The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

A small food cart moved down the grey pavement. It was past two in the morning, the night was damp and warm, and only black rats were about. The person pushing the cart was dead tired, his bones moaning with every step, but he just had to go on. They were new lands ahead, and if he could get there before three in the morning then he could catch some shut-eye before daybreak. Perhaps he could meet up with someone.

Twenty more yards, he thought, pushing the food cart.

A rat died under the wheels and the man cursed. Fifteen yards.

Under a blinking streetlight someone was waiting for a taxi. A yellow, run-down cab stopped and picked him up without a word. The streetlight blinked once more and then it went dark, as if conscious that no one would be using its incandescent, sickening yellow light.

Six yards. The wheels creaked and moaned, the contents within the cart swooshed and rolled inside. It sounded like a pig heaving.

And here I am. The man set his cart against the lamplight, pulled out a chain from a locked door on the side of the cart and chained the two wheels to the lamppost. He checked his watch, 2:47am, and sat down on the pavement. He pulled a rolled inflatable mattress from the cart, a pillow, and a blanket and was soon sleeping soundlessly. Rats scurried around him, but never touched him.

Jan had problems. Not psychological ones—everyone had those—but relationship problems. With his boss, who didn’t like him and made Jan’s work environment more hostile than a Julian storm; with this girl Alexandra who he held in a very dear place; and with his boyfriend, who didn’t trust him.

Jan’s job in retail in a hardware store was something he loved—he loved tools, loved people, and loved helping. But his boss made it impossible, trashing all his hopes and every bit of good work. That problem would soon fix itself, Jan knew, as many of his workmates had ensured that the boss would be boss no longer.

The other problem was more difficult to fix. Jan didn’t mind that Don Slovenko, his boyfriend of many years, cheated on him. Oh, Jan knew that his man was one of many needs and who didn’t mean to hurt him with his ways, and was okay with it. But what Jan couldn’t stand—couldn’t accept!—was that Don didn’t trust him enough to tell him that he was fooling around with other men! Did Don think Jan was stupid to not realise he was a man-whore? Or did Don think that Jan would go crazy with rage at the mention of a secret sex life that didn’t include him? Jan was starting to realise that, perhaps, Don didn’t know him. That hurt.

He turned his thoughts to Alexandra, the beautiful Alexandra. They have been close, very, very close, for years and years. But lately Alexandra has grown tired of Jan’s other “affairs”, as she calls them, and wants more of him. On their twice-a-week meetings and sexual escapades, she has hinted to wanting more of Jan, more of sex with him, and more of life with him. Oh, foolish woman, didn’t she know that Jan was polyamorous? Jan shook his head, laughing at his foolishness. Of course Alexandra knew he was polyamorous, she just didn’t accept it. How could she, after all, accept the fact that Jan could and needed to love many and not one?

At fifteen past seven pm, the streets were bustling with people trying to squish into the overcrowded buses and taxis. Jan lived relatively close to his home, so he walked, even though the evening was unbearably hot and his stomach rumbled like an avalanche. Jan passed next to a store with naked mannequins, and thought about the last time he had had a ‘dress up’ with Don. He sighed heavily and continued walking, moaning at his iPod for putting on such a shitty song. He sometimes believed the apparatus was alive.

His hunger was starting to bother and impair his thoughts, so Jan decided he would buy something from the nearby food stands. He knew them well, after years of ignoring the rusting stove in his flat. There was the one that sold maiz empanadas, another carried burritos, there was one that sold delicious hamburgers, but nothing compared to the tiny pizzas a red coloured stand sold, not even the famous crepes the one under the mango tree made. What to choose, what to eat, when everything is so good? He walked up to the stands and finally noticed the new one.

Jan decided he needed something to brighten his evening—something fresh and healthy and new. He walked up to the stand chained to the blinking streetlight. As if by coincidence the light decided to stay on, casting its yellow parody of light upon the stand. Such was the sickening effect of the light that what during the light of day were delicious edibles, turned into food from McDonalds—disgusting and cardboard-looking.

“What would you have?” Said the old man sitting behind the cart.

“What have you?”

The old man moved a hand over his displayed, packaged foods. “Fruit, and some meat. Burgers, Indian, and my own makes. Take your pick.”

Jan looked over at what was offered. The burger bread looked old and crumbly, the Indian meals had that disgusting quality that most Indian food had no matter where, and the ‘own makes’ could be anything from lamb to John from down the lane. In the end Jan decided on a Styrofoam cup of fruit, a decently sized pizza, and a can of Ginger Ale. Everything came out for 1.25$.

