The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

WILLIAM WILDER

My name is William Wilder and I’ve become the master of four physically enhanced college co-eds. The first, Tiffany Taylor, became my slave completely accidentally. Tiffany then, through blind luck, brought her roommate May under my sway. Discovering these two waiting for me, and having a generally inquisitive mind, I tested out my theory that it was my download of I’m A Slave 4 U from WeaverTunes that, quite literally, changed their minds. I purposefully (successfully) used this on their floor’s RA, Jennifer Chen.

A lesser man may have stopped there, but my curiosity wasn’t sated. I wanted to see what effect other songs from the site would have and I subjected Jennifer to Girls Girls Girls, turning her from straight-laced college co-ed to savvy stripper. Not knowing how to confront or control her, I stepped out into the hallway to regroup and met Kelly Firth, the floor’s RA. Yes, somehow in changing Jennifer, I shifted reality slightly and a new RA now filled her post. While in the hallway trying to make sense of this all, someone in the room restarted Girls Girls Girls, converting Tiffany and May to strippers as well. I rushed back into the room, hoping a haphazard combination of covering my ears and screaming nonsense would protect me, and stopped the track, but in my wake Kelly had also been stripper-ized. About to face off against four strippers who had no good reason to let me stay in the dorm room to try to “fix” the situation, I re-zapped the lot of them with the slave track. They maintained their transformed bodies, but I found myself once more in control of the situation, at least as much as someone can when a magical musical website is involved.

Here I am, scrolling once again through the infinite song list and wondering what each of them do.

I’m more than a little interested to know what Party Rock Anthem does to a person.

Does Every Breath I Take create a stalker?

Does Call Me Maybe create… cute? Insecure? The girl who sings it whose name escapes me.

The mind boggles.

Honestly, I just want to find a reset song. If I find a reset song, I can do whatever I want and always get things back to where they’re supposed to be. All fun, no consequences.

JENNIFER CHEN

Master grabs Tiffany’s computer, tucks it under his arm, and tells me to lead him to my room.

I’m giddy with excitement at the possibility of one-on-one time, but try to remain calm on the surface. He doesn’t ask any of his other slaves to accompany us, just me.

I saunter in front of him as we walk down the hallway, hoping to inspire him to dirty thoughts, and eventually dirty deeds, with seductive wiggling. The prospect of him telling me to do…. Anything… has me slick. I need him in front of me. I need to use these powerful bolt-on orbs to stoke his desire, to light his master fire. I bend towards him to swipe my key card for access. I stay down there a long moment even after I hear the beep signaling we can enter. He regards me, briefly, then pushes past me.

“Sit in the chair.” He orders pointing and I happily comply.

Seated, I lean toward him, giving him a look down my silver dress. With how it’s cut, he should be able to see all the way to my G-string at this angle, especially with my legs spread wide, ready to accommodate him. He approaches, but instead of pulling back on my hair and probing me with his tongue and more, he puts the laptop down on the desk and extends headphones to me.

“Put these on.”

“Yes, Master.” I say with as sultry a tone I can produce.

He hits play and a bass line reverberates through me.

My head hurts first, then the feeling passes through my entire body.

I rub my temples and feel the soft t-shirt underneath my flannel pull up a bit above my jeans. This Ramones shirt has probably seen better days. I’ve probably held onto it a bit too long. One too many washes. But it’s vintage at this point.

My attention shifts from the Nirvana in the headphones to the boy standing in my room looking at me. Pretty sure he’s not one of my charges being a boy and all. I pull the headphones off. “Yeah? What’s up?” I ask.

“I was just playing you that song off my laptop.”

“Um,” I say, gesturing around the room to my décor. My room is pretty much a shrine to the Seattle sound of the nineties. Nirvana. Soundgarden. Mudhoney. Alice in Chains. Temple of the Dog. Some punk thrown in for flavor. My dad was a punk gone grunge and music’s one of the few things we agree on. “I’m kind of familiar.”

“Right.” is all he musters while he… checks me out?!? He’s cataloging my body with his eyes and I don’t appreciate the scrutiny. Maybe he has no respect for authority. That’s… whatever. But he’d damn well better respect me as a person.

“Thinking you should pop out, squirt.”

“Just one more song?”

He’s weird. Desperate? Don’t know. What’s the harm in a song, though? I mean he plays me something I know all too intimately and expects a reaction, so apparently, he’s not too keyed in on his environment. Know your audience. I shrug and pull the headphones back on.

A couple chords on the piano and then an unmistakable soulful voice joins in.

My eyes lose focus.

