The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Welcome to typing school!”

I looked with satisfaction over my class of twenty aspiring young girls. Upon hearing my words, they had all obediently closed their eyes. Soft, delicate smiles formed on each of their pretty faces. Before me I saw an image of perfection—or rather, perfection in the making.

“We learn and obey.” The girls all half whispered in unison. It was entirely true; They were about to learn and they most certainly would obey, deeply entranced as they were.

It had still been a revolutionary concept at the time, to use hypnosis in class. Sure, there had been demonstrations before—not to mention countless alarmist campaigns warning students about the potential dangers of surrendering their will and drifting off to dreamland under someone else’s guidance. You know, the big hypno scare. But over time, society had accepted the fact that some people knew how to hypnotize, and others were far too suggestible to resist. Plus, as the initial hysteria over it began to wash over, the huge advantages came into view. Like the ability to, in a matter of months, create perfect secretaries out of high school girls who barely knew how to change the ink ribbon on a typewriter without getting their hands dirty.

I loved my job, even though I’d initially had some moral qualms with it. Turning young girls who could have gone to college and become doctors, lawyers and the likes, into nothing more than simple secretaries seemed a little wasteful at first. Sure, they turned out pretty happy about their careers and the school did extensive background checks on potential employers to ensure the girls’ safety. But still, something about teaching these blossoming women to always dress and act sexily and submissively—to desire being objectified and used—it took some getting used to. I had to remind myself over and over that these girls were going to be secretaries and that different rules applied to them than would to female rocket scientists.

“Cathy”, I addressed one of my favorite blondes in the front row.

“Yes Sir Mister Anderson?”

“Please tell us about typing. What makes it such fun?”

The girl beamed happily, but her eyes remained closed.

“Like, when I tyyype… uh… my mind goes all blank and, you know, I just, like, totally type what’s being said and not think so much about stuff… and…uhm… when the typewriter goes ‘ding’, I feel a yummy spark ’tween my legs and…”

“Thank you Cathy.” I interrupted her, grinning to myself and turning towards a busty redhead sitting in the back. “Samantha.”

“Yes Sir Mister Anderson?” The girl asked, proudly arching her back a little more, nipples poking through the tight white top she had somehow managed to squeeze herself into. I gave her breasts a polite little glance before realizing she couldn’t even tell—she too still had her eyes closed.

“Samantha, what happens when you’re told to type something that concerns yourself?”

“Well, my subconscious mind accepts the utter truth of whatever I am being asked to type. Therefore, I accept and obey what I type, on a deep subconscious level. Each word I type, when it concerns myself, serves as an irresistable suggestion.”

“Very good. Good girl.”

“Thank you… Sir… mmmm…” The girl said, moaning. A teacher’s word of praise was worth at least three typewriter ‘ding’s.

One thing I appreciated about the school was that they didn’t just completely strip the girls of their individuality. It was a common mistake, at least in my opinion, that some of the other pioneering hypno-institutes made. They took intelligent, creative young people and turned them into unified mindless slaves with none of their original charming characteristics left intact. They relied on machines and pre-recorded messages. I didn’t like either one of those. I had always considered it presumptuous to mechanically brainwash a bubbly teenager just to turn her into something of value to society. I for one took pride in working for an actual school that took teaching seriously and used hypnosis and brainwashing techniques responsibly.

Of course, some basic standards and qualifications had to be met by each graduating secretary and the school did everything it could to ensure them. Also, some minor changes often had to be made to the girls’ personalities in order to meet job market demands. But still, a Cathy was a Cathy and a Samantha was a Samantha. Each of them cute and gorgeous in their own way, but absolutely distinguishable. Samantha, for example, was more of the “sexy librarian” type, intelligent, eloquent and naturally well endowed in the breast department. Cathy on the other hand was what you’d typically call a bimbo secretary—not actually dumb of course, but I had decided that the whole ‘ditzy’ persona best suited her hair color. So I did some private tutoring and made her speak and act like the blonde airhead (albeit with flawless typing skills of course) that employers would later want her to be. I gave her a healthy craving for sex and the color pink. I made her desire breast surgery and gave her a competitive streak—aiming to outdo Samantha with a ridiculous silicone-infused rack. She never complained, except of course about her titties being too small. Luckily, we could soon take care of that little problem and she turned out great. Especially in the places where it really counts.

