The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Saimin Gentleman

This is the table where the cool kids sit. Not the rich kids, though in the minds of teenagers the two are often synonymous. Derek Stoker, for example, gets to spend time around the in crowd because his dad is a freaking rock star, not because he owns a fortune. Max Park, on the other hand, earns his respect by owning a Jaguar XJS with an awesome tricked out sound system, the perfect makeout car for a teenage stud. It was a birthday present from his father, a banker who never got caught. There’s even some middle class kids in the group, like Todd, who is a drummer in a hot indie band, and knows people who know people, and has a standing invite to every party anywhere.

And then there’s Sandra Fortescue. Silky black hair plaited all the way down to her shapely ass, flawless nut-brown skin, and a figure that she can’t hide even with the most conservative interpretation of the school uniform. Her family isn’t particularly rich or famous, though her mother’s genius is well known in scientific circles and the income from past inventions gives them a comfortable life. No, Sandra is popular by association, with Max and Todd constantly trying to outdo each other to win her affections. Who was in the lead today—at least by popular opinion—was the number one gossip among the whole student body.

“Hey, San!” Todd sat down beside her, overruling the ongoing conversation by power of his magnetic personality, “Jean Tyler’s having a house party friday, you want to come?”

“Oh, cool,” Max cut in, edging just a little closer than Sandra was comfortable with, “You need a date?” Todd glared as laughter erupted around them; the background noise dialled down just a notch as a hundred pairs of ears wondered who’d come out on top in today’s verbal sparring.

Sandra Fortescue, though, just rolled her eyes. “Jean’s a conceited ass who thinks with his dick, and if he’s throwing a party the whole crowd will be wasted. So, no thanks, guys. I’d like to get to college with a few braincells still intact.” For a second, she wondered if she might have gone too far. Until her figure developed, her clique had been the nerds, and she was still worried she might end up back there. But then, nobody could hold it against her if she joined in the slightly barbed banter these guys had started, right. “Oh, I think you guys should go, though. You make such a cute couple.”

More laughter. One person not sharing it, about as far from the cool table as you could get, was Simon Tompkin. He wasn’t rich. He wasn’t popular. His parents weren’t famous for anything more than getting in the way of a freight train during a signal malfunction fourteen years before. His only relative was his cousin Paul, who occasionally cut a check to keep the lights on, but was too busy with his work to be around. So Simon just moped around in a rumpled shirt, the kid who’d pretty much brought himself up. Sometimes he thought it was unfair; Paul and Dr Fortescue worked in the same field, had even been in the same lab once upon a time, but the lifestyle they could afford for their families was worlds apart.

He could never be popular. It wasn’t the disheveled appearance, or his slim frame. He was pretty cute, athletic rather than muscular, and the tousled hair kind of suited him. Mowing lawns for the neighbours had kept away any excess fat, and given him an understated, golden tan. But he was the kid with the tragedy in his past. Other kids had mocked him, joked about it, or offered pity. He’d never really developed self-confidence, his home-grown fashion sense had made him a hipster before it was cool, and introverted angst wasn’t in fashion now.

But maybe today ... today could be different. In his pocket, he could feel the weight of his new toy, that looked for all the world like a brick-heavy cellphone in a style better suited to the previous decade. It had arrived in the mail a few days back, unsigned. The manual had called it a neuro-axial resonant calibrator, but half way through the document it had changed from NARC to Narco, like an inventor unskilled with report writing had slipped into using their own informal term for it. Just the kind of thing Paul might have done, right?

He’d researched online, looked up the terms it used, trying to decode what the thing did. Oddly enough, the biggest help was a website about some Japanese video game. Some of the phone’s menu options seemed taken directly from the game, which, he guessed, was probably easier to understand than if they’d made up their own words for things that hadn’t previously existed.

Half the features didn’t even work, it was clearly a prototype. But while working his half dozen part time jobs, he’d tested it out, and found one at least that seemed reliable. Just touch the red button, which he could easily find in his pocket now, and it would broadcast waves that made everything he said seem a load more persuasive for a few seconds. And if he could get someone to look into the lens, the blue button would deliver a concentrated burst of mesmerising light, leaving them completely unable to resist his commands. Could these simple effects be what he needed to finally get the girl of his dreams? Well, it couldn’t hurt to try.