I bring my hands up to rub them and shake the bell of wispy fabric away from my wrists to rub. I close my eyes lightly and breathe in the burning incense. Centering and refocusing, I see a dude in front of me.

“Hi there,” I say, relaxed and pleasant. Don’t know why he’s here, but I’ll find out in good time.

“How are you doing?” He asks.

“Feeling good, you?”

“Ya know,” he says, looking me up and down before giving a good look to my room.

I remove my headphones and stand up, feeling my boho skirt rub against my bare feet.

“You need anything?”

“Oh. Yeah. I was going to have you listen to something.”

“Cool,” I say and slump down into the desk chair, putting on my headphones as he moves a mouse around the trackpad and clicks.

A few drums. A guy “nuh uh-ing” over some bass.

I shiver, then scan my pristine room. A place for everything and everything in its place. My parents raised a proper girl.

Some strange boy has grabbed my teddy bear off my bed and is currently examining it like he’s never seen one before. Where did he come from? What time is it anyway? Why is this strange boy in my room to begin with? I follow the rules.

I clear my throat and double down with a verbal, “Excuse me?” The boy drops the bear back onto the bed. I’ll have to fix that after he leaves. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I was playing you a song.”

“I don’t even know your name. Do I look like a girl who would listen to something without even knowing a name?”

“I’m sorry. Where are my manners? I’m William. William Wilder.”

I cross my arms. “I don’t know you.”

“Technically, you do now.”

“Oh.” I say. Technically, he’s right. “I’m Jenny. Jenny Chen.”

I extend a hand out to him. He shakes it, but he’s got a questioning look on his face. I don’t like his eyes. They’re too… knowing.

“Jenny, would you do me a favor and please listen to something for me?”

“Well,” I say putting on the headphones. “Since you said please…”

The words are barely out when a woman starts singing about going back to life and reality.

I double over, like someone punched me in the gut, but really I feel that blow all over my body. Then, once I register it, it’s gone like it was never there in the first place and I’m just sitting at my desk, listening to some dance song from I don’t know when. The 80s? The 90s?

“Jennifer?” Some guy asks.

“Yeah?”

“Jennifer Chen, right?”

I nod, getting annoyed.

“Just checking.”

I turn the tables on him. “How did you get in here?”

“I’m Tiffany Taylor’s boyfriend.” He says, like that answers anything.

“And that puts you in my room how?” I feel my brow furrow in thought. “Wait, didn’t she ask me to listen to something? It’s all fuzzy—”

“You know, I really should get back to Tiffany.” He starts to walk towards the door and then stops, pointing at the desk. “I’m gonna need that laptop, though.”

WILLIAM WILDER

My scientific study of the effects of WeaverTunes on the female form continues. For safety, my own mostly, I separate Jennifer from the rest.

First, her room is close and I have no idea where Kelly lives.

Second, if something goes wrong, it hopefully won’t effect anyone beyond her. I’m not hoping for something to go wrong, but I must plan for that possibility.

The way her ass swings side to side as she saunters down the hallway has me pushing out against my zipper. It doesn’t help that she gives me quite the view of her front as she unlocks her door.

I’m tempted. I’m very tempted. But if I want action, I currently have three women a few doors down to pacify that need. What I want are answers and I won’t get that fucking around. At least, not literally fucking around. Sonically…

“Sit in the chair.” I tell her and the moment that she’s down, she’s leaning forward. I can smell her. She smells like body lotion. The kind strippers use. Clearly, a physical carryover from the previous change. That also explains all the clothes strewn about her place that would point towards that specific profession.

I hand her the headphones with a simple, “Put these on command.”

She almost coos at the order and it’s such a fucking turn on.

I can always use that song again. Deep breaths. Focus.

I hit play on Come As You Are, then step back to watch things unfold.

The haze around her is brown and when it lifts, she wears jeans and a flannel shirt, unbuttoned, with a fading concert T under. The haze apparently took the fake tits with it when it vanished leaving her back with a more natural looking body. Her hair is pulled into two back buns with two thin braids falling down the front. The changes are steps in the right direction, mostly, but one giant leap to the side as she looks like she’s been pulled directly from a movie from two decades ago.

“Yeah? What’s up?” She asks.

“I was just playing you that song off my laptop.”

I need to learn to be a little quicker on my feet. I should take improv. I wonder if this school offers improv.

“Um,” she says interrupting my thought and looking around her room. “I’m kind of familiar.”

