The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The next day, I stood motionless staring downward. Two outfits were laid out on the bed before me. One was a warm cardigan, a long-sleeved and high-necked top and a pair of jeans. The other was denim shorts and a t-shirt. I struggled in indecision. The temperature outside was 6 degrees Celsius.

As for why I was choosing what to wear on delivery that day instead of panicking and looking for help, perhaps fleeing across the country to stay with my parents or something—I had come to a decision the previous night.

Having put it off for a few hours after returning home, I had sat on the edge of my bed and forced myself to think. Perhaps trying to explain the truth wouldn’t work, but a convincing lie might be just as good. My parents were a phone call away, and I could be on my way home within a day or two. Nothing was stopping me, except…

Experimentally, I took out my phone and opened up my contacts menu. I paused for a moment as my eyes scanned over her nameless entry on the list, shutting them tight and biting my lip as a hot flush washed over me. Pressing myself to ignore the feeling, I chose my mother’s name instead and then froze.

My heater had been on since I got back hours ago, and I knew the room was warm, but all of a sudden, I couldn’t feel it anymore. I may as well have been in the open air, dripping in ice-cold water while the wind whistled in my ears. I clenched my teeth, willing myself to take the simple action of tapping the call button—but the more I tried, the worse I felt.

It wasn’t just the barrier of making the call that stopped me; I knew it wouldn’t be that simple. Even after overcoming that, I would still have to wait the awful seconds for her to pick up, force myself to speak up, and then beyond that lay the waiting, then the journey, and then who knew how long after that it would take to overcome the cold and the sickness. Days? Weeks? Longer? Somehow within me I knew it would only get worse before it got better, much worse.

Gasping a sob through clenched teeth, I locked my phone and dropped it to the bed beside me. As I had suspected—that cold feeling was just as much a part of this as the hot pulses were. At least now I had confirmed it. The terrible nausea had receded as soon as I had given up on calling, but even now I felt it beginning to resurge as I pressed onward to try and strategize a way to overcome it.

Both feelings, the hot and the cold, did seem to vary in degrees of intensity. Perhaps through careful planning I could balance the two—use the heat to control the grey feeling, start with small compromises between what made me feel good and bad. Then from there I could start ignoring more and more of the compulsions, getting used to it little by little until I could manage to fight it and make that call. It would be like dipping in and out of a body of cold water, getting deeper each time until I could stand it enough to swim.

It would require willpower, something I knew I struggled with at times. People didn’t believe me when I said this was a weakness of mine—how could it be when I was such a hard worker at uni? Always finishing assignments with time to spare, hounding lecturers for extra help, all those hours in the library. But I knew that I tended to go with the flow, never pushing myself beyond my comfort zone of study and rest. That was why I had never found a real part-time job like I had planned to, and why I didn’t get myself out there to more social occasions like I sometimes yearned to, why I didn’t have more friends.

It was probably why I hadn’t been in a relationship since before starting university.

I shook my head to disperse the melancholy, realising that the cold sensation was enhancing the gloom, sapping my willpower, and distracting me from my plan. I decided to get started right away by getting rid of the clothes I’d felt so good about putting on that morning. Before I could have time to really feel the chill, I stood up yanked the t-shirt over my head, and then in quick succession I had pulled my skirt and tights down to the ground. I stood tall, bracing myself for the worst, and then I caught my reflection in the mirror.

My hair was a little wild after I had roughly pulled my top over it, and it gave me a slightly primal look. I now saw my body, clad only in underwear, in a new light. At no point in my life had I given much thought to my appearance, either positively or negatively. I looked after myself well enough, exercised a little, showered every day, but it was all in service of mental health, keeping my mind clear and sharp so I could continue to achieve my academic goals. Now I looked myself up and down and saw a striking hourglass shape—full, firm boobs, wide hips, and juicy thighs. Hot.

Really fucking hot, like the pulses that had crept up on me and had built rapidly to a sweet intensity.

The rollercoaster of the last few minutes had sapped me, and I didn’t stop myself from staring. I raised a hand to my breast and squeezed, both to feel it and to see it. I looked at my open-mouthed expression, and the passion in my eyes along with the sounds of my ragged breaths pushed me over the edge. I fell back onto the bed, tweaking my nipple and inching my other hand down my searing skin towards my pussy.

I moaned loudly when I first touched my clit and spoke my thoughts aloud. “I’ll, uh, oh fuck oh fuck… I’ll start tomorrow! Yyyyeah, that’s it… Tomorrow will be better…” For the second day in succession, I passed out with my hand on my cunt.

