The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

[Whether you’re a new reader, or an old reader, I’m sure you have lots of questions. I’ll try to answer both sets of questions over the course of the story, but they’ll be slow reveals. If you have any questions, ANYTHING that you are wondering about, please let me know so I can be sure to consider its inclusion in future sections. I am not omniscient, I will not know everything I missed that should be explained.]

I stepped out of the airport limo. I looked up at the student housing. I’d only been gone a few weeks, but it felt like a lifetime.

“Eric!” Marissa squealed. “You made it!” She came running through the door, and gave me a big hug.

I laughed. “I wouldn’t miss Bobbie’s birthday party!” I gave her a kiss. I waved at Bobbie, who was standing in the doorway. “Happy birthday!”

Bobbie laughed. “Thanks!” She looked over her shoulder, through the door. “We did it, girls!” She stepped out into the sunlight.

I smiled, a little puzzled. “Did what?”

Richelle’s voice came through to me as she sauntered through the door. “We got you here.”

“Huh?” Okay, yeah, sometimes I was a little slow.

“It’s a dream!” That was Diana, just a few steps behind Richelle.

“Wait... what? how?!” I was still under the impression that I’d lost everything when they took my tumor out. “I thought we couldn’t do that anymore.”

“Well,” Edward said; suddenly behind me. “We decided to take that as a challenge. I scored a little weed in the city, Ingrid baked them into some brownies.” Ingrid, standing next to him, gave a little wave. “We decided you’d probably be asleep around now.”

“Shelly and I figured a high would probably be close enough to a dream-state that we could get you.” Diana was now holding Richelle’s hand.

“Besides,” Bobbie added. “If it didn’t work, I’d still have a lot of great weed on my birthday.” She looked a little sad. “Too bad we couldn’t do our birthdays together.”

I smiled at her. “Looks like we can, at least a little bit.” I looked down at Marissa, who was still wrapping her arms around me. “So, what happened to ‘Hugs Not Drugs’?”

She blushed. “Well, I figured anything was worth it to get to see you again.”

“So, dude,” Edward said. “How are you doin’? You out of the hospital yet?” He pointed at the staples in my head. “Do those hurt?”

“They’re not so bad,” I said. “And yeah, I’m out of the hospital. Just left last night.”

“You should keep the look,” Marissa giggled. “I like you with short hair.”

I thought back to Erin’s comments. “You’re the only one.”

“No way,” Richelle said. “You’re sexy with the shaved look.”

“I was told I look like a serial killer.”

Diana laughed. “What ignorant slut told you that?”

“Erin,” I said. “I emailed all of you about her. She’s my ex. You’ll probably meet her eventually.”

“Like, the one that dragged your sister to the evil hypnotist guy?” That was Bobbie. “You know, maybe you should just stay away from her.”

“Hey, either she didn’t know, or she was already under his control.” I shrugged. “Besides, who says he’s evil? Maybe he’s like me. All this power, just fumbling through whatever.”

“Nobody’s like you, Eric.” That was Ingrid, but there were general agreements from all around.

“Well, thanks,” I said. But I didn’t really believe it. I mean, Jordan wasn’t any more messed up than Marissa was, and that was my fault.

I broke away from Marissa’s embrace and walked up to Bobbie. I took her in my arms and gave her a deep kiss, to the jeering and appreciative catcalls of pretty much everyone else there. “Happy birthday, Bobbie.”

“Like, happy birthday to you, too.” She flashed a dimpled smile, before everyone dogpiled on top of me.

Making love in the real world is little more than just fucking, bodies grinding against each other. Sure, we try to bring our feelings into it, but it’s not as intimate as we’d like it to be, as we pretend it is. Not that I’d ever give it up. But making love in dreams - especially once we got the hang of it—is thoughts, impressions, emotions all mingling and gliding over each other. It’s an experience too intimate to share, and too intricate to describe in any language you speak. Suffice it to say, all of us made love—yes, even Eddie and Ingrid joined in.

Zeroes

Chapter 2: Hesitation

Phoenix: Birthday—Monday Morning

My birthday started like a lot of them—with Jordan hopping on my bed and waking me up. I was wrenched out of the dream, gasping and disoriented. I had no time to get my bearings, though—shortly after, “Good morning, campione, it’s your birthday!” Jordan noticed my raging erection, fallout from the dream. She reached for it. “Is that for me?!” I felt her hand wrap itself around my shaft, and jumped back. I looked worriedly at the thin screen separating Dad’s office from his bedroom. I whispered, pushing her off me, “Jordan! Dad’s going to hear you.”

