biff Matthews started to cry. Awkwardly, Mike led him back home.

Cindy heard about it a few days later, and smiled in savage satisfaction. It’s the gift that keeps on giving, she thought. Even if my suggestions wear off eventually, Biff’s life is over. Mine, on the other hand. . . .

Marvin and Cindy’s relationship of mutual, unsuspecting submission might have gone on indefinitely if Cindy hadn’t started thinking again about extending the benefits of modern nerd science to some of her friends. By mid-November, however, the temptation had become irresistible.

So as she got ready for one of their regular Tuesday night study sessions, she made preparations. A push-up bra to emphasize her breasts under a tight sweater with a nice low neckline; a black micro-miniskirt; fishnet stockings, high spike heels. And just in case all that and her previous suggestions were not enough, Marvin’s pendant, still attached to her necklace. Slipping it on, she stuffed the crystal into her cleavage, safely out of sight until she needed it.

When Marvin answered the door, Cindy was pleased to see that his hair was neatly combed sideways and free of the oily stuff he had used on it before. She’d made the hypnotic suggestion to him that he’d look better this way, and clearly it had taken. And he did look better; his hair was several shades lighter and looked rather nice. The next step would be to get him into the gym. He’d never be a Mr. Universe, but he could tone up. Then she’d have to see about the glasses.

“Where are your books, Cindy?” Marvin asked, surprised.

“Tits-a-whammy, Marvin,” Cindy answered.

“T-tits-a . . .” Marvin was lost, sinking through a soft pink universe. Cindy laughed.

“Can I come in, Marvin?” she cooed, undulating against the open door. Without waiting for an answer, she entered Marvin’s room and shut the door behind her, then peeled off her sweater over her head in one sinuous motion and turned to face Marvin.

He was standing there, stunned, completely in her power, a situation which never failed to get her hot. But business first.

“Marvin,” she addressed him, “do you remember the pendant you gave me to use on Biff?”

“Yes, Cindy,” he said. “I remember.”

“You remember that I gave it back to you when I was done.”

“Yes, Cindy,” he said.

“Do you still have it?”

“Yes, Cindy. I put it . . . away safely. It might be . . . dangerous.”

Oh, Marvin, honey, Cindy gloated, you have no idea. She asked softly, “If you needed to, could you make more?”

“Yes, Cindy. I could make more.” He stirred, a worried look appearing on his face; the daze seemed to clear from his eyes a little. “But I’m afraid to. It’s too . . . powerful. Might get . . . out of control . . . in the . . . wrong hands. I don’t want—!”

“Yes you do, Marvin,” she said. Time to close the sale. She pulled the pendant out and let it dangle from her chest, swaying gently as she breathed.

“I-I-I-yi-yi . . .” Marvin moaned, eyes locking on instantly, falling, deeper and deeper.

“Say it for me, Marvin,” she ordered him. “Promise me you’ll make more of the pendants.”

“I-I promise,” Marvin gasped. “I’ll make more . . . pendants.”

“As many as I want?” she questioned him. “Whenever I ask?”

“As many as you . . . want. Whenever . . . you ask.” ‘ “Thank you, Marvin,” Cindy replied. Then she had an idea: “Marvin, I know you’re worried about making more pendants. I don’t want you to worry, so when I ask you to make more pendants, you’ll do it, but when they’re done and you’ve given them to me, you’ll forget all about it. You’ll remember that there’s only one, and you have it safely hidden away.

“If you ever see someone else with one of the pendants, you’ll immediately relax and become obedient, the way you are right now, until I wake you up. And when you do wake up, you won’t remember what you saw, or what happened while you were relaxed and obedient.

“Do you understand what I want, Marvin? Repeat what I asked you to do, if you understand.”

In a droning voice, Marvin parroted Cindy’s orders.

“Will you do as I asked, Marvin? Say so, if you will.”

“Yes, Cindy. I will do as . . . you asked.”

“But, Marvin,” Cindy added. “If you see another person using a pendant, and become relaxed and obedient as I’ve asked you to, you’ll be obedient only to me. Do you understand me? It won’t matter who you saw with the pendant, you’ll be obedient only to me. Because you love me, and wouldn’t want to hurt me by obeying someone else.” Now where the hell did that come from? She wondered. “Do you understand, and agree? Repeat what I’ve said, if you do.”

