The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Princess Stacy,” Jennifer Taylor read in disbelief, staring at the ceramic letters already glued to her new housemate’s door. They had apparently been painted, in gaudy pink, purple, and yellow, by a four-year-old or someone with similar artistic sense and hand-eye coordination. Jenn rolled her eyes. This would probably be a long school term.

The door opened, startling her. A perky Japanese girl, about Jenn’s height, appeared. Her long, silky black hair was done up in some outrageous style, looking weirdly appropriate atop purple hospital scrubs. Her finger and toenails were painted twenty different shades of purple, in order, like a sort of manicurist’s colour study.

“You called?” Stacy giggled. “You must think I’m mentally challenged or something.”

Jennifer said nothing. That exact thought had crossed her mind.

“I’ve had them for years and years,” Stacy continued, “and now a place just doesn’t feel like home until I’ve put them on my door.” She used her whole body to express herself when talking. It was the kind of body Jennifer dreamed about having: a little lighter framed than hers, and less body fat but enough to fill all the right places. Jealousy rose in her and wrapped itself in contempt: just about the deadliest mix of emotions one girl could feel toward another.

“Hey, I’m almost finished unpacking. Want to come in and see my room?” Stacy Satou stepped back and flounced on her new bed. She watched the tanned, green-eyed brunette move into her room with a fluidity she envied. Strong, silent type, she thought appreciatively. Stacy would have loved having that kind of weight and strength, for this new housemate of hers was obviously quite athletic. White socks, blue jeans, white t-shirt, no-nonsense braid, no-makeup makeup: it looked good on her. “What’s your name?”

“Jennifer.” Jenn took a deep breath and smiled. She’d have to share a house with this girl: best to be nice. “Are you a student at the university?”

“Yeah. I’m taking computer science. You?”

“Kinesiology.” Jennifer surveyed the room. The walls were covered with anime posters and hanging mats with various jewellery attached. The laptop on the desk looked very expensive, from what little Jenn knew of computers. One large, pink suitcase still looked full to capacity and then some.

“What’s in there?” Jenn asked.

Stacy grinned impishly. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Sure.”

Stacy felt inclined to believe her: this girl didn’t seem to talk much. She shut the door. “The other student renting here is a boy and I don’t want him to know about these.”

Jennifer’s eyes almost rolled at the way Stacy said ‘boy,’ but she caught them in time. Stacy was opening the suitcase and having some difficulty due to the tension in the straps. Finally she got them loose and undid the zippers. The flap fairly sprang open and inside was something Jennifer Taylor had never seen before. Well, she had seen panties of course, but never such a mass of them outside of a store. Even then, most stores didn’t carry such a variety. A rainbow of panties spilled out onto the carpet and Stacy began sorting them into the drawers of one dresser: bikinis and boy shorts; g-strings and granny panties; tangas, tap pants, and thongs; satin panties with lace trim and leather ones with buckles and zippers; panties that were crotchless or backless and even an underwired sideless panty. There were fiery shades of red and orange; pastel pink, blue, and yellow panties with 80s cartoon characters and novelty tourist undies with humorous slogans; green ones from day-glow lime to forest green velour; black velvet and white satin; homemade tie-dye panties; blue, brown, pink, gray, silver, gold, and of course purple ones, purple panties of nearly every description.

Jennifer was fairly stunned. “Um, wow. That’s...quite the collection.”

Stacy beamed. “Isn’t it?” She had filled the entire dresser with nothing but panties. “You can borrow some. I mean, if any of them fit you.”

Don’t bite, Jenn told herself. Just change the subject. “Do you know anything about this boy we’re sharing with?”

“Yes,” Stacy grinned. “He’s cute. But he’s very—ahem—proper. His name’s Roland.”

Roland Anderson met Jennifer the next day, since she had gone out with friends shortly after meeting Stacy and stayed out late, drinking. He spent the weekend getting to know both girls—separately, since Jennifer seemed inclined to spend as little time as possible around Stacy. They both liked him though, which for Roland was a big change from high school. Stacy could discuss online role-playing games endlessly and Jenn was keenly interested in his compound bow. They spent a whole afternoon at the athletic centre’s shooting range. Surprisingly, she wasn’t much interested in his major: Canadian history. He later learned that made her a true Canadian. Stacy was similarly uninterested. Ah well, he’d have to visit the city’s historical sites on his own or with classmates sometime. Indeed, he did visit them in the weeks that followed, along with the museums, which held amazing collections of artifacts. Soon, however, Roland discovered another, far more fascinating collection.

