The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

My name is Alison. I’m nineteen years old, and I live in Madison, Wisconsin.

Not really.

I mean, yes, I’m nineteen years old, but my name’s not Alison and I don’t live in Wisconsin. We went there once, as kids, but all I remember about it is that Dad made a whole bunch of jokes about cheese.

I’ve changed my name because…well, it’ll pretty quickly become obvious why.

But other than the names, the rest of this story is true.

I’m blonde. Short—about five foot four. I’ve got a pretty face, especially when I smile. And I’ve always been popular with guys—partially because of the smile and the face, but mostly because of my breasts.

They’re not, like, huge huge, but for my size? They’re pretty big.

I lost my virginity…I’m not going to tell you exactly when, but it was quite a few years before any of this happened. He was a musician (well, a drummer—close enough) and he told me that he loved me.

I know, right? That old story.

When I realized that he was just using me for sex, I was pretty heart-broken. It sort of knocked the stars out of my eyes, I guess. For the next couple of years, I was suspicious of anyone who even looked at me sideways.

And then I met Keenan.

He was cute, funny, fit (he’s on the football team) and hella smart. The complete package, I guess.

Even so, I was super suspicious when he started paying me some serious attention. You look like I do, you meet a lot of guys who will turn on the charm just to get into your pants.

There, uh, may have been another guy or three between the drummer and Keenan. Sometimes I need to learn the same lesson more than once.

But it wasn’t a lesson I needed to learn any more times, so I didn’t let anything happen until I knew Keenan was for real.

And you know what? He was.

We’ve been dating for just over two years now, and we’re madly in love. He gets along with my family, he’s a great listener, his parents love me, and the sex?

Oh. My. God.

I knew I liked sex even from the very first time, rotten though that experience was…but until Keenan, I just had no idea how good sex could be. We’re just completely compatible. More so than just being a guy and a girl. He knows exactly how to touch me, he can turn me on with just a glance, and while I know that Keenan isn’t just with me for my body, he really, really likes my body. Really.

We can only really mess around at his place, but my parents have no trouble letting me stay over there whenever I want, and his parents must know what we’re doing. Right? They must.

The reason we don’t do it at my place is a little embarrassing.

I…still share a room with my brother.

I know, right? Nineteen years old, sharing a room with your twin brother. Trust me, it’s no one’s ideal situation. We’ve mostly made it work—we have a little ensuite bathroom that we use to change. And for other things.

I imagine that when I started spending nights at my boyfriends’, it must have been the greatest day of Melvin’s life.

I do NOT like to think about my brother jacking off, but I figure he’s gotta do it. He’s a guy. Hell, I’m a girl, and I do it.

And now that I’m out of the house two or three nights a week, that must make things a whole lot easier.

Me and Melvin have always been close. He’s a bit of nerd…well, to be honest, he’s a lot of a nerd. But we’ve always been able to talk about everything.

Like, after the drummer. Melvin held me, let me cry on him. He listened to me call myself a slut after the next few guys, and promised me that I wasn’t.

“You’re just looking for love,” he said, stroking my hair.

It helped. It really did.

When I’m not crying on my brother’s shoulder, we watch a lot of TV together. I know that Netflix releases everything at once, but we like to watch stuff week to week anyway. Yeah, it’s weird, but it’s also kind of nice. We watch episodes of Marvel stuff on Thursdays, everything else on Tuesdays, and we’ll sometimes watch a movie on the weekend.

It’s a lot of time to spend with a sibling, but like I said—we’ve always been close.

I guess that’s why I never saw it coming.

The end credits of Jessica Jones were playing. My brother and I were discussing the episode, throwing around theories, when he noticed that I kept trying to crick my neck.

“Wanna massage?” he asked, and I batted my eyelids at him.

“Is any girl ever going to say no to that?”

He laughed, and moved behind me.

I guess since I described myself, I should describe my brother as well.

I don’t say this to be cruel, but here’s the thing about Melvin: you ever see the movie Twins? Once or twice, I’ve wondered if something similar happened with us.

Where I’m short, he’s tall. Where I’m curvy, he’s stick-thin. I’m a girl, he’s a boy, obvs.

And…look, I don’t want to sound cruel, but where I’m sort of cute, Melvin is not.

He’s not, like, Quasimodo or anything like that—he’s just not a looker. Melvin’s face is covered with acne, he has a big nose, sticky-out teeth, sticky-out hair, sticky-out…eyes, now that I think about it. He sort of looks like someone filled his head with acne and then gave his body a big squeeze.

He’s always joking and smiling and friendly and lovely, but god…with a face like his, you’d have to be, right?

Not that I really notice it any more. I mean, he’s my brother. What do I care what he looks like?

I probably spend more time with Melvin than anyone else in my life, including Keenan. So yeah, I don’t even notice, but…well, if he asked me to set him up with a friend or whatever, I’d struggle to think of anyone who’d even consider a date with him.

He’s ugly. He’s my twin (not identical, thank god) and I love him, but the face you imagined when you heard his name was “Melvin”? You’re imagining my brother.

Because he’s so thin and sort of gawky, I wasn’t really expecting much. He’s always been sort of an awkward mover, so I thought he’d just clumsily poke at my back for a little.

But when his hands hit my neck…god, it was like magic.

Melvin started massaging me with a forcefulness I absolutely wasn’t expecting. His hands were confidently moving around my neck, my shoulders—I involuntarily moaned as his thin fingers started kneading and rubbing my shoulders. He was going hard—much harder than I expected—but it was absolutely working. Hitting those deep muscles, or whatever.

I think we were talking about something, but as soon as that massage started, I just stopped paying attention. Every now and again I’d nod, or murmur an “Uh huh”, but it was like my mind had just melted at his touch.

