The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

(All right, wow! This is a pretty long time removed from the last part, three and a half months if I’m counting right. And no, this isn’t some great masterpiece a third of a year in the making. Really, about half of it is that I’ve been incredibly pressed for time recently because college started back! Yaaay? So, yeah, I’ve been focusing on that, which has taken a lot of my time. Then, there’s also the fact that I just... hadn’t really gotten around to doing it. It gets so easy not to work on things when you haven’t worked on them in a while, that I just never really worked up enough motivation to do it. But, I eventually got around to it, and so here it is!

In the interim, I learned something that I think is at least kinda related: Lord Byron, the poet, had a lover named Claire Clairmont. I thought it was cool, at least, just for the name. I didn’t steal it, to be sure. I guess someone was bound to have a name like that. Oh well. What I’m saying is that the part after this is going to be written entirely in poetry. That’s what I mean.

Speaking of the next part (which is not actually going to be in verse), it’s going to be the last part! The beginning and ending were actually the two pieces I’ve had planned out from the start, all the rest of it was just improv. But anyway, I already know what happens in the last part, and I’ve been anxious to work on it for a while, so there shouldn’t be too long a delay between this story and the next one. Cautiously hope to see it next week.

I’m excited to be done with this, since I have a few other story ideas I’d like to work on. Do you guys like this format, or would you rather have one-shot ~3-4k word stories? Send me an email about it [at ] if you have strong feelings about it, or even if you don’t that’s cool too. Man, whenever I write one of these I feel like I’m begging for people to send me emails. But that’s all I really have to go on to tell if people like it or not, or just to see if anyone’s reading these stories. Or this long-ass introduction.

Okay, I’m going to stop before this opening gets longer than the actual story. Enjoy!)

Part 3 — Miss Brantley’s Detention Doesn’t Go Like She Planned

“Excuse me, Miss Brantley?” asked Ryan.

I turned away from my computer and focused my eyes on Ryan. He was looking straight ahead, but one of his hands was absently fondling FunBags’ chest. I scowled. How the fuck did she manage to get such a nice chest, while I got shit-all? She didn’t go to fucking college! She didn’t get a goddamn teacher’s degree, only to get shut back in some shitty detention room! The thought crossed my mind that maybe it was a little bit immature to be so jealous of a high-schooler. Maybe.

“Yes?” I said, trying to convey the image of an infinite desert with the drawn-out word. “What is it?”

“I think you should stop paying attention.”

I sat back down at my desk, and got back to browsing my Facebook. Having to be in a room with these shitty kids was not going to ruin my day.

“Woah, can she not hear anything we’re saying right now?”

“Well, kind of. She can hear it, but she doesn’t actually recognize that we’re saying it. It goes straight to her subconscious, bypassing any sort of cognizant response.”

“Hey, man, I’m in detention for a reason. Just tell us what’s going on.”

“Basically, she can’t hear what you’re saying, but she’ll still act on it.”

“Bullshit.”

“No, really, watch. Claire, lick FunBags’ pussy.”

I had to lick FunBags’ pussy. I got up from my desk and moved over to her. Why was I doing it? To get back at that little slut, obviously! She thought she was so much better than me just because of some fucking fluke of genetics. Well, I’d show her! I’d give her the best fucking pussy-licking she’d ever had in her life! Then she’d be sorry. I moved my head in between her legs, which yielded in deference to me. I’d show her sorry ass who the boss was.

“Holy shit, she’s actually doing it!”

“I told you guys.”

I probed my tongue into her soft folds. I imagined its tip as a very sharp point, and thrust it up through the pink chasm. Her lubrication fell around my face, smearing my makeup and getting in my hair. It felt like war paint.

“Oh man, I need to be a part of this.”

“No, stop! If you do anything physical to her, she’ll notice it and freak out. She only can’t hear us talking.”

“So, what, can I just yell something at her?”

“Absolutely. But make sure she’s done here first.”

“All right then.... Hey, Miss Brantley, you sure are getting horny right now, aren’t you?”

I sure was getting horny now. It made sense that I was flush with the feeling of dominance, but hot damn was I... well, hot. My breath came in ragged gasps as I kept my tongue pumping in and out of FunBags. Her hips bucked at irregular times, and it became harder to keep my tongue in contact with her gyrating pelvis.

“Oh wow, she sure looks like she’s getting into it.”

“Yeah, no kidding. She’s practically fucking the air!”

My hips flailed wildly around behind me, clenched around absence. I drove my face deep inside of her one, two, three more times, and then she finally broke, hips settling down on the chair, the thick slime of her quim splattered across my face.

“Make sure not to wipe that off.”

I made sure not to wipe it off. After all, it was a symbol of my supremacy.

“Hey, you guys want to mess with her some?”

“Yeah, sure, why not?”

“All right then. Claire, shouldn’t you be teaching us?”