And Marvin did.

Cindy had another thought. “Marvin,” she said, “you must never use your pendant on me. Not the one you have”—or think you have, anyway, she thought—“or any others you make for me. Never ever. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Marvin murmured. “Never use . . . pendant on you. Never ever.” His mind a blank, he couldn’t think to tell her he’d already done so, and had been doing so for quite a while. And Cindy, unsuspecting, didn’t think to ask.

That had been Marvin’s mistake, when he’d given Cindy the pendant to use on Biff. He’d forgotten to command her not to use it on anyone else. It had never occurred to him that the cheerleader he thought he owned body and soul would turn his invention on him. Now it was too late.

The next several weeks passed in a haze for Marvin. Somehow, he didn’t seem to be focusing on his studies as he had in the past. He wasn’t quite sure where the time was going, but it seemed as if it was just speeding by. He actually found himself falling asleep in class sometimes, and when he could manage to stay awake, he had to struggle to follow the lectures. His written homework suffered; one assignment, in physics, actually came back marked C+, a disgrace by his standards.

“What’s wrong with you, Marvin?” his physics prof, Dr. Martindale, asked at one point. “You’re one of the brightest students I’ve ever taught, but lately it’s as if you’ve been sleepwalking through your classes. Are you ill?”

“N-no,” Marvin had answered. “Not sick. I don’t think.” He paused to yawn, then continued, “’S just, I don’t seem to be getting enough sleep lately. I feel as if I’d been up all night, lots of times.” He yawned again.

“Well,” his professor had said, “if it doesn’t improve, you’d better see a doctor.” At Marvin’s third yawn, he’d added: “A sleep clinic, maybe.”

Marvin had no idea that under Cindy’s spell, he had been up a lot of nights. When she wasn’t riding him to orgasm, she was riding him to make new hypnotic pendants, a process which took more time than she had realized. Marvin couldn’t turn out more than maybe two a week, what with working under hypnosis in the middle of the night and having to get fresh materials, especially lenses, every so often. Cindy was charging money for the pendants, now that word had gone around her private grapevine about what they could do; some of that went back into supplies.

Marvin wasn’t the only one going through changes. Bizarre incidents began to occur: guys going around acting like various animals, male strip acts breaking out suddenly in the student lounge or, in one memorable instance, even in class, domineering boyfriends suddenly groveling. Even the faculty and administrators weren’t immune. After berating one member of the cheer squad for parading around with her boyfriend on a leash, Dean Weisscheidel was caught in the Pussycat Lounge, whooping wildly and stuffing handfuls of dollar bills down the ample front of the dancer Fire. When a reporter who happened to be in the bar recognized him and snapped his picture, the dean had suddenly looked around frantically and started trying to act as if he had no idea where he was or what he’d been doing. No one believed him—especially after he was caught again in the Pussycat a few days later, and again claimed he had no idea what he was doing there. The fact that he turned out to have one of Fire’s brightly colored long-sleeved gloves stuffed down his pants on that occasion didn’t help.

That didn’t mean the police didn’t get called. Other people on campus made reports. But after one embarrassing incident in mid-November, the cops made a point of staying off the Fairview campus. No one ever knew who’d called in the “loud party” complaint, and afterward, the police department preferred to let the matter drop. But when Officers Pete Malone and Jennifer Jackson arrived, the scene was bedlam. Their attempts to quiet things down backfired disastrously.

Two of the girls at the party, whose zombified dates had been doing a Chippendales imitation atop a makeshift stage, confronted the officers. Sensing fresh entertainment coming up, the crowd finally quieted.

“What’s the trouble, officers?” the two asked in unison, and laughed.

“We’ve got a complaint about the—” Officer Malone never finished. Both girls had begun swinging their pendants with practiced skill; his eyes had locked on instantly and he’d lost his train of thought. His partner was in no better shape. Her eyes had widened at her first sight of the swinging gems, and within seconds, she was falling peacefully into the pretty sparkles, smiling.

“Got ‘em,” came a voice from the crowd. “Now what?”

“I know,” came another voice. “Here’s my idea. Anybody got a camera?”

The sexy background music to the male strip act which had been in progress when Malone and Jackson had arrived was still playing. Seconds later, both cops were peeling enthusiastically to its beat, the only thing in their minds at the moment. When they were nude, they were turned loose on each other, thrusting themselves eagerly together as the music blared.

After they’d obviously both come, they were ordered to dress again and sent away. Only on arriving back at the station did they fully wake up—to discover that they were dressed in each other’s clothing! The photographs arrived the next day, and that was that.

Cindy’s command that Marvin “obey only me” got tested just after Thanksgiving, when Marvin was ambushed by Bunny Jensen in the library.

He was studying desperately, trying to catch up on his reading while ignoring the strange sounds coming from some of the carrels, when Bunny came to him and said, “Hi, Marvin.” Startled—Bunny never spoke to him!—he looked up.

He hardly had time to gasp a startled, “How did you get—” before the dazzling gem swinging from Bunny’s hand put him under. After being hypnotized so often by Cindy, he had even less resistance than he’d had originally.

“He’s really out!” Bunny exclaimed. Fingering her own pendant, hidden under her blouse, “These things really pack a punch!”

Kristin Winters, another member of the cheer squad—by now pretty much completely the hypno squad—heard her and came over.

“He sure is,” she agreed, inspecting Marvin. “So what do we turn him into? Monkey, chicken, horsie? Or maybe you’d like to add another stud to your collection?”

“Marvin Finkel!?” Bunny screeched. “Gross! I dunno, what’s a good idea for a nerd?”

“I know! Let’s turn him into a dummy! Let’s make him stupid, make him forget all that science stuff! Then he can be, like, our Igor or somebody, you know, the dimwit servant in all the old Frankenstein flicks!”

“Great idea!” Bunny enthused. Turning to Marvin, she said, “Marvin, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Bunny,” he responded.

“That’s good, Marvin.” Swinging her pendant in front of him, watching his eyes follow it helplessly, she went on, “Marvin, you think you’re very smart, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he said.

“No,” she disagreed. “You’re not.”

“I’m not smart?”

“No,” she said emphatically. “I want you to forget all the smart stuff you know. You never knew it. You can’t understand it. In fact, you can barely count to ten. You read like a first-grader. Do you understand, Marvin?”

“I understand.”

“Okay. And you’ll do what I said, and forget all that stuff, like I told you to?”

Marvin blinked, and then, after a moment, said, “No, Bunny.”

“No!?” Bunny shrilled. “Why the hell not?”

“Because I don’t . . . have to.” Marvin was calm. Relaxed. Obedient to instructions Bunny, of course, knew nothing about.

Before Bunny could explore this unexpected and unwelcome development any further, Cindy came by. She’d been studying too, and had thought she’d heard Bunny and Marvin talking.

“What’s going on here?” she asked. Spotting the pendant in Bunny’s hand, she thought she knew.

“We were just having a little fun, Cin’,” Bunny said. “I put the whammy on nerd-boy here, and Kristin, she gave me the idea to turn that fancy brain of his down a few notches, creepy egghead bastard.

“Only it didn’t work! He sure looks like he’s under, but he won’t do what I say!” Bunny stamped her foot petulantly.

Cindy smiled. Inwardly, though, she was furious. Marvin was her private property! Without him, she couldn’t make the pendants, and she liked the money and respect they’d earned her. And besides . . .

She looked down at Marvin. He looked so peaceful as he sat there, oblivious to the discussion going on over his head. It wasn’t right! It was mean to reward him by giving him what might as well be a lobotomy! Well, it wasn’t going to happen.

“Here, let me try,” she said. “Marvin, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Cindy,” came the response.

“Stand up, Marvin.”

“Yes, Cindy.” Marvin stood. He looked trimmer; already, the gym workouts she’d had him start were working.

“You trust me, don’t you?” Guilt.

“Yes, Cindy. I trust you. Completely.” More guilt.

“Marvin,” Cindy went on, “I want you to return to your dorm room. When you get there, wake up, but don’t remember what happened here. Will you do as I ask? Repeat my instructions if you will do as I ask.” She’d pay him a visit later.

Calmly, Marvin repeated her orders.

“That’s good, Marvin. You can go now.”

“Yes, Cindy.” And he did.

“Holy shit, Cin’,” marveled Bunny. “He did it, just like a robot. What’ve you got that I don’t have?”

“Just the right tone of voice, I guess,” Cindy answered, suppressing much nastier words with an effort.

“Well, if Marvin does what you say and not what I say, you can have him,” Bunny sniffed. “Some prize!”