The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Hyp, Hyp, Hooray Again! or, Monkeying Around

Chapter II.

Cindy blinked. “Wow,” she breathed, “that’s a great idea! I’ll fix that bastard so he’ll never touch another girl as long as he lives! And he can kiss his goddamn pro football future goodbye too. When I’m done with him, any recruiter who hears his name won’t know whether to spit or burst out laughing.”

Marvin grinned. “Here, Cindy,” he said, and gave her the pendant. She stuffed it deep into her cleavage, hiding it completely. She kissed him hard, then left.

Marvin sat there stunned for a few minutes. That goodbye kiss hadn’t been quite as mind-scramblingly passionate as others she’d given him—but she’d done it while awake! Without a post-hypnotic suggestion! Just because she was happy!

Still, Marvin couldn’t help worrying. Cindy had the pendant now. He didn’t think she’d show it to anyone else, but what if she lost it, or it was stolen? He could make another, of course, but the thought of that pendant just floating around out there made him sweat. He should have dealt with Biff himself rather than letting the hypnotic ornament out of his possession. Danger, Will Robinson! Danger! . . . Marvin yawned. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was after two A.M. Oh, well, he thought, nothing more would happen tonight anyway. And after Cindy got back at Biff, he’d get her to give back the pendant. And if—God forbid—it was lost or stolen, well, he’d walk that plank when he came to it. He yawned again.

He went to bed, and fell almost immediately into a dreamless sleep.

The next day was a Saturday. Cindy knew the football team had afternoon practice; all she had to do was get Biff alone afterward, when he’d be tired and his resistance low.

Waiting until neither of her roommates was around, Cindy took Marvin’s pendant from where she’d hidden it when she’d arrived home. It was only a couple of minutes’ work to attach it to one of her necklaces, which she then put on, burying the pendant itself in her cleavage again. Wouldn’t want it to fall out and get lost before she could use it! This way, her secret weapon would be right where she needed it when the moment arrived.

Cindy’s chance came when the guys headed into the locker room. She walked in casually, ignoring the hoots and whistles of the team, most of whom had seen her strip act at the party. She went right up to Biff.

“What do you want, Cin’?” he asked when he saw her. “What’re you even doin’ in here? If Coach sees you—!”

“I just want to talk, Biff honey,” she cooed. “In pri-vate?” More wolf whistles from the guys in earshot.

Scratching his head, Biff said, “Okay. Meet me in the back parking lot in fifteen minutes. I just gotta shower and change first.”

By the time Biff came out to meet her, Cindy was ready. She and Marvin had gone over the commands she was to give Biff once she had him under, and while waiting for him, she’d mentally rehearsed everything. She felt wicked, like a villainess from some comic book or kinky movie.

“So Cindy,” Biff said as he approached her, “what’s the deal? Way you sounded in the locker room, you’ve gotten over last night—or maybe you liked it rough, hunh?” He moved closer.

This was it. Carefully, she unbuttoned the two top buttons of her blouse. As she’d expected, that drew Biff’s attention immediately to her chest. Perfect.

She pulled out the pendant, letting it dangle in front of her breasts, catching the light.

“I just wanted to set things straight, is all,” Cindy said.

“Just wanted to . . . set things . . . straight,” Biff repeated. His eyes were drawn as if magnetically to her breasts, trying to see past the flashing crystal, breasts, the crystal, breasts. . . .

“I wasn’t happy about last night, Biff,” Cindy said. “I was very upset. But you’re going to make it up to me. You want to make it up to me, isn’t that right?”

“Uh-huh,” Biff managed. His eyes were glassy now, and his jaw hung open slightly.

It was working! Biff’s face was relaxing into a stupid stare, all thoughts vanishing in the dazzle from the crystal. She could see it happening! What a turn-on!

“Biff, listen to me. Listen carefully.”

“Listen. . . .”

“Biff, we’re going to play a game.”

“Game.”

Cindy drew a breath, then went on. “Biff, you are now a monkey. A little monkey.”

Biff slouched over and spread his arms, letting his forearms dangle. “Eek-eek-eeek-aah-eek, eek-ah!” he said, jumping up and down. “Now scratch yourself under the arms, monkey style.” He did, keeping up the monkey chatter and calisthenics. Cindy let him go on like that for several minutes before interrupting.

“That’s enough, Biff. You’re a guy again.” Biff stopped hopping, straightened up and let his arms drop.

“Biff,” Cindy said “from now on, whenever anyone says the word ‘bananas,’ you’ll be a monkey again. You’ll stay that way until you hear laughter or someone says the words ‘monkey boy.’ Then you’ll snap out of it, and you’ll remember acting like a monkey. Do you understand?”

Biff nodded. He was less articulate than Cindy in trance, although of course she didn’t know that. It was a strain for him to use words at all, unless ordered to.