Jordan looked at the screen. “Fine,” she said, getting off me, giving my cock another squeeze. “Spoilsport.” She smirked a dimpled smile at me. “Anyway, breakfast’s ready.”

Breakfast was a surreal time. Jordan was perhaps a little too friendly at the table, though not overtly so, especially with Dad and Cori sitting there. Luckily, Dad was a little oblivious to Jordan’s flirting, but Cori gave us both a strange look. I blushed. And I couldn’t get the memory of Jordan’s body pressed against me, the feeling of her hand on my cock, out of my head. No matter how much I tried to banish it, I couldn’t. Jordan could always melt guys’ brains. I found out that morning that I wasn’t as immune as I believed, like I always pretended I was.

So I swallowed down the empanadas Cori had cooked for me in a few quick gulps, and announced I was going to go for a walk. Truthfully, I wanted to get back to my place. But I knew Jordan would be my ride there (after all, she was hosting the party, and they’d driven me to their house) and I didn’t want to give her any excuse to be alone with me. I didn’t trust her, and also I didn’t really trust myself. The memory of her touch was too fresh in my mind. I figured I needed some fresh air, clear my head, so it was time to go for a walk.

“As long as you’re going,” Dad said, “you can take Maxie out, too. Her leash is by the door.” Maxie was a German Shepherd. And as soon as Dad said her name, and the word ‘leash’, she bolted for the door. She loved going for walks. So I laughed, grabbed the leash, put it on her, grabbed one of dad’s old cowboy hats (my head was shaved and had staples in it; I was supposed to avoid overexposure to the sun).

Paradise Valley is one of the oldest parts of Phoenix. And one of the more upscale. Dad was a rather successful lawyer, I’m not exactly going to apologize for where I grew up. We lived in a small neighborhood called Cherry Hill. He struggled to afford the house once Mom died, but he kept a roof over our heads, and over Cori’s head too. Sometimes, she’d work for just room and board. Sure, he could have moved to a smaller house, but that was the house Mom fell in love with when they moved out from California. Mom’s ashes are scattered in the backyard. There was no way he was going to move away after that.

About a half mile away, Maxie ran into one of her favorite dogs—a mastiff named Grendel, just coming off his driveway. It belonged to the president of the HOA of Cherry Hill, a nasty woman named Cindy Ravenscroft. Dad dated her for a while, almost married her; she was every bad stereotype you can imagine about ambitious lawyers, and ambitious women, all rolled together. Add all the neuroses inherited by a former child beauty queen. Luckily, Grendel was being walked by her daughter, a girl named Brandy. I used to babysit her, with my sister—they were only a year apart. Now she looked like a younger Marilyn Monroe.

The Ravenscrofts were the terror of the neighborhood. Cindy was the president of the HOA, and worked at Dad’s law firm (he got her a job there; now that they’ve broken up, he tells me it’s all kinds of awkward working there with her). Her son, Sheldon, wasn’t exactly the neighborhood bully, but let’s just say I’m glad we attended different schools. He suffered from testosterone poisoning. He made growing up in that neighborhood tough for a bookish, artsy boy.

Unlike her mother and brother, Brandy was a sweet girl, she had a good heart. When they were dating, Cindy tried pushing Dad into enrolling Jordan in a lot of beauty contests, especially since they were almost the same age, but after all that competition started ruining her friendship with Brandy, Jordan refused to participate. I didn’t really blame her. Of course, now, Brandy was a knock-out. Maybe it was the high from the dream, maybe it was the lingering warmth from my sister’s touch, but when I ran into Brandy while walking Maxie, I felt the urge to take her, to take her like I’d taken Daphne or Marissa or Alicia. To take her like Demetrius had taken Jordan.

I hadn’t even done more than waved a hello to the girl when it happened. Something snapped in my head. There was what seemed to be a bright light, my vision cut out for a brief moment. For a moment it was like I could see myself, like I was on the outside of my body. I felt a familiar weakness in my legs as I toppled to the ground.

“Eric!” Brandy ran up to me as I lay gasping for breath. “Are you okay?” The hat had fallen off me, so she added, “What the hell happened to your head? Are those staples?!”

