The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The previous day, Michael had opened the door to find Nicolette standing there, a look of burning lust in her eyes.

“Oh,” he’d said, and Nicolette recoiled slightly at the disappointment in his voice.

“Oh?” she said, and the provocative pose she’d struck for him drooped slightly.

“Sorry,” Michael replied. “I didn’t mean…you’d better come in.”

Nicolette was wearing a pink teddy, the sexiest outfit she owned. The effect had been more pronounced when she had a bust to fill it out, but as she’d walked across town, the cheerleader had still attracted enough attention to be sure that Michael would notice her.

She’d thought. As it happened, she might as well have worn a sack.

The demon football player didn’t even seem to be able to look at her as she crossed her legs, sitting across from him on the couch. All she wanted was his attention…no, that wasn’t true.

All she wanted was his thick demon cock, his hands on her nipples, another of the rolling orgasms he’d brought her to the previous night. She wanted him to hold her down and dominate her.

Instead, he seemed to be hell-bent on moping.

As much as Nicolette was desperate to be roughly fucked again (like she’d been dreaming of all night), she could tell that Michael was struggling. Hearing him out was the right thing to do.

Plus, once he was feeling better, he might pin her against the wall and pump her full of his demon seed.

“It’s Brandi,” he said, and it was all the cheerleader could do not to roll her eyes in response. It was always Brandi. It was like the whole damned town revolved around her.

“Go on,” she said gently, hoping that her voice didn’t give away her frustration with the blonde, boyfriend-stealing bimbo.

“I love her.”

Nicolette grimaced, but Michael didn’t notice.

He’d done it. He’d said it out loud.

Not to her, admittedly, but still…he’d said it.

Now he needed to find his love and say the words to her directly.

“I have to go,” he murmured, and before Nicolette could respond he was out the door, heading straight for Brandi’s house.

The cheerleader wanted to punch the wall with frustration. She needed to be fucked, to feel the demon’s muscular body pressing against hers, to bathe in his scent.

As she looked around, a smile slowly crept onto her face. Yes, she’d just been rejected…and no, it obviously wouldn’t be the same…but here she was, in Michael’s house, surrounded by his stuff.

Surrounded by his musk.

She could lay naked on his bed and get herself off, his demon pheromones filling her nostrils.

And then, she could take a jersey or a sports jacket—something that was distinctly his. The next she saw Brandi, she could make sure to be casually wearing it.

That would show her.

But for now, she had an appointment with Michael’s bed and her own fingers. An appointment that—judging by how turned on she was—could take a few hours.

As Michael marched across town, his distance from Antioch High grew. Mr. Foster’s instructions faded slightly, and he became increasingly disappointed with his own actions over the last few days.

You were never really dating Brandi, he tried to tell himself, but even in his own head, he knew that didn’t justify his actions. He loved her—he’d loved her since they’d first met. Being with Rita had been wrong. On some level, he’d always known that, even as they were knocking demonic boots.

But over the last few days, he’d gone completely out of control.

Almost overnight, every girl at their school seemed to have gone through a growth spurt; everywhere he looked, he’d seen boobs and butts and girls relentlessly flirting with him.

He should have resisted. He could have resisted. But instead, as though on some kind of desperate mission to prove something, he’d accepted every come-on and fucked every girl who had so much as looked sideways at him.

Over the last few days, he’d lost count of how many sexually-charged teenage girls he’d brought to orgasm after screaming orgasm. He knew that there had been more than a dozen teachers in there as well (although not Mrs. Winter, of course—even then, he’d known that would be crossing a line) and he was confident that each and every one of them had walked away, fully aware of the true superiority of demons.

Why? he asked himself. Why did that suddenly become so important to me?

Michael resented his banishment—not because he’d particularly loved the Demon Realm, but because of what an effective punishment it was. Cursed to decades as a high-school student. He’d thought he was getting off lightly, until the first week of school had finished and he’d realized he was cursed to live a life of mediocrity for many years to come.

Finding Brandi had been a blessing for a few reasons. Firstly, as he’d finally been able to vocalize, he loved her.

He loved her.

She was smart, generous, driven—and they clicked.