“Now, Biff,” Cindy continued, “there’s something else I want you to do. Something important.”

“Uh-huh,” Biff grunted. “’Portant.”

“That’s right, Biff.” Cindy frowned at him. “You were bad last night, Biff. Very bad. You hurt me. You shouldn’t ever hurt a girl.”

“Bad,” Biff mumbled. “Very bad. Hurt you. Shouldn’t ever . . . hurt . . . girl.”

“So I’m going to punish you, Biff. I’m going to fix it so you can’t ever hurt a girl again. In fact, you’re never going to touch a girl again.”

“Never . . . touch?” Even in trance, that upset Biff.

“That’s right, Biff.” Cindy smirked. “You won’t be able to get it up for a real girl. You’ll only get hard for centerfolds and other pictures. And if you try to touch a real girl, for any reason, you’ll forget about it and jerk off instead, wherever you happen to be. Nothing else will matter. You’ll keep it up, imagining some fantasy girl, until you come. And when you do, you’ll snap out of it and realize what you’ve done. Do you understand, Biff? Repeat it if you do.”

In a monotone, Biff repeated Cindy’s instructions.

“Now Biff,” she went on, “this is important. You’ll do everything I’ve told you to do. But you won’t ever remember I told you to do it. You won’t ever remember I met you today, and if anyone says I did, you won’t believe it. If you understand, repeat what I’ve told you.”

Again, Biff complied.

Cindy put the pendant away. “Biff,” she said, “listen carefully. Are you listening, Biff?”

He nodded.

“In a little bit, I’m going to say the words, ‘Good boy, Biff.’ When I do, you’ll wake up. You’ll feel relaxed and confident. You won’t remember that we had this little talk, and won’t see me leaving. But afterwards, you’ll do what I told you to, even though you must never remember I told you to do it. Do you understand my instructions, Biff? Repeat them if you do.”

“Yeah. ‘Good boy, Biff’ . . . I wake up. Don’t remember . . . talkin’ with you. Don’t see you . . . leavin’. Do what . . . you said, but don’t ever . . . remember you said to.”

“Good boy, Biff.”

Cindy watched, delighted, as Biff shook his head in bafflement and looked around, then ambled off. She’d really done it! He’d really been out! Marvin was so smart! Of course, she’d have to see if all the post-hypnotic stuff actually worked. If it did, well . . . she smiled evilly as she thought again of Marvin. He was really kind of cute, in a bookworm sort of way, but he was so inhibited. But with the pendant, she bet she could take care of that.

That evening, Cindy’s post-hypnotic commands got their first test. Cindy didn’t see it, but she heard about it—after it happened, the news spread all over campus in no time.

Biff and a bunch of his buddies went out to the Pussycat Lounge, a local strip bar they’d been visiting for months. Biff had the hots for one of the dancers, a six-foot redhead with enormous jugs who billed herself as Fire. Her act always drove him over the edge.

But this time, something was wrong. He’d cheered right along with his pals when his busty goddess had come on-stage, dressed in her trademark red-orange-and-yellow costume—but as she got down to business, he grew more and more anxious. Nothing was happening! He might as well be looking at a stalk of celery, for all the charge he was getting!

Finally, desperate, Biff did something really stupid. Bolting from his seat, he lunged up onto the stage, reaching out to grab the sexy dancer. Then—

Boinnnnggg! There wasn’t actually a cartoon sound, but there might as well have been. Biff forgot about grabbing Fire, and grabbed himself instead, pulling his dick out and fondling himself right there. His mind burned with a fantasy image mingling Fire, Cindy, and several other girls. Within seconds, he came, hard enough to cross his eyes; his juice shot across the stage, a few drops landing on the dancer, who squawked angrily.

Then, as suddenly as it had started, it was over.

So was their evening out. The Pussycat’s bouncer, a huge figure muscled like a pro wrestler, grabbed Biff and hauled him to the door, dumping him ignominiously into the street. “Don’t come back, freako,” the bouncer warned.

“What the hell was that, Biff?” Derek asked. He and the rest of Biff’s pals had slunk out of the club after Biff had been nabbed.

“I don’t know,” Biff moaned. “Man, I don’t know, I swear. It was like, man, I just had to! I couldn’t—” he stopped before admitting he hadn’t been able to get hard for Fire, “—and then I just lost it!”

It might have seemed impossible to Biff for things to get any worse, but they were about to.

“Jeez, Biff,” one of the others said. “I’ve never seen anything like it! It was like you just went bananas in there!”

And Biff crouched over and began jumping up and down, scratching his underarms and screeching like a monkey.

“Holy shit!” Derek said. “He’s gone nuts again! What’re we gonna do?”

That decision was quickly taken out of their hands, as a squad car rounded a corner and stopped in front of them.

“We’re fucked, guys,” Derek said.

