The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Three men stood to the side of the reception desk, chatting amongst themselves. It was a quarter ’til nine, and the community center was about to close. “Fifteen blessed minutes, and they’ll have to leave,” thought the woman at the desk. The man who had made a not so subtle pass at her not long before was looking her way. She pretended to ignore him, and fidgeted with papers, the computer, anything at all, hoping he would leave.

The door to the outside swung open, and exhaled a cool gust of air. A late arrival to the facility, a young woman bundled in her coat and scarf unzipped her purse. She started to reach for her membership card when a gruff voice made a pronouncement for all to hear.

“Man wearing purple tights down at the corner bar”, the man said.

She looked up, as did the woman at the reception desk. All then turned to look at a man who held a basketball in his hands, a look of surprise and displeasure on his face. He momentarily glared in the direction of the other men, then lifted the basketball to place it in the outstretched hands of the woman behind the desk.

“Thank you,” was all he said, as he turned to walk away towards the stairs.

The young woman observed what had drawn thinly-veiled mockery: the man’s legs and arms were shaved smooth. “Mmmm,” she thought. His legs drew her attention the most. They were rather sleek and muscular. He wore black running shorts, which showed them off to her satisfaction.

“Boop beep!” went the machine as she ran her card through the reader. The men turned their heads. She smiled as she zipped her purse and started walking around the desk. All eyes were now fixated on her, and she knew it.

“Sorry I’m late. Do you mind keeping the facility open just a little bit longer?”, asked the woman. “I promise my chest workout won’t take long.” She winked at the lady behind the desk, and a smile and slight nod was all the response she needed.

“Great.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, but still within earshot of the men. “I hope my uniform still fits. I might just ‘bust’ out of it.” Her laugh, crystalline and pure, was music to the men’s ears. As she walked down the stairs, tote bag in hand, she felt their stares; the seed had been planted, and they would soon long for her.

As she reached the base of the stairs, she heard an angry voice. The man in the running shorts was walking side-by-side with a woman – by all appearances a couple.

“Do they think I’m stupid or something? What the hell makes someone think they can make assumptions and say that? I’d really love to kick all their motherfucking asses.”

“They aren’t worth wasting effort on,” she said, her hand caressing the back of his head as they went up the stairs, floodlights dancing off her diamond ring. The new arrival smiled. Husband and wife. Time to get dressed, and wait...

By the time she was in the skin-tight embrace of her favorite outfit, the workout room had already emptied out. She walked over to the benches. Somebody had forgotten to remove the weights from one of them; the bar held three plates per side. She could have easily benched it for a warm up, but sensing the approach of the three men, she instead sat down at a bench with an empty bar. She pretended to lift it off the stand with difficulty, and lowered it slowly with shaking arms, her chest heaving.

“Let me help you with that,” said the familiar gruff voice. He spotted her through the remainder of the set, and she sat up on the bench with a laugh, her hand teasing the fringes of her hair.

“Oh, thank you.”, she said.

One of his companions, sporting a pepper-gray beard, was chuckling. “Speaking of purple tights...” The men were looking at her shapely legs, encased in fabric which glistened slightly. The first man spoke again.

“Better on a woman than a man. That guy up there was fucking queer.”

“Won’t ever catch me shaving my legs and wearing purple tights,” said the bearded man.

“Lavender,” she said. The men’s laughter ceased.

“Come again?”, asked the gruff-voiced man.

“My tights aren’t purple. They are lavender. Men never know the difference.” She winked and pretended to inspect her nails. No reason to make the men feel too threatened about their manhood...yet.

“I guess not. I bet that man up there did, though,” he said, prodding his friend with an elbow. They laughed again.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to judