The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Christy had been awake for nearly 26 hours when she stumbled back into the dorm. The most recent eight of those hours had been spent in one of the computer science labs, trying desperately to figure out why her computer model of a satellite was orbiting beneath the Earth’s crust. Since the beginning of the semester, she’d been averaging one all-nighter a week. Her roommate joked several times about only bringing trysts back to their room on days when CS assignments were due.

Oh god, I’m going to fail this class. I should never have taken it. I don’t know what I was thinking. Just because I can install software and find deleted files doesn’t mean I can write code. Stupid mom and her stupid, “Oh, you like computers! You’d totally be good at this!” Maybe if I go to the professor and beg him…for what? An extension? It’s not like I’d do any better with more time. Maybe for partial credit, and then promise that if he passes me I’ll never darken his department’s doorways again…

Christy’s inner monologue was broken when she heard a moaning from the room she was passing. She wouldn’t have thought anything of it—overhearing noisy sex was kind of a common hazard of dorm life—except that it was the floor monitor’s door. As in, Annie the hyper-conservative no-sex-until-marriage-and-maybe-not-even-then super-Christian floor monitor. The only floor monitor in the building who didn’t have a bowl of condoms available for her residents, and would give you a stern disapproving glare if asked about it.

Christy was one of several residents who thought Annie was a deeply closeted, self-hating lesbian; but it’s not like anyone was going to try to find out for sure.

But Annie’s door was open a crack, and Christy was curious—Who did Annie have in there? A girl? A boy? It had to be a girl. Annie wouldn’t be moaning for a boy, she’s be lying back and thinking of England while desperately trying to get pregnant. And they’d have gotten married last night while I was debugging.

Which made it all the more surprising when Christy did sneak a peek: Was that Annie…having sex with Howard? Creepy, condescending Howard? And were those some kind of restraints…? Was Annie having kinky bondage sex with Howard?

Christy moved to get a better look through the crack in the door, and was shocked by the full scene—Annie was lying back on the bed, with Howard pistoning between her legs. But the black bands around Annie’s wrists and neck weren’t ropes, they were some kind of tentacles, and two more of them were obscenely groping Annie’s breasts. The tentacles seemed to be emerging from a buxom blonde girl kneeling being Annie’s head, with her fingers on Annie’s temples. No…her fingers were IN Annie’s temples! What the hell was going on?

Reflexive, Christy gasped at the scene. Both Howard and the blond girl snapped to attention, and stared as Christy with jet-black eyes without stopping what they were doing.

MINE.

The word echoed in Christy’s head and she grabbed the door as her knees went weak. What the hell was that?

A tentacle emerged from the girl’s mouth, an obscene black tongue that grew and stretched across the room, lashing out at Christy’s face. Christy threw her hands up to shield herself, and felt a swash of hot/cold tingle strike her right hand and ripple down her arm. She shrieked and tumbled backwards out into the hallway, and hitting the floor was enough to bring her back to her senses. Not stopping to look where the tentacle was or if she was being followed, Christy ran full-tilt down the hall to her room, where she unlocked the door and dove inside in blind panic, slamming it behind her.

Gasping and heaving, her heart pounding, Christy pressed her back to the door and strained to hear anything coming down the hallway, but all seemed quiet. She slid down the door and tried to get herself together. What was that? What the fuck was that? Her hand still tingled a little, but it looked normal. What should she do now? Call campus security? Oh, yes, that would go over well: “Hi, I think some sort of demon couple is fucking my RA. Why no, I’m not on any drugs, why do you ask?”

Cautiously, Christy unlocked the door and peered out—nothing. She crept down the hall, but Annie’s door was now closed and no sounds came from within. As the adrenaline rush subsided, she wondered, did that actually happen? Maybe it was a hallucination. No sleep and too many energy drinks?

That had to be it. She’d probably walked in somebody having perfectly normal sex and just hallucinated all the weird shit because her brain was fried. It basically was just a nightmare. Yeah, that made sense.

Though she hadn’t entirely convinced herself, Christy’s body was convinced enough that the danger was over for her to collapse unceremoniously into bed upon returning to her room.

Christy woke up five hours later in a general haze of tiredness and hunger. She vaguely realized she’d slept through her 2:00 economics lecture, but it wasn’t the first time—she’d just get the notes from one of the other 600 people in that class.

