The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

My brother Billy and sister-in-law Lynn wanted to have a little couples cruise, long weekend vacation, but didn’t trust their daughter Erin to not throw a kegger in their absence. It’s really hard to maintain “cool uncle” status when you’re putting your foot down in an anti-kegger stance, but here I stand in the doorway of their house about to do just that. Billy’s going to owe me big for this favor. It’s so much cooler to feel cool. I don’t enjoy adulting.

“Uncle Richard?!? I’m a college freshman. I’m responsible. Why the hell are you here?” Erin wails on my arrival. It’s a great foot to start on. I feel the coolness evaporating out of my pores with every word from her lips.

It’s been a couple months since I last saw Erin and apparently they were important months for her growth and development. She’s blossomed into full-on womanhood and here I stand, bags in hand, ready to play babysitter to her. As our parents “oops” baby, I know what it’s like to be looked at as the young one. I’m much closer in age to my niece Erin than I am to my brother Billy.

“Hi Erin. How are you?”

She groans, frustrated, but at least she stops blocking the doorway. She stomps her way through the house, up to her room, and slams the door shut with such force that I’m worried I’m going to have to start cleaning up splinters.

I order pizza and check emails on my phone, waiting for its arrival. Erin doesn’t even show her face when the pizza arrives even after I yell out to her that I got her favorite, pineapple and jalapeño, despite being ravenously hungry for some pepperoni. Alone, and frankly bored, with a good seventy-two hours in front of me, I turn on the television. Apparently, my brother has cut the cable so their TV is useless without their Netflix or Hulu password and unfortunately, Erin ain’t talking.

I watch YouTube videos for a while, but I wanted a story. Something of substance. Well, something of entertaining substance.

Just for shits and laughs, I type — best way to beat boredom into the search engine and a couple intriguing answers pop up, but none more intriguing than some sort of Mad Libs story engine where I get to dictate the action promoted by someone called the Weaver. The website asks me to enter my name and confirm I’m over eighteen. I also confirm that I understand how a choose your own adventure story works. Having passed this relatively simple barrier to entry, I read multiple pages of stories and finally find one that’s up my alley — Monster Mash.

I select it and the next question asks:

Would you like to include Erin in your story?

Yes

No

Weird that it would offer up Erin without prompting. Must recognize the Wi-Fi I’m using or someone in this house has visited this site before or something. I’ll include her and maybe I can print it out at the end and we can have a shared laugh.

I select — Yes.

I swear, my cell phone screen craps out and I feel sick to my stomach thinking I’ll be stuck here with no entertainment whatsoever, but then the feeling and the screen fail both go away, revealing a story to me.

You’re in your fully-stocked armory deciding what adventure to go on next. You’ve seen the dark underbelly the world seems content to ignore. You know that if you peel away the civil veneer, there’s danger beneath. That’s where you come in. You stand between that danger and those that it would harm. You are a hunter. You need only choose your prey.

Richard, do you select —

Hunt a vampire

Hunt a werewolf

Hunt a zombie

I hate zombies and werewolves. One swipe and — doomed to walk the earth as a brainless or out-of-control thing. Vampires. You really have to fuck up to become a vampire. Unless we’re talking some of that The Strain Guillermo del Toro stuff. Hopefully, it’s none of that. Besides, of the three, vampires are easily the sexiest.

I select—Hunt a vampire.

I hear a loud thump from the second floor of the house. Specifically, I hear a loud thump from what sounds like Erin’s room. I go up the stairs.

“Hey… Erin? You alright in there?” I ask, ready to break down the door if I don’t get a quick response.

“Hungry… So hungry… But I won’t… I can’t…” Her voice is breathy and sounds distant, detached. She must be hungry.

“No. It’s cool, I’ve got pizza downstairs, remember?”

“The smell… delicious…”

“Yeah. I got pineapple and jalapeño, just like you like it…”

“Mmmm…” she moans. I’ve never heard anyone so… turned on… by the idea of pizza. I mean, I love me some pizza, but wow.

“Well, your meal is downstairs waiting when you want it.”

“Mmm hmm.”

Shit. The sound of her moans is giving me wood. Not exactly ideal uncle behavior. I’m going to need a distraction. Luckily, I have just that in my hand.

You examine your vampire hunting equipment closely, pocketing holy water, silver grenades, and a couple of extremely sharp stakes. You pull your blessed leather trench coat above all of that. You know of a few different nests in the area. Those that lean towards the shadows and killing. Those of a more bestial form. Necromancers. Tricksters. Sensualists. Flesh manipulators and greedy pseudo nobles.

Richard, do you hunt —

Beasts

Flesh manipulators

Greedy pseudo nobles

Necromancers

Sensualists

Shadows killers

Tricksters

Beasts, shadow killers, necromancers all sound nasty. Tricksters could go either way, so too could flesh manipulators and sensualists. But the easy choice is those that play at nobility and, by their greed, probably have fun treasures and tokens.

I select — Greedy pseudo nobles.

“Hello, Uncle.”

I’ll admit it. I jump back from my computer, not expecting to suddenly hear Erin’s voice. Plus, thinking about monsters has me easily jarred. I try to play it down. “Hey…” I look at her and she looks deathly pale. Coupled with her dark hair, it leaves her looking exceeding goth. The pseudo Ren Faire clothes add to that look. Apparently, her short-lived hunger strike didn’t agree with her. I walk around to her and instinctively put my hand on her forehead. She’s cold. Ice cold.

“You feeling okay?”

“I am feeling fine, Uncle.” Erin says in a distant voice as she runs a hand down my cheek. Her hand is as cold as her forehead, but her caress is soft. “How are you feeling?”