Before the laughter had died down, the angsty nerd had already approached the popular table. Nobody nobody had noticed yet, but he was already wondering if it might be easier just to walk away. But if he didn’t try it now, he’d never know.

“Hey, Tompkin, I think you lost your way,” Stoker stopped him before he got close enough to talk to Sandra. This was the point he should give up; though at the same school, they were in different worlds, it could never work. “We’re having fun here, no emos allowed.” He gave a forced laugh, and a few others joined in to show support for the popular kid. Simon gave up any thought of surrender right there—he’d show them all.

“Hey, maybe you think you’re pretty cool, but my cousin’s a real scientist, and he’s sent me some stuff to test,” he reached into his pocket and pressed the button, “Does being able to blow up your car make me a badass?” He knew straight away it was stupid. The threat made no sense, and even if it did, there was no way something like that would get him to be accepted. “You should let me hang around here a while,” and he pressed the button again. Would it be strong enough to make even this pathetic argument persuasive?

“Heh,” Todd seemed momentarily uncomfortable, but he turned the grunt into a laugh, “Guess the emo kid got a sense of humour after all,” and that was all it took. Simon was sitting at lunch with the cool kids, and nobody seemed to think it was all that odd. Sandra had looked at his hand in his pocket when he went for the button the second time. Could she be smart enough to realise something wasn’t right? If she had suspicions, he had to get her in place to use the blue button before she could draw any conclusions.

He ate his lunch, and let the group’s banter flow around him. He knew it wouldn’t last forever, and really he didn’t want it to. As much as he wanted the respect of other students, Simon didn’t feel comfortable in large groups. Better to just talk to Sandra and see how far he could go with this.

“Hey, Sandra?” he tried to sound nonchalant, hoping not to arouse her suspicions any further, “Your mom’s a scientist too, right? Maybe you can help me look at something my brother sent me.” It wasn’t until the sentence was out there that he realised it didn’t make nearly as much sense as he’d hoped. He pressed the button, anyway, and hoped it was good enough. She nodded, lips shaping a quiet whisper that could have been “sure,” but her eyes glanced down to follow the movement of his hand. He felt the panic rising, but then he saw the blush on her face, and wondered if the Narco had other, undocumented effects. Was she really staring at his crotch?

Simon only tried the thing once more in the afternoon, pressing the button to affirm that having been up all night playing video games was a good reason to have not completed his homework. And, strange as it sounded, nobody even noticed it was odd. Simon looked at his classmates’ responses too, this time, and was glad to see that nobody else seemed unexpectedly aroused. He’d have to experiment more to find out what was going on there. But by the time school ended, his imagination was in overdrive.

Sandra met him as he was leaving school. “Hey, Simon! You wanted to talk to me about something?”

“Yeah, I’ve got something I’d like to show you. You should come round to my place.”

“Sure. Want to get it done now?” There was no hesitation in her voice, no nervousness. She sounded maybe a little excited, even. If she could have known what he had planned, she’d be a lot more conflicted.

Simon’s flat was a poky little place, all that he could afford on the irregular stipend from his cousin. In one place, the lounge wall was decorated with a patch of mold coming through from the empty place next door. He usually told visitors that it looked like a map of Cuba, or would have done if he ever had friends round. It wasn’t too tidy, either. He only thought when they walked in that he should have got around to washing out the stack of soup cans for recycling, or at least moved the books off his bed, dirty laundry off the floor, or unwashed plates off the sofa. Still, he could deal with that now. “Don’t worry about the mess, I can’t afford a maid.” She turned and looked towards him, and he heard a little gasp of—surprise, maybe?

He reached into his pocket and pressed the button. “Oh yeah,” Sandra said, “I was just surprised how much the place has changed since I was last here.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, trying to not let feelings of bitterness intrude on his moment of triumph. One day in 6th grade, John Morton had pulled Simon’s shorts down in front of a whole gym class; and half the kids had been lost in gales of laughter. He could still remember Sandra staring, and though maybe it was coincidence, neither she nor anyone else had visited him at home since. Nobody wants to hang out with a guy who gets bullied and humiliated, he thought.

But on to happier things. He pulled out the Narco, and waved it at Sandra. “My brother sent me this,” he said.