She stumbled to the bathroom to get herself together. Geoscience lecture at 4:00…if I hurry, I can grab a sandwich from the student center and still get there on time…just need to wash my face and…

“What the hell?”

On the back of Christy’s right hand was a strange black brand that looked vaguely like a tribal tattoo. Where the hell had that come from? Her mind drifted back to the strange scene in Annie’s room that morning. Did that really happen? Was this from that tentacle-thing? No, that couldn’t be it. That was just absurd. Obviously, her roommate Natalie had come in while she was sleeping and drawn it on as a prank.

She scrubbed the mark with soap and water until her skin felt raw—whatever it was, it wasn’t coming off. Well, now was not the time to worry about it. She was already running late, and she was really hungry.

A little less than an hour later, Christy was staring into space in Geoscience class. The professor was droning about something about icebergs and strata formation that she knew from experience wouldn’t actually be on any tests. She’d skim it in the textbook later, just in case. And hey, Paul was looking yummy today…his hair was a little tousled, he hadn’t shaved this morning…he did “just rolled out of bed” so very well. It made her want to just roll out of bed with him after a very busy night. He was on the lacrosse team, and given how nice his arms were, his abs were probably a work of art. Imagine being able to run your hands all over that…mmm…

THUNK.

Christy was startled out of her reverie by the girl next to her dropping her book into a backpack. The class was over and people were getting up and giving her odd looks. Christy suddenly realized that her right hand was down the front of her jeans, and she’d been touching herself while distracted by…some boy? Mortified, Christy prayed that her notebook had obscured most people’s view, snatched up her things and bolted from the room.

“So, really, all I need to do is pass. I mean, I’ve turned in every assignment, most of them on time, and I’m obviously putting in the effort. That’s got to count for something, right?”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Martin, there’s nothing I can do here. The grading rubric was included in the syllabus on the first day of the class, and it’s the same system I’ve used for the past dozen semesters. This isn’t high school; there is no credit for participation. You either succeed, or you fail.”

“I know, and I’m not trying to ask for any special favors, I was just thinking…look, maybe if you could let me go through the last assignment with one of the TAs, I lost a lot of points for one really silly bug that I know how to fix now, and those points could make a real difference.”

“No, I can’t allow that. You had plenty of time to learn the material and apply it properly before the assignment was turned in.”

“An extra credit assignment, then?”

“Again, I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can offer you.”

Christy sighed. Professor Scherer was seriously intractable. There had to be something she could do, and this really was important. She couldn’t afford to fail this class. Hell, if that’s what it took, she’d get down on her knees and suck his dick right here in his office. She could just saunter over to him, stroke his thighs a little, unzip his fly, and just go to it. It wouldn’t take much to get him hard—sure, she was skinny without much of a chest, but he was probably sixty and any attention from a hot young student would get him off fast. Hell, he’d be groaning and cumming in her mouth before he even really had a chance to object.

Christy brushed off the knees of her jeans, grabbed a tissue from the box on Professor Scherer’s desk and spat the semen that hadn’t got straight down her throat into it. She briefly contemplated that the mark on her right hand now wrapped around her wrist and was starting to stretch up her arm when she realized that the professor was nervously zipping himself up…and what she’d just done.

“So, uh, in light of this…I was thinking it might be fair to the class to offer everyone a make-up assignment, to replace the lowest grade anyone has achieved so far.”

“Sure, whatever.” Why would I care about that? It doesn’t make a difference if I pass CS or not. Christy awkwardly smiled and half-waved at the professor, picked up her bag and left.

“You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve been having,” Natalie said as she tossed her bag into a pile of coats in the corner of the room. “Did you know that the donut shop on First Street closed? Seriously, the only thing I wanted today was a jelly donut, but I didn’t even think to get one from the cafeteria before breakfast ended because I thought I could get a real one from the donut shop, but I can’t because it isn’t there anymore! And it’s not like walking to the supermarket would help, because they don’t make boxed jelly donuts. Ugh!”

Natalie had short, frosted-blond hair; an impressive knowledge of the indie punk scene; and a “fuck you, I’ll do what I want” attitude that tended to upset professors and administrators. These traits ensured that a steady stream of boys and girls followed her home like puppies, only to be chewed up and spit out when they couldn’t keep up. She’d expressed some interest in Christy when they first met, but as Christy was only into boys, they instead became lunch buddies and later roommates.