“Brain tumor,” I said, as if they happened every day. “I’m fine.” Meanwhile, I was going through what had happened to me. Was it a seizure? Not the same kind, at least, as before—I didn’t have an erection, at least. But Brandy had that same glazed look in her eyes that I’d come to recognize from before the surgery. Anything I’d say to her, she’d obey, or otherwise take as a truth. Despite the baser urges clamoring in my head, I decided to stay quiet until it wore off.

“I’m sure you are,” she said, helping me up. “Let’s get you to the house.” She grunted as she pulled me to my feet, and I leaned on her as she led me up her driveway. I was in no shape to walk, so I let her take me home. “You’re heavy,” she giggled.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, and tried to shift my weight.

“Thanks,” she smiled at me. “That’s better.”

Soon we were in her house. I stumbled into her living room and collapsed on a couch. “You’re home already?” I heard her mother shout from the other room. “That was quick!”

I groaned. I looked at Brandy and whispered “I’m not here.” I slid down the couch, hoping to stay out of her mother’s line of sight.

But Cindy sashayed into the room, dressed in her business suit, and sure enough I soon heard her surprised voice squeak, “Oh! Eric. What are you doing here?” She looked at my head. “I see you’re out of the hospital already?” Dad and she had stayed in touch after they broke up; I wasn’t surprised to hear she’d known about the hospital visit. “How are you feeling, sweetie?”

Where her daughter reminded me of Marilyn Monroe, she reminded me of Brigitte Bardot (or, I guess, Bardot reminded me of her). If I hadn’t already gotten to know her when my Dad was dating her, I’d probably find her hot, even if she was 25 years my senior.

I’ll admit, I always gave her a second look. She put a lot of effort into keeping herself looking good—she worked out, she used face creams, had plastic surgery, all that sort of thing. Attractiveness was an obsession with her. I gave a wan smile. “A bit worn down.” I shrugged. “Brandy said I could take a breather here if I wanted?” I gave Brandy a look that I hoped communicated that I didn’t want my sudden episode of weakness to be shared.

Luckily, she seemed to get it. “Yeah, mom. Is it okay?”

A dubious smile crossed Cindy’s face. Despite her veneer of politeness, Cindy always made me feel like I was something she’d just scraped off her shoe. She considered me for a moment, looking at me like Brandy had brought home a stray dog. Then she smiled her plastic brittle smile and turned to Brandy. “Of course, honey,” she said. “Eric and Jordan are always welcome here.” Her exclusion of my father just pissed me off. I wished she’d show respect to me, to my family, to anyone really.

Then another pressure started swirling around my skull; it felt familiar and alien all at once. Soon I felt a feeling of release, like whatever was building in my head decided to expel itself out of the front of my skull. Cindy put her hand to her head, looking woozy. “Ooo,” she said, giggling, steadying herself on the couch. “Guess I had a little too much to drink last night.” She blushed. “Oh, you must think horribly of me, Eric,” she said, sitting on the couch next to me. “Look at me, drunk in the middle of the workday.” She smiled her plastic smile at me, but it seemed to have a little more warmth. She put her hand on my knee. “You don’t, do you?” Her eyes looked glazed over, plastic like a doll.

I looked at her, bewildered for a moment. I’d seen her do worse, she’d almost flaunted it when she and Dad were dating. I hadn’t had a seizure, or even a dizzy episode like with Brandy, yet for some reason Cindy was acting uncharacteristically warmly toward me. I had my suspicions and my theories, all whizzing through my head. She gave a little plastic pout at my stunned silence. “You’re offended?” She sighed. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?” Now she was running her hand along my arm, stroking me gently.

“Mom!” That was Brandy. “Lay off! He’s Sheldon’s age!” Well, not quite. I was a year older, which had seemed like a big deal when we were kids. Which didn’t make Cindy’s actions any more appropriate.

I took a shot. “You’ll do anything I say?” I waited to see if she’d reply in the robotic monotone, or if this was a different, stranger kind of trance.

She looked at me with a puzzled expression and laughed. “Oh, you wish, sweetie.” Well, I figured, scratch that off the theory list. “I didn’t even do that with your father.” Then she blushed, an unfamiliar scarlet crossing her face. I’d never seen her embarrassed before, though she’d done a lot of things that should have embarrassed her. I’ll admit, I enjoyed seeing her blush. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “That wasn’t nice of me to say.” I think both Brandy and I were shocked to hear an honest apology come out of Cindy’s mouth. “Oh,” she said. “Look at the time. I should be in court.” She put her hand on my chest. “You should drop by more often, once you get better.” Then she gave a little wink, and sashayed out of the room. “Oh,” she said over her shoulder, “happy birthday, Eric!”