“Oh, cool,” she smiled, “You got a camera phone now? That’s really kind of him.”

“Umm, yeah! Can I take a picture of you?” He grinned, thumb hovering over the red button, but Sandra didn’t need any more persuasion. She stretched out, posing like a glamour model in the middle of his room, and gave the camera her cheesiest grin. This was it, this was it, this was his moment! Simon froze for a moment, terrified by the enormity of what he was about to do.

No, come on Simon, pull yourself together.

“You suddenly feel very hot,” he recited, until the words he’d practised in the mirror started to flow naturally, “It seems only natural to take your clothes off, and nothing seems strange about this at all. And you will find that once you see me naked, your whole body will be consumed by lust, and you want to be my girlfriend, no, my sex slave, more than you ever wanted anything in your life. You will be compelled to do whatever I say, and follow any order I give, and you will never try to escape me or find a loophole in these orders.”

For two seconds, then three, he stood there holding the Narco at the end of his outstretched arm. “Simon, you ... you sound like you’ve discovered a genie or something, and you’re trying to get maximum mileage out of just one wish. You been treasure hunting in Arabian caves without telling us?”

He lowered his arm, the first stages of panic setting in, and threw the device onto his desk. It hadn’t worked?

“And speaking of deserts,” she segued with a smile, “you got the heating in here turned up way too high.” She threw her blazer on the back of the couch, and unselfconsciously unfastened the top button of her blouse, then the next, and the next. Simon could only stare. He’d been dreaming of this day for weeks, but he’d never anticipated how sexy it could be before she was even naked. By the time her top came off, revealing small but firm breasts and a surprisingly skimpy black silk bra, his hardon was already stretching his trousers into a glaringly obvious tent shape.

“Uh ... I should get comfortable too,” he blurted as she dropped her knee length black skirt onto the nearest pile of clothes. He practically ripped of his shirt, desperately hoping that he could get naked and trigger the second part of his commands before she noticed how excited he was.

“Yeah, sure,” she muttered, her skin shading slightly with a blush. And then she turned her head to look at him properly for the first time. “Wow,” the word was slow and her approval confirmed in every line of her beautiful body. She slowly wrapped one hand—nails painted midnight purple, he noticed—around the base of his swollen cock, and then the other hand around the tip, “I’ve not seen this in years.”

Simon blinked, but didn’t resist as she pushed him onto the sofa, the feeling of her bare breasts on his chest so distracting he barely noticed the rest of her words. “You know that time we got to see your junk in gym class? The kids laughed, but those of us who’d grown up a bit more had to wonder, if it’s that big now, what’s it going to look like fully grown?”

She rolled athletically onto the floor, and returned one hand to gently pumping his shaft, “I never quite stopped wondering if you got more than a mouthful here,” she smirked, and then wrapped her lips around his head, flicking her tongue expertly over the tip as she bobbed down, closed and closer with each lick. To her surprise and delight, there was still space to wrap three fingers around his rigid shaft when the tip pressed the back of her throat. She tried to swallow, and gagged for a second, but that was enough to set the young virgin off and his cock twitched, sending thick streamers of jizz into her throat and then onto her face.

“Aww,” she purred, licking a stray drop from her lips, “I was really looking forward to having that inside me. Guess I’ll have to wait awhile.”

“You’re beautiful,” Simon breathed as she lay down beside him on the floor. He didn’t think he’d ever been so relaxed before, “You’re not ... upset about all this?”

“I’ve never been so happy,” and the smile and the look in her eyes said the words were genuine, “I like a guy who can take control. You wouldn’t believe how hard it’s been, watching you turn into a recluse and shut me out, just because of a few mean kids. All the times I wondered, would it be worth sacrificing my own social life to be here with you. But now, now you’ve got this burst of confidence, and everybody thinks you’re some kind of freaky badass. Now they’re scared of you, enough that nobody’s going to put me down for taking the best of both worlds.”

She shook her head, letting her hair fall loose around them, and suddenly smiled as an idea struck her. “Hey, would you like to take a photo of me like this? A reminder of our first night?” she arched her back and pouted, striking a graceful pose that would have done any porn star proud as he looked around for his camera, and then realised something ...

“And maybe this time, you can remember to press the button.”