The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The trip down the corridor was a revelation. The schoolgirl look was rapidly advancing from a fashion wave to a craze. It seemed that every girl in the school wanted to try out the sexy-innocent look—though most leaned more toward sexy than innocent. Even formerly mousy, serious girls were parading about in tiny tartan kilts and tight, white tops. Their kneesocks and thigh-highs were a rainbow of gaudy colours. The few girls remaining in jeans looked harried and confused.

The guys were loving all of it.

The students waved and said hello as their tipsy guidance counsellor passed. The alcohol in her bloodstream made her feel warm and friendly. She winked at a couple of guys that were checking her out. They were right cute. The thought occurred to her that a few “private sessions” with seniors like that might be more fun than her fingers. She pushed that naughty thought away with another giggle.

Tess’s route took her past the main office. It reminded her again that she had meant to discuss this curious schoolgirl craze with some of her male colleagues. She kept forgetting. How were they reacting to having whole classes of nubile young flesh turned out like extras in a soft porn movie? It had to be distracting. Why weren’t the girls like that honey over there, flashing her yellow panties with every step, being sent home and disciplined?

The door to the Principal’s inner office opened just as Tess passed by. A girl stepped out. She was a senior that Tess recognized. She had been a clever, studious girl, President of the drama club. At the moment, she was lazily tucking a sheer white blouse into her red-and-black pleated mini. The skirt stopped a few inches below the curve of her rump. Her shapely legs were decked out in three layers of socks: short ones in red that spilled out of her red ankle-boots; kneesocks in shiny pink; and sleek thigh-highs in virgin white.

Behind her, Tess caught a glimpse of the Principal. He was a balding, middle-aged man who ran the school firmly and efficiently— until recently. He was tucking in his own shirt. His tie was half undone. He had a vacant grin on his face.

That explained why nobody was getting sent home.

“Hi Miss Prettytree,” the girl chimed as she sauntered by. “I like, love your outfit!”

“Oh! Thanks Lily,” Tess replied, charmed despite herself. “Yours too! How’s drama club coming?”

Lilly shrugged. “I dunno. I totally quit! It was like, way boring. I’d rather hang at the mall.” Giggling, she receded down the busy hall. Her three-coloured legs invited the eyes of every passerby upward to the hem of her super-short kilt. No one refused the invitation. Tess felt herself tingling again.

Eventually, Tess found herself at Janet’s home room. The older teacher was sitting at her desk, with a stack of student papers in front of her. She wasn’t marking. She was relaxing in her big chair, paging through the latest issue of TeenBeat.

“Doing some extra reading, Janet?” Tess said, from the doorway.

Janet looked up with a start. “Oh. Hi Tess. This?” She indicated the teen magazine in her hands. “It’s . . . sort of a . . . well, I was thinking, I need to understand where my kids are coming from if I’m going to relate to them, right? So I need to see what they find important.” She shrugged, then grinned suddenly. “Besides, Ryan is a dolly.” She flipped open the magazine to the picture of a teen heart-throb staring soulfully into the camera.

“Yes, he certainly is,” Tess replied, and she meant it. “Janet, I’m still worried. Not only about my students, but myself too now. I’m getting far too caught up in my . . . experiment.” She flipped the hem of her mini to make the point. “Do you mind if I sit and talk for a minute or two?”

“Of course not. Please, come in, have a seat. I’m as puzzled as you are, I assure you. Sit down here.” She gestured toward a second chair beside her desk. Her fingernails were liquid red. Tess sat down. For the first time she noticed that Janet was wearing a snug red sweater over black tights and soft brown boots. It was a figure-displaying ensemble. Tess was surprised. Janet lived in pantsuits.

Tess explained, as well as she could, her own growing infatuation with school-girl uniforms. She edited out the numerous sessions of hand-play in her office. She told her about Iris, and Harry’s bizarre theory about an infectious behaviour, like a conceptual virus.

The older teacher looked sceptical. “A behavioural virus? Is such a thing possible? How would it work? How would it be transmitted? The whole thing is crazy. Still . . .” She sat with her legs crossed, bouncing one booted leg up and down on her knee. Her black tights glistened.

Tess realized she had upset her friend. That wasn’t helpful. She needed to calm down. Tess could help. “I don’t know whether to believe it or not,” she said. She crossed her own knees, feeling the kilt slide up. The motion drew Janet’s eyes down to her nylon-coated thighs for a few seconds. Tess began sliding one finger along her leg in a slow, figure-eight motion, holding the other woman’s attention as she spoke.