That was the context behind my wardrobe predicament that morning. Wearing the cardigan and jeans was impossible, even looking at that outfit made me shiver in revulsion, so a compromise it would have to be. But how to go about it? Perhaps starting with the easy part and choosing one of the two skimpier items of clothing to wear.

The t-shirt would be the obvious choice, the more normal item of clothing to wear for the time of year when covered with the cardigan. And yet I lingered over the shorts. I couldn’t help but picture my bare legs and the way the denim would conform to the curves of my ass… Mmm. A pulse hit me, and before I could think any more, I had picked them up and pulled them on nice and snug around my hips.

I glanced back to my mirror, and the girl I saw there in shorts and a bra, leaning over the bed slightly, caused me to heat up even more. I wrenched my eyes away and turned to the boring outfit.

My movements were so slow it was like I was dragging my arms through cold mud as I reached out and picked up the long top. It felt sludgy and numbing being pulled over my neck, my shoulders, and when I encased my arms in it. Once it was on, I had to sit down. Sticking to my strategy, I spent a couple of minutes gazing at my bare thighs and stroking them to feel the hot pulses overcome the dread.

Out of the corner of my eye, I regarded the sweater. Nope. No way in hell is that happening. I swung my delivery bag over my shoulder and set off out the door.

As I strolled down the pavement a woman walking towards me in the other direction gave me a curious and amused look. She stopped beside me, looking me up and down as she stood there in a coat and gloves.

“Aren’t you cold, love?”

She raised her eyebrows and looked meaningfully at my legs. I would have felt embarrassed standing there in thigh-gripping denim talking to her in her winter clothes, but the fact that my clothing had drawn attention to me was potent fuel to my inner fire, and I felt a surge.

I laughed nervously. “Oh, well, a good walk always warms me up.” I wasn’t going to try and open up to a stranger on the street about my situation—even if I was mentally ready for that, she’d only think I was crazy.

She returned the laugh, clearly amused by the novelty of seeing someone dressed like this in the winter. “Well, you’d never see me so bold at this time of year! I haven’t got the legs for it like you do anyway.” She said as she smiled, shook her head, and continued to walk past me.

The praise turned out to be another trigger for the feeling, and I stumbled slightly, my eyes shutting tight at the sudden hotness. I managed to recover quickly, but the internal warmth settled a few notches higher than it had been before.

I wasn’t sure how to feel—should I be guilty that it felt so good? Or should I take it as a sign that my plan was working? After all, I had put on the longer top and wasn’t feeling the punishment. The real problem was I didn’t feel in control at all as I walked up the garden path to the next door, reminded of my bare legs by the way my skin prickled with each new pulse. At some point my hips had begun to sway in rhythm with the bursts of heat, and in turn the sway of my hips created new bursts. It was inescapable.

I heard a wolf-whistle from the other side of the street and ignored the flaming temptation to slow down and enjoy the attention. I gritted my teeth against the cold that punished me for disobeying as I sped up and hurried round the corner out of sight. Trembling, I tried to feel good about myself for conquering that urge. In order to beat this, I would have to stack up many small victories like this one.

My new determination was interrupted by a burst of hotness from below as my hips began to flex again, my distraction freeing them from my conscious command. Calling up my willpower, I tried to stop myself again, but quickly gave up—I couldn’t keep this up for the entire walk.

I watched my reflection in a window sashay down the street and blushed. The sight of my own bare legs was making me horny. Shaking myself, I snapped my head forward. Just finish your deliveries and go home! My own thoughts felt desperate and weak against the strength of the feeling.

By the time two more days had passed and Friday evening came around I was fatigued and unsure of how much headway I was making.

Unable to maintain an emergency mindset permanently, I was ready to relax a little that evening. A few drinks on this day had become a weekly ritual for me, Eirin and my two other friends, Soph and Aliyah. Initially I had hoped I would have mounted up my resistance enough to reach out to them, even in just a small way, but that was an impossible prospect now. If I was just able to enjoy my evening without being compelled to do something humiliating, I would consider it a victory.

Grimly, I turned to my wardrobe like a warrior preparing for battle.

“No, I’m serious, I have literally never seen that dress before today. Can’t remember ever seeing you in a dress, actually!”

