The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Anyone under the age of 18, along with anyone offended by stories of a sexual nature or containing sexual situations or offended by the idea of mind control in any fashion, please do not read this story.

The people and events in this story are fictional and do not represent anyone or anything from real life.

If you enjoyed this story, but prefer a little more edge to your erotic tales, please be aware that I also post stories under the name “Dark Wynd”.

* * *

Synopsis: Radio D.J. and ex-street hypnotist Jon Delta debates points of view with a leader of a local women’s support group while hosting his pseudo-philosophy talk show.

* * *

Life, the Galaxy and Everything Else

Jon arrived at the radio station and waited patiently at the door.

Hearing the buzz, he pushed open the door and entered the lobby...such as it was. The room was scarcely bigger than the ten year old economy car he had just parked. Two threadbare chairs sat in a corner. No one ever dared sit on those chairs for fear of losing an eye in the likely explosion of splinters. A small desk stood not far away.

Jon nodded at the matronly black woman behind the desk. “Evening, Mildred.”

Mildred glanced up from the magazine she was reading. “Good evening, Jon. You’re late, you know.”

Jon spread his hands expansively. “What is time? Nothing but a measure of moments.”

“You mean your card game ran late.”

“Time can be measured in many ways.”

Mildred looked closely at Jon’s face. “You’re hungover, too.”

Jon lifted Mildred’s hand and kissed it. “Of course I’m hungover, Mildred. How else am I to deal with my unrequited love for your beauty?”

Mildred pulled her hand away, laughing. “Stop that, Jon,” she said, the rosy glow of her cheeks giving hint to the beauty she had been in her youth. “You’re so bad!”

“I’m not,” said Jon, “but with you, I could be.”

Mildred actually cackled. “If I wasn’t almost twice your age, I’d show you what a real woman is like.”

Jon made a dramatic gesture. “Why do you tease me so?” he said. Then turned for the studio door.

Mildred went back to her magazine. “By the way, Jon,” she said, “Claire Bixby is waiting for you.”

Jon paused, his hand on the studio door. “Again? You should have told her I was devoured by dragons.”

Mildred continued reading her magazine. “She obviously listens to the radio, Jon. She’d know I was lying the moment you went on the air. Besides, I’m the only dragon in these parts and I’m not likely to devour you.”

“Only in my dreams.”

Mildred chuckled, her heavy bosom swaying gently. “Get out of here, you. Go talk to Claire. You have to face her sooner or later. Better to just get it over with.”

Jon sighed. “Yeah. Otherwise she’d probably be waiting for me in the parking lot. Stalking me.”

Mildred snorted. “You insulted her on the air. You didn’t think she’d miss that, did you?”

“I had hoped.”

“Hope is the thing with feathers.”

Jon sighed. “I’m featherless,” he said. Then he entered the studio.

* * *

The studio was as threadbare as the lobby. The equipment was basic and antiquated, though still functional. Usually.

His chair and headphones beckoned. But sitting in the chair next to his was a thin woman in jeans with long blonde hair and modest breasts. She was pretty in a natural way, which was fortunate, as she was disinclined to use makeup. This was Claire Bixby, president of Women Without Ceilings, a local women’s empowerment group.

“There you are!” she said.

Jon winced. “Not so loud, please,” he said. “I have a hangover.”

“Good,” she said. “You deserve it.”

Jon sat down in his chair. He pulled open a drawer and took out a shot glass and a bottle of bourbon. He carefully filled the shot glass with the dark brown liquid. Then he set down the bottle, picked up the shot glass and drank down the contents.

Claire watched the display with raised eyebrows, then shook her head. “Didn’t you just say you’re hungover?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why are you drinking again?”

“Hair of the dog.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “You’re a despicable man, you know that?”

Jon put on his headphones and flipped some switches. “Probably,” he said.

Claire gave him a steely look. “Now perhaps you’d like to explain your comments on the radio yesterday?”

Jon affected an innocent expression. “Comments?”

Claire slapped the arm of her chair. “Yes, comments!” she said. “Your observations about me being uptight, for one!”

“I’m sure you misunderstood.”

Claire gave him a scathing look. “I’m not stupid, you know. ‘She’s so uptight, she can’t back into a wall. She might get stuck from the suction,’ hardly qualifies as a complimentary observation.”

Jon’s eyebrows rose. “I said that?”

“Yes!”

Jon looked at his bourbon with respect. “That’s a great line. I’ll have to use that again.”

“I warned you when I was here last month!” she said, already warming to her theme. “You think I don’t know about you? Your constant smartass remarks? Your drinking, gambling lifestyle?