Tess called on her guidance counsellor experience again. She spoke in low, calming tones until she was sure Janet was completely relaxed. Then she explained to her the many attractions of the school-girl look. She told her how it made her feel young and fresh and sexy; how it freed her from a dour, over-serious lifestyle; how it let her enjoy the heady excitement of adolescence when she first discovered the wonder of her own femininity. The other woman appeared to agree. At least, so Tess gathered from the way she murmured “yessss” and “uhhh huh” from time to time.

“Well, maybe all we can do is keep an eye on it,” Tess said later. She bounced to her feet.

Janet’s eyes sprang open. “Wha? Oh, uh, excuse me, Tess, I—I’m afraid that I rather drifted away there for a bit.” She rubbed her temple distractedly. “What were you saying?”

“Nothing that can’t wait until later,” Tess assured her. “Right now I’m heading home. Been a long day.”

“Me too,” Janet agreed. She yawned behind her hand. “Mmmm, yes, well I’ll see you tomorrow then. Have a good evening.”

“See you,” Tess called out on her way through the deserted classroom. She paused at the door. “Oh, Janet, there’s one more thing?”

“Yes?”

“I love those boots.”

Tess didn’t go straight home after school. She made a detour to a local mall where she knew her students liked to hang out. She wanted to check out those rainbow-coloured stockings so many girls were wearing. Maybe she would even pick up a pair for herself.

As it turned out, she bought five pair. Not to mention a variety of other items. The alcohol still running through her blood fostered impulse buying. She bumped into a couple of trendy girls from her school and decided to go shopping with them. It was fun trying on cool stuff in all the young adult stores. She insisted the girls call her Tess. The clerks were all into the school-girl look too, so they knew which stuff was like, the best.

Tess was on her way out, both hands heavy with bags of clothing, when she saw something that troubled her. Two teenage girls were sitting at a table at the edge of the food court. One was dressed more or less normally, in knee-length jeans and a tank top. The other wore a full-on Catholic schoolgirl outfit: blue cardigan sweater over a thin white blouse that showcased her boobs, and a low-riding, pleated miniskirt in blue plaid. Her legs were splendid in sparkling blue thigh-highs and block-heeled pams.

Something about the two girls made Tess stop. They were chatting over plates of fast food. She couldn’t hear the conversation, but it was clearly one-sided. The girl in the school uniform was doing all the talking. She was leaning over intently, speaking to her friend in a low voice. The other girl was sitting motionless, staring into space. Her arms hung limply by her side. She nodded her head and mumbled in agreement from time to time.

As if she were hypnotized.

Tess’s eyes narrowed in concern. She watched the duo for a few minutes. She couldn’t quite make out what the schoolgirl was saying. There was a sonorous rhythm to her voice, discernable even from where Tess was standing. It was easy to see why her friend had fallen under the spell of that voice. It was so peaceful, so calming. It invited the listener to forget the cares and concerns of wakefulness and instead drift away into blissful, mindless sleep .

Tess snapped her head up with a start. She had almost fallen asleep herself, right there in the mall! Something here was very much not right. She picked up one of her bags, which she had dropped without noticing. The heels on her new suede elf-boots clicked on the mall floor as she hurried away.

The worried look had not left Tess’s face when she arrived at school the next morning. She still didn’t understand what was happening. She was convinced, though, that the wave of teen-temptress fashions sweeping through the student body—and now sometimes the staff—was more than a mere trend. Some kind of mania, or worse, was taking over the school.

The effects were apparent the moment she stepped through the glass doors into the school. Giggles, garters and girl-talk were everywhere. Striding down the noisy corridor, Tess did her best to ignore the ranks of provocatively dressed adolescents flirting and fawning with every boy they met, or the ones deliberately flashing their panties when they bent over to adjust their knee socks or toy with a boot. She pretended to ignore the heavy petting, and pawing, and panties falling, in corners and alcoves and even right by the lockers, as well as the young secretary in the Principal’s office who was reading an Archie comic while sucking on a cherry lollipop.