Soph was teasing me good naturedly as usual. I owned a grand total of three dresses, which is why I was arguing with the girls that they absolutely must have seen this one before on some night out or other. Partly I was trying to convince myself that I had maintained some compromise and hadn’t just done something completely outside of my normal nature by wearing it out to the pub.

Aliyah giggled and spoke reassuringly, fulfilling her usual role as mediator. “It does look great on you though, you’re so pretty.”

I blushed, not out of my usual embarrassment but because the pulsing was letting me know how good it felt to be complimented. I couldn’t supress the urge to fish for more.

“Are you sure? It’s not, you know…” I gestured vaguely over my chest. “Too much?” The dress didn’t show much cleavage, but still far more than anything else I owned. I thrilled as their eyes naturally followed my hands, pulses blossoming from my chest as they glanced over it.

Soph laughed out loud again. “No, no, she’s right. You look gorgeous. I’m sorry for teasing.”

The heat was exquisite, it lit up the room with a healthy glow and kept me happy and goofy throughout the evening’s chat. It revved up pleasantly as I noticed how cute my friends were.

There was Soph, the most looks-conscious of all of us in a loose top that hung open around her collar, a little too baggy to give more than a hint of what I realised with my new perspective was quite a nice chest. She wore a pretty gold chain around her neck and matching dangly earrings. Her make-up was exquisite, but it was her demeanour that made her face come alive. She stuck out her chin, seeming to be forever looking down on the world in a playful way. Before I had only admired her confidence in that I was a little jealous of how she could keep a conversation going, but now it was unbearably attractive to me.

Meanwhile, Aliyah dressed to stand out less, much as I had for most of my life. Her hair hung behind her in a careless ponytail, pulled back from a gentle face that was never without a slight smile—that night I noticed how full her bottom lip was, and despite myself wondered what it would feel like to pull it between my own. I appreciated the way her plain tee being tucked into her boot-cut jeans highlighted a trim waist.

Eirin on a night out wasn’t much different to Eirin in class. She owned more fluffy jumpers and comfortable pants than I could account for. However, she had taken the time to straighten her hair and put on some makeup, and her shiny straight black locks fell either side of her sweet, bashful face. I loved the way the alcohol coloured her cheeks. She caught my eye as I absently smiled at her, and quickly raised her glass to her lips to disguise her blush. I started to join up some dots right then. Interesting.

I wasn’t sure exactly whether that woman had planted this attraction to all things girl in me, or had merely awoken something that was already there, but at that moment, with a couple of drinks in me and a nice atmosphere going, I was perfectly comfortable with it.

I put away a few more drinks than usual that night as we spoke, after all it had been a particularly trying week. We talked about work, laughed about the assholes in our classes, and listened sympathetically to Eirin’s customer horror stories from her cashier job. Of course, I realised that my drunken buzz was only enhancing the warmth of the pleasurable pulses, but in my lazy state I had a hard time caring. It wasn’t going to disrupt my plans overall. It was just one evening off.

Finally, the conversation turned to my least favourite subject: dating. My perpetual singleness and lack of interest was another regular target of mockery. Soph never seemed to tire of this, and unlike her other teasing it actually got under my skin a little, though I’d never let on, too conscious of being a killjoy.

“I don’t suppose she’s found anyone this week? Miracles do happen.” She raised her eyebrows at me and lilted her voice like a theatre student reciting a monologue.

I sighed and prepared myself for the ribbing, but then stopped short. The pulses thrummed a little more as another way to respond was conjured in my mind. It was twisted, it was wrong, but I wouldn’t exactly be lying. The warmth spread encouragingly. I was nice and sloshed, already resolved to simply let myself enjoy the night, and somehow unable to take the danger seriously.

“Well, actually, there is someone.” The vision of her approving face flashed before me and I stared out into space over Soph’s head, caught in reverie. “Someone a little… unexpected.” I was misty-eyed as images of her gorgeous figure danced before me; I was close to forgetting where I was, the pulsing blurring the line between memory and reality. I blinked hard and lowered my eyes back to Soph, who was smiling in amused disbelief. “It’s early days, but… I think it might really be something.”

Immediately I was rewarded with heat. My toes curled as I tried to suppress visible signs of my arousal. Thankfully my blushing was probably once again put down to embarrassment as Soph and Aliyah gasped and laughed. Eirin’s smile was a little more forced and static, which gave me an odd sense of satisfaction. Soph gave me a soft round of mock applause.

“My god, there’s hope for us all!”

For the rest of the night, I was floating on air.