The cops got out. “What’s goin’ on here?” one of them asked.

“N-nothin’, officer,” came the response. “Just clownin’ around a little, is all,”

“Yeah, yeah,” the same cop answered. “Well, you can honk your noses down at the precinct for a while.” Glaring at Biff, who was still capering and jabbering away: “That means you, too, monkey boy.”

Hearing the wake-up trigger, Biff gasped. “Aw, shit,” he whimpered. “Aw, noooooo. . . .”

Another patrol car had to be called to the scene so that all the boys could be carted off to the station house. Once they had been, though, the officers who had arrested them told their story to the desk sergeant. Then the boys themselves were questioned, including the by now panicky Biff.

“Jeez,” the sergeant said when they were done. “Just when you think you’ve heard it all.”

He glowered down at Biff and his friends. “After you mentioned the Pussycat, I had a call placed. Seems your pal made quite a spectacle of himself in there before doing his monkey act outside. Lucky for you, nobody’s pressing charges.” Biff and the others looked relieved.

“Don’t think you’re gettin’ off the hook,” the sergeant warned them. “Lewd and lascivious, drunk and disorderly—if I wanted, I could throw the bunch of you in the tank.

“Instead, come morning, I’m calling the college and having a little chat with the dean. I don’t care if it will be Sunday. I’m tired of you college hotshots screwing around. It’s time you had to take some responsibility for your actions.”

Then he dismissed them, ordering the cops who’d brought them in to deliver them back to the campus and hand them over to campus security.

By the following afternoon, the story was everywhere. None of the guys who’d gone to the club had the nerve to show their faces. Biff was deep in shit and sinking fast—all the more because Dean Weisscheidel had gotten the promised call just as he was heaving for chapel. Coach Thomas had heard from the dean before noon, and immediately suspended Biff from the team. There was talk he’d be expelled.

Cindy was in heaven. Her plan had worked better than she’d hoped! The bastard who’d assaulted her was being dragged through the mud. If she was lucky, he’d be kicked out altogether—and she hadn’t had to tell anyone what he’d done to her to make it happen. And it had taken less than a day! What power that pendant gave her!

She thought of Marvin. He’d given her the pendant to get back at Biff, but he’d probably want it back—and she didn’t want to give it back. Yes, she thought to herself, smiling broadly—she needed to have a little . . . chat with him.

That evening, Marvin was in his room, reading, when he heard a knock on his door. “It’s me, Cindy,” a voice said. “Can I come in?”

He opened the door for her. Now was his chance to get the pendant back. And maybe he should make her forget all about it, too, just to be on the safe side.

“I brought your pendant back, Marvin,” Cindy said as she stepped inside. “It worked like magic!” Reaching under collar of the tight sweater she’d worn for the occasion, she brought it out, letting the crystal dangle, swaying gently.

Marvin had never realized what it was like to be on the receiving end of his crystal’s power. He’d worked on it under controlled lighting, wearing clip-on sunglasses over his regular lenses, and put a non-reflective coating on its back so he wouldn’t be affected himself when he used it on someone else. But now he was right in front of it, getting the full effect. Before he could use Cindy’s trigger to stop her, he was lost.

“Cindy, no, d-dohhhhh . . . ,” he managed before the swaying crystal invaded his consciousness. Instinctively, he’d started to bring his hands up to shield his eyes; they fell limply to his sides as he plunged into trance.

Wow, Cindy thought. He went out like a light.

She brought her free hand up to stroke Marvin’s hair; he didn’t seem to notice. Ick, she thought, taking her hand away; greasy kid stuff. We’ll have to see about that.

“Marvin, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Cindy,” he answered softly. “I can hear you.”

“Keep watching the pendant, Marvin. Just keep watching the pendant, and relax, and listen to me.”

“Yes,” he agreed.

“Marvin, I really like you. Do you like me? I know you do. Say it, if you do.”

“Yes, Cindy,” Marvin murmured. “I really like you.”

“Close your eyes, Marvin,” Cindy commanded, and he did. She put the pendant down on Marvin’s desk next to his couch. Then she slipped off the sweater. She was wearing nothing underneath.

“Open your eyes, Marvin.” He obeyed, and they locked instantly on her bare breasts.

“Do you like what you see, Marvin?” She already knew the answer.

“Ohhhh, yessss,” Marvin gasped, a bulge appearing in his pants.

“Put your hands on them, Marvin,” Cindy ordered, and he obeyed, a dreamy smile appearing on his face. “They feel so nice, don’t they? So big. So round. So soft. . . .”

“Oh, God,” the hypnotized nerd responded, “yes! Yes, Cindy!”

By now, Cindy was getting turned on herself. She grinned wickedly. Time for Marvin’s education to take a whole new turn, she thought. She told him what she wanted.

