The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Barbara awoke in a cold sweat, realizing all time was lost and the taunts from the inmates came back to her in perfect detail. She looked around and saw just as many people awake as were asleep, all in their bras and panties, most scared more witless than Barbara was. She couldn’t face it, and closing her eyes, she tried to get back to sleep with slow, deep, steady breaths.

It must have worked, because the next thing she heard was the Latina saying something in Spanish. She couldn’t make out the whole thing, but she thought she recognized the word “puta”.

“Hey there... yeah, they just showed you off, didn’t they? Let them know what kind of rope to use, didn’t they? They’re kinked like that,” the brunette next to her said.

“Whatever. You don’t look so tough,” Barbara scoffed at the two as she lined up.

“We’ll see,” the Latina said with a cackle as Barbara was led back to the changing room for another round of her assigned punishment.

“My little queen have fun at the prom?” the woman in the black skirtsuit said with a sarcastic grin.

“Fuck you. It’s gonna take more than that to do whatever you want to accomplish,” Barbara spat back.

“I’m sure you say that to all the boys,” the woman replied. This time locker 19 held a white blouse, a plaid skirt, a sweater vest, knee-high white socks, and Mary Jane shoes.

“What, turn on the other inmates with softcore? Look but don’t touch? I told you, you don’t scare me no matter what you do to me this time,” Barbara said.

“Hmmm... you’re more of a bad girl than I thought,” the woman said. She reached into one of the drawers under the lockers and took out a pair of high-heeled boots, then tossed aside the sweater vest.

“Oooh, you’re going to make me a skanky student instead of a good girl? I’m so afraid,” Barbara said, her confidence returning full force. She’d made a choice! She’d gotten them to change what they were doing to her! A tiny voice at the back of her head said, Funny that they had the boots in your size ready, but she ignored it.

“Something like that,” The woman said as she handed over the boots. Barbara inspected every inch for hidden needles, sequins, and shock devices before putting them on.

“Yes, perfect. Now look in the mirror, you bad girl. Yeah, you’re really bad, aren’t you? You’re gonna need a really good teacher now, I bet,” the woman said in a suddenly more commanding voice, and Barbara stared at the mirror, the words sinking in.

She shook it off. “Okay, you’re getting into the teacher’s pet horseshit? How desperate to get laid are you? You know you could ask. I wouldn’t overcharge,” Barbara said, not knowing why she was falling into the pattern. But the idea of being a naughty schoolgirl was turning her on, and she undid the top buttons of her blouse to expose her cleavage.

“Ooooh, sexy. Let’s look at that in the mirror again,” the woman said.

Barbara gladly turned and struck a pose in the mirror. Her cunt felt like it was on fire, and she felt herself disconnecting again as her body showed some leg and licked her lips. Shit! That mirror must... and they starched my shorts! No wonder I’m... Barbara thought, but the train of thought was cut off as she felt the bubble gum go into her mouth. Her sense of self drained even further until it took the same seat in the corner of her mind. She felt herself blow a bubble, then giggle as it popped. She licked off the gum as seductively as she could, and the cycle started all over again.

“Time to go to class, Barbara,” the woman said, and a guard led her to the elevator. She got off and went to what looked like a classroom, except that each row was a different clique. She barely recognized Gwen with the jocks, not when she was hand in hand with two different guys. Her body guided her to the last row with the other “bad” boys and girls. Then the teacher came in, long pencil skirt and red blouse looking like a throwback to the ‘80s, and turned on the filmstrip. It came to life with different patterns, spirals, fractals, and test patterns, and Barbara’s chin dropped into her hands as she stared at it dreamily. There was no point to it, no endgame, no lesson going in. All it was was mindless mindlessness for the sake of mindlessness, except without any means to get bored or look away. She could only keep staring and keep feeling her thoughts collect and scatter.

She didn’t know how long they’d been sitting there zonked out when a bell clanged and the lights flashed back on. The teacher came to the blackboard, but before she could go into any prepared spiel, a note dropped down in front of her. With a glare at the class, she picked it up and read it out loud. “She did her students,” the note said, and the teacher went very still, then picked up the chalk and started writing on the board.

I am the students’ pet, she wrote over and over again, and Barbara realized that the “teacher” was as much a prisoner as her class. This was her punishment, like wearing these stupid clothes and sitting in this stupid classroom and watching that stupid filmstrip was Barbara’s punishment. Frustration and fury boiled up inside her, and she wasn’t sure what she could do when she was trapped in this position.

Then someone threw a pencil at the teacher. That opened the floodgates. Soon Barbara wasn’t the only one throwing her pencil; other people folded paper airplanes and made spitballs. Barbara was laughing her ass off, almost rolling in the aisle with everyone else as some people pretended to snap upskirt photos.