I should be teaching them. After all, being in detention doesn’t mean they shouldn’t learn, right? I walked up to the chalkboard, picked up a piece of chalk, and paused. What was I supposed to teach? I shook my head. It didn’t matter. As long as they were learning something, and I was teaching them, that was the important thing. I started writing down all the facts that came to mind.

The moors invaded Spain in 711 AD.

“What sort of ‘messing’ did you have in mind?”

I before E except after C and some other times too and that rhymes with the first part.

“Like this: Claire, you have a compulsion to shake your ass for us.”

As I kept writing facts on the board, I felt a twitch in my lower back, like it was getting stiff. I stretched it to one side, then stretched it back to the other side. It felt like I was really stretching something out, very satisfying. I wondered if I’d been sitting on it funny that day. I stretched it back and forth a few more times.

“Claire, really get into it. Give us all a show.”

I was really getting into it. I rotated my hips back and forth, feeling wonderful all 360 degrees around. I started moaning softly as I did it. The stretch radiated up and down through my spine to all of my back and legs. Feeling weak, I propped myself up against the board with my hands, still gyrating.

“Holy shit, man, that’s a show!”

“And a nice ass to see it from, too.”

“Yeah, if only she were a bit more balanced out on top.”

“Well, if she wants it, she’s going to have to earn it.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Just sit tight, okay? Claire, take off your skirt.”

My skirt was getting in the way of my stretch, so I unfastened it and let it fall to the ground around my wide hips. I was glad that I’d worn my G-string today, so I had the best range of movement.

“Holy shit, she’s wearing a thong!”

“Yeah, I guess she just felt like being a slut today... Claire, pay attention.”

I turned my head back from the chalkboard, straining my neck a little as I turned to look at Ryan, maintaining the absolutely fabulous stretch I was getting.

“Did you say something, Ryan?” I asked him.

“Quick,” whispered Ryan to the boy sitting one seat behind and to the left of him, “say you have a problem.”

The guy shot a look back, shrugged, and turned to me. “Excuse me, Miss Brantley? I have a problem.”

“And stop paying attention,” put in Ryan.

I paused for a moment. That one kid had a problem. He needed help with it. But wait, I told myself, this is detention, there’s not even any work! Then, does he have another kind of problem? I figured I should probably go over and check it out, so I started towards his desk.

“What’s she doing, man?”

“Just wait.”

I reached his desk and bent over to ask what the problem was. As I did, I slipped on the floor and lost my balance. Tripping, I spun around in midair and landed sitting on the kid’s lap.

“Oh, jeez, sorry,” I muttered, trying to get back up. Whenever I started to lift myself out of the chair, though, I lost my balance again and ended up slipping back across his lap.

“Holy shit, dude, she’s giving me a lap dance!”

I kept trying to push myself up, but I couldn’t seem to get dislocated from the kid’s legs. I figured that it was probably my shirt that was keeping me tangled up, so I ripped off the buttons and threw it out of the way. I had to get out of this situation as soon as possible. I was embarrassed, but worst of all, from the way I’d eaten FunBags out earlier, and from how good that stretch just felt, I was incredibly wet, and I was sure he’d be able to tell. I just hoped he didn’t think I was some kind of slut!

“Dude, this slut is so wet!”

“Feel her breasts.”

“Huh? But there’s nothing there!”

“Just do it.”

As I kept trying to remove myself from the student I was crushing under my squirming rear, I felt a pressure focused on my chest. I looked down and noticed that my tits were starting to expand! They were quickly straining the cups of my bra, so I reached around behind me and undid the clasp, tossing the underwear aside.

“What? What the fuck is this? How are you doing this?”

“Just shut up and don’t question it.”

I looked down and watch my breasts swell out in front of me. Before I’d been flat chested, but now I actually had an appreciable pair! They ballooned off my chest to the point where any girl would be lucky to have a pair like them. No, scratch that, anyone would be lucky to see a pair of tits this nice in real life! Take that, you filthy skank! Not so great now, are you?

In my excitement, and... “excitement”, I started to piston myself against the dick of the kid I was sitting on. I tore my G-string off and my sopping quim rubbed itself against his pants before finding its way onto his shaft, recently emerged from between the folds of his zipper. As I thrust myself down on it, the pressure suddenly left my tits, and their expansion slowed and stopped. The support left them, too, and they jiggled lewdly and wildly against my stomach, and back up into the air in a graceful bouncing motion. Okay, there was nothing graceful about it. But damn were they bouncy.

“Oh shit, dude, look at them go!”

“This is fucking incredible!”

“It’s my turn next, all right?”

“Hold on a second, guys. You’ll all get a turn.”

Watching my huge fucking tits careen through the air got me so worked up that I came almost instantly, thrashing my head around and bucking my hips wildly. In my orgasm, I worked myself free from his lap, finally, and fell forwards onto the floor. Of course, with my new body structure, I landed firmly on my newly augmented tits. The tiled floor was frigid to the touch, and I pushed myself up straight away, struggling to keep my balance when I got up. Holding my hands under my boobs for support, and noticing just how hard my nipples were, I made my way back up to the front of the classroom. I still had teaching to do, after all.