This was more than a weird fashion craze. The girls seemed to be changing their behaviour to fit the clothing. They had become the silly sexpots their fetish schoolgirl outfits suggested. How could that be? Tess’s mind kept coming back to Iris’s idea that Harry had created a conceptual virus, an infection with no physical manifestation, which nevertheless grew and reproduced itself—and changed its host. It was an impossible idea, but it was all she had.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t going to get her. She came to work that morning in one of her regular work outfits, a dark blue pantsuit with black heels. The suit was functional, professional and sexless. She left her schoolgirl outfits in the closet. It was time to behave like an adult.

Counselling sessions that day were a shambles. The girls that came to see her primped and tittered and talked about sex and fashions and boys. They were all in tight half-tops and tiny pleated skirts. One was clutching a teddy bear. The boys that came to see her grinned from ear to ear.

Eventually Tess remembered that she had neglected, again, to set up an appointment to talk to Harry. If he really was behind this outbreak of teen-ditz-fluenza, maybe he could shed some light on the situation. Why did she keep forgetting? Tess felt an increasing sense of frustration.

She was frustrated another way too. Hyped-up horniness was apparently a lingering side effect of her experiment with schoolgirl fashions. Finger play in the shower that morning, while delightful at the time, provided only temporary relief. As the day wore on, Tess found herself more and more distracted.

The cocky young men passing through her office certainly didn’t help; the girls only made things worse. While they chattered in front of her, Tess imagined her own curves packed into whatever tempting package each girl was wearing. Her blood heated.

By mid-afternoon she couldn’t stand it any longer. If she didn’t get some relief she would explode. She locked the door after the latest tittering teen. She pulled off her suit jacket and unbuckled the belt on her pants. Leaning against the desk, she pulled the trousers down and thrust two fingers under her damp panties. She threw her head back and closed her eyes. Visions of hot sex with teen boys danced in her head. The pleasure was excruciatingly intense, like the first bite of rich chocolate mousse.

Her trousers slipped down around her ankles. Impatiently, she kicked them off. Her bare legs were long and shapely. She was wearing navy blue trouser socks beneath her suit. They looked like knee socks.

Tess stopped her fingers. Her eyes grew wide. Somehow, despite all her precautions, she was still dressed like a schoolgirl under her suit. The serious, womanly pantsuit had been a mere cover, not an alternative. She had worn a white blouse to contrast with the navy blue suit. Her pants were gone. All she needed was . . . .

Confused and aroused, Tess staggered over to a filing cabinet along one wall. She opened the top drawer. When had she thrown three miniskirts in there? It didn’t matter. She chose one at random and slipped it up her legs. It was pink and blue and pleated. It was very short. She buckled the white belt. A moment later she was admiring her transformed reflection in a window.

She was every bit the oversexed teen again. In fact, the high heels she had worn with her suit looked even more vampish with the socks and mini. She looked like a brazen show-off who had stolen a pair of shoes from her mother’s closet.

Tess stared at the under-dressed woman in the window. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail. Her attempt to act as a grown-up had failed completely. It was all a facade, she realized now. Her inner schoolgirl was always there, just waiting to come out and play. The same way her tits were falling out of her half-buttoned blouse.

This couldn’t be. She was panting. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force some sense into her mind. She wasn’t a sixteen-year-old poptart trying to seduce her science teacher. She was an adult, educated woman and she—oh sweet mercy she was horny.

Someone knock on the door.

Tess jumped. Not now! She was in no condition to talk to anyone. Maybe she had an appointment? She had completely lost track of her schedule. Whoever was at the door, they would have to come back later.

Tess’s bare legs scissored back and forth beneath her rump-skimming skirt as she crossed to the door. She yanked it open impatiently. “I’m sorry,” she began brusquely, “but you simply must return later. I’m much too busy to . . . to . . . ” Her voice died when her gazed landed on the fellow standing there.

He was a senior: Ronald or Rory or something. He was short, but solidly built. Her memory told her he was a defensive end on the school football team. He was handsome in a youthful way. He was drinking in her curves with a mixture of awe and delight that sent shockwaves through Tess’s lust-addled brain.

“I . . . I’m s-sorry, Miss Prettytree,” he stammered, “Y-you said I could see you at t-two-thirty. Today.” Tess hadn’t rebuttoned her blouse. The boy’s eyes kept flicking down to her chest.

Tess said nothing. Her mind reeled with conflicting desires. She had to send him away. She couldn’t possibly have a boy in her office right then. She felt like she had reverted to sixteen, with ten times the hormones. She was showing everything. The boy was staring.