Jon gave her a casual look. “That sounds rather judgmental, Claire.”

“You’re a waste!” she said. “You think I don’t know you were a so-called ‘street hypnotist’ before you became a deejay slash talk-show host slash whatever? Really? You don’t fool me, Jon Delta. You’re a con man.”

Jon held up his hand. “Before you start throwing things around the studio,” he said, “I have to sign on. My fans await.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Yeah, we wouldn’t want to let either of them down, would we?”

Jon chuckled, then flipped a switch. “Good evening, everybody,” he said, his voice smoother, stronger, deeper. “Welcome to Life, the Galaxy and Everything Else, your late night philosophy chat line. Give me a call. Let’s find out what’s on your mind.”

Mildred’s voice sounded over the speaker. “The phones are ringing, Jon,” she said. “You have Cory on line one.”

“Thanks, Mildred,” he said. He flipped a switch. “This is Jon Delta and you’re on the air. What’s on your mind, Cory?”

“Hi, Jon. First time caller, long-time listener. I’ve been thinking about death a lot lately, so I’m just wondering what happens when we die.”

“Well, Cory, there’s several schools of thought,” said Jon. “A popular theory today is reincarnation. If you’ve developed well over the course of your life, you’re reborn in a new body, prepared to build on your subconscious wisdom.”

“But what if you haven’t developed? What if you’re still ignorant?”

“Then you’re reborn as Rush Limbaugh.”

“Wow! Really?”

“Nah, man, I’m just kidding. If you really haven’t gotten it together, you come back as a member of Women Without Ceilings.”

Claire gave Jon a frosty stare.

“Well, you gave me a lot to think about, Delta. Thanks!”

“No problem. Delta out.”

Jon flipped the switch, cutting off the call. A musical interlude played as he gave Claire a big smile.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you, Delta?” said Claire.

Jon shrugged. “About as funny as orange bananas,” he said.

Claire opened her mouth to reply, but her eyes slowly glazed over and no sound came out. She stared at Jon, her gaze unfocused, mouth hanging open.

“Whenever I offer you a drink, you’re going to drink a shot, aren’t you?” said Jon.

“Drink a shot. Yess,” said Claire.

“Even if you tell me no, you’re going to drink the shot, aren’t you, Claire?”

Claire paused, then said, “Yess.”

“Good girl,” said Jon. “You won’t even remember drinking it, will you? It’ll feel completely natural, won’t it?”

“Yess. Natural.”

“Good girl,” said Jon. “You’ll wake up when I snap my fingers. You won’t remember this conversation, will you?”

“No, I won’t.”

“Good girl. Now wake up,” said Jon, snapping his fingers.

Claire blinked, then glared at Jon. “Well, you’re not as funny as you think you are!”

Jon poured a shot of bourbon in the shot glass. “I’m sure you’re right,” he said, pushing the shot glass toward Claire. “Here. Have a drink.”

Claire gave Jon a withering look. “Very funny,” she said. “No thank you.” She lifted the shot glass to her lips and drank the contents. She set the shot glass down with a shudder.

Mildred’s voice sounded over the speaker. “You have Gary on line 2, Jon.”

“Thanks, Mildred,” he said. He flipped a switch. “Good evening, Gary. What’s on your mind?”

“I’d like to follow up the previous caller, Delta,” said Gary. “I’m just curious what you think happens when we die.”

Jon took a shot of bourbon. Then he lit a cigar. “Well, Gary,” he said, “I think we play saxophone at an all-girls cabaret in New Orleans.”

“Oh, wow. So you believe in Heaven?”

“Call it what you will.”

“Thanks, Delta!”

“Thanks for listening, Gary,” said Jon. He flipped a switch. “I’m your host Jon Delta. We’ll be back after these messages.” He flipped another switch, then sat back as a commercial came on.

Claire stared incredulously. “I cannot believe,” she said, “that you just passed off a line from Calvin and Hobbes as philosophy! And I can’t believe that inbred moron bought it!”

“Hey,” said Jon, pouring another shot, “don’t knock my listeners. They keep me employed. Have a drink.”

“I don’t need a drink, thank you,” said Claire, picking up the shot glass and drinking it. She shuddered again, although not as intensely as the first time. “I already told you that.”

“Would you prefer some orange bananas?” said Jon.

Claire opened her mouth to reply, but her eyes suddenly glazed over, her mouth slightly agape. She gazed at Jon through half-lidded eyes.

“People who drink tend to feel more relaxed, don’t they, Claire?” said Jon.