Samantha, on the other hand, needed little more than a nice pair of glasses to look like a walking wet dream. She was a born wank fantasy really, the ideal skilled, intelligent administrative assistant who also happened to give great blow jobs when the right words were spoken and who never complained about a thorough monday morning groping on the elevator.

Long story short, I had an exciting, fun, rewarding and useful job I could take pride in. My life was going swimmingly, the job paid fairly well and offered countless possibilities for sexual relief. I had everything under control and my career blossomed like a sweet curvy girl about to be plucked from the secretree.

Everything was perfectly allright. I was a happy, content man.

Then along came Bubbles.

When I first saw her I didn’t think her to be anything too special. Sure, she had that astonishing hip-to-waist ratio—slim figure but with a big ol’ booty to die for, forgive my language. Truly a sight to behold, I thought as I spotted her, standing outside the principal’s office, nervously shifting from one leg to the other.

“Excuse me Sir uhm… could you tell me where the Ladies room is?” She asked in a sweet girly voice.

I didn’t even notice at first that she was talking to me. Instead I just stared at her remarkable, almost enchanting physique.

“Sir?”

I tore my eyes from her derriere and blushing slightly I managed to look her in the eyes. “Oh, of course, sweetie… uhm… bathroom’s that way, third door on the left.”

“Thankies!” She said, smiling innocently. As she hurried away, I couldn’t help but watch her every step.

The girl’s walk could use some fine tuning, I thought to myself. On the other hand I had to admit that she probably looked more graceful when she didn’t need to pee. Definitely a lot of potential in her, that much was clear.

“Richard, about the new girl”, principal Miss Christina Holloway explained in her usual stern, determined tone of voice as I took the seat across her desk. “She’s way overqualified to be a secretary, at least right now. But I want her.”

I nodded. “You mean the one with the great ass, right?” I asked, wanting to make sure we were talking about the same person.

“Right. That’s the one. Dropped by this morning. Lovely girl. Her name is Bubbles.”

“Bubbles?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a rather peculiar name, isn’t it?”

“I guess so. But that’s what it says on her ID.”

I chuckled. “And her last name? Wobble-dee-pop?” I said jokingly.

“Close.” She said earnestly. “Her family name happens to be Popwitzki.”

“Bubbles Popwitzki?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “Polish emigrants, I’d guess. Grandparents probably had to flee the nazis.”

“Ugh. Well those grandparents definitely saved some good genes from horrific extinction.”

“You can certainly say that, Richard. The girl’s a hottie and that’s why I want her to become a secretary. That tush has to be wrapped nicely in pencil skirts. And later, peeled back out of them.”

“Okay. But she wasn’t here to apply?”

“Well not for enrollment. She’s studying to become a teacher and she was looking for an internship.”

“Oh.” I said, hesitating.

There was a pause.

“Something wrong?” Miss Holloway asked furrowing her brows. She always hated it when I made moral arguments, questioning her decisions. I knew she could tell I was having reservations against her plan of tampering with sweet innocent Bubbles’ career plans.

“Isn’t it a little drastic”, I argued, “to ruin her teaching career? I mean, just because we like her ass? Maybe she isn’t meant to be a secretary.”

“I say she is.” Miss Holloway snapped, staring daggers at me and crossing her arms. “I want that ass. I want her trained. And educated. And in grabbing distance.”

I rolled my eyes. Yes, I could absolutely understand how she had a thing for the girl. But she wasn’t behaving professionally at all. No way I would assist her with this… this…

“Be a good boy and don’t make a fuss, Richard.” She said after a while.