“Claire, pay attention, please.”

I turned around to see everyone in the class staring at me. I couldn’t blame them, I guess, not with these fantastic tits! I smiled and leaned back as I looked over at Ryan, thrusting my prodigious breast-mountains at him.

“Ye-es?” I asked, drawing the word out into a coy smile.

He turned around to the rest of the class. “Are you guys ready?”

They nodded in unison.

“All right then, here goes. Claire, you are a total bitch.”

My eyes unfocused for a second, and I blinked a few times before I could see straight again. I sighed. Ryan was right.

“All right, all right, just give me a second.”

I removed the last article of clothing still on my body—my shoes—and lowered myself onto the floor. I couldn’t believe this school. Why did they think that putting a teacher in a detention room as a sexy breeding bitch was a good way to enforce discipline? Once my shoes were off, I started to lose coordination in my legs as they doubled up. I was right in front of the desk at the head of the classroom, and on reflex, I caught myself on it with my now-useless arms. I tried to ask for help but all that came out was a pitiful whine. Damn this school and their insistence on realism. I tried to scoot myself off of the desk to the floor, but I couldn’t force myself to make the drop to the ground, so I stayed that way, my tits dangling in front of my face, and my ass thrust out towards the class.

I could hear Ryan laugh from behind me. “This is too easy.” I couldn’t turn my head to look, but I could feel him put both his hands on either side of my hips and pull me backwards, thrusting into me. I let out a surprised bark, then hung my head in shame. Being a teacher was probably the worst job ever.

“Hey, FunBags,” called Ryan, continuing to use me, “come over here and help me with this bitch.”

“Okay!” chirped FunBags, flouncing over to me. As Ryan continued to pound me, she slipped in underneath my arched body, pushing herself upwards to grab two large handfuls of my tit flesh. She used them as leverage to move herself into a full-on make out with me. Her presence on my tits and his in my pussy drove me fully into the kiss, and before long I was a whimpering pile of bitch.

“All right, let’s get you down,” said Ryan, lifting me up by the shoulders and tossing me onto the ground. I put my hands down to catch me, but fell onto them like they were front paws. My pendulous tits hung down, the nipples just barely long enough to drag the floor in this position. I yelped from the cold, and tried to push myself back up, but lost my balance and ended up with my head placed down between my hands, and my ass pointing up into the air.

“Oh shit,” said one of the boys in the front row, “she’s presenting!”

“Go right ahead,” said Ryan.

While I was trying to get situated, the boy ran up behind me and enthusiastically and unceremoniously shoved his dick into my dripping, red snatch.

“Hey, this bitch is in heat!” he yelled, beginning to thrust.

As I was bobbing my head in time with my thrusts, I noticed that one of the football players was standing in front of me, pants down, impressive dick standing at attention. On the next thrust forward, almost on instinct, I lifted myself up and took him into my mouth. After a few pumps, we reached a rhythm, and I was rocking back and forth between two cocks.

People came and people went, and then more people came, until I had been used every way I would’ve thought possible—laying down, from behind, titfucked, mindfucked—until I was full up from semen in such a way that any second I half expected it to start coming out of my ears. Detention was long since over, but only recently had I been left here, no longer a bitch in such a literal sense, laying in a pool of ten other people’s jizz.

Ryan laughed as he walked towards me. “Looks like I’ve really done a number on you this time, Claire.”

What did he mean? He pulled out a small, black device, and positioned his thumb on the smaller of two buttons.

“How about we run through this again, huh? What do you say to that?”

“What the f—”

* * *

Time passed sickeningly. It felt like my mind was being pulled backwards out of my skull, and my identity was being pulled a hundred ways at once. I was a bondage slave, a French maid, a hentai character, all deformed, none knowing any better, all subject to some horrible whim of Ryan’s....

* * *

Thinking about it put me in a bad mood as I rolled around to homeroom. Yeah, I know. Trust me, I’m wondering why high school seniors need a homeroom, too. Really, it just boils down to taking attendance and doing college applications stuff, which I guess was necessary, but did you really need a whole class for it? It was the absolute most boring class I had to take. And that was saying something. The only slightly redeeming thing about it was that I sat right next to my boyfriend.

“Oh, hey, Claire!” Speak of the devil. He walked through the door, lifting his hand in a friendly wave before navigating around a few desks and sitting in the one next to mine.

“Don’t call me that,” I bristled. He thought his nickname for me was cute. I thought otherwise. He raised his hands up, as if to say ‘my bad’.

“My bad,” he said. “I forgot you didn’t like that name.”

I just groaned and looked away. His name was Ryan Greene, and he was a nice enough guy, I guessed. He just had a bunch of inconsequential-but-still-annoying habits. Like the nickname. And he was always trying to pressure me to do things, mostly sexual. Just a bunch of little things like that. He was pretty good-looking though, which I guess made up for a lot of it.

“Hey, is something wrong? You don’t look so good.” And he could be pretty caring when he wanted to.