His hands were so deft, so smooth, the massage was so relaxing…the next thing I knew, I was waking up, alone on my bed.

I groggily got to my feet, and found my brother in the kitchen, making a sandwich.

“Melvin?”

“Hey,” he said, shooting me a grin. Oh, that’s something I should have mentioned—just like me, my brother has a really cute grin. I mean, it’s not enough to make up for the rest of his face, but it really…softens it, I guess.

If my boyfriend had a smile like that, I guarantee I’d be out of his league. I sometimes feel a little like I’m out of his league now, but that’s a whole other thing.

“Did I fall asleep?”

“Uh huh,” he said, screwing the lid back on the peanut butter. “Guess you were more tired than you thought.”

I nodded. I hadn’t thought I was at all tired, so yeah—he was definitely right.

“That was amazing,” I said, throwing him a grin of my own.

“Well, if you want another one, all you have to do is ask.”

I was tempted to ask for another one right then and there, but I didn’t want to push it. If I played this right, I could spend the rest of my life getting killer massages from a live-in masseur—I definitely didn’t want to kill the golden goose on the first day.

“How about next time we watch TV?”

He took a bite of his snack. “Perfect,” he said. “It’s a date.”

Technically I guess watching Fury Road on Blu-ray wasn’t the next time we ‘watched TV’, but I couldn’t help myself. As soon as the film started, I asked Melvin for a massage. Sure enough, he was more than happy to oblige.

I’d been thinking about his massage for days, and…wow. It still surprised me with how good it was.

I never would have thought that an awkward mover like Melvin would have had such skilled hands. Maybe all that typing he did was like, practice?

He alternated between fluttering his fingers over my skin (giving me an unexpectedly pleasant thrill) to that deep, heavy massage he did the other day. His fingers really dug in, but it never hurt or felt uncomfortable. It was like I was his typewriter, and he was expertly typing a love note on me—with every rub, I wanted to moan with pleasure.

It. Felt. Amazing.

“Sure,” I murmured. I think Melvin had asked me a question, but I couldn’t for the life of me tell you what it was. In response, he unzipped the back of my dress slightly—his fingers had been on the bare skin of my neck, but pushing against the cloth of my dress.

Slipping two fingers underneath the fabric, his fingers made contact directly with my skin, and the massage got impossibly better.

I swear, I could have died happy right then.

This time, I felt myself drifting off to sleep, Melvin’s fingers on my skin, his voice in my ears. I had no clue what he was saying—or, for that matter, what the movie was about—and I absolutely didn’t care. In that moment, all I cared about were my brother’s fingers, dancing their way across my skin.

I considered saying something, apologizing for being so sleepy, but I decided against it. Melvin was cool—he wouldn’t care if I drifted off. Especially because his magic touch was what was knocking me out in the first place…

This time, when I woke up, the credits were rolling. I wasn’t alone this time—I guess I fell asleep leaning against Melvin, and he hadn’t wanted to move and wake me.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he said, returning my smile.

“Sorry I missed the movie.”

“I’ll bet. It’s really damn good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He shifted slightly, and I lifted myself off him. As I did, I realized my dress was still unzipped.

“Could you grab that for me?”

“Of course.”

As he did, his finger brushed against my skin, and a shiver went up my spine. Just from the memory of his massage.

“You’re really damn good,” I said softly.

“Thanks. I put clothes on all the time.”

“Ha ha ha. Seriously though, you’re like a massage expert.”

“You want another one?”

I swear, I hadn’t even been fishing…but since he offered.

“Yes,” I replied immediately. “Yes, yes I do. Yes.”

Melvin laughed, and smoothed out the blanket.

“Lie down,” he said. “I’ll give you a proper massage.”

My eyes widened. What had he been giving me so far?

“I’ll need to unzip your dress,” he said, and I nodded without hesitation.

“Of course.”

Laying down on his bed, I let him unzip the dress all the way. It was one of those zippers that goes all the way down to, like, where you’d have a tramp stamp (I don’t).

“Mind if I sit on you?”

“Whatever you need,” I said, closing my eyes. I’d just woken up after a however-long snooze (I’d have to check the film’s run-time) so I knew I wasn’t likely to drift off again.

This massage, I’d be awake for.

I couldn’t wait.

“Let me know if there’s anything you don’t like,” my brother said, and I nodded. It seemed pretty unlikely.

Melvin climbed on top of me and sat on my thighs. It felt a little uncomfortable for a second—not because he’s heavy, just because…well, he’s my brother. If anyone walked in, I knew how weird it would look.

As soon as he started, however, the awkwardness of the situation faded, and I buried my head in the pillow, enjoying the sensations.

Melvin’s hands on my bare back and shoulders was so relaxing—despite the mega-nap I’d just had, I could feel myself starting to drift off to sleep, my brother’s whispers filling my head as I did. Right as I was about to drift off, my phone rang.

“Ignore it,” Melvin said softly.

The phone continued to buzz, and I recognized the pattern—Keenan had set my phone to vibrate with a specific pattern when he was calling (I told you he was smart).

“It’s Keenan,” I said sleepily.

“Ignore it,” Melvin said again, and I nodded.

“Okay…”

I was asleep before it even finished buzzing.

When I woke up, Melvin was no longer on top of me. Now that’s an odd sensation—falling asleep with someone on top of you, waking up alone. And I immediately missed his weight; also weird.

Rolling over and grabbing my phone, I found an irate message from Keenan. I’d totally forgotten we had a date that afternoon—he’d had to go see his cousin’s play alone.

I immediately felt as guilty as hell. I called him and apologized, again and again and again.

I didn’t mean to suggest we were like, a perfect couple or anything. We fight, like anyone else. But we always make things up, and this was no exception.

Zipping my dress back up, I raced over to Keenan’s house, and we had the best make-up sex we’ve ever had.