Jan was back into his apartment in less than ten minutes. He sat down to watch television and eat his meal, all the while trying his best to push the thought of Don’s penis and Alexandra’s vagina out of his mind.

He didn’t succeed.

Selena was having a bad time. For three hours she had been trying to hail a cab to go to the nearest mall to watch a film, but no matter how many taxis stopped for her, none would take her there at rush hour. In the end, tired of things being out of her control, she decided to walk back home.

She ignored street vendor’s sleers and comments as she crossed the street. If another one of those comes near me I am going to punch him, she thought, taking her eyes away from the pavement to look at the food stands across the street. It was then that she realised she was hungry. The area was well-known for its street cuisine, if it could be called that, for the simple fact that it didn’t share a diarrhoeic quality with its other brethrens. One could eat at one of those stands and actually nothing would happen! Unheard of, it was. It also helped that the food was quite good.

She checked her frequented stands and carts, but decided she was up for something new. A new car, with a friendly-looking old man sat in the corner with little enough business. It was some distance apart from the rest, and Selena thought it must mean that the old man wasn’t yet part of the street cuisine community or something like that.

“Hi. How’re you?” She gave the old man a pleasant smile. As much as Selena was angry, she couldn’t show a smile to people who had it rougher than her.

“Very well, thank you.” The old man gave her a very thin smile and then asked her what she would have.

“Fruit salad, big.”

“How big?”

“What’s the biggest you got?”

It cost her 75 cents, a Styrofoam cup the size of her head filled to the brim with fruit. The old man suggested that she could try some of his other products that, according to his clients, would change her life. Selena politely declined and walked away.

Selena got back home, sat in front of her computer, and decided to download the flick she was going to watch. It would be a cam upload, of shitty quality and horrible audio, but it is what you get for not being patient. At least the friend that got her such files was kind enough to get the best ones. Still, the best out of a rubbish bin was still rubbish. In fifteen minutes it was done, and in fifteen minutes she had come out of the bathroom fresh and showered.

She sat down to watch the movie with a huge cup of fruit in hand.

Leona was forty-one and had the house for herself that weekend. Her children were off in the country on some school trip and her husband was abroad working on who knows what. She didn’t pay much attention to her husband’s doings. The house was big, and she had cleaned and vacuumed twice already. The beds were sorted, her magazines alphabetically ordered on a low-quality bookshelf, and there was nothing good on the tele.

She was utterly bored.

Leona thought about sorting through her collection of handbags and shoes, or to finish that novel she has been trying to finish since her second child was born, but her stomach rumbling won her over. By five pm she was hungry, but was too tired of cleaning and ordering to cook for herself—not that she usually wanted to cook for herself, being a horrible cook. Instead she decided to go out for a bite. But since her car was in the shop, and Leona was not the sort of woman to walk any distance for any reason—she thought walking was for poor people—she settled to go to one of the street-side stands her son liked so much. She always berated her son for eating such junkfood, but, truth be told, she loved the stuff herself, even though it wasn’t KFC. She loved KFC, and held everything else to a high KFC-standard. But she didn’t know what was the usual stuff her son brought home.

So, at random, Leona chose the old man under the streetlight. His cart was the cleanliest, and he had the good grace to cover what were his few hairs with a net, and to use gloves when serving his product.

She ordered a hamburger, fries and a can of Coca-Cola. She completely ignored the man’s attempt at small talk, and even insulted him for being so friendly. The old man frowned, and showed no more of his discontent.

On the way to her living room Leona caught sight of her reflection. At forty-one she didn’t look half so bad, though she could do with less hamburgers and more exercise. Her breasts were not as saggy as people made them out to be, and her short-cropped hair gave her an introverted look. She liked to dress to impress, so she had that going on for her.

Overall, she could still make some men look her way, but those were the type of men who couldn’t tell the difference between a twenty-year-old law student, and a fifty-year-old lottery ticket seller. Some wondered if the joke was on Leona or on the poor sods that decided to lie with her. Or on her husband. Oh, poor bastard, if it wasn’t for his being away all the time she wouldn’t sleep with so many people that much. Or would she? Leona shrugged.

Smiling at how silly she looked in her narcisistic ways, Leona turned to the living room and ate her hamburger while reading a new novel. She would never finish the other one.

He had to do something about the rats. They were getting annoying and, although they didn’t come near his cart and his body, they could tamper and ruin his business. The old man had noticed that the rats wouldn’t get close to the other carts either, but unlike him the rats would not even show up when the owners were around. With him, the bloody rats were about all the time, be it day or night.

