The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Matthew was your average teenage boy. He liked to think of himself as above-average, but he knew deep down that he was the same as everyone else (if not, lower). Or at least, that’s what he thought (deep down)...

The problem for Matthew wasn’t that he was too ugly, or not smart enough, or had no skills. Those were problems, but minor compared to his shyness and his being content with everything that happened to fall into his grasp, whether or not he wanted more. He knew that he didn’t like something, he knew he wanted more, but he also knew (deep down) that he was never going to get more. Or at least, that’s what he thought (deep dow—well, you know the drill). One of the primary examples of this was his love life. The funny thing was, many people thought he was going to have such luck in the area. They obviously didn’t know how it worked. Matthew was too nice. Too nice to get anything for himself. Too nice to get a girl. Too nice to be able to change this. He was stuck.

Matthew was also too shy. He knew girls didn’t want to waste their time drawing him out of his shell—they wanted someone who was exciting. Alas, this was not Matthew.

Matthew was too smart as well. The only time a girl ever approached him first was when he was sitting on a bench, staring at the ground, doing one of the few things he thought he was good at—thinking. Thinking about what? He had probably seen the girl talking to one of those white guys who think they’re black, and he was probably wondering something like “Why do women want men like that? Because they’re intrigued by their logic? Because—", but then he was interrupted.

“Hello.” the girl said.

“Uh...” was all Matthew managed to utter after looking up to see her. He didn’t know what to do—nothing like this had ever happened to him before. He had talked to girls, but that was of course only because they were forced to partner with him in one of his school classes or something to do with homework. He didn’t have the slightest idea of how to respond to this. Aside from that, he was petrified that someone as beautiful as her was talking to him.

“What’s your name?” she said to him.

“I’m, uh, Matthew.” he said, hoping he didn’t look stupid somehow.

“You look sad. What’s wrong?” She was standing with her hands behind her back. Why do people always tell me I look sad?, he thought for the breifest second before answering.

“I’m not sad, I’m just thinking. That’s all.”

“Thinking about what?” the girl asked, curious.

It was at about that time when he said something that I can’t remember for the life of me. What I remember about it was that it was basically saying “why girls like you are attracted to boys like them”, except in a way he knew she wouldn’t understand. He was trying to impress her with his knowledge. What a mistake.

“Oh. Just wondering why you looked so sad.” she replied quickly.

And then she went back to what he assumed were her friends—the same group she was talking with before. Matthew mentally kicked himself in the shin a hundred times before his walk back to his home finished. He was too embarassed to stay in the park any longer if he knew she knew he was still there.

He shut both doors behind him as he walked quickly into his apartment. He knew no one cared, but it felt like the whole world was pointing and laughing directly at him. Being in the false sense of security that his apartment provided made him feel a bit better about it.

He obviously wasn’t the richest guy around. You could see that from a mile away—if you could see through walls and you were looking in his apartment. That was another factor that kept him in his rut of loneliness. He was ok with that factor, though. He didn’t want someone to want him for his money. He wanted someone to want him for him.

His apartment had three rooms. Two, not including the bathroom. One for his bedroom/living room, and the other for his kitchen. He lived alone. He was thankful for that—having a roommate wouldn’t have helped the cramped living quarters of his apartment. He didn’t have that much stuff, either. He only had a TV, a dresser, a desk, a computer, and a bookshelf in the bedroom. It was sometimes hard to get around in there, and worse yet, if he ever had to get up during the night to use the restroom or for some other reason, the furniture was positioned in such a way that half the time he walked around his room in the dark, he would knock over his bookshelf and have to pick up the books the next day. He wasn’t sure how it happened so often, and he never did manage to find out.

The kitchen was even smaller than his bedroom. He only used it to store and make his food. He ate in his bedroom. If he did everything in his bedroom, he would less often have to clean his kitchen and just cleaned his bedroom most of the time. This works better than it sounds.

Matthew was going to high school, and was in his last year. But he had very few classes—he was somehow able to get most of them done rather quickly and not have to go to class for the rest of the year. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He had lots more free time, but with free time comes boredom. Especially with a life like his. He liked to spend his time walking around the city he took residence in. It wasn’t a big city, but it wasn’t tiny either. It was mediocre. He didn’t like to think about mediocre things. He normally thought more about other people’s lives and feelings than his own. But sometimes his own feelings were too hard to avoid. He envied robots.

Another hobby of his was talking to people with his computer. It was generally no one he knew in real life, since most people in real life shunned or ignored him. He only wished he knew these people in real life. They seemed to suffer through the same things he did. They understood him, unlike everyone he knew in real life, who just assumed his problems were skin deep. In a way, they were skin deep. But in another way, the problems went down to the core of his existance.

Matthew’s parents both had died in a car crash when he was 13 or 14. He hardly knew them, because both of them worked during the hours he was home from school, except on holidays—he was trusted enough to be alone by himself in the house. He would’ve inherited their house and their possesions, but somehow a scumbag lawyer was able to write 50 pages of misinformation that a judge would eventually read and make him change his mind about who got all of that stuff. Even though he was the only person in their will—the only family they had left before they died—their bank, their lawyer, or one of their unintentionally made enemies got everything of theirs. Even the photo albums. For a few years after that incident, Matthew didn’t trust anyone. He rarely said a word, and he forgot about his friends online who could’ve cheered him up. But then again, he couldn’t have talked to them anyway, since he had no relatives to take care of him—he was put in an orphanage that was run by minimum wage government workers who weren’t that fond of children (to say the least). He hated it there, but he didn’t want to take his chances with new parents, so he avoided being adopted until he was old enough to be released as his own person—16 in his state. And since the orphanage was government owned, it wasn’t of very high quality. The children were often scolded for complaining, to which the workers always responded “You should feel lucky we’re even paying for your TV!". Every kid in there knew for a fact that they weren’t paying for it—the government was, with the spare change they gave away when they decided to spring-clean their wallet.

As soon as he was released, he received a small sum of money from the orphanage (which was required of them) so he could buy or rent his own house, or whatever he managed to find that he could afford. He took an apartment and planned to keep it until he graduated from high school and had to move closer to a college. He thought he should at least be able to dig himself out of that rut. Thankfully, the landlord took pity on him after learning of his life story and told him that he would let Matthew stay in the apartment free of charge until he moved to his new apartment. That was the happiest Matthew had felt for a long time. He thanked the landlord a thousand times that day.