The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Temperature? Fever? Delirium? I was trying to decide how to account for the previous day’s episodes. If I was sick, then I shouldn’t attend classes that day—and yet I felt perfectly fine now. Besides, who had ever heard of a fever making you horny? It seemed absurd, and yet to let go of that theory left me with no explanation whatsoever.

In the end, I decided to get ready and see how I felt after that. If I sat on the edge of my bed thinking about it all day, then class would pass me by, and it would become a moot point.

The everyday morning rituals were a little more pleasurable than usual that day. After taming my bed-hair, brushing my teeth, and washing my face, I looked into the mirror and found that I liked what I saw. Normally I paid little-to-no mind to my reflection, especially on days like today when all I had to do was sit in a lecture room, but today I suddenly appreciated—Y’know, that’s a pretty face looking back at me there. Heartening warmth bloomed in my chest and filled me. I decided that there was no reason to stay in today.

Returning from the bathroom to the bedroom still in my pyjamas, I lifted the comfortable sweatpants I had laid out on my chair the previous day, and then froze, frowning to myself. Somehow with the good feelings I had going about my appearance it felt wrong to bury myself in my usual drab clothing. Previously I had fully intended to use every opportunity I had to dress comfortably before I had to submit to real working life and it’s dress-codes, but how comfortable could I really be if I didn’t feel good about how I looked? The material felt cold and coarse in my hands. I dropped it and turned to my chest of drawers.

Soon enough, I was turning and posing in front of my long mirror, hands on hips and with a smile on my face. Adorned in a knee-length denim skirt and a cute tight black t-shirt with a starry design on the chest, I knew I’d made the right decision—warmth rose within me with each heartbeat as I admired myself. I wore thick tights to make up for wearing a skirt in winter, but with the internal heat of my self-satisfaction I wondered whether I’d even need them. Perhaps next time I’d wear something more sheer—with my new appreciation for myself I knew I had legs to show off.

I glanced at my phone—time to get a move on. I applied foundation and a little concealer to my face, usually all the make-up I bothered with, and then after a moment’s thought I picked up a pink nude shade lipstick and put that on too. As I dabbed at them, my lips tingled with warmth. I couldn’t help but take another thirty seconds to smile at my reflection some more. Finally, I zipped myself into my coat, swung my purse over my shoulder and set off at a brisk walk.

I still had a bounce in my step as I entered the stuffy lecture room with my coat over my arm. I felt a couple of glances in my direction as I crossed the room to my usual spot, and instead of feeling anxious and scrutinised as I normally did, I felt buoyed by the attention, certain that the looks were admiring instead of sneering.

“Hey Eirin.” I said, taking my seat next to the girl who had been a firm friend since we met in first year and dumping my coat on the floor at my feet. Buried in her notes, she hadn’t noticed me until I spoke, and blinked exaggeratedly behind her glasses as she spun to look at me. She recovered quickly and settled into her usual sardonic smile, responding in her deep and slightly nasal voice.

“Hi. Less than quarter attendance this time, it seems.” She scanned the room meaningfully. “Heard the fuckboy squad threw a mid-week party last night, that’s probably why. How are any of them going to complete this course?” She snorted in disbelief. I chuckled in response—complaining about our peers was one of our favourite pastimes.

She looked back at me, and blinked again, finally noticing that I had dressed up a little. “Ah, uh… You look nice today.” Her speech was halting and awkward, and her eyes turned back to her desk. I supposed it was because she was unused to talking about much outside of work. I felt a little blush in my cheeks at the compliment.

“Thanks, you do too.”

As I gave the automatic response, I realised how true it was. I had never thought of Eirin as cute before, but now that word occurred to me so obviously as I looked her over—she was quite a bit smaller than me, with a round face always clad in rectangular glasses, and often partially covered by untidy black hair. She looked so slight and dainty to me at that moment, even bundled up in her thick sweater and loose jeans. Definitely cute. My blush deepened slightly, those little warm pulses evident again—it seemed this new wrinkle in my sexuality was not ironing itself out.

She rolled her eyes and snorted again, still very deliberately absorbed in her notebook. “I look the same as always.”

“I know.” The words came clear and confident from me before I’d really considered them, and she blushed deeply herself as she turned to look me again. Her lips parted, but she found no words. I was feeling awkward myself. Jesus, discover a little attraction to women and already unwittingly flirting with my friends? What’s going on with me? Thankfully the frozen silence was broken by the hurried entrance of the lecturer.