Brandy slumped on the couch beside me, dropping into the place her mother just left. “Wow! Um, sorry about her.” As long as I’d known them, she’d always apologized for her mother.

“Don’t be. She’s not your fault.” I shook my head in disbelief. “Was she hitting on me?”

“Yeah,” she said, a look of disgust on her face. She buried her face in her hands. “My mom’s a cougar.” Shaking her head, she added, sighing. “Not that it’s the most embarrassing thing she’s ever done.” She looked at me. “Just don’t sleep with her, okay?” She stretched, giving me a good view of her assets.

“Sleep with the Queen Bitch?” I laughed. “Please. I’ve never been that desperate.” I stood up and called Maxie over. “Well, I guess I’ll be getting out of your hair now. Thanks for letting me catch my breath.”

“Going so soon?” Brandy blurted. “Just... Let me at least get you a glass of water.”

I was thirsty, and bewildered, so I said, “Sure,” and flopped back on the couch. I mean, Cindy was about to disappear, so I had no pressing reason to leave. Petting Maxie, I sat there wondering what the hell had happened. The two women both seemed to fall under the influence of my powers, but not in the pattern I was accustomed to seeing. Brandy, at least, seemed to be affected more traditionally, but Cindy seemed to be under the influence as well. There was only one way I could think of to test it out.

So when Brandy showed up with the glass of water, I asked her to sit down next to me. She sat really close, her knee touching mine. “Brandy, have you ever been hypnotized?”

Eyes wide, she answered, “Not really,” she answered. “A few times in my psych classes.” She was a psych major. “Oh God, you’re going to ask me to see that Demetrius guy, aren’t you?”

“Um, no.” I was puzzled and a little surprised by what she said. “Why?”

“Oh, man. Some of my girlfriends went to see him, and they’re like born-again converts. They keep trying to talk me into going to his show. They reminded me of mom trying to push me on stage, so I said no.”

“Good,” I said. “You shouldn’t go.”

She shook her head, blonde locks tossing loose around her face. “I’m not going. It all smells a little fishy.” She flashed a dimpled smile. “So, why do you ask about hypnosis?”

“Well, um, while I was in Europe I picked up some interesting techniques.” Yeah, it was a lame line, but I still wasn’t sure if she’d been affected or not.

“Oh? And what are you going to have me do?”

I smirked at her. “I’ll make you my sex slave, obviously.”

She snorted. “Yeah, right. Hypnosis doesn’t work like that.”

I laughed. “Okay. Maybe I’ll make you stop smoking.”

She rolled her eyes. “Better men have tried. And failed. I love my cloves.”

“Just imagine what a trance would feel like,” I said, finally taking the plunge. “A complete trance, one where you’d be totally committed to obeying me.”

“Um, okay?” She closed her eyes and started imagining. She let out a little giggle. This was starting to remind me of Valerie. “Now what, Master?”

I laughed. “Look, just imagine it.”

She leaned back. “Okay.”

“Now feel that you’re already in that trance. Feel your body relax,” I went through the whole rigamarole. “I’m going to count from ten to one, and when I reach one, you will be completely relaxed, totally under, receptive to all my commands.”

“...okay...”

I counted down, and when I reached one, she collapsed, her head falling into my lap. I stared, waiting for the punchline, waiting for her to flip over and laugh at me. Waiting for her to reveal she was faking, like Valerie did. I waited a few moments, then tried tickling her (I’d babysat her, I knew where she was ticklish). When she didn’t even flinch, I was convinced. My cock stiffened as I realized she was under my control.

It started out innocently enough. “Brandy,” I said, “no matter what urges you feel, you will not light up a cigarette, or smoke it. You will ignore the cravings.”

Then the idea popped in my head. That’s where I started to slide downhill. Before that day, every one of my ‘conquests’ had been accidents, many resulting from my inexperience or irresponsibility colliding with some natural curiosity. With Brandy it was different. It was more than just idle curiosity, it was pure desire. I had Jordan on my mind, and between the raw animal magnetism and the shame from wanting my sister, and I simply took it all out on poor Brandy. Probably some of the embarrassment and frustration from Valerie was mixed in there, too. I’m just glad I didn’t fuck her up as much as I could have.