She could seduce him effortlessly, she knew that. He was already turned on. All she had to do was invite him in, get him comfortable on the sofa, then sit down close beside him, cross her knees, lean in close to give him an eyeful upstairs, then ask him softly, sweetly, what was troubling him, and was there anything, anything at all, she could do to help?

No! Tess took a deep breath, clearing her mind. That was all wrong. Send the boy away before you do something insane, she ordered herself.

She smiled warmly. “Of course, darling,” she cooed. “Come on in.”

Less than five minutes later, Rory was sitting on the sofa with his pants around his ankles and Tess was on her knees in front of him, sucking and slurping on his rigid dick like her life depended on it. Three minutes after that she was on her back on the sofa, blouse hanging open and legs spread wide, while Rory plumbed her, clumsily and energetically, on top.

Tess mewed and bucked her hips, egging him on. She milked his shaft with her greedy pussy. She lifted her legs and locked her ankles around his back, then gripped his asscheeks with both hands, urging him deeper. Her scream of release when she came must have been audible in the hallway outside, and probably in the parking lot. It was a high, girlish cry – much like the ones she had been hearing from dark corners and empty classrooms all week long.

Later, when Rory had stumbled, grinning and exhausted, out the door, (with a parting kiss to ensure he came back) Tess straightened her clothes and made herself presentable. She felt wonderful. She kicked off her high heels. They were too old for her. She replaced them with a pair of block-heeled, blue suede pams she found under her desk. She didn’t bother to put her panties back on. Sitting at her desk, not even trying to work, she wondered vaguely if any more boys had appointments that afternoon. She was in the mood for another romp.

As it turned out, there were two more.

When Iris sauntered up to the open door of Tess’s office the next day, the guidance counsellor was sitting behind her desk, leaning her chin on one hand. She was wearing a see-through white blouse with a blue tie. She was staring into space.

“Hi Baby,” Iris said from the door.

Tess looked up. “Hi Iris. Come in. I see you got my message.”

The other teacher giggled easily. “Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner, baby. I was busy . . . disciplining a couple of my students.”

Tess made a nervous sound. She was distracted. The hot, juvenile fantasy running through her head had not completely disappeared when her friend arrived. Iris stepped into the office and closed the door.

Tess looked her over. Instead of a blouse, Iris was wearing a tight, white pullover with lace around the edges. It strained over her ebullient breasts, and stopped not far below them. Her pleated, green-tartan microskirt hung low on her hips. The stay-up stockings on her legs were also white, like the outrageous platform sandals on her feet. She minced over to a chair beside Tess’s desk and sat down.

“Like, what’s up baby?” she asked, smiling.

Tess was flushed. One hand was on her desk, the other in her lap. She knew she should stop what she was doing, but she couldn’t. It felt so nice. “Iris, what—oooooh, what’s really g-going on?” she demanded. Her face was flushed with arousal.

Iris looked innocent. She crossed her knees carelessly. “Why whatever do you mean?”

Tess groaned. She shuddered, leaning forward, eyes closed. She froze that way, twitching, for long seconds. Then she sank back with a long sigh. The scent of a very aroused woman filled the air. She was hardly even embarrassed about cumming right in front of her friend. The orgasm was too good to waste.

Finally, with a deep breath, she roused herself. “This is like, what I mean,” she said. She got to her feet. She stepped away from the desk where Iris could see her.

Below the semi-transparent blouse, Tess was wearing a super-short, pleated skirt in black-and-blue plaid, the same pattern as her tie. Her legs were decked out in black fishnets that stopped just above the hem of the skirt. Below the knee, the stockings were covered by white kneesocks with three blue bands along the top. She had high-heeled, black slides on her feet, with blue bows on the toes. Her enormous earrings were blue ceramic, matching the multiple bracelets on her wrists.

“Oooh, baby looks hot!” Iris enthused.

“I’m not a baby!” Tess rejoined. “I’m—I’m—dammit, I’m a schoolgirl. I’m an oversexed, under-dressed tart concerned with nothing but teasing my teachers and pleasing my boyfriends. This can’t be! I tried to . . . grow up again . . . but I . . . I can’t.” She waved her hands about helplessly. Her skirt was still rucked up on one side from her hand play. Panties were not in evidence.

Iris was unconcerned. “How does it feel?” she asked evenly.