“I was awake for more than a full day, hallucinated a hentai scene, got caught masturbating in class, sucked off a professor, and have eaten like 10,000 calories in six hours and I’m still starving.”

“Okay, you win. Why’d you suck off a professor?”

“Don’t know. It’s not like I care about the class.”

“What are you talking about? You care about all of your classes! You’re Christy Martin, the girl who doesn’t sleep!”

“Oh, yeah…Hunh. That’s weird. I remember working really hard, like passing CS was really important to me, but it just feels…I don’t know…numb, now.”

“Maybe you’re depressed.”

“I guess. By the way, did you really have to Sharpie my arm while I was sleeping?”

“Hunh?”

“This mark, on my…,” Christy paused, noticing the mark was now a black tribal swirl stretching from her fingertips to her elbow, “…hand. That’s really weird. It totally wasn’t this big a few hours ago.”

“I did NOT do that. I didn’t even touch you. Here, let me see.” Natalie sat down on the bed next to Christy, and gingerly took her arm. “This isn’t Sharpie. This looks like a tattoo. And will you stop wiggling your arm?”

“I’m holding my arm totally still.”

“No, you’re not. The image is moving. Here…whoa.” Natalie paused, enraptured by the swirling images along Christy’s fingertips. “It’s…pretty. And it feels…nice…” Natalie started distracted running her fingers along the image, up and down Christy’s arm.

Oh, great, not only was there this weird thing on her arm, but Natalie was getting all creepy about it. Hopefully, this wouldn’t be a reprise of the night Natalie came home on a cocktail of illicit substances and tried to talk Christy into a lesbian threesome. She didn’t talk about it sober, but it was clear that Natalie was still interested in her.

She probably did draw the thing on, and she’s just messing with me. Oh, and put concealer over part of it so it would look like it was getting bigger as the day went on. That’s totally the kind of thing she’d do. I really should get her back for that, mess with her head a little. What if I kissed her right now? Yeah, and if she claims the mark-thing feels so good, I can totally rub it all over her. I bet she’d just run with it; make all sorts of crazy noises when I rubbed my hands on her neck and chest and legs. Then she’d totally go crazy when I stuck that hand down her pants—do her “I don’t care who hears me fucking” scream when I finger-fuck her with my magic hand. Hah!

Christy pulled a bottle of water out of the mini-fridge and made a face when she realized her hand was all sticky. “So, did you eventually find a donut and then put your sticky fingers all over my bottled water?”

Natalie, dazed and panting on the bed, looked at her blankly. “What about donuts? Why would I get a donut? They’re kinda gross.”

“But you said…” Christy trailed off. Was Natalie still messing with her? “You said you spent the entire morning looking for donuts because you were craving them.”

“Did I? I guess I did walk around for a while. I don’t know. That’s weird. Not as weird as getting fingerbanged by my straight roommate, though. Finally decide to give team bi a try?”

“What? No…I didn’t even realize…I thought I was just imagining it. Just like with the professor.”

“I totally didn’t imagine that. Wow. And I don’t know if it’s the tattoo or you’ve just got magic fingers, but DAMN, girl.”

Christy looked at her arm—it was thick with twisting, black marks that stretched from her fingertips to her shoulder. Tentatively, she touched it with her other hand. It did feel really good, more sensitive than usual, but only in the good ways. And thinking about it, she felt better than she had all day—energized, even. Maybe Natalie was on to something. Was this something she wanted? She didn’t even know what she wanted anymore.

“Nat…are you interested in me, like that? Is this something you want?”

“Fuck yeah! I always kinda hoped you’d change your mind.”

“Then…” Christy began, stripping off her shirt, “Could you show me what you want? Share it with me?”

She didn’t have to ask Natalie twice.

A few hours later, Christy looked at Natalie’s unconscious form. There was barely anything left inside of her, but Christy had needed it all to make the Master strong, to allow the Master to grow and take root inside of her. She would go out and feed more, meet up with the Master’s other bodies, and eventually one of them would return to plant the Master’s seed inside Natalie.

There was so much to do, and Christy didn’t need to sleep.