Soon, Marvin was pumping mindlessly into her, calling her name and moaning as she led him to climax again and again, controlling him so that they came together. Finally, exhausted, she ended it, ordering him to stop and stand up. Then she got up herself, feeling a little sore; the last couple of times, they’d been writhing on top of Marvin’s desk. She’d been so hot by then, she’d almost forgotten to move the pendant to a safe place first.

When they were both standing, Cindy spoke again.

“Marvin,” she said, “that was wonderful. I’d like to do it again sometime. Would you like that?”

“Yes, Cindy,” Marvin said drowsily. “I’d like that . . . a lot.”

Cindy picked up the pendant again and set it swinging in front of her chest; once again, Marvin’s eyes locked on immediately.

“I need your help, Marvin, for that to happen.”

“What kind of . . . help?”

“I need you to trust me completely,” Cindy said. “I need you to prove you trust me completely.”

“How . . . can I prove . . . I trust you . . . completely.” It wasn’t even a question; Marvin’s voice was a robot monotone. What a rush! thought Cindy.

“I want you to let me keep the pendant, Marvin.” Cindy smiled at him. “I don’t want you to worry about it, though, so I want you to forget I have it. I want you to think you have it, that I gave it back to you tonight. Will you do all that for me, Marvin?”

“Yes, Cindy. I will do all that for you. I trust you.”

Cindy felt just a touch of guilt. Marvin was helpless, and she was using him. But after all, it wasn’t like she was doing anything really bad to him. In fact, maybe she could help him, the way he’d been helping her.

“Marvin,” she said, “I’m going to wake you up soon. When I do, you will feel relaxed and happy. You won’t remember what really happened tonight, only that I came and gave you back your pendant, and told you how happy I was that it worked like we planned. Then, when I leave, you’ll go to bed and sleep until morning.

“When I say the words, ‘Wake up, Marvin honey,’ you will wake up. But Marvin,” she cautioned, “listen carefully: there’s one more thing. I know how you like my tits. From now on, when I say ‘tits-a-whammy,’ you will relax, forget everything, and do whatever I say until I wake you up.

“Will you do this for me, Marvin? Repeat my instructions if you will do this for me.”

Marvin obeyed.

Cindy took a deep breath. “Now Marvin, I want you to see me giving you the pendant. See yourself accepting it from my hand. See yourself putting it away. See it. Feel it. Believe it.” She held out one hand as if offering the ornament, which she still swung gently from her other hand.

Marvin reached out, curled his fingers around air, then walked to his dresser, opened one of the drawers and deposited his imaginary prize inside. Carefully, he closed the drawer, then returned to stand before Cindy.

“There,” she soothed. “all done.”

Marvin sighed in relief. “All done,” he repeated.

At Cindy’s orders, he put his clothes back on, then stood waiting. She dressed herself and tidied up some of the mess they’d made in their frenzied lovemaking. Then, at last, when she judged the evidence had been well enough hidden, she turned to Marvin and said, smiling, “Wake up, Marvin honey.”

Marvin blinked. Wow, he thought, I’m tired. But at least I got the pendant back; I was almost afraid Cindy wouldn’t hand it over once she saw what it could do.

“I guess I should be going,” Cindy said. She gave him a conspiratorial wink. “Thanks so much, Marvin. We really showed Biff, didn’t we?”

“We really did, Cindy,” he returned. “He had it coming. Just so long as nobody finds out what really happened!”

Cindy winked at him again. “I won’t tell if you won’t, sweetie.” And then, flicking her hips sexily, she opened the door and left.

Marvin sat down hard. Sweetie! Could Cindy actually be starting to like him for real? He had to admit he liked her. It wasn’t just the hypnotized sex, though that was great; their actual study sessions had made him feel differently about her. There was a real person under that glossy cheerleader shell, and little by little, she’d let him see that person.

He looked forward eagerly to Tuesday evening.

When she got home, Cindy was whistling. She’d had a terrific day. And with Marvin’s pendant, she’d have a lot more. She thought about him, and sighed. Greased-down hair, thick glasses, out of shape . . . but he’d been there when no one else was. She could trust him completely.

Especially now. She giggled. She’d have to see if her post-hypnotic suggestions to him worked as well as the ones she’d given Biff seemed to have done. If so, they could have lots of fun together!

And, she thought, maybe she could get him to shape up, too. Get rid of the hair slime, start working out—maybe something could even be done about the glasses. He might actually be kind of good-looking, in a bookish way, with a little work. It couldn’t hurt to try.

She stashed the pendant carefully. It wouldn’t do to have it get lost. Too bad there was only one, though; some of her girl friends might find it useful, especially the ones with overbearing boyfriends like Biff—she bared her teeth—or Derek, or mean teachers, or who got in trouble with old Dean Whiteshitter.

Then again . . . maybe Marvin could make more? She was pretty sure he wouldn’t say no, if she asked him right.