She almost forgot to realize that there was a new punishment starting. It took time for order to be restored- how much time, she didn’t know, but she recognized the setup. They’d be informed of what their “classmates” did, and let them have it in some way or another. There was no choice. There was no way to escape; what she had thought was venting her rage at her treatment was just another part of the trap. That meant sexually objectifying Gwen as she declared herself a mud wrestling champion, then taunting the other girls on their real looks as they took on the roles that would have been reserved for their victims. Barbara wanted to scream herself awake, do something, anything to get away from there. But the hold was too strong, and she could only parrot the same things that made her want to jump off the bridge in the first place- and then things she never would say, ever, to anyone, as the dreadlocked black girl in preppy clothes declared herself a sweet suburban girl.

She felt it coming before anyone started looking at her, before her body got up and started walking towards the chalkboard. She knew she looked as cavalier as any of the rest of them had- but she was screaming inside, near tears, hating every second of it.

There was a man standing at the door, and he nodded to her once. As if that had unlocked some vault of unknown torture, her mouth whispered the command and her arm started writing. She tried everything she could to stop, but she couldn’t stop, all she could do was watch and write and hear the mantra over and over again.

“I am the prom queen, bitches.”

“I am the prom queen, bitches.”

“I am the prom queen, bitches.”

Every time, she verbalized it a little louder, wrote it with a little more emphasis, and believed it a little more. The free part of her soul almost caved in, but that would be too easy, give them too much satisfaction. She receded, letting her awareness fade a little, and soon the blackboard was full. The front of her head was just as full of echoing giggles. But they helped in a way, because they shielded her from the insults. Filtered through that giggling mindlessness, they were just noises and words.

Her jailers hadn’t even needed pig blood.

When she was done, she curtseyed, then quietly sat down and smelled the perfume and the flowers again- not for real, not in her ‘bad schoolgirl’ costume, but in her head, where the seeds had already been planted. Even when one of her ‘classmates’ pulled the chair out from under her, all she could do was giggle as she picked herself up, then sit down and blank out again.

“They take that ‘make the punishment fit the crime’ shit seriously around here. Don’t worry, I won’t ask. Not like you can remember, anyway. That’s part of it, I think. They don’t let you remember much at dinner. Well, when you’re eating with the general population. I think you’ve been gone a while. How long? Fuck if I know,” Brenda said with a madwoman’s unwavering grin.

“So what about you? You get left at the aisle, then go get rotten chow for your reception? That would fit with what you said you’re in for. Not the worst daily chore in the world,” Barbara guessed.

“Dunno. Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe even better,” Brenda chirped as she chowed down on the mystery meat.

“I guess you’re right,” Barbara said, and the defeat in her voice stunned her, but not much more. The swagger she had earned in Russia was gone. But I’ve only been here a few days! Right? I don’t know. I wish I knew. But there’s no way to find out. No one remembers. No one cares. It weighed on her like lead, dragging her down until she couldn’t feel anything but the exhaustion.

For all of that, she couldn’t wait to go out on the spirals again, trudging up and down until she could forget the realizations she had come to, each heavy step clearing her mind of everything including the need to forget.

“Real men fuck the prom queen, Barbara, and the purpose of this school is to make boys into men and girls into women. You’ll be playing a very important role in that. Doesn’t that make you feel good?” the principal said in his office.

Barbara sat on the futon in front of him, eyes blank, makeup perfect, head full of giggling and the smell of poppies. “Yes, sir, I understand,” she said, because it was the only thing she could say.

“Don’t worry. Now, would you like some music to make it feel better? Of course, we’ve provided an excellent sex education to our students, and it’s not like it’s your first time, after all. No girl I’ve ever known made prom queen by being a vestal virgin. Every one of them will be protected, and they’re not allowed to do any rough stuff unless they ask politely and both of you sign a waiver for the school board.”

“Yes, sir, I understand,” Barbara said, starting to undo her dress.

“Now, now, Barbara, where’s the fun in that? Besides, helping the boys with a zipper is a valuable life skill, you know. Now, if it’s any help, this should go quickly. For a few, it might even be over before you get your dress off. You should feel pretty good! Let me know if you need anything. No? Okay, boys, she’s ready!” the principal said, and a line of students, mostly male, but some female, marched in, one by one. Amateur hands wandered and got things hopelessly confused.

“Can I at least grade them?” Barbara asked as one of the nerds got his hand stuck in her cleavage.

“Looks like you’ve already given that one a pair of D’s, doesn’t it? Besides, everyone knows the prom queen’s an easy A,” the principal said with a laugh.

Barbara shot up out of bed, eyes going in and out of focus, caked in sweat, breathing heavily. Fuck! No, that’s the first thing you learned. Break the subconscious first and the conscious has no choice but to follow. Overthinking this. Don’t overthink it. But think. That was freaky. Don’t think that. Back in the bunks, huh? Not sleeping here again. It’s okay, just let it go. They want to drive you crazy like those Vietnam guys you see on the side of the road.

It was hard to hold her train of thought together when it was all in her head. “Just try to do something,” she whispered. “Don’t show your fear, Barbara. Fear is the mind killer,” she whispered to herself. She looked around and saw everyone else. Some where lost in nightmares, some were sitting up wide awake and terrified, some were screaming. She took a deep breath, then another, and laid back down, eyes wide open and clutching her blanket. I want to go home. Was the only thought Barbara could think of for the rest of the night.