He remembered a time when he could get rid of the rats with a thought, but back then his skills had been fresh and powerful. Correction, his powers—not his skills. His skills had grown to the point that they more than made up for his waning powers. But, well, such was old age.

The old man looked up to see a customer approach him. The usual exchange went smoothly, and the old man was a couple of dollars richer and had something more valuable in stock now: the customer’s addiction. He wondered what would happen this time. Last place he had been he had witnessed a homeless man rise to becoming a businessman. That had been very, very interesting. Well, at least until the same businessman had kicked him out of town for selling insanitised meals. Ignorant fool!

He watched the unknowing customer walk away, savouring the first step in a life of self-absorption. What would it be this time? What would it be?

After his meal Jan felt like a boat on water. He was satisfied; the sort of feeling he would only get when eating quality restaurant food and not too much, and not at all stuffed. He just sat on the couch, all thoughts of Don or Alexandra out of his head.

He looked at his watch; it was 9:12pm. He saw that the show he had been watching ended and started to skim the channels. He took a deep breath and felt utterly relaxed and at peace. Why? He couldn’t tell. Maybe the food had something to do it, but he was feeling too good to pay it any mind.

Suddenly a moan came from the television. Jan opened his eyes and realised he had stopped at a porn channel. He had ordered it on Alexandra’s account some time ago, but he never visited it unless she was in a frisky mood. Such excuses had been inexistent as of late. He was about to change the channel, but something just told him to keep watching. He couldn’t name what the feeling was, but Jan thought it appropriate to keep watching the program.

He hadn’t had any sex in weeks and for some reason he was feeling truly horny. Might as well wank off to pixels, he thought groggily.

The flick was of two guys, well hung and obviously gym freaks, trying to get into a girl’s pants. The sort of thing Jan found unreal, fake and distasteful, but strangely erotic. He always wondered if Alexandra would like a threesome with him and Don. That made his cock twitch. He playfully slapped it and told it to stay still. It filed a lawsuit for assault.

The credits soon rolled and Jan was slightly disappointed. But soon enough the film started again. He checked and discovered it was a channel that showed but one film a day, over and over. He thought about how the channel made any money, but the sight of the two shirtless men cleaning the girl’s house stopped any higher thought process. They were shirtless and in tight lycra shorts, and making a foolish, erotic dance out of scrubbing the floors. The girl seemed to be wearing something just to make them more aroused than they obviously were.

“This looks to be shit!” Jan laughed. He sounded drunk and angry. He hadn’t had any alcohol, did he? Why was he feeling so passive, then?

His hand was working over his cock, pumping at it as he watched the porn. He looked over his hand. When did that happen?

The scenes had changed and now the two men were touching and caressing each other as the girl looked on. Jan blinked, and the three were in bed. He blinked again, and the two guys were entering her.

Why am I watching this? Why do I like this? Jan thought, feeling both disgusted and more aroused than ever.

His attention doubled with every second. He watched with rapture, his hand pumping his wood as if it was the last time he would be able to. The film got more and more intense, the actors playing out their roles not with a script but with bestial desire. And Jan was loving it. He was loving the sex, the two men, the woman. He loved it.

The film ended and Jan didn’t stop. He waited and the film started again. Jan watched it, enraptured. His manhood hurt, his hand was cramping, and he was drooling fruity-looking saliva.

He passed out when he came.

Selena was utterly enraptured by the images playing in her screen. Chains and straps, harnesses and gags, metal and leather. She had sat down to watch a movie, but the file had been the wrong one. Did her friend give her the wrong torrent file? It was very likely: her friend usually mislabelled her files.

She sat with her legs crossed, her eyes glued at the scene playing in front of her. Two women, clad from head to toe in latex, their breasts and pussies bare. They had corsets and boots, and dildos inside them. To Selena they looked alien and scary and extremely erotic. The two of them were dominating a man, clad in similar gear. Selena found herself wishing she could touch the man and his hot, hard, latex-covered.... No, Selena thought, shaking her head. She didn’t like that. Did she? She wasn’t a freak-hell, she had never tried any other position but Missionary! She was simply too vanilla.

Then why did she find herself loving what she was seeing?

Absentmindedly she took another spoonful of fruit. The moment the delicious blend of pineapple, papaya and orange touched her lips she felt her entire body relax and her mind open. She continued watching, her attention stolen once more. She didn’t realise her jaw going slack, her eyes unfocusing. She was falling into a dream. Selena’s mind opened to the images, pushing away those pesky thoughts of her.

