The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

In the Café

Agbagwa sat quietly in his booth drinking his coffee. The café door swings open and with a large rabble around 10 boys and girls from the local school walk in.

Agbagwa watches as the group bustle into a couple of booths across from his. He also notices that several of the other customers are put off from the noise. Agbagwa continues with his coffee.

The group soon start to become more boisterous and start to throw paper napkins and straws around at each other. The waitress takes their order and asks them all to settle down, to which she only takes abuse and a few jokes at her expense are cracked. Agbagwa notices that one of the boys who the others keep trying to impress keeps looking over. He is around 6′ with long blonde hair, has a good solid build and Agbagwa notices that he play’s with the school team because of his team jacket. Agbagwa then looks back to his coffee.

Agbagwa just continues to listen to the conversation and learns the kid who keeps looking at him is called Robbie, and that he’s 18 and a good footballer. Agbagwa learns this from the other guys and girls at the table who are trying to impress him from bumming him up. Once again Agbagwa can see the young man look directly at him as he sips his coke through a straw when he looks up. Agbagwa smiles and the young man gives him the finger. Agbagwa casually looks back down at his coffee.

“Hey! Black dude.”

“Yea, you! What’s the matter, those dreadlocks covering your ears?”

Agbagwa heard the others at the table laugh at Robbie’s comments and decided to just sit and wait.

“Can you hear me black dude? You can, can’t you,” Robbie laughed.

“Of course, it could be that niggers are dumb fucks, so maybe he can hear but don’t understand.”

Agbagwa looked up as two young girls walked in the door of the café. The first was around 5′3 with long brown hair, and slim in build. The second girl coming in was what immediately caught Agbagwa’s eye. She was around 5′7″, with a really small waist and large chest, and her blonde shinny hair was tightly pulled back into a ponytail. Walking over to the table her breasts bobbed with lively bounce.

When the two girls got to the table; the blonde sat on Robbie’s knee and threw her arm around him, kissing him. She then lifted his drink and sipped his coke threw the straw before kissing him again. Agbagwa watched as the whole table listened and offered Robbie and his Girlfriend compliments. He thusly learned the blonde was called Stacey.

Agbagwa was draining his refilled coffee when he discreetly looked up and could see Robbie now menacingly looking at him,

“What the fuck you looking at, fucker?”

Agbagwa tried to look away from Robbie.

“I’m talking to you!” Agbagwa knew the situation was becoming intense. He tried to look back at the coffee before he heard Stacey talk.

“Just hit him, Robbie.” Agbagwa looked up as Robbie was now walking over to his booth, his glass in his hand, half full with coke. Robbie bent over next to Agbagwa.

“You hear me now, don’t you, boy!”

“I can.”

“What makes you think your black ass is welcome here?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

Agbagwa watched as Robbie slowly moved the glass above Agbagwa’s head and started to pour the half full glass of coke over his head. Agbagwa looked down as the table started to gather the coke, ice cubes and straw. Agbagwa’s rage mellowed when he saw the straw.

“What about that, BOY? What’s that black nigger ass going to do?”

“Thank you.”

Robbie was surprised by Agbagwa’s reaction and obviously looking for a fight. The rest of the boys and girls started to laugh.

“You’re a crazy dude,” said Robbie.

“Hit him, Robbie,” put in Stacey.

“Naw, isn’t fair. This guy’s simple.”

Robbie walked back to the table and he and his friends then left.

Agbagwa picked up the straw and smiled.

Hey White Kid

The following day, Robbie was on his way to footy practice and as he got out his new ford (his dad had got him) he swung his bag over his shoulder, then walked round the side of the building where he stopped. No one was around.

“Hey! White kid.

He looked over and between the bins and the outside of the building stood the black guy he had poured the drink over in the café. Robbie looked around to make sure the guy was alone, then he looked the guy up and down to see if he was carrying anything. After a quick assessment, Robbie realised it was just he and this guy and the guy didn’t have any weapons.

“Hey white kid, you hear me, don’t you?”

Robbie dropped his bag and marched over to the guy.

“Oh, I hear you, BOY! I hear you loud and clear.”

Robbie was about to swing a punch at the guy when Agbagwa lifted his hand.

“Stop,” the African commanded.

Robbie stopped! No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t move. He started to panic and he felt his heart start to beat as if it wanted to escape his chest.

“What the fuck?”

“You are under my control.”

“Boy, you better stop this or I’m going to…”

“What? You’re going to what, beat me up?” He held up the straw. “Hard to think this little thing is going to bring down your world.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? What did you do?”

“You’re quite right to panic.”

He had never felt so vulnerable, not since he was a kid. This guy was starting to terrify him. He could feel himself start to sweat, his heart was thumping, his neck was twitching, there was a wave of uncertainty washing over him and he felt sick.

“Listen to me carefully. Don’t talk back, just listen,” he put his hand up to silence any argument or irrelative threat. “You’re going to continue with your day as normal. The only thing that will change is your secret love for boys.”

Robbie’s fears were doubled, his heart racing as he desperately wanted to grab this guy and kick the shit out of him, but the more he struggled the more he could feel the grip on him tighten. His mind screamed but he could clearly hear the words and understood them with crystal clarity.

“Yes, you are no longer interested in women; they do not make you hard. It is only men who can turn you on. You are aware I have done this to you but you will still lust after men. Your shame will haunt you and you can try to cover it up but you still need to satisfy all your need.”

Agbagwa looked around.

“You may go about your business now, but every time we meet you will treat me with respect out of your fear and maybe someday I will remove this curse.”

He then walked away from the boy and around the corner.

In the locker room

Robbie was holding back tears as he watched the man turn the corner from the bins. He tried to compose himself. ‘You’re Robbie, captain of the football team. You can beat this! There is nothing to worry about,’ but deep down a weight rested on his shoulders and a sinking feeling grew in his stomach.

He pushed the Locker room door open and started to walk to his locker. The first three guys he passed said hello and he nodded back. He threw his bag onto the bench in front of his locker. Looking down the row of lockers, he could see some of his team mates getting ready. Before he knew it, his stare was directly on one of their asses. Once he was aware of it he tried to look away, but his heart speed and his hunger grew.

‘Look away, you’re not gay, you need to fight this.’

But the fear had taken hold and with it his illusion of keeping this under control. When the guys looked around, he finally managed to pull his gaze free, but every where he looked young guys were undressing or getting ready. He grabbed a fitness magazine from the locker shelf, slammed the door shut and quickly made his way to the toilet. Upon getting there, he saw another team mate at the urinal and on passing him, his eyes robotically shifted to the cock in his hand. He walked to a cubical and locked himself in.

As he sat on the pan, his hands reached for his fly and unbuttoned it and his cock sprung free. He opened the magazine and flicked through the pages till he saw the advert he was subconsciously looking for. It was a two-page advert for a muscle enhancement drink. On the page was a young guy, well tanned with the body of a Greek god.

He moved for his cock and upon seizing his hard member he began to wank it.

‘What are you doing? Stop it! You’re sitting on a toilet pan in the guys locker room having a chug to a man in a magazine! Yea, a really hot guy,’ his thoughts wandered.

He didn’t care who was listening, he just played with his cock. He had never been this turned on before and although he was worried about getting caught, his actions never changed. His disgust of what he was doing gave way to the physical pleasure he was allowing himself.

His feet scuffed back hard against the base of the pan, his hand now moving faster along his cock. He moved the advert up closer to his face, then jumped from the pan and turned round. He placed the magazine on the pan and proceeded to toss himself off as he looked down at the guy in the picture. He could feel himself on the brink, then he was finally milking himself all over the advert, his cum covering the guy in the ad.

He took several seconds to compose himself, then he folded the magazine shut and left the cubical. He was glad to see no one was around. He felt better that he hadn’t been caught and placing the magazine in the bin, he walked back to the locker room and started to get ready for practice.

During practice

Agbagwa watched as Stacey and six friends watched the practice. They laughed and joked, making fun of some other girls further down the stand. Stacey’s bitchy side was clearly coming through as she continued to slate the younger girl with the glasses. He watched her as she only stopped the abuse to the girl and her friend to check on her boyfriend.

Robbie was no way interested and obviously concerned with other things. He couldn’t tackle any guy for fear of a homosexual thought creeping into his mind. As the guys ran past him and tapped him on a pass or shot, he had to sink to his knees trying to cover his hard-on though pretending to catch his breath.

Agbagwa watched Stacey. She was sitting slouched in her seat, her sandaled feet up on the back of the one in front. She was wearing a little white skirt and top.

Agbagwa watched and mouthed a command.

‘You need the toilet.’ He saw her squirm slightly.

‘Your bladder is so full right now, you can’t even get up to go to the ladies.’

He could see she was now quiet and not listening to her pals who were chatting away. She moved her legs from the seat in front and sat on the edge of her seat, her face becoming more serious.

‘Your bladder is bursting. You need to pee, but can’t make it to the toilet.’

Stacey tried again to shift but she simply couldn’t. Moving her arms down to between her side, she pushed her legs together and tried to wait for the moment to pass.

“It’s more intense. You are struggling to hold it in. If you move, you will lose control.”

She slowly shifted again, her position becoming more crouched. He could see her look around, again shifting in the seat, again looking up and down the stand.

‘You are going to feel the need too great. You will make no attempt to stop yourself and the feeling will be so good during the release, you will feel great. But once you have finished you will be aware of what you have done.

She immediately closed her eyes. She gave a long deep sigh as she started to flow. It was not a constant flow as her pants trapped some before spilling onto the seat and down her calves.

Her friends took a moment to realise what was happening before looking down and quickly shifting to one side. Their movement drew the attention of the girls further down who immediately started pointing and laughing.

Stacey sharply came to her senses and a question of ‘how do I get out of this?’ filled her head. Determining there was no way she could, she tried to stand, her skirt becoming transparent with the wet area on her rear.

Her own friends even started to laugh, the commotion reaching the field and the players now looking up. They saw Stacey gingerly moving towards the exit. Both groups of girls down the front now in hysterics and shouting after her.

Agbagwa smiled. He then made his way for the lower exit hoping to catch the sopping girl.