There was a pause, then Claire said, “Relaxed. Yess.”

“You’ve been drinking, haven’t you, Claire?” said Jon.

“Yess.”

“So that means you’re you’re feeling more relaxed now, doesn’t it, Claire?” said Jon.

A pause, then, “Yess.”

“In fact, you’re feeling very relaxed, aren’t you, Claire?”

“Yess.”

“Good girl. That means you can go even deeper, doesn’t it?”

“Yess.”

“Do that, Claire. Feel yourself going deeper.”

“Mmmmm. Deeper.”

“Good girl. It feels so good, doesn’t it?”

“Mmmmm. Feels good.”

“You like feeling good, don’t you, Claire?”

“Yesss.”

“Since being relaxed makes you feel good, that means you like being relaxed, doesn’t it, Claire?”

A pause, then, “Yesss.”

“When you go home to relax after a hard day’s work, do you stay fully dressed or do you take off your clothes to get comfortable?”

A pause. Then, “I take off my clothes.”

“When you take a nice shower to relax,” said Jon, “do you wear your clothes or take them off?”

“I take off my clothes.”

“So taking off your clothes helps you to relax, doesn’t it?”

A pause. Then, “Yesss.”

“And being relaxed makes you feel good, doesn’t it?”

“Yesss.”

“So taking off your clothes makes you feel good, doesn’t it?”

A pause. Then, “Yesss.”

“Good girl, Claire. I want you to feel good too, so I’m going to help. Anytime you hear me tell you ‘Good girl’, you’re going to remove some clothing, aren’t you? Your shoes first, then your top and jeans, then your underclothing.”

“Yesss.”

“You won’t realize you’re doing it, Claire. Your hands will remove your clothes, but you won’t consciously notice that you’re doing it, will you?”

“No. I won’t notice.”

“Very good, Claire. One more thing. On a scale of one to ten, what is your arousal level right now?”

A pause. Then, “One.”

“Very good, Claire. Now listen closely. Every time you remove a piece of your clothing, your arousal will go up by three. Do you understand, Claire?”

“Yesss.”

“In fact, Claire, your arousal will spike every time I call you a good girl, won’t it? Even if you have no clothing to remove.”

“Yesss.”

“You consciously know I’m giving you drinks now, but you don’t mind because it’s helping you relax. Right, Claire?”

“Yessss.”

“Very good, Claire. You’ll wake up when I snap my fingers. You won’t remember this conversation consciously, will you?”

“No. I won’t remember.”

“Very good, Claire. Wake up.” Jon snapped his fingers.

Claire blinked. Then she said, “Bananas? Why would I want bananas?”

“Just kidding,” said Delta. He poured a shot. “Here. Have a drink.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Fine. Whatever,” she said, picking up the glass and drinking the contents.

Delta looked surprised for a moment, then nodded. “Good girl,” he said.

Claire shuddered slightly from the shot. Then she slipped her heels off her feet, leaned back in a surprisingly relaxed manner and stretched out her legs in front of her, her bare feet crossed at the ankles. Her cheeks became flushed.

“Now,” she said, “are you ready to apologize for the things you said about me on the radio last night?”

The commercial ended then and Jon held up a hand as he began speaking.

“Welcome back to Life, the Galaxy and Everything Else. Let’s take another caller.”

Mildred’s voice sounded over the speaker. “You have Jason on line 3.”

“Thanks, Mildred,” said Jon.

“No charge, sonny.”

Jon chuckled and took a swallow from the bottle of bourbon. Then he poured a shot and pushed the glass toward Claire. Claire picked up the shot glass and drank the contents.

Jon flipped a switch. “Good evening, Jason. What’s on your mind?”

“Hi, Jon. I love your show! My question is, do you believe in God?”

“Yes,” said Jon.

“You do? Oh, wow. Why?”

“Why do I believe in God? Well, someone’s out to get me.”

“Really?”

“Nah, I’m just kidding.”

“No, I mean what’s your proof?”

“Proof that God exists? I’d say the Thursday night wet t-shirt contest at Antoinette’s.”

“That’s...that’s your proof?”

“I use the same example to prove the existence of angels, too.”

Claire glared at Jon. “A wet t-shirt contest? Seriously?!”

Jon grinned and covered his microphone with his hand. “Shush, girl,” he said. “Adults speaking over here. Be a good girl and behave while I’m on the air.”