Then again, I figured, she’s my boss.

“Allright, allright.” I said, sighing. “Then why don’t you just take Bubbles as an intern? And, you know, see where that goes?”

She shook her head. “Richard, you know full well where that would go. Last intern I had, that young man Jerry, he turned into my helpless pussy worshipping slave within weeks.”

“You mean you turned him into that.” I said, becoming increasingly annoyed with her attitude.

“Richard, I don’t need a slave! I have to make money but I’m not a slave trader! Everyone with a damn pocket watch can create hypnoslaves these days. We’re not a slave breeding institution. We’re a typing school. We create secretaries, by teaching and training them. That’s what you’re here for. To teach and train the girls. And then when they’re fully trained, we sell them. For good money. Far more than a hypnoslave would bring. That’s our business. Turning girls into secretaries. Especially girls with nice tits, pretty faces, shapely rears.”

“Yes, yes, yes, okay allright!” I said, trying to stifle her rant.

“And that Bubbles happens to possess all of those attributes. Especially the last one.”

“Yes Miss, of course Miss.”

“Plus, she’s a bright girl and that can’t hurt now can it?”

“No Miss Holloway.”

“Good boy. I know you have that thing for bimbos, but that’s a silly male quirk in my opinion. I personally believe that a high IQ is rather beneficial for secretarial work.”

Again I rolled my eyes. Not that again! “Miss Holloway” I began defending myself, “I assure you Cathy is a flawless typist and under her ditzy surface, she is actually quite the well educated, intelligent…”

“Richard! Will you please not start this argument about Cathy again!” She interrupted me.

“Okay. Sorry.”

“This is decidedly not about Cathy! This is about Bubbles! Bubbles Bubbles Bubbles!” She said, slamming her fist onto the desk three times to emphasize her point.

“Yes Miss.” I said meekly.

“I want her!”

“Okay Miss.”

“And you will teach her!“

“Yes Miss.”

“Good boy. You’re still my best teacher, you know that? That’s why I want you to break her in tomorrow and I assure you it will be most pleasant and beneficial for everyone involved.”

“Of course Miss.”

Perhaps the thing most frustrating about arguing with my boss was the fact that she could make my cock twitch just by calling me a “good boy”. Always made me feel like a dog. A horny, dirty, silly pet dog.

“Bubbles, will you please come in.” I said holding the door to my office, gesturing her to step inside.

She gracefully lifted her shapely ass from the chair outside my office and extended her hand. Gawd I wanted to touch those curves…

“Hiya Mister uhm…”

“Anderson. Richard Anderson. Pleased to meet you.” I said as we shook hands. I had to remind myself that she was still here for the internship, unaware of her upcoming career readjustment.

“Please, have a seat.” I said. “Tea, coffee?”

“Oh uhm… tea would be wonderful.” She said, smiling friendly.

I nodded and went over to the cupboard to heat up some water in the electrik kettle. Behind me, I heared a giggle.

I turned around questioningly and Bubbles covered her mouth. “Whoops, sorry.” She said apologetically. “I just sort of expected you to have, you know, a secretary for that.”

I grinned at her. “Well dearie, I guess I could have one of the students do this for me, but I try not taking advantage of them. Well not too much at least.“

She nodded with slight hesitation.

“I’m kidding of course!” I quickly added, not wanting to alarm her. “Of course taking advantage of students and their obedience would be utterly unethical.”

“Of course.” She said smiling politely. “Work ethics are important.”

I nodded. “Oh very important!”

Behind my back I slipped a huge dose of Trancaid into her tea cup. I tried not looking too nervous or guilty.

“Everything allright Sir?” Bubbles asked.

I quickly gave her another nod. “Yes, yes, absolutely. Here’s your tea sweetie.”

“Oh thankies.” She said sweetly. “You put sugar in it already! How did you know?”