Tess passed a hand down her face. Her nails were bright blue. “I fucking love it,” she admitted. “I’ve never felt so sexy. I’m horny, like, all the time!” She giggled helplessly. “I’ve been fucking every boy that comes to see me—some of the girls too! And in between I’ve been . . . like, playing . . . all morning.”

She lifted the tiny bit of tartan trying to be a skirt, revealing the lack of panties underneath. Sitting down would be equally revealing. “I am like, totally confused,” she pleaded.

Iris got to her high-heeled feet. She put one arm around her friend. “Hey, it’s OK baby,” she cooed, “You’ve got the virus, that’s all.”

“Virus? What virus?”

“The one I told you about, silly. The one Harry invented. It’s a virus of behaviour. When you get infected, you like, totally turn into a hot schoolgirl. It’s the best thing ever!”

“If . . . if the virus is like, behaviour, then how did I get . . . infected?”

Iris reached over and adjusted her friend’s tie. Her fingers lingered on her breasts. “I’m not like, really sure myself. I think the virus spreads like, through hypnosis. Cool huh?”

That would explain the girls in the mall! “But . . . how . . . ?”

Iris let out an exaggerated sigh. “See, the virus is a bit of logic that like, reproduces itself. Harry taught me that! To spread the virus to somebody else, the infected person like, hypnotises them. Then they tell the new person how to behave and they do it subconsciously because they’re all hypnotised and everything. And besides, being a high school hottie is way fun!”

Tess squirmed in the other woman’s embrace. “But . . . most people . . .oh! Please, don’t, don’t touch me there! I mean most people don’t like, know how to hypnotise, so how—come on, stop kissing my . . . oh, your hands.”

“The virus teaches them, silly! Isn’t that rad? See, Harry hypnotized me because he’s like, super-smart. When I was under he taught me how to hypnotize someone else so I could like, hypnotize you without knowing I was doing it! Sweartogod! Harry kina ‘splained everything while he fucked me yesterday. God, baby, you have a freakin’ fabulous ass. I would kill for an ass like that.” She stroked it affectionately, under the skirt. Her upper hand slipped into Tess’s straining blouse.

Tess was panting, unable to stop her over-eager colleague, even as her fingers moved downward, between her legs. “No! No, that’s . . . that’s impossible! That would mean that I . . . I’ve been . . .”

Iris giggled. She kissed her ear. “I think you gave it to Janet, baby.”

Tess groaned in heat. That morning she had cornered Janet in the coffee room. The woman had looked confused and vulnerable in a tit-revealing tanktop and tartan miniskirt, white hose and red tennies with white laces.

She had tried to explain how she had to borrow her niece’s clothes because—well, Tess didn’t let her go any further because she would get all worked up. Instead she showed her something shiny to look at and calmed her down so they could talk. Tess remembered how yummy it was to watch the sweet teacher sway on her feet, eyes unfocused and eyelids drooping, while Tess explained—something.

“Ohmygod I’ve been hypnotizing her!” Tess cried. “This isn’t . . . I can’t believe . . . mmmmmm.” Iris kissed her firmly, on the lips. She worked her lips and tongue against hers.

“Baby’s getting upset,” the tarted-up teacher whispered, many seconds later. She had a hand back up under Tess’s skirt. “We can’t have that. I think you need to nap for a little while, Sexy Schoolgirl.”

She passed her free hand down Tess’s face as she spoke the key words. Tess felt the outside world fade away. She drifted off into dreamless sleep. Vaguely, she heard Iris’s voice urging her to lean up against the desk, spread her legs, that’s the way, a little further baby—and then the world was nothing but the tongue on her clit and infinite rainbows of sexual pleasure.

“What are you doing dressed like that!” demanded Trallee, three days later. She looked her sister up and down in shock. Tess was standing in the doorway of her flat, wearing an erotic parody of a school uniform, complete with thigh-high white stockings and blue platform running shoes. She had permed her hair.

“I, I can explain this,” Tess said, worry in her voice. “But you’re going to have a hard time believing it. There’s some kind of infection—a virus—at the school where I work. It’s infected everyone, students, teachers, even the cleaning staff. It’s going to start spreading into the city if we don’t stop it.”

Trallee was nonplussed. “What on earth? Look sis, come inside and start making sense. What has a virus got to do with you going out in public looking like a stand-in for a perverted porn star?”

Tess bounced into the room. She closed the door. “Sit down for a few minutes,” she said, smiling, “and I’ll explain everything.”