Secondly, it gave him a way to fight back against the society that had banished him to what felt like an eternity of high-school.

But more than that, more than even his love for Brandi, it had given him focus.

His days were no longer filled with teenage banality, watching the clock and waiting for football practice to begin (the only part of his human existence that he truly enjoyed)—now, he scanned for threats, came up with strategies to take them down. He was useful—more than that, he was necessary.

And so, for the first time since it had appeared, his sudden desire to prove the superiority of demons struck him as odd.

Michael had found a purpose. He’d found a gorgeous woman to share that purpose with. And he’d thrown it all away, without even knowing why.

Arriving at Brandi’s house, he tucked that thought away to unpack later, and knocked twice on the wooden door.

He was going to win his love back. After that, they could work out where these strange urges were coming from…together. As a team.

As a couple.

Kristine had begun pottering around the house after Duncan had left, doing all the little chores that need to be done over the weekend. In the back of her mind, however, a worry was consistently niggling.

I hope Brandi’s okay, she thought to herself.

That had been a recurring thought ever since she’d first learned that her daughter was the Protector of the Gateway, chosen by destiny to be the one to stop Antioch from being taken over by demon hordes.

Her teenage daughter was always stressed, always busy. Her grades had slipped, and she regularly came home with bruises and cuts. She’d fall into bed, and bounce up the next day, only to return with more.

But over the past few days, something had been…different. Distracted though Kristine had been, she’d noticed it. Glimpses of Brandi’s face in the school’s hallways on Friday had shown Kristine a look of worry that wasn’t there before, and the girl had barely been home all weekend.

Unfortunately for Kristine, a worry for her daughter was the exact foothold that Mr. Foster’s orders needed to take hold.

I need to be a good mother, Kristine thought as she folded laundry. A good mother gets fucked at least once a day.

And I have, she reminded herself proudly. Duncan took care of that for me. And he’s a gay!

She wandered into the garden, not even noticing her neighbor’s lustful gaze as she began trimming the roses. Not that it would have meant much if she had—her neighbor was at least thirty, far too old for what she needed.

At least once, she thought. During the week, I was managing to find two or three boys to take care of my needs daily.

I want to be the best mother I can be.

The thought grew and grew in her head, feasting on her worry for her daughter. She wanted to be a good mother, and that meant getting fucked, being fucked multiple times a day.

And so far today, she’d only been fucked once.

What was she thinking?

Abruptly dropping the secateurs, she rushed back into the house. She needed to get fucked. She needed a teenage boy to come around and give it to her, hard.

It was the only way to help Brandi.

Pulling out her phone book, she started going through her contacts. Who did she know with a teenage son, and what excuse could she give for inviting them around?

Since moving to Antioch, Kristine hadn’t made very many friends—a few teachers from school, a neighbor or two.

Niles…

Her finger paused over the Mentor’s name. He wasn’t a teenager, of course, and so not at all helpful in this situation…but she did miss him, if she was being honest with herself. If only he was just a few decades younger…

As she stared wistfully at the librarian’s name, the doorbell rang.

Kristine knew it wasn’t Brandi—her daughter had her own key to the house. A few possibilities popped into her head—Duncan, back for some reason. Lily, looking for her daughter.

Niles…

One person who she hadn’t considered was Michael, another of Brandi’s friends. But as soon as she laid eyes on the handsome young football player, she realized just how attractive he was.

Attractive…and young.

“Come on in,” she purred, and before Michael knew what was happening, her tongue was in his mouth, inadvertently transferring Mr. Foster’s suggestions.

For Brandi…

Michael’s guilt over cheating on his on-again, off-again lover faded. This, fucking her mother: this, he was doing it for her.

This was for Brandi.

As the clock struck midnight, Mr. Foster finally stopped the ritual.

He’d been chanting and gesturing for the past twenty-four hours straight, and his human form was completely exhausted. Fortunately, the next day was Sunday—not a day that demons typically get much done anyway.

He could sleep all day, while the ritual continued. And then, come Monday, he would have power greater than any demon in the history of Antioch.

Enough power to do what so many before him had failed to do. Enough power…to open the Gateway.

All he’d need was a key.