Claire huffed, but she stayed quiet. Her hands casually grabbed the bottom of her shirt, then tugged it up and off her body. She dropped her top next to her shoes. Then she stood and wriggled out of her jeans. She dropped her jeans on top of her shoes and then sat back down, wearing only hot pink panties and bra. Her nipples hardened, protruding against the satin material of her bra. Her cheeks were even more flushed, her hips wriggling.

Jon grinned, then poured a shot and pushed the glass to Claire. Claire drank the contents. She swayed slightly in her chair.

The caller on the phone continued. “Well, one follow-up question, Jon. I was talking to a friend the other day. He said some philosophers think God is dead.”

Jon took a hit off his cigar and blew a stream of smoke. Then he said, “Yeah, I heard that too. Nietzsche, Hegel, Pascal, a few others.”

“What do you think of that?”

“Well, let me put it this way,” said Jon, taking a swallow from the bottle of bourbon. “I was in a bar the other night. Specifically, I was in the bathroom. On the wall I noticed someone had written, ‘God is dead’. It was signed, ‘Nietzsche’.”

“Okay.”

Jon took another swallow of bourbon. “Underneath that,” he continued, “it said ‘Nietzsche is dead’. That was signed, ‘God’. So I ask you, which of those two views carries more weight?”

“Oh, man,” said the caller, awe in his voice. “You had an enriching experience in a bar bathroom?!”

“I can’t take all the credit,” said Jon. “It was a very enlightening bathroom wall. That same wall told Epicureans whom to call for a good time. Very deep.”

“You possess a truly advanced intellect, sir.”

“Thanks for calling, Jason.” Jon terminated the call, then started a music interlude.

Claire looked at Jon, although she appeared to be having a slight problem focusing. “A bar bathroom? Where do you come up with this stuff?!”

Jon grinned. “The world is my oyster.”

Claire shook her head. “I’d report you, if I knew who the hell to report to you to. I mean you too. I mean, who to report you to.” She blinked, trying to sift through her alcohol-induced stutter.

Jon laughed.

Claire stamped a bare foot. “Don’t you...don’t you laugh at me!”

“Now now, Claire,” said Jon. “Don’t pout. Be a good girl.”

Claire blinked for a moment. Then she stood up and reached behind her, unhooking her bra. Her modest breasts now on display, she dropped her bra on top of her jeans. Then she slid her panties over her rounded hips and down her thighs. She stepped out of them and scooted them with her foot over to the rest of her clothes. Now naked except for an anklet, she sat back down. Then she gasped, her eyes widening as a hot flush washed over her cheeks.

Mildred’s voice sounded over the speaker. “You have Ashley on line one.”

Claire squirmed in her chair, her protruding nipples rock-hard, her thighs firmly pressed together. Her arms were crossed beneath her breasts.

Jon slid a shot glass of bourbon to Claire and watched her drink it. Then he flipped a switch and said, “Good evening, Ashley. What’s on your mind tonight?”

“Omigod! I actually get to talk to you! Omigod! Omigod!”

Jon chuckled. “Yes, you’re talking to me all right. So tell me, do you have a question?”

“Oh! Oh! Yes! Ummmm...what sign are you?!”

Jon glanced at Claire, who was pressing her palm against the top of her thighs, her rounded hips wriggling, her wet arousal obvious. Then he returned his attention to the caller.

“Well, Ashley, I was a Sagittarius until the operation. Now I’m an Aries.”

“Oh! Oh! Really?! Me too! I’m an Aries now! I mean, I was an Aquarius, but that was sooooo last year and I decided that I was totally reborn this April, so that makes me an Aries, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it?”

“Of course it does, Ashley. Thanks for calling.” Jon flipped a switch and Ashley’s squeals disappeared. “We’ll be back after these messages.”

Claire bit her lower lip and fanned her cheeks.

Jon took off his headphones and set them on the console. Then he stood up and looked down at Claire. He leaned forward and smiled. Then he slid two fingers between her thighs, right against her pussy.

Claire gasped, her eyes widening, but her thighs popped open instinctively, alcohol and pure heat overwhelming her inhibitions. Jon slid those two fingers into her incredibly wet slit, those digits finding her swollen clit instantly.

“Good girl,” said Jon.

Claire gasped again, her legs parting more as her arousal spiked again. She wrapped her arms around his one arm and thrust her hips back and forth, rubbing her slit up and down his stiffened fingers. She pressed her cheek against his arm, eyes closed, and moaned. A shudder ran through her body, then another as she rode those fingers.

And then the fingers were gone.

“This is Jon Delta, host of Life, the Galaxy and Everything Else. What’s on your mind?”