He had told himself that it would end. He wouldn’t do it anymore. It had to stop. It would stop. First year university: new school; new city; new house; new life; no more big sister in the next room; no more panties. And yet. And yet here he was in this house with two girls, each so beautiful in her own way: both of them so intoxicating; both of them so vibrant; both of them with a three hour evening class on Thursdays. On Thursday evenings Roland had no class at all.

Jennifer Taylor’s undergarments were strictly utilitarian: white cotton panties, regular cut; white cotton-lycra sports bras. After a warm September day spent on sports and drills in class, cycling to and from school and around the city on errands, and possibly an evening of drinks and dancing, she would peel her panties off and fling them carelessly into the laundry basket: soaked, twisted, and (to Roland) totally irresistible.

There was but one thing that could tear Roland Anderson away from Jennifer’s panties on a Thursday night, one thing he found more utterly delectable. He had thought nothing, anywhere, no experience or sensation, could possibly compare to the ecstasy he had found alone in the bedroom of his sister, Elanor. Time stood still when he buried his face in her sweet unmentionables and inhaled love, tenderness, comfort, and tireless strength: the very essence of her. As a result, he was almost caught once. After that, Roland set the timer on his stopwatch and carefully planned his moments of bliss for the times he knew he would not be discovered. He felt terribly guilty, knowing his idol would hardly be pleased with this form of devotion, but he just couldn’t help himself. He’d been relieved when Elanor chose to study nursing at the community college: she certainly had the grades to go wherever she liked, but family and friends always came first. Now he was the one who had gone away to school and he thought time would never stand still for him again.

That was before Roland Anderson discovered Stacy Satou’s big secret. He had gone into Jenn’s room first because she reminded him more of Elanor. He set his watch out of habit but the aroma of her panties, though exquisite, did not bring the blissful absence of time and thought that he craved. It was several more weeks before this craving overcame his reluctance to sneak into Stacy’s room. Roland still was not sure why he had felt this reluctance, but for several Thursdays he had approached the door with the cute ceramic letters and stopped, as if it were a point of no return, as if he could still quit whenever he wanted, so long as he never opened that door. But he did open the door, and then the laundry hamper, and then oh! Oh! The colours! The textures! Most of all the wonderful, world-stopping fragrance! All thoughts, cares, all other sensations slid away and he was enchanted.

Stacy Satou was a quiet girl. She was talkative, even noisy, when people already knew she was there but she was quiet as a cat the rest of the time. She got a thrill from watching people who thought they were alone, the way a cat would watch them, and a laugh from their startled exclamations if they suddenly noticed her watching. So when Prof. Hammond was sick one Thursday and calculus was cancelled, Stacy came back home and crept into the house, quiet as a cat. She crept all around the house, hardly making a sound. What a disappointment! It seemed no one was home. She had known Jenn would be out, but she was hoping to have some fun watching Roland, cute lanky Roland with his blond curls and pale blue eyes, with his preppy shirts and his oh-so-serious expression. He was even cuter when startled. Ah well, she could use the evening to get ahead in her other courses. She opened the door to her room and froze, forgetting all about homework: Roland was home after all.

He was on his knees beside her laundry hamper, eyes closed, nose buried in what appeared to be the mauve satin-and-lace thong she had worn yesterday. She stood watching him, fascinated. He was breathing deeply and took no notice of her: he seemed to be totally absorbed. Softly, Stacy stepped into her room and shut the door. He made no response. She crept closer and noticed his digital watch, counting down: 19:56...19:55... So the alarm would go off in less than twenty minutes, presumably bringing him out of his trance. But how deep was he in? Stacy had gotten over her shock by now and was feeling mostly curious and a little turned on: apparently this boy thought she was cute too, or at least that her undies were. And she could appreciate his fascination: panties were, in her opinion, just about the best thing ever. It was fun just watching him, but then, like any good computer programmer, Stacy thought: well, this is new...what can I make it do? Her mind drifted back to a sleepover at her best friend Erin’s house. Charmaine and Amber had been there too and the four of them stayed up late talking about boys, music, clothes, boys, and life in general, trying not to fall asleep. At some point in the conversation, the other three girls realized with a giggle that Charmaine had failed at that goal: the things she was saying were complete nonsense, even for Charmaine. For a while they just asked her questions, stifling their laughter as she mumbled inane replies, eyes closed, drooling on her pillow between questions. Then Amber had the idea of giving her instructions. Erin quickly vetoed the notion of telling Charmaine to wet the bed, as sleepover cleanup was her job. After making her suck her thumb, sing nursery rhymes, and pose for pictures, Charmaine’s friends gave her a few missions to carry out for them the next day. They weren’t actually sure that would work, but lo and behold, Charmaine obediently dropped, spilled, said, wore, and ate whatever she’d been told to—and no one was more surprised than she was. After Charmaine started speaking to the others again, they all read up on trance states and did a few more experiments on each other. Since then Stacy had largely forgotten about those times, but seeing Roland so entranced brought it all back to her.

