The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Wait,” I said, looking back and forth between my mother and Dr. Williamson. “He’s a hypno-therapist?”

“That’s right,” the doctor said, his calm demeanor making me wonder if I was just wildly over-reacting.

No. Mom’s strange behavior, the way she’d been constantly picking on me lately…

Surely I wasn’t being crazy to maybe suspect the man who’d been hypnotizing her of being responsible for the changes in my mother..

Now I don’t know much about hypnotism. My understanding is that you can’t make anyone do anything they don’t want to do…but hell, maybe Mom did want me to be a teenager again, someone she could control, order around. Someone who listened to her, respected her.

Not that I didn’t respect her, of course. But…well, maybe Mom wanted to go back to a time when I was a kid, instead of a young professional, on the verge of moving out.

On the verge of leaving her.

Don’t get me wrong—I’d thought about how much it would hurt Mom, her only child moving away, leaving her alone in a house where she’d had so many good memories with Dad.

But, I mean…I deserve a life as well. And I planned on coming back for dinner at least once a week, and had tried to spend more time with her before I left (at least, before she turned into the controlling mother from hell).

So the moment I learned Dr. Williamson’s specialty, I was pretty worried about what he was doing to my mother.

My fears must have manifested on my face, because he looked at me, a small smile on his face.

“You’re worried,” he said, and I barely refrained from snapping “Fuck yeah” back at him.

Instead, I just nodded.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said, gesturing to his office. “Why don’t you come and watch one of your mother’s sessions—don’t worry Mathilda, we won’t go into anything you’re not comfortable with—and then you can tell me if you’re still apprehensive about my methods.”

You’re being ridiculous, I told myself as I realized I was still hesitant. Your mother will be right there…and besides, he can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.

“Fine,” I said, and a shiver ran down my spine as his smile broadened. As I followed him and my mother into the small, sterile office, I wondered if I was making a huge mistake.

The session started out simply enough. Dr. Williamson had a comfortable chair set to the side—almost as if he knew I was coming—for me to sit in, and I perched on the edge to watch him work.

My mother lay down on the couch (turns out it’s not just an expression). There was a small machine on the table in the middle of the room, and the doctor turned it on.

Immediately the room was filled with a strong throb. I want to say it was a noise, but I couldn’t actually tell you what it sounded like—my ears felt it more than heard it, and soon my whole body did as well.

The throbbing got more and more intense. I could feel it in my head, in my heart, in my gut. I could feel it in my legs, between my legs—my entire body suddenly wanted to tune into it, wanted to understand it.

The strange sensation filling my being immediately became an obsession—I didn’t know what was happening, but I desperately wanted to. The room melted away, my senses shut down. All that remained was the throbbing.

And then, all at once, I was back.

“Are you okay?” Dr. Williamson asked, smiling at me. I paused, not knowing what to say, and when he saw my hesitation, helped me out. “Tell me you’re okay.”

It was exactly what I wanted to be able to say, and so I seized upon the opportunity.

“I’m okay.”

I glanced over at my mother—she was staring at Dr. Williamson, rapt.

“That machine was nothing to worry about,” he said, and I nodded enthusiastically. That was exactly what I wanted to hear in that moment, that I didn’t need to be worried. “You trust me to take care of your mother.”

A wave of relief washed over me. I’d come here because I was worried about my mother, and he’d just told me exactly what I wanted to hear—that I was able to trust him, that I could leave her in his more-than-capable hands.

“I can help you, too.”

My eyes widened slightly at his words. Here was something I hadn’t even known I wanted—until he added that, I’d been ready to pack up and go, but now he’d sweetened the pot. Not only was my mother taken care of, but it turned out that I could be helped as well.

“Sit back,” he said, and I did what he said without question. As I felt myself relaxing into the chair’s padded back, I realized that he really knew what he was doing—I’d been sitting forward, not letting myself be as comfortable as I could be.

Dr. Williamson was going to help. He was going to make everything better.

“You’re going to start coming to each session with your mother,” he said, and I nodded. “I’m going to help your life become simpler, become less stressful. But it will only work if you do everything I tell you, without question. Will you do everything I say?”

I nodded, and he smiled. That same smile that had creeped me out so, but this time…this time, it felt fine.

“Tell me you’ll do everything I say.”

“I’ll do everything you say.”

“Tell me you’ll obey me without question.”

“I’ll obey you without question.”

“Good,” he said, and I beamed in response.

“Now, your impulse is going to be to resist my commands. You’re not going to want to do everything I say—it’s going to sound wrong, or strange. That would be bad, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes,” I said in a whisper.

“So let’s make sure that doesn’t happen. I want you to shut your eyes—I’m going to count down from ten, and when I get to one you’re going to slip into a deep trance. While you’re in this trance, you won’t be able to question me; you’re going to do everything I tell you to do, whether you want to or not. That’s the best way to help you, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes,” I repeated. Everything he’d said made sense.

“Great,” Dr. Williamson said. “Remember, this is what you want.”

“Of course,” I nodded, and he began counting down from ten.

When he got to one, everything blurred away again, and I was gone.