“Instead of craving cigarettes, you will crave me.” I took a deep breath, and then decided to go on. “Any time I cum in you, no matter the hole, it will be just like you’ve had a cigarette, and you will always crave that feeling. And every time I cum in you, you will have a mind-blowing orgasm.” Hey, why not let her enjoy it, right? “And any time I call you ‘princess’ you will immediately obey any suggestion that I say with it.” She hated being called a princess, it reminded her of her child-beauty-star days. “Oh, and you will feel happy butterflies in your stomach when I call you princess. It’ll be like the best compliment you ever had. You’ll get all giggly, and it’ll be like you’re feeling a little sexual afterglow.” And since she was tired of being thought of as a dumb blonde, I added, “Finally, you’ll feel those same butterflies and afterglow whenever I call you a bimbo.”

She’s forgiven me, but I still feel bad about it. At least I didn’t do anything to screw her up in the rest of her life, she was only different when around me. And hey, I stopped her from smoking. Yeah, I know, that sounds lame. I woke her up by saying, “And to give you a fresh taste of your new addiction, when you wake up you’ll seduce me. You won’t want me to leave the house until I fuck you.” Taking yet another deep breath to collect myself, I said, “Do you understand?”

“mmm-hmmm...” I felt the hum through my legs. If ever I was doubting she was under, that deep relaxed murmur in my lap would have cured my doubts. My cock twitched.

“Good girl, now wake up.”

She picked herself up from off my lap and stretched and yawned, giving me a good view of her chest. “Wow,” she said, “Did it work? I feel really relaxed.” She grunted as she popped her back. “That felt good.” She smiled a wicked grin at me. “So, am I your sex slave now?” Before I could stop her (not that I would have), she climbed on me and reached her hand down my pants. “Oh! Is that for me?” She blushed. “I’m not feeling very submissive, but since it’s your birthday, how about I be your sex slave today?”

Even though I’d made it happen, I was still taken aback when Brandy made her move on me. Grabbing my cock, she pressed her body into mine as she kissed me and pulled my shorts down. I reached my hands up to touch her breasts. She moaned, and leaned in to whisper, “I want you inside me. Tell me what to do, Master.” She was sounding very playful.

I grabbed her and threw her onto the couch. I pulled her shorts and panties down and threw them aside. “Get me a condom, bimbo,” I said. She moaned and giggled, then eagerly scampered off.

Brandy came back with an extra-large condom and hummed a little happy tune as she wrapped it around my shaft. Then she looked up at me. “Anything else, Master?” She winked. I grabbed her and pushed her on the couch, and climbed on top of her. She wrapped her legs around me and quickly pulled me into her slick, tight sheath. “Fuck,” she said. “It’s everything I imagined it would be.” I grunted, thrusted a few times, and came. Thanks to the suggestions I gave her, she came as well. Usually I concentrate on longevity, but that day I was more focused on my pleasure than hers.

After that, I flopped back on the other side of the couch and looked over at her, legs spread, panting. She looked at me, smoldering. I tried catching my breath, then gasped out, “...everything you imagined...?” I watched her flush.

“Um,” she said, avoiding my eyes. “Yeah?”

I waited for her to go on. A few seconds of silence passed. “Oh, come on, Princess, tell me.”

She blushed, and giggled. “Um, okay.” She ran her fingers through her hair, obviously nervous. “Well....” Finally her left hand started twining a strand around a finger. “I’ve had a crush on you since you first started babysitting me. But, like, my mom was dating your dad, and then they were gonna get married.” She sighed. “And Jordan said she’d kill me if I made a move on you.” Then she gave a smile. “But I used to spy on you when you were changing for work,” she said. “And I saw how big you were.” She winked. I was flabbergasted—more evidence that I really was clueless about women. “But really, by the time you got back from college I was with Nolan, and Jordan would still have killed me, so I just left it alone.” She giggled. “I don’t know what came over me today. Can we go again?” She gave her hips a little thrust.

I laughed. “No, no. I need a bit more time to recover.”

“Maybe at your party?”

“Oh shit,” I said. I looked at my watch. “I need to get back, so Jordan can drive me over.” Even after the sex with Brandy, I was still haunted by Jordan. My cock twitched. I got up, hurriedly put my clothes back on. I was already feeling a little guilty. I called Maxie over (she and Grendel were distracting themselves) and hurried out the door. “Sorry I have to run, bimbo.”

“Oh,” she said, giggling and flushing again, reacting to the trigger. “It’s okay. Just promise we’ll do it again.”

“We will,” I said, chuckling. With the suggestions I gave her, I knew she’d be back. I felt bad, but hey, at least she wasn’t lighting up.