“Right.” I squeak out, amazed that I didn’t even notice how much her room has changed. Gone is all the stripper attire. Now earth-toned flannel, more concert tee shirts, jeans, and clunky shoes are casually everywhere. Her walls are lined with band posters. I take a deep breath through my nose and realize even the smell of stripper is completely gone.

“Thinking you should pop out, squirt.”

“Just one more song?”

I’m a little desperate. What would happen if I leave her in this somewhat anachronistic state?

Thankfully, she shrugs, nonplussed, putting the headphones on.

I start (You Make Me Feel Like A) Natural Woman.

Waves of brown and green haze float around her.

I start to smell incense burning as she comes into focus.

“Hi there,” She says. Her whole personality seems laid back with a wardrobe to match. She’s now in a skirt and a top that looks like something I’d see at a Ren Faire. Very flowy. Somewhat flowery.

“How are you doing?” I ask.

“Feeling good, you?”

“Ya know,” I say. Can’t really tell a thing about her body with all that flowy material, but I know this change isn’t the final change, pleasant though it may be.

She removes the headphones and stands up. “You need anything?”

I stop regarding her and her changed room and put things back on track. “Oh. Yeah. I was going to have you listen to something.”

“Cool,” she says and gets back into a position where I can start the next song on our journey of discovery—Back 2 Good

A dark pink haze falls around her and she emerges… prim? Girly, definitely girly, but somehow also inflexible, like there’s a decided lack of fun. She wears a knee-length pleated skirt and a pristine white dress shirt, fully buttoned up.

I look behind me and pick up a new addition to her room—a teddy bear.

I hear her clear her throat and when I catch eyes with her, she asks, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I was playing you a song.”

“I don’t even know your name. Do I look like a girl who would listen to something without even knowing a name?”

“I’m sorry. Where are my manners? I’m William. William Wilder.”

She crosses her arms. “I don’t know you.”

Is it possible to be girly and sexless at the same time? This is, by far, the least appealing revision to her. And I have to figure out the rules so that I can get her back in those headphones to escape this version. “Technically, you do now.”

“Oh. I’m Jenny. Jenny Chen.”

She formally extends her hand and I shake it, examining her for a weakness. If she wants formal, I’ll give her formal. “Jenny, would you do me a favor and please listen to something for me?”

That seems to do the trick as she starts to put on headphones. “Well, since you said please—”

I hit play on Back to Life immediately, wanting to clear this “Jenny” ASAP.

I squint at her, focused on the haze that seems to aggressively rip through her. She emerges the Jennifer that walked into Tiffany and May’s room. Or at least a close approximation to it, having only really met the girl briefly. “Jennifer?” I ask.

She shakes her head and answers, “Yeah?”

“Jennifer Chen, right?” She nods and I don’t know how much more I can get out of her. “Just checking.”

As if finally realizing some rando is in her room, she asks, “How did you get in here?”

“I’m Tiffany Taylor’s boyfriend.”

Technically, untrue, but reasonably defendable.

“And that puts you in my room how?” she asks and I think maybe it’s defendable but it still doesn’t give me a reasonable reason to be in her room. She looks like she’s trying to put the pieces together. “Wait, didn’t she ask me to listen to something? It’s all fuzzy—”

I stop her line of thought with, “You know, I really should get back to Tiffany.” I make tracks for the door, but realize that while I’ve accomplished some progress, I’ll have to keep my tools handy. I point to her desk. “I’m gonna need that laptop, though.”

Sneaking past her and grabbing the laptop, I bolt down the hall and return to Tiffany, May, and Kelly. With my search for knowledge appeased, and reasonably certain I could return them all to their previous states, it was time for some fucking.

“Strip,” I command walking into the dorm room and the three immediately comply before the door was even fully closed.

I greedily attack Tiffany’s fake tits, manhandling them while I still can. Her legs get weak from the attention and she falls back onto the bed. I follow her down.

“May. Kelly. Sixty-nine. And make it loud.”

May and Kelly get into the other bed, eagerly licking each other’s wet pussy. Their loud moans, and my need to pound Tiffany in her current state, get my cock rock hard.

I hold it over Tiffany’s slit.

“Mark me, Master. Claim me. Make me yours.” She says.

I thrust, penetrating her.

Her tight pussy clenches around me. We both feel every movement like we’re one. I flip her over so I can grip her tits while I pound into her from behind. May and Kelly’s moans start to reach a fever pitch, and Tiffany’s mix in. It’s like the world’s sexiest chorus and as Tiffany shakes to her orgasm, I coat her insides. Hearing me cum, May and Kelly reach their climaxes. I have them come over to join us and we fall asleep a sweaty, sated tangle.