Blink.

Selena was watching another film. When did she do that? And how did she find it? She reached for more fruit, but there was none. Selena licked the spoon and allowed herself to be absorbed by the woman dressing up a man in girl clothes; skirt and blouse, stockings and maryjanes, a wig and make-up. Selena’s pussy cried for attention at that moment.

“God, I want to wear that.” She whispered to herself as the film went on. She didn’t know why she said it, she just did. She really wanted to wear that schoolgirl outfit. Latex outfit, Selena realised what the woman was putting on the man.

Whips and chains sounded, heel clacking and harsh, loving words as the two Dominatrixes put the (lowly) man in his place.

Selena was sucking on the spoon, still feeling some aftertaste of the fruit salad. It was delicious and she needed more. “Yes, teach him.” Selena didn’t hear herself say. She just watched, fingers inside her.

All of a sudden the woman pulled him off the floor, leaving him suspended in the air like a rag doll. Selena held her breath, her fingers dancing just like she liked it. The woman used him, rode him like a beast. She was in ecstasy, and so was the man. She was using him, like a dildo, like an object. The woman was in control. The woman owned the man.

Selena moaned. Why did I moan? She looked down, her hand over her sex, fingers inside.

Selena shrugged and continued watching. It was natural for her to moan.

Blink.

Something more carnal was playing.

Leona couldn’t believe herself. She was watching porn. Actually watching it! Why was she watching such disgusting thing? And why was she feeling so utterly aroused by it? She didn’t know and, quite frankly, she didn’t care.

The hamburger lay discarded somewhere on the kitchen table, as well as the cup of tea she had come down for. She had sat in front of the television, skipping channels while her the tea bag turned the water a nice brown. Accidentally she had found a channel showing pornography. At first she was disgusted, appalled and basically offended—didn’t she block those channels when she signed the cable contract? Who could’ve asked the company to put them in there?

But, lastly, she was enthralled.

The main protagonist was a woman not unlike herself and, strangely, she looked to be herself. Older but not attacked by age and a sedentary life as Leona was. Leona had started watching simply because there was the uncanny resemblance. And Leona had continued to watch, and watch and watch. The water in her tea cup had turned brown, but it was now cold. Leona’s fascination had grown because of their similarities. And the fascination had turned into enraptured attention.

The film played on, oblivious to its glassy-eyed audience. The woman found herself in a precarious situation with a young repairman. The plot degenerated; the woman offered sex in exchange of the services rendered. The plot disappeared; sex ensuing for several minutes. And Leona simply watched, semi-aroused, semi-conscious, until the film was over.

Leona came to her senses, and looked about the kitchen. Her hamburger was gone, and her tea was cold.

“I need hot tea, damnit.” She said to no one and put her cup of tea in the microwave. To pass the time she turned on the television, and was somewhat disgusted to see that it was a pornographic channel. There was an actress playing the part of a lonely housewife, and she looked uncannily like Leona.

Her tea cooled once again soon enough.

They were eyeing him suspiciously, the old man realised. Momentarily he averted his eyes and placed the shopping bags he held with both arms into the small compartment inside his cart. He would sort out the edibles later on; now, he had to deal with those eyeballers.

The old man walked towards the group of streetside vendors with a scowl on his brow and a rant in mind.

“What is the matter with you!?” He yelled to the first person he came up to, arms flailing. She was a big, plump woman. She sold hot dogs.

“Whatever you mean?” Was her response.

“Oh, don’t play that game, woman. You people have been spying on me. I know what you are up to!”

The woman looked at him the same way she would look at a burnt hot dog. “And what would that be?”

The old man didn’t want to deal with such a stupid woman, so he walked towards the next person. He was young, and his hands moved over the stew casseroles with the speed of a rushing river. Spice fell from his hands, and a spoon mixed everything in nicely.

“Can you tell me what the hell is wrong with you people?” The old man huffed.

“Busy.” The boy replied.

“Tell me or I’ll have the rats eat you!”

The boy raised an eyebrow and turned towards the old man as if noticing him for the first time. “Oh, it is you.” The boy said and did a small reverence. “Apologies, I didn’t think it would be you, honourable one.”

For the old man, who wasn’t used to this type of treatment, it was an insult. He threw up his arms in the air and stormed off towards his cart. “Fucking idiots! Idiots you all!”

The boy looked him on and then shrugged. He was old and wise and amongst the first. He had his respect, even though the boy didn’t like the man, at all. But, well, one had to put up with such people in one’s life.