I blushed hotly at that remark. There was no sugar in the tea at all. Just trancaid and plenty of it. “Oh… yes… uhm… sugar, of course… I… you know… a teacher knows… you know?” I stammered. Oh god, I figured, I am and always was a terrible liar.

Stalling for time, I sat down behind my desk and leafed through a bunch of papers. Bubbles began drinking her tea. Good so far.

“Bubbles” I said after a couple minutes, looking up from the papers and trying my very best to appear inconspicious and professional. “As an induction to our institution it is mandatory that you take a look at… that.”

I pointed at the large spiral hanging on my wall.

“Oh” Bubbles said simply.

“It’s a spiral.” I explained, immediately feeling ridiculous for stating the obvious.

“I can see that. It’s kind of beautiful.” Bubbles commented.

“It rotates too” I said, flicking the switch under my desk. With a whirring sound the spiral began to slowly rotate. It had never struck me before, but right now I thought the effect was kind of cheesy.

“Oooh that’s neato!” Bubbles said, staring and taking a sip from her tea.

“We use spirals like this one for teaching, you know.”

“Interesting.” She said, taking another sip, not taking her eyes off the spiral.

“They help the girls to focus and relax.”

She nodded.

“Relax and let go.”

Again she nodded.

“It’s relaxing to look at a beautiful rotating spiral.”

“Sure is.” She confirmed. “Relaxing.”

“Especially when you’re having a yummy cup of tea.”

“Yummy tea.” She smiled.

I chuckled. “That’s right. Yummy tea and yummy spiral.”

“Yummy… spiral.”

“Rotating, going round and round and round. Helping all girls to relax deeply and thoroughly.”

“Mmmm…”

It was a huge relief to see that Bubbles was quite suggestible. Of course the Trancaid helped, but I could tell she was a natural.

“No girl can resist a rotating spiral.” I suggested.

“No girl can resist…” She parroted, already sounding rather dreamy.

“Girls must follow the spiral and fall into a nice deep comfortable trance.”

“Follow… deep… trance…”

“Good girl.”

She smiled at the spiral and I smiled to myself. Time to take her down all the way! I opened a desk drawer and fetched the script I had prepared for her.

“Bubbles? Wakey wakey!” I said, snapping my fingers in front of her face.

Her eyes popped open and with a confused expression she looked around. “Oh? Where am I?”

“You’re at the typing school, remember?”

“Oh, right…” She said, staring at the empty tea cup in her hand and smiling nervously.

“And it looks like you dozed off there for a second.” I added.

“Oh my… I’m ever so sorry Sir!”

“It’s quite allright sweetie. How do you feel?”

“Uhm… rather well actually. Surprisingly well.”

I grinned. “It’s not that surprising actually. The typing school is a very happy place for many girls, you know.“

She nodded, still looking a little confused. “Right… uhm… what did I… you know… come here for again?”

“Oh sweetie, what does a girl come to a typing school for?”

She squinted her eyes as if trying to remember something. “Liiike… to learn typing?”

“Of course, Bubbles! That’s what you came here for—but this school is about more than just typing, you know.”

She nodded. “Of course. More than typing.”

“It takes quite some training to become a perfect secretary.”

Her eyes widened at the word secretary. “Oooh…”

“What is it sweetie?”

“Secretary! I… I want to be…”

“You want to be?”

“A secretary! I want to be a secretary! A perfect secretary! Please!” She exclaimed, sounding almost desperate.

I chuckled. “Oh, very well sweetie. I’m certain that it can be achieved.”

She beamed happily.

“Through hard work and hypnotism.” I added.

“Mmm…” She said. “I’m going to love that. Hard work and hypno… something.”

“Yes Bubbles, I’m sure you’ll love it here. Welcome to typing school!”

With that, her eyes slammed shut again and a warm dreamy smile formed on her face. Her lips parted and almost inaudibly she whispered: “I learn and obey.”

“Yes you will sweetie.” I said, gently stroking her hair. “Yes you will.”