14:23...No time to lose. Stacy’s heart raced. What if he woke up? How would she explain herself? Then she remembered that he was the one who was misbehaving here and she calmed down. “Roland...” she crooned, matching her rhythm to his breathing. He murmured and she continued in the same singsong voice, “good boy...That is such nice deep breathing...Keep breathing so nice and deep...nice and deep...in through your nose, mmm...and out through your mouth, ahh...good boy!” He was responding perfectly. His breathing slowed and deepened. Stacy was thrilled. “That’s it,” she cooed, slowing her pacing too. “It makes you so happy to breathe deeply and relax, relax so deeply...deeper and deeper...just relax and listen...relax...and listen...” Stacy was tingling with excitement. She had this adorable boy right where she wanted him and she could hardly wait to see what she could make him do. She wanted to be careful, though. She hadn’t done this in a while but she knew that if her suggestions made him too uncomfortable he might wake up: fun, but not as much fun as what she had in mind. She decided to play it safe...this time.

Stacy added a sultry note to her soothing tone: “Listen carefully now, Roland. You are in such a beautiful, happy, relaxed state of mind right now, aren’t you?” Roland murmured in agreement. So responsive! This was better than she’d hoped. “Yes, I know exactly where you are: a beautiful, magical place. And I know what takes you there. Do you know how I know?” He straightened, as if literally hanging on her every word. Her tone became imperious, retaining the sultry note: “I know because it is my place and I take you there. My panties take you there...my special scent...and now...now my voice will take you there too. Whenever you hear my voice say the words, ‘pretty perfumed purple panties,’ you will come straight back to this place, closing your eyes, relaxing deeply, and thinking only about my panties and my voice...My voice and no other. Whenever you hear my voice say those magic words, ‘pretty perfumed purple panties,’ you will return to this special place.” She glanced at his watch: not much time left. She’d have to reinforce this again next time, just to be sure. Next time...That gave Stacy another idea: “And Roland, whenever Jennifer will be out for a while...” like, whenever I’m here, she thought, what is with that girl? “and when I am busy with homework downstairs in the living room, you will know that you can come into my room and enjoy some time with my panties, just like you are enjoying them right now. You will just know that I will be so intent on my work that I will not notice and I will not need anything from my room since I’ll have it all down there with me. Whenever Jennifer is out for a while and I’m busy downstairs, you will feel perfectly safe to come in here and party like it’s Thursday night. Or should I say ‘panty’ like it’s Thursday night?” Roland grinned and Stacy stifled a laugh. She felt like a pre-teen on a sleepover again. “That’s right. Now, if you remember any of this, it’s going to be oh so awkward, so it’s much better just to forget all about it until one of those times when you need to remember. Just pay no attention at all to any thoughts that start to remind you. Instead, remember only that you had a wonderful time with my panties and I never suspected a thing. In four minutes and twenty-nine seconds you will wake up in your usual way and keep all of my words in a deep secret part of your mind. You don’t need to think about them at all or pay any attention to thoughts that start to remind you. When the time comes to remember, you will do exactly as I told you so that you can return to this special place. And the rest of the time, just remember to be happy because everything is great. I’m going to slowly fade from your mind now, and when you wake up, you will have only comfortable happy memories of being in my room all by yourself.” With that, Stacy quickly and quietly left her room and took all her school things with her out of the house, as if she had never been home.

On Friday afternoons, Jenn went on a long bike ride with the rest of the racing team. Normally Stacy was sorry to see her go, looking so gorgeous in her tight racing outfit. Stacy didn’t exactly have a crush on Jenn, but she enjoyed being around a beautiful girl, as if it might rub off on her. On this Friday Stacy could hardly wait to play with Roland’s mind again, but she still took pleasure in sitting at the kitchen table with her laptop, sneaking peeks at Jennifer’s toned arms, ample bosom, powerful thighs and calves, as she packed up snacks and water for the afternoon. So hot! But the tag from her shorts was sticking up above the waistband, over top of that magnificent ass. Stacy told her so, leaving out the part about her ass. Jenn gave her that annoyed look, the cute one she did so well, and tucked in the tag. Stacy beamed with admiration, thinking There: now you’re perfect! Jennifer looked even more annoyed, sending her cuteness off the scale in Stacy’s eyes. Wipe that smirk off your face, Jenn thought. So not everyone’s as put-together as you are. You don’t have to be so smug about it.

