The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Even without his sister’s nattering, it was a noisy night. People were talking about the stupidest things. The bulk of it was total stream of consciousness type stuff that he couldn’t get a lock on, sort of like a radio in the next room that’s playing just loud enough to keep you awake, but not loud enough to understand. It was funny though. He wasn’t all that tired.

I just want to get rid of this fricking headache. Aspirin. Take a couple aspirin and get started on the paper. Ohshit. Send an email off to Melissa and The Professor to let them know what happened to the brain scanner and the sample sets. Mel’s gonna be pissed. The Professor’ll go nuts.

Ed wound up sending off the email before getting the aspirin, but that had little effect on the way things ultimately turned out. Now that his research project had been looked after, and a few painkillers had been swallowed, Ed went looking for some food.

Food was a relative term in Ed’s world. One thing that you have to understand about Ed is that he prided himself on a fairly naive definition of healthy eating. Down enough vitamins and your body would take care of itself, regardless of how little food you actually ate. His choice in cereals is a prime example. It advertised all of the nutrients that a growing boy needed, but no kid—and despite his age, this includes Ed—would have touched the stuff if not for the fact that it contained far more sugar than was healthy for anyone. The target market selected by the advertisers was ten year olds who already had a serious attention deficit. Since the kids already tended towards berserk rampages, the marketing team figured parents would not notice the additional glucose-fuelled problems. Besides, the stuff tasted really good.

Brimming with an overflow of low-in-fat, high-in-added-vitamins, sugar and twice his daily recommended serving of fibre, Ed got to work on the paper for Dr. Obradovich’s course. It kept his mind off the fact that while the aspirin did help with the pain, it did nothing about the cause of the pain: the people in his head. When his mind drifted away from the paper, he could almost hear things. Sometimes he’d see faces and impressions that came with the voices, but most of the time it was a non stop droning mess of too many people all talking at once.

The images were mostly of Annabelle Bradshaw. That made a lot of sense since she’d been a staple of his masturbatory fantasies before he discovered the internet. Sure, Anne, as she liked to be called these days, didn’t quite match up to an internet porn star—actually she didn’t even come close anymore—but she had the serious advantage of having lived next door almost all of his life.

When they were kids, Annabelle and Edward thought it was sort of icky the way their parents always went on about what a cute couple they’d be, but, by the time he was fourteen, Ed would have killed to have been a couple. Sadly Anne kept the ick mentality, at least when it came to him. Then she got the McJob, ate McFood twice a day for about the last seven years, and now, when dressed in her white shirt and black pants, looked a lot like a killer whale.

So there were images of Anne necking passionately with some guy playing through Ed’s head and it seemed pretty strange since he hadn’t thought of her as sexy for at least four years. Back then she was getting tubby, but it gave her a pretty full chest. Now-a-days, “She’s a tub of goo” was a lot more likely a thought than an Anne sex fantasy, even with Anne lying asleep on a recliner in her backyard.

This is a mean thing to do to a young man when he is the protagonist in a mind control story. The next door neighbour should be a cold ice bitch who looks hotter than hell and goes off like a rocket with just a bit of mental direction, not a somewhat friendly fat girl. There’s not much point to using your new powers to ignite the girl next door into having wild sex when she’s ugly. Fortunately this is as much a Breast Expansion and Body Modification story as raw MC, so it doesn’t really matter what she looks like to start with. Odds are that she won’t be looking ugly too much longer.

But the Anne enjoying a passionate romp in his head was a completely different matter. If you took cute little Anne at age fifteen and extended that line down a different track where she’d gotten her after school job somewhere else, like a Subway or something, she might look something like the Anne Ed saw in his mind. Taking a look out the den’s window and into the Bradshaw’s backyard, Anne could easily be seen snoozing.

She’s probably also visible with the naked eye from space, added a nasty little part of Ed’s mind.

Still, even with a pretty looking Anne, the odds of Ed fantasizing about her making out with the guy who played Stiffler were pretty small. Seriously, if you’re going to take a break from a paper and fantasize about something, it might as well be something that turns you on. This revised Anne is OK, but . . .. First things first, Stiffler’s got to go.

Meanwhile, in the dream world

Sean was gone, but where he’d gone to, she had no idea. One minute things were getting hot and heavy and the next, he was . . . just gone. No puff of smoke, no popping sound, no nothing. No Sean, either. The beach blanket was still there—and so was all of their stuff, including Sean’s shirt—but otherwise it was like he’d never been there at all. So there she was, sitting on a lonely beach looking the way she should look, but without Sean.

“Hey, Anne,” said a voice behind her.