I look into her eyes and, for a moment, I feel weak. Sleepy.

I hold up my phone. “I was just doing some reading.”

“Do not let me stop you. I will just… watch… and wait…”

“You know… maybe have some pizza while you watch and wait. I think you could use the energy.”

I shake my head.

What if she’s on drugs?

What if she’s on drugs on my watch?

I’ll never hear the end of it. Best to keep her in sight, just in case. And I should lookup CPR on my phone, also hopefully just in case.

The moment I look down at my phone, I’m sucked back into the story.

You arrive at the den where your source places the greedy pseudo noble vampire types. It doesn’t look like much from the outside, so you start to wonder if that was one hundred dollars well spent. Thankfully, if it was and if there are indeed vampires inside, you still have a little bit of daylight left to do your work in relative safety. Wouldn’t want to face down any kind of vampire (pseudo noble or not) once the sun sets. Inside, the air smells of cinnamon and leather as well as a general earthiness. If you’re looking to treasure hunt, you’ve also come to the right place. There are jeweled trinkets everywhere. Their sight gives you pause.

Richard, do you —

Stall on your moral duty to work in some jewel theft

Continue onward to strike against the fiendish forces of the night

I mean, one of the main selling points for the noble vampires was their greed… which means they horde cool stuff. I might as well benefit.

I select—Stall on your moral duty to work in some jewel theft.

My eyes look up from my screen and drink in Erin. Yes, she looks porcelain-pale, but everything about her is alluring, specifically, but not limited to, the curve of her milky white breasts spilling out of her peasant blouse. Any voice that would typically say “it’s wrong to have the thoughts your having” has gone suddenly, fully, and completely silent. Unabated by morals, I start to think about all of the fun times that can be had with an eighteen year old. Mainly, I have a feeling that someone’s peasant blouse, just barely currently out of reach, isn’t long for this world.

You slip more than a couple jewels into your pocket, paying no attention to your quest or the valuable time you might be wasting. When you feel sufficiently weighed down, you continue down the hall. At least, you attempt to continue down the hall. You feel weak… drowsy…

“You should know. Some of those jewels are cursed, specifically to avoid their theft.” Her voice is measured, distant.

You catch sight of her in the shadows. Her eyes blazing red, even in the darkness.

Richard, do you —

Go for one of your weapons

Try to charm your way out of the situation

I feel no ill compunctions about killing, but it seems to me that if I could charm my way out of the situation, that would work out better for all parties involved. More money, less dry cleaning.

I select — Try to charm your way out of the situation.

I bet I could get Erin to just take off that blouse, no tearing necessary. I mean, if I put my mind to it, there’s nothing I can’t accomplish. A couple well-chosen words and I’ll have her eating out of my hand… and cock. I look up to her face and I swear for a second that her eyes glow red. But then she smiles, showing me her perfectly white teeth, but her eyes clearly look hazel. This story is apparently doing a number on me. I need to finish it so that I can move on to more important things, like pounding Erin into submission.

You turn on the charm. “Oh yeah? What kind of curse?”

The vampire steps out of the shadows. You recognize her as Erin, the leader of this particular group. Her youthful appearance hides centuries of knowledge and experience. “Well, you will feel sluggish until the sun sets. Your strength will return to you then, but it will also be far, far too late for you. So that I know what to put on your tombstone, should it read ‘thief’ or ‘hunter?’”

“I prefer ‘lover.’”

“I am sure you do, but you have your weapons and my jewels on your person. I assume you, there is no escape.”

Richard, do you —

Fight anyway

Give in to her dark embrace

I’m not about to just give up and be a vampire’s dinner.

I select—Fight anyway.

You reach into your coat, and before you have a chance to grip a stake or pull a gun, Erin is on you.

“Foolish mortal. Better than you have tried to best me and failed. I was willing to provide a quick death, but now, you will serve me until I tire of you.”

She spins your head and stares deep into your eyes, repeating “Submit” over and over again.

Your will slowly fades away.

There’s barely any you left.

You exist solely for her.

I don’t know what’s wrong with my uncle. I was giving him shade, acting distant and weird, all in the hopes that I could get him to let me have some friends over and maybe throw some beer our way. Hook us up. He finished reading whatever he was reading on his phone and now he’s just staring at me. Like super weird. Like not blinking.

“Hey, Uncle?”

“Yes, Erin,” he says, but he sounds like one of those people under hypnosis in like a movie or something.

“Why are you acting weird?”

“How would you like me to act, Erin?”

“I just want you to say I can have my friends over.”

“You can have your friends over, Erin.”

Okay, now he’s just fucking with me. “Cool. Cool. Give me all of the money in your wallet.”

He stands up and leaves the room. I’m thinking apparently, his game is over, but he returns and drops about eighty bucks in front of me. I wonder what’s the line he won’t cross.

I pull my shirt down. “Look at my tits!”

He does, unblinking. This is not something a rational thinking adult would do. In fact, it starts to creep me out.

“Stop looking at my tits. Look at your feet.” He does. I’m going to have some fun with this. “Go upstairs, take off all of your clothes and lay on the bathroom floor.” He starts to walk upstairs, shedding clothes along the way. I call out after him. “Get ready. I’m going to come up there and shit on your chest and you’re going to spend the whole time telling me how much you love it.”

I’ve always wanted to do that to someone. Seems like the perfect opportunity to test exactly how far I can push it, but I like where it’s going so far, so I grab my phone as I hit the stairs. “Spread the word. Party at my place…”

They ask if there’s going to be adult supervision.

“No,” I say as I shed my skirt approaching the bathroom. “My uncle is handled.”