“Right, everyone, sorry I’m a couple of minutes late today. We’ll just get right into it, shall we?” Her brusque and authoritative tone grabbed my attention far more than usual and distracted me from my discomfort, and I settled back into a warm and happy bubble for the rest of the lecture.

I was relieved to find that conversation with Eirin was easy once again after class had finished, although my new attraction was still there. The gentle pulsing kept me smiling as I looked into her face, and in response she was smiling far more than usual too. As we parted at the entrance to the building, I hoped that perhaps I had infected her with a little of the warmth I’d been feeling the whole morning.

I was lost in reverie when I was suddenly rooted to the spot in shock at a word spoken from right behind me.

“Hi.”

It was not only the surprise that stopped me, but the spread of heat from the back of my neck that seemed to engulf me completely, sticking me in place. She walked round in front of me and stood face-to-face with me—it was of course the strange, beautiful woman from the bus-stop yesterday.

“How—“ I began, but then she took my hand in both of hers, and the intense pulsing that began at this contact stopped the words in my throat. She wore that same confident smile that had been so vivid in my previous night’s fantasy as she ignored the beginning of my question completely.

“You look even prettier today, sweetheart,” Her thumb was running teasing circles on my palm, and each rotation was creating a new miniature shockwave within me. “But I think we can do even better, don’t you?”

“Uhhhhhh…” I felt so slow and inarticulate, every move she made lit up my nerves and made it hard to focus on anything other than the sensation. I believe I must have had some idea to respond indignantly, but my feeling of distaste at being told to ‘do better’ with my appearance was fighting a losing battle with the giddiness that overcame me when she called me pretty in the first place. She laughed as she saw me struggling to form words.

“Here’s what’s going to happen now, sweetheart. I’m going to give you my phone number, and then you’re going to text me yours, ok?” She gave my hand a light squeeze, and the wave of heat made my eyelids flutter and stopped me from trying to give a response to her rhetorical question.

She released my hand, and in those fleeting seconds she took to get her phone, cold, hard clarity tried to return, fighting with the leftover pulses. I began to look around, perhaps thinking about getting out of there, but then she reached out again and simply touched my forearm, and the heat made me lose it all again.

Again, my vision was captured by her; each pulse made those red lips more eye-catching, made my knees weak in her presence, made the colour and the shape of her fill all my senses—she seemed to glow.

She stroked my skin, and, moving as if in a dream, I took out my own phone. Those thermal pulses seemed to infuse my muscles with hot energy—was I truly in control as I typed the number that she read to me? I felt that my movements were guided by some other force, completing the set of instructions, and texting her.

“That’s it sweetheart, I’ve got it now. Well done.” The praise created more ripples of heat in me. She walked past me, trailing her hand up my arm and brushing it past my cheek. I exhaled raggedly and my body flushed. I felt as lethargic and softened as if I were in a sauna. It was a minute or two before I could collect myself.

Something was up. She was doing something to me, and it seemed deliberate. This was the second time in as many days that I’d carelessly given her my information—her, a perfect stranger whose name I didn’t even know—and it was clearly tied together with this hot feeling I’d been having. That was an uneasy realisation. If that were the case, then all my good feelings from the morning would have come from this sinister source—and yet, try as I might, I couldn’t experience the sensation as anything other than very organic. It was all just too good.

That conflict between fear and pleasure was overwhelming, especially as I tried to think of anything I could do about it. Who could I tell, and what could I possibly tell them? In my mind, I saw looks of scepticism and impatience as I tried to explain. ’No, please listen, I didn’t want to give her my number, but she just made me sooooo hot!’

Anxiety began to eat away at me, and my temperature rapidly dropped. The more time I spent thinking about what should be done, the worse I felt—cold, sick, and tired. The grim grey of the winter air gusted by me. There seemed to be so much space around me, I felt so small and distant, a molecule floating helpless on a freezing wind. It was panic that was gripping me as I thought about going for help.

This is too much to think about! At that thought, I felt a little sturdiness return to my legs. Yes, yes! I can think about it later, when I’m feeling stronger! The cold left my cheeks as I reaffirmed this in my mind, and having decided to shelve the issue, I returned to a manageable degree of warmth. I set off walking again.

As I entered the largest street that ran through campus, I passed a group of guys. They each gave me a quick once over.

Heat pulsed though me.