“Eddie?” she asked, recognizing the voice before she finished turning around.

“Ed. Never figured you for the Stiffler type.”

“What’s going on Eddie? Where’d Sean go?”

“Ed. Dunno really. This is just a daydream. You’re looking pretty good.”

“This is how I should look,” said Anne as she sat up. “I don’t know what happened to the real me. I screwed up somewhere.”

“Too many Big Macs, Anne. You should eat better. I dunno, maybe work out a lot more.” With an audible “Pop!”, Anne returned to her normal bloated self. That in the bikini and tee shirt she wore was a pretty damn frightening sight.

“Hey,” said Ed. “You don’t have to look like that in my dreams.”

“What are you talking about? This is my dream. I was here first!”

“So what? I’m here now. What do you want to look like? You looked a lot better like this.” Ed rolled back the mental clock a bit and pictured the slim Anne from a few moments earlier. The fat faded away, leaving the inner Anne on the outside again. Her breasts were a bit—ok, a lot—bigger this time, but he could dream, right?

“I do look better,” said Anne, looking down at herself. “I can’t believe I let go so badly. It just sort of happened. I just woke up fat one day and didn’t do anything about it, so it just got worse and worse until I didn’t care anymore. I was ugly, so who cared if I got uglier . . .”

Ed’s mind drifted away from Anne’s whining dialogue. Heck. This was a dream so why not? Anne’s chest swelled as she continued her rant.

“Eddie? Hello?” Audrey poked him. “Earth to Eddie?”

“Ed,” mumbled Ed. “I was thinking”

“You were drooling on your shirt. What time did you get in last night? After I did, that’s for sure. I hope she was worth it.”

“Who was worth it?”

“Duh,” said the snarky sister. “The girl you were out all night drinking with. Or maybe it was a guuuuyyy? Whatever. Please tell me it wasn’t school work. This is what? Year seven of a four year degree? You can’t study everything, you know.”

She had trailed off looking at his face but now continued. “Jesus. What happened to you last night? Your eyes are seriously bloodshot.”

“I had an accident at the school,” he replied, refusing to be needled. “Power went out and something went wrong. Got knocked out, I think. Last thing I remember was the lights in the lab flickering, and then it was around one AM. Took another four hours to get home because most of the busses weren’t running.”

“You got knocked out?” Audrey actually looked concerned, but that made sense with her being a nurse in training and all. “When she gets home, tell mom, and she’ll take you to the clinic. You don’t mess around with head wounds. And tell her I’m going out to Barb’s, so I won’t be around for dinner.

“What were you looking at out there, anyway?” Audrey pushed Ed and his wheeled chair out of the way and looked out the window. “Wow! I was worried that you were eyeing Annabelle. That’d really be desperate. Desperate for you, even. Who is that? A cousin of hers?”

“What?” Ed stood and looked out over his sister’s head and across the yard. Anne was gone. A slim girl lay sleeping on Anne’s recliner with Anne’s book on her belly right underneath the positively massive pair of tits filling her otherwise loose shirt. “Wow. Anne was out there earlier, but—” Ed stopped.

The clothes were right except that, other than the shirt straining to contain the breasts, they hung off her body. That had to be Anne, but she looked like the dream Anne. With his little touch-ups, mind you. Not so little. Actually she looks kind of silly like that. There is such a thing as too big, I guess.

Maybe.

“OK, so maybe you aren’t gay,” his sister conceded. “You gonna just sit here and stare, or are you gonna ask Anne for an introduction? Better do it carefully because that girl’s probably got a dozen boyfriends who can beat the shit out of you. If she does, ask her to pass one or two my way. Any guy a chick with body like that bothers keeping around, I want a piece of. ‘Course, with our luck, she’ll be a lez.”

“Anyway, ”Audrey turned, mussed his hair, and headed for the door. “Get mom to take you to the clinic when she gets home, ‘cuz you look like hell, and remember to tell her where I went. And stop staring at the girl unless you’re going to do something about it. Hmph. Good luck with tha-at.”

“Right,” Ed replied, peeking back inside Annabelle’s dream. Apparently I don’t need good luck. I have something else on my side. Maaaan She brought Stiffler back. I can’t leave her like this though, She’ll wake up and freak . . ..

“Like the lady on the bus this morning. Oh man! Did I really do that?”

Things were hot and heavy again with Sean. Where he went and where Eddie came from and how he disappeared . . .. That was a little weird. So’s what happened to my boobs, but Sean’s loving them. I’m loving them.

“You look hot like this,” said Sean, letting go and stepping away from her. “You really should get in shape so you can really look like this.”

“What? I’m supposed to look like this. The boobs are a bit much, but—”

“This is beautiful,” Sean said. He stood there completely still. Only his mouth moved and it didn’t quite move right. Like he was lip synching.

Eddie sat back and used the dream Sean like a puppet. Anne doesn’t seem to want to listen to me or any of her friends, but maybe she’ll listen to someone famous.

She felt herself becoming fat again. Becoming what she really was instead of how she should be and it was wrong. “I don’t want to be fat! I want to be me!”

Fatter and fatter, grosser and more gross.

“Eat right. Work out. Don’t be fat. You don’t have to be fat. You can be beautiful again.” Sean-but-not-Sean chanted.

“I will! I won’t be fat. Stop making me fat!” Anne screamed.

“You don’t mind Ed calling you Annabelle,” said Eddie. “It’s a pretty name for a pretty girl.”

“Annabelle? Pretty? What? Eddie?”

With a jolt not too different from a getting beaned in the head with a soccer ball back when he played dodgeball in gym, Ed found himself back in front of the computer.

“Ow.” Ed opened his eyes and looked. Anne—fat again, but not as fat—sat up on the recliner, her book on the ground, and rubbing her head. She mouthed something and looked around. Their eyes met and locked until Anne blinked, grabbed her book, and ran inside her house.

“I did it. I can make dreams real.” Ed whispered. “Freddie Kruger, you complete fuck-up. How could you waste this?”

Like any sane heterosexual male with a thing for chesty blondes would do in a situation like this, Ed closed his eyes, fantasized about an extremely horny Jenna Jameson (circa 1996) lying on the sofa. It didn’t feel the same, and when he opened his eyes it didn’t feel like someone kicked him in the head. There was no horny porn star and, since super-Annabelle had already gotten him hard as a rock, the fantasy didn’t do a damn thing.

What’s the secret? Is it a special kind of sleep? No. I just thought about it with Annabelle and it happened. I wasn’t really asleep at all and that Stiffler thing. It wasn’t my dream—no way I’m dreaming about a guy—I was in her dream. Annabelle has a thing for Stiffler. Weird. So what am I hearing? People’s dreams?

Ed looked for an interesting line of thought in the hubbub, but couldn’t get a good enough grip on one to immerse himself in the dream. All of them were too fragmented, like being in a room with dozens of people talking.

Malfunctioning Cocktail Party effect, in essence. Normally in this sort of situation—that would be audio, I guess—I can pick out a single voice among many. Maybe dreams are tone deaf as well as colour blind . . . wait a second. I saw colour in the dreams. That’s not right.

Screw going to the clinic! I don’t want to be cured.

Normally at this point the protagonist would run out the door to find some hot chick he could manipulate into having wild, uninhibited sex, but Ed still had a paper due tomorrow. The sooner he got that out of the way, the sooner he could really start experimenting—both with dreams in general and with trying to manipulate girls into having wild, uninhibited sex.

As you can see, Ed’s a pretty rational guy, but if he’d really been on the ball, he’d have put some thought towards blocking the noise out so that he could get some sleep with all of the racket that would be going on most of the night.

Over the next several hours, with time out for lunch and dinner, Ed had a number of interesting ideas. Most of them were related to the writing of his paper, but one may well have obsoleted the whole process. I wonder if I can just dream up a finished ‘A’ paper? Do I dare take the time off to find out? No, I guess not. Ed kept writing away, not exactly happily, but contentedly.

Other than a brief pause to eat another bowl of cereal at around eleven o’clock, and a quick talk with his sister when she staggered in, half drunk, around twelve thirty, Ed didn’t stop working until his mother got fed up.

“Eddie, do you have any idea what time it is?”

He looked at the clock on the start bar and then went back to typing. “2:57, mom.”

“Don’t you think you ought to go to bed? You must be dead on your feet. You got home awfully late last night.”

Ed stopped and thought for a moment. “Not really tired mom.”

“Go to bed anyway. It’s too hot to close my door up and I can’t sleep with all this light on.”

“Oh. Sorry. I just wanted to get this done. Some experiments I want to try tomorrow.”

“Fine, but I also have things I need to do tomorrow and I can’t do them if I’m half asleep. If you can’t sleep, read a book, count sheep, or do something else quiet for a while. You’ve been at this all day.”

It was almost three in the morning and his headache was nearly gone, despite the amount of volume in his head having drastically increased. He could, when he concentrated on it, pick up images from the neighbours, not like the dull murmurs he got during the day.

And front and center was Audrey. Maybe it was just because she lay about six feet away or maybe her dream was more intense. It was pretty intense. Audrey was getting very sexually active with some guy, and it wasn’t her steady, Steve.

Meanwhile, in the dream world

“Hey, Audrey?” said her brother.

Audrey’s head snapped up and she pushed Paul away. Omigod! Eddie?

Thump! Something hit the wall about the same time Ed lost her and his head exploded in pain.

Ok, that’s pretty clear now. Disturb the dream too much and you get kicked out when they wake up. Losing a dream hurts like a son of a bitch. The floor creaked. She’s moving around. Audrey’s awake. Maybe if they wake up it hurts. I got out of Anne’s dream without a problem earlier. Nothing bad happened until I accidentally woke her up.

Audrey’s door just opened. Creaking in the hallway and now . . . nothing.

Soft tapping on the door broke the silence just before she spoke “Eddie? You awake?”

Ed lay in silence.

“Eddie? You call or something?

“Weird,” she said a few moments later, then her door closed again, but she didn’t go back to sleep right away. By the time she was, Ed was looking elsewhere. His eyes peered out the window, his mind on a person he could not hear. A person who was miles away: The luscious and brilliant Melissa Carter.

The last time Ed’d tried to sneak out his window, he’d been a foot shorter and quite a bit lighter. It turned out the extra foot, and arm length, was pretty handy, but he still had to kick out from the wall to miss the rose bush. It was after he had gotten his bike and pedaled a few blocks that he realized that with everyone sleeping, he could have just gone out the front door and saved himself the trouble.

About an hour later, an exhausted Ed took note of where he was and realized that he could shave about half an hour off of his weekend school commute, maybe more if he was in better shape, by biking part way. It felt kind of insulting that he hadn’t noticed that before. It was even more insulting that he hadn’t realized when he left that he could have borrowed his dad’s car and driven to Melissa’s apartment in fifteen minutes, but consoled himself with the knowledge that his lack of planning had led to the bicycle connection.

Finding Melissa wasn’t all that hard, but the condition of the dream was a shock. Ed’d never figured her for a lesbian, not with the guy she dated, but maybe she was bi. Doesn’t matter much, I suppose, but how do I get into that dream without waking her up? I can’t just suddenly show up in the shower with them, as cool as that would be. Have to start softly and get her used to it before I try anything. Maybe she won’t freak out if I take the Stiffler manoeuvre to the next level and not screw it up this time.

Tanya was in the middle of her most favourite dream. Mel walked in to the bathroom by accident while Tanya was getting ready for a shower, was overcome by her hidden longing for her roommate, and now warm water ran over their naked bodies as they sated their wildly passionate desires with lips and fingers. Tanya couldn’t wait until they made it to the bedroom and things really started to heat up. There were things you just couldn’t do standing up in a slippery shower, even in a dream.

“You know, Mel,” Tanya said, breaking the kiss for some reason. “That Ed guy would be perfect for you.”

Mel renewed the kiss while Tanya wondered, Who the fuck is Ed, and why did I just say that? Tongues duelled and her thoughts drifted back to getting Mel into bed.

Then she pressed Mel against the shower wall and began to fondle and suck on Mel’s largish breasts. It wasn’t fair the way her roommate marched around the place in her PJs or a bathrobe, dancing those rounded mounds of heaven before a starving woman every morning. “You really should be nicer to Ed,” she said between licks. “Maybe let him take you out some night.”

What am I doing? Tanya wondered as she kissed her way downwards. Usually Mel eats me out in the dream, and what’s this Ed Shit?

Placing a deep kiss on Mel’s belly button, Tanya added, “Yeah. Go out and tease someone else with those bouncy tits of yours for a change.”

Something was different here, thought Ed. Stiffler was pretty much an automaton, but the girl in Melissa’s dream seemed to be taking action on her own. And she’s getting agitated. Maybe I ought to lay off and let things work out before I shock Mel awake. Come to think of it, this Tanya chick is pretty hot. Needs a bit more up top and maybe a bit of a less butch look. The muscles are cool, though; she must live in a gym or something. I wonder if I can change the dream-her without waking up Mel?

“Ed is your perfect guy,” whispered her voice, but this time it wasn’t her saying it. She couldn’t say it because her tongue was way too busy. Mel squirmed just right, responded exactly the way she should, The way I’d make her feel if only she’d let me, but usually I fantasize about doing this in bed, and she eats me in the shower. Ah, what the hell. Variety is the spice of life. God. My tits feel like they’re on fire.

“Ed is sexy,” said her phantom voice, repeating a mantra of love for Ed as her breasts tingled pleasantly and began to press against Mel’s thighs. “You want Ed.”

Mel gasped and moaned exactly right, her hands pressing Tanya’s head in tight, while her body writhed ecstatically. This was better than most of Tanya’s sex fantasies. Mel looked and sounded like she was on the verge of cumming screaming.

Then she did. Sucking in a mouthful of air and water, Mel seemed kind of surprised, actually, as her hips became a wave of autonomous, copulative motion. “Unh?” she seemed to ask before convulsing and hands crushed Tanya’s face into Mel’s gushing, pulsing pussy.

“Oh my God,” slipped out between Mel’s lips, followed by an ecstatic arch of her back. “Oh my God!” she shrieked before arching again. “Oh my God!” Arch. “Ooooh my God!” Arch and thrash, her whole body twisting, but not letting go. She began to slump, her grip weakening, then “Ooooh miiiiiy Gaaaaawd!” exploded from her, filling the shower stall with echoes and almost deafening Tanya.

Her eyes showing only the whites, Mel collapsed—mewling, moaning and still shuddering—into the arms of her roommate.

What happened next had Tanya confused for a while, before it snapped her awake. Some guy, Tanya had no idea who, was on her bed making out with Mel, but she could feel herself wanting it. The stranger was screwing Mel, but Tanya could feel him inside her. Eerie, but the real horror was that she kept hungering for the next thrust more than she’d desired the last. She wanted to fuck a guy named Ed. She needed to fuck a guy named Ed. She needed to writhe and moan and buck and scream and pant and cum and . . .. Ed. Oh Lord, Ed! Who are you? I know you from somewhere, I know your name, but I don’t know you. Fuck me, not her. Oh please fuck me! What’s wrong with me? A complete stranger and a guy? What the fuck is happen—

Shit, thought Ed as pain raced through his brain. Pushed too fast.

He waited for the dream to start again until the sun started to peek over the horizon and then headed home in dismay. This isn’t all that easy.

As he pedalled away, Ed had no idea that he was being watched by a pair of beady black eyes.

Tanya tried to get back to sleep, get back into the barely remembered dream that had her leaking all over her sheets when she woke, but when the sun streamed through the window, she gave up and reluctantly started her day. She got up and tried to pull on her workout suit, but the top just wouldn’t fit.

“Fuck. Must have shrunk in the wash.” She looked in the mirror for a while at the mountains she’d been blessed and cursed with. Sure they got in the way, but at least she’d never had any self-esteem problems. The hard part had been all the work that went into keeping them from stretching and sagging. In a good push-up bra, they jutted from her chest like she’d padded with a pair of handballs, but right now they hung and pushed out to the sides in the classic teardrop shape—if the crier was about a hundred feet tall.

OK, I’ve always been built like this so why don’t my clothes fit? I couldn’t have shrunk everything. She toyed with the bra in her hands. It had to be one of Mel’s because it was a B. That wasn’t right either. Mel wore a big C—a D more often than not. Giving up on her spandex jogging suit, she finally forced her way into a sweatshirt. It looked pretty nice, totally filled out like that.

Guys totally drool over these. She giggled a bit. Sucks to be them. Ed’ll like ‘em, though . . ..

Who’s Ed?

She went through her normal morning workout (Push ups are such a chore with these pillows getting in the way. Bench press is worse though), an extra long jog, since she had the time, (But I swear I’ve never had so much trouble with these things bouncing around. I gotta find out what happened to my bras.) and then climbed into the shower. She was about to turn on the water when the bathroom door opened and a sleepy-eyed Mel lurched in.

“Oops. Sorry . . .” Mel mumbled, realizing the room wasn’t empty. Then her eyes shot open as if she was seeing Tanya for the first time. Her jaw dropped. Her breath caught. Her face flushed. She licked her lips. Through the thin and shimmering bathrobe, Mel wore the obvious signs of a body preparing for sex. “My God. Tanya. You . . .. Your breasts . . . huge!”

Tanya looked in stunned silence for a moment, a long moment, and then helped Mel through the sudden realization of her buried sexual urges. It was just like in Tanya’s dreams, more or less.

Who’d have thought it’d be my boobs that snagged her? She’s seen them before. She must have. My clothes don’t fit and she’s treating my rack like it was a miracle. You’d think I went to sleep last night and just woke up with these or something.

The sex wasn’t as good as the dreams, but it was close. And, hours later, as they lay softly exploring one another on Tanya’s bed, Tanya wondered how much better it would be with Mel and a guy.

A guy named . . . Ed. Who the hell do I know that’s named Ed? Ed Cameron? No. Whoever he is . . . fuck. He’s perfect. Her lusts rising again, she coaxed Mel back between her legs. Four years of sexual frustration were worked off that afternoon, but somehow it felt like second prize.