Claire looked at Jon with a panic-stricken expression. Jon motioned with his hand for her to stand up. Claire did so with some difficulty, swaying as she got to her bare feet. Jon twirled his finger, indicating she should turn around and put her hands on the console. Claire blinked, confused, but did as she was told.

Jon covered the mic with his hand and said, “Good girl.”

Claire moaned, her knees trembling from the suppressed heat as another spike of arousal swept over her. She was leaning over now, ankles far apart, her rounded ass high, her face close to the console.

“Hi, Jon. This is Larry. What’s the meaning of life?”

Jon stood up and walked behind Claire. He put his hand on her lower back and with his opposite hand slid two fingers inside her. Claire shuddered, then moaned again.

“Well, Larry, Webster’s dictionary defines life as—“

“No, Jon, I mean why are we here?”

Jon stroked his rigid fingers into Claire’s sopping sex. His digits met no resistance, sliding easily into her thickly lubed pussy. He added a third finger.

“Thursday night wet t-shirt contest at Antoinette’s.”

“I mean in the big cosmic picture!” said Larry, sounding exasperated.

Jon stroked a few more times, then stopped. Claire mewled in heated need.

“All right, Larry,” said Jon. “If you really want to find the meaning of life, try this meditation. First, make yourself a rum drink. Study the beverage. Envision yourself a part of the perfect liquidness. Feel the coolness of the glass. Then drink the beverage. Now make another one. Become one with the cocktail. Feel the liquid flowing through you. Drink it. After enough of these, you will be having all kinds of insights into the meaning of life.”

“Umm...thanks, Jon...I think...”

“I’ve found this seems to work for politics, too. Thanks for calling.”

Jon stepped behind Claire and unzipped his pants. He pulled out his cock. Claire moaned and pressed her bare ass against him, causing him to harden almost instantly. Jon pressed the thick head of his member against her pussy, teasing her with the pressure, but without penetration.

“You’re on the air with Jon Delta, host of Life, the Galaxy and Everything Else. What’s your question?”

Jon’s hands slid over Claire’s hips, holding them in place as he slowly pressed his thick cock into her pussy. She wriggled and moaned as that fat shaft slowly filled her tight, wet passage.

“Hi, Jon. Theo here. Who’s going to win the Super Bowl?”

Jon gave Claire a moment to get used to his thickness inside her tight channel. Then he began stroking into her sex with abandon.

“I’m no bookie, Theo. I just play one on the radio.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just curious what you think.”

Jon thrust into Claire again and again. Her moans were echoing now and the smell of her arousal filled the small studio.

“Well, the Patriots have got bad karma, Arizona isn’t getting to the Super Bowl without an astral plane ticket and Denver has to get their offense out of hock.”

Jon’s thrusting became erratic. He was close. He was too close.

“Besides, Saturn is in the house of Taurus...”

Head back, Jon jammed himself balls-deep inside Claire and exploded, emptying his balls inside the hot, squirming, moaning blonde.

“...and Mars is in the house of pancakes...”

Claire’s eyes widened as Jon’s explosion inside her triggered her own release. Her hips bucked as every nerve in her body came alive with heat and release.

“...so it looks like Carolina is going to take the crown this year.”

There was a moment of silence. Then Theo said, “Wow. For someone who’s not a bookie, you really sounded passionate about it. You’re breathing heavy and everything.”

Claire finally stopped bucking. She was still bent over, still standing- barely- but her cheek was pressed against the console. Jon pulled his cock out of the drunk, exhausted girl. He collapsed back into his chair. Claire collapsed into hers.

“Well, Theo,” said Jon, “as a great man once said, ‘Nothing is as important as passion. No matter what you want to do with your life, be passionate.”

“Deep,” said Theo. “Who said that? Plato? Benjamin Franklin?”

“Jon Bon Jovi.”

“Jon Bon Jovi...?”

“Thanks for calling, Theo. Next caller, you’re on the air.”

Claire was completely asleep- or more likely passed out- in the chair. There was a relaxed smile on her face.

“Hi, Jon. Oscar here. I’m a huge fan! Love your show.”

Jon walked over to a nearby cabinet and opened it. He pulled out a blanket and closed the cabinet.

“Hi, Oscar. What’s your question?”

“Well, Jon, you’re a guy who knows things, you know? So I’m just wondering...what do you think is the true path to happiness? You know? Where can one find true wisdom?

Jon walked over to Claire and covered her with the blanket. She made a little sound and pressed against his hand.

“Well, Oscar...I’d start with the Thursday night wet t-shirt contest at Antoinette’s.”

The End.