“Have a great ride!” Stacy called out as Jenn left. “Burn lots of calories!” Jenn was always saying how she hoped she’d burn off this drink or that burger with her cycling. Personally, Stacy thought the calories looked good on her, but she tried to say things that would sound supportive.

Roland was in the living room, reading one of those historical novels he liked. Stacy brought her laptop and textbooks in to join him on the couch. He smiled.

“Hi, Stacy. More homework?”

She laughed. “Yes, I’ve got everything I need right here. Good thing since I’ll be at it for a while. I have to write a method to print directions from one given location to another on a map.” She pouted. “When do we get to write games?”

He stroked her silky hair. “Patience, my pet.” Stacy noticed Roland was being super friendly to her today and seemed much more laid back than usual. She was glad he was doing such a good job keeping her suggestions out of his conscious mind. And she was glad he was feeling playful today. She played along.

“Meow.” She rubbed against him like a cat.

“Oh, nice kitty! What a good kitty-cat!” He rubbed her back and fondled her ears. She purred. Stacy was enjoying this, but she’d enjoy making Roland be her pet even more.

“Well, this cat needs to play with her mouse some more,” she said, turning back to the computer.

“Ah. I’m distracting you. I’d better go upstairs. If you want me, I’ll be in your room reading.” He didn’t seem to realize he’d said anything unusual. Stacy beamed.

“Ok. Have fun.” Judging by that slip of the tongue, she bet he would. She spent some time doing actual homework to make sure Roland would be well entranced when she went up, then reviewed the programming she had planned for him: oh, they’d have fun all right.

Over the next week, Stacy continued to work on Roland: reinforcing the suggestions, deepening and testing his responses, probing him for information. He was more and more cooperative every day and delighted her with his own creative ideas for triggers and scenarios. He seemed happy to put their sessions out of his mind the rest of the time. At first Stacy relied on the times Roland went into trance with her panties. Soon, however, she was able to initiate most of their sessions wherever and whenever she felt like it, using the magic words. Then came a shopping trip and more training. Finally, Stacy decided she was ready to show off her work.

The following Saturday morning, Jennifer Taylor slept in late, as usual. She felt great. Last night at the pub had been a blast: celebrating with the whole team after Lauren placed second in an open 50k race. Jenn herself had finished fifth with a personal best time. And all week Stacy had been completely off her back: no subtle digs about her weight, her clothes, her personal habits—nothing. Stacy just seemed to be very busy with...something. Who knew with that girl?

Jenn rolled out of bed naked and stretched, enjoying the late morning sunshine from her window. She threw on her robe and trotted downstairs to make breakfast. Midway down she smelled breakfast already in the making: eggs, pepper, cheese, and mmm—mushrooms. That was odd. Stacy usually had some disgusting sugar cereal while Roland preferred leftovers. But the real shock came when she entered the kitchen.

“Good morning, Mistress Jennifer. I trust you slept well. I’ll begin making your omelette now: do you like mushrooms?” Roland was dressed as an English butler. The costume was even stranger with his American accent and plastic Canadian souvenir apron. Jenn’s mouth hung open as she stared at him.

“Mistress Jennifer?” He prompted.

“Uh, yeah. Mushrooms.”

“Pepper?”

“Sure.” Jenn glanced over at Stacy, who looked even more smug than usual in her pink Hello Kitty nightie. She sat down beside her and whispered, “what did you do to him?”

“I hypnotized him,” she said proudly.

Jenn stared at Roland, still feeling off balance. “No kidding.”

“He’s our butler now,” Stacy continued. “Right, Roland?”

“I live to serve, Mistress Stacy.”

“So, what, he’s going to make us breakfast?”

“Make us breakfast, do our laundry, give us foot rubs...”

“Really?” Jenn was warming up to this idea: foot rubs were her weakness. “So why are you sharing him with me?”

Stacy looked genuinely puzzled. “I love sharing with you.”

Jennifer Taylor looked back, equally puzzled. Had she misjudged this girl, she wondered. Nah, this was probably just more of the weirdness she’d come to expect from Stacy Satou, but either way, this was shaping up to be a pretty fun term after all.