The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Lucas,” Charlotte pushed her words out through grit teeth. “You need to leave now.”

I backed off a step, surprised by the pained outburst. It wasn’t rare for Charlotte to tell me to take a hike, but I couldn’t for the life of me think of anything I’d done recently to warrant this public denouncement. She wouldn’t even look at me, for god’s sake, eyes glued to the customer she was currently serving.

“I?—” stammering, “D?—do you still need a ride home though?”

“Oh, this is just perfect!” The customer turned to me, but Charlotte’s eyes remained glued to her lower half. Tiffany Cromwell?—I knew her face from school, years ago. A freshman when I was busy with my second victory lap, I only took notice because I knew her sister Gill was best friends with Charlotte. She looked back to my sister at the cashier’s stand and raised her eyebrows. “Char, this was meant to be. I have just the thing for you two!”

The young woman flipped playfully through a tattered little book, held casually in her palm.

“Lucas!” My sister’s hands were flat against the counter, brows furrowed heavy in constipated concentration. “You need to leave now! R?—run!”

I looked behind me, but didn’t perceive any immediate danger. Tiffany was still busy with her little novel?—hardly aware I was even there?—and the department store may have been busy enough, but nobody seemed to be giving us the time of day. I began to suspect I was being pranked, and my voice took on a wary inflection.

“What’s going on, Char?” I took a few steps closer to my sister. “Are you hurt or somethin’?”

Near enough to touch her shoulder with an outstretched hand, the young woman, now adjacent, slammed her finger victoriously on the dusty scrap of vellum. “Found it!”. She held it there as a mid-page bookmark, and met my eyes. “She’s not hurt, Lucas, don’t worry about that.” There was something devilish in her toothy smile. “In fact, quite the opposite!” The girl smiled, and gestured to my sister once more. We looked together.

Charlotte was unabashedly staring at Tiffany’s ass. The girl did have a pair of legs on her, I’ll give her that, but her shorts weren’t that short. Further, I’d never known my sister to take interest in any aspect of the female body. Hadn’t she just hooked up with some guy ‘Dan’? It was all she talked about on instagram.

“Char!” A definite reversal of our usual arrangement, my sister was actually publicly embarrassing me. I snapped my fingers in her face, but hardly even garnered a blink. “What’s got into you?” I watched her eyes shift in and out of focus. “Come on! Wasn’t your shift over?—” checked my watch, “fifteen minutes ago?”

I looked to Tiff for support. Her response was bemused—somehow condescending, despite our relatively significant age difference.

“It’s a pretty simple spell, to be honest.” Tiffany turned to regard my sister, hiding her denim-clad ass from her view. “She used to act like a slut, so I just made her feel the way she acts, you know?” She smiled at me, transitioning into a bad but recognizable impression of a stoner. “So it’s really, like, the universe acting through me, maaan.”

This was her attempt to speak my language, I guess. Suppose everyone in town knew what a failure I was by now, with the way Charlotte dragged my name through the dirt. Sure, I partook in the odd joint a few times a day, and true I’d been unemployed since dropping out of college, but that didn’t give Char the right to look down on me (her elder!) the way she did. And I definitely wasn’t going to take that from someone even younger than her.

“Hey,” I extended my finger in a rare burst of offended confidence, “I don’t know who you think you are, or what you’re talking about, but you can’t talk to me like that.” I looked to my sister for backup, and stammered into a postscript when I found her biting her bottom lip?—almost drawing blood?—eyes still drinking in Tiffany, here. “An?—and you definitely can’t go around calling my sister a slut!”

“Lucas,” she pushed out, ragged through her teeth. “G?—go!”

I looked confusedly back and forth between the two girls, one clearly holding some kind of leverage over the other.

Tiffany bent over, a mocking attempt to meet my sister’s eyes that must have showed off a fair bit of cleavage. “It’s too late for that, Char,” she smiled. “I’m sorry.”

A whimper caught in Charlotte’s throat. Blood rushed to her cheeks. Now Tiffany gave me her full attention.

“I wasn’t calling your sister a slut to insult her, Lucas,” she began, “though for what she did to my sister?—her bestie!?—she is a slut.” She glanced back to the heavy-breathing cashier, half-expecting a reaction. Nothing. “But my spell just made her more fully herself, you know? For the next three hours, she’s positively obsessed with tits, ass, pussy, what-have-you!”

Charlotte squeaked.

“And if she cums in that time, it’s permanent! But there’s the kicker?,” her monologue danced, “here’s where I think my genius really comes into play?: this second spell?—” she flipped back to another page in her little book, keeping her finger firmly in the spot she found earlier, “it was meant to cure some poor wizard’s premature ejaculation issue, and with a little modification, it looks like I’ve managed to get it to do exactly the opposite! Just look at her!”

I followed Tiffany’s gaze up to my sister, her hands pressing hard against the cashier’s counter, eyes frantic and drinking in the neckline on Tiffany’s tank-top. The pained expression contorting my sister’s face was almost enough to half-convince me that anything this strange woman’s words saying were true?—but only almost.

After a moment of stilted silence, I addressed my sister directly. “Char.” Maybe if we just ignored this weirdo, we could walk out of here without further incident (and then I could ask my sister why she’d even been going along all this!). “Char grab your stuff from the break room. I’ll wait for you in the car.”

I turned to leave?—even got a few steps?—but the strange girl’s voice took on a new tone that raised the hair on the back of my neck.

“Lucas.”

When I met her eye, she wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Didn’t you hear what I told your sister?” She tapped her little spellbook. “We’re not quite finished here.”

Only then did I notice the long wooden rod poking out from her front pocket.

Sparks. Ears ringing. Like that flashbang effect from Saving Private Ryan, but...slippery?—an incapacitating tickle below my stomach. When I came to, petrified by the fact that another human being had actually electrocuted me (that’s what it was, wasn’t it?), Tiffany had already slid the wand back in her shorts. She leaned down over me, hands on her knees, studying my hazy expression. I, it turned out, had collapsed onto the department store floor.

“Sir, are you alright?” A woman’s voice behind me, over shoulder.

I wiped an eye with the back of my wrist. “Yeah,” I grunted, rolling onto my side and lifting myself up, still not sure of my bearings. “Yeah, I must’ve just?—”

Rising, I had turned to assure this concerned stranger that I was indeed okay. That I had fainted or tripped or… She held her hand out toward me, a concerned crinkle pinching her lip.

“I…”

Those lips?—puckered wet, they shone with a modest dusty rose shade of matte lipstick. My confusion only compounded her concern. She now thrust her hand into mine and pulled me to my feet. So soft, her hands?—she must’ve just applied some kind of ambrosial cream. She smelled like lavender and…and... her breasts were perfect. Neckline high, I could just make out the indentation left by the horizontal run of her bra, even through what must have been two layers covering up. My mouth hung open, breathing enraptured.

I need… Charlotte murmured, half-asleep.

Charlotte’s voice. “Charlotte!” I pulled myself from the confused woman who had helped me to my feet, now checking her sweater to see if she’d missed some kind of obvious stain or fabric-pull on her chest.

Tiffany giggled behind me. “Don’t worry, ma’am,” she rolled her eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with your sweater. My friend here’s just a helpless pervert?—he can’t help it!”

I never heard the woman gasp in shock, nor did I notice the disgusted sneer she shot my way, heels clacking back to her own items at another cash register. No, my attention was devoted entirely to the shocking discovery I made upon reaching Charlotte’s register: she was nowhere to be found. Her work uniform, complete with a bra and pantie set I recognized from sorting laundry, lay scattered behind the counter, exactly where she’d been standing.

I need it… she murmured again. It was like she was right in my ear.

“Char!” I spun around, finding only an amused blonde teenager. “Charlotte where did you go?”

Red lips… soft skin… I need it…

I spun around back to the discarded clothes behind me. Nothing.

“Can you hear her?” Tiffany laughed behind me.

I turned and met her eye, trying my best to understand what the hell was going on.

“Oh that’s too perfect.”

Behind her, my attention was pulled by an innocent shopper, milling about. Tank-top. Too-short shorts. Endless legs. My eyes widened. My cock surged.

I nee?— Charlotte’s voice faltered, snapping awake. Lucas? Are you there? Where am I? Why do I feel?—

My eyes wandered of their own accord, drinking in the stranger’s stomach and coming to a rest at the stitching between her legs.

“Oh God”

Oh God, my sister and I breathed in unison.

“Oh my God,” Tiffany laughed. “I love this.”

I had never been more engrossed in another human being. No, that wasn’t quite right. I had never been so engrossed in the parts which make up a human being’s whole.

Lucas.

My legs carried me toward the stranger on their own accord: she hadn’t noticed me yet. Eyes watered the closer I got—her jean shorts gave the impression of a camel-toe, whatever that meant. It was the idea that a warm wet vagina hid itself just below those folds of denim, a stubbly mound beneath that zipper that got me going. Damp, if would be, from an afternoon of browsing. Perhaps she’d shaved that morning or—subversively—perhaps she never did. A tickle crept into my loins—this was doing more than getting me going. I—I was barreling toward something.

Lucas! My cock leapt—it actually jumped. You have to run!

Charlotte’s voice, again behind my ears, and this time urgent. I must’ve looked like a crazy person, turning a full three hundred and sixty degrees on the spot, before looking square down at my crotch to see what it was demanding all this attention.

She said three hours. We need to kill three hours. You have to run, now!

She seemed to have a fundamental grip on the situation that I lacked. The crop-topped stranger had passed me, by now, and my eye followed her denim-clad ass against my will. Charlotte moaned in my ear.

LUCAS PLEASE!

“Where are you?” I asked the sky, conscious of my audience in Tiffany. She had been silent for the duration of this outburst, and when I confirmed she hadn’t moved from her spot by the register I found that she was filming the whole thing on her iPhone with a satisfied smirk. She shrugged.

I—I think I can see what you’re seeing, and hear what you’re hearing, Charlotte narrated, half given to rapture. But my whole body feels slippery and electric at the same time. When you fed me that girl, I felt life pumping through my veins, filling me up.

Fed her that girl? What was she talking—

—Tiffany’s hints make sense now. She was talking shit before you came. Her phrase struck a nerve, and we shuddered in unison. It’s because of what I did to her sister. With Dan. My sister paused. Lucas I think she made me your cock.

I looked down and only now realized I had cause to be embarrassed. In the middle of this very public department store, I had pitched a raging tent, complete with three distinct drops of precum pressed right through my cargo pants. “Oh fuck.”

We need to get home right now. Charlotte whimpered—had her voice sounded so needy this whole time? Before something bad happens.

Like a wild animal cornered, my eyes instinctually sought out the likely exits. Other instincts, though, were stronger. Deeper rooted. I found the brunette with big lips, pressing a cardigan to her chest. The blonde at three o’clock, nose ring, high-set cheek bones I need to taste. A tanned woman—mid thirties—walking toward us with an ass so round there’s no way she didn’t spend hours squatting down on me I need to empty myself inside. And this twig of a woman—short skirt, tiny tits, walking closer, closer, please tell me those are her nipples oh my god.

Charlotte twitched anything but benign. I was getting close. We were. We needed to leave now.

I want to know who designs these goddamn department stores! Further, I’d love to know who moved the entrance I arrived through, and how everything got screwed up and scrambled so quickly?—in just the span of the few minutes I’d spent chatting with my sister and her tormentor, it was like the building had twisted into a whole new layout. I wasn’t seeing straight. The store I had entered moments ago was run of the mill?—shoppers milling about their own business. This one was teeming with women?—my vision was bounced from chest to chest, ass to thighs, lips to lips, rarely meeting the eyes which stared me down so derisively. I was stumbling, I knew, like a drunkard. Charlotte pulsed in time with my heartbeat, and I could hear her gasping behind my ear every time I pulled my eyes from one pair of breasts?—glossy with sweat?—and found they’d rebounded to another pair of nipples, distended by a blast of the rumbling air conditioner.

Lucas I don’t know if I can hold on. That wasn’t panic entering Charlotte’s voice, but trepidation. I could feel what she felt, and that was a rising tickle?—a slippery sense of losing control.

“Stop, not yet,” I breathed. Sweat was dripping down my forehead. “I’m...close.” I’d intended to mean ‘close to figuring my way out of this crowd’, but we were both painfully aware of the double-entendre.

I could smell the outside air?—we were almost in the parking lot. Automatic doors slid open?—freedom at last?—and my eyes latched onto a pair of impossibly round globes. Low pink neckline, chasm of cleavage, bouncing, teasing as they approached my leaping sister and me. “Umm, can I help you?”

I couldn’t even follow the butt-length blonde hair up to what was surely a woman worthy of respect, face nauseated by my caveman brain. I couldn’t tear my eyes from those perfect?—

Oh no.

“Oh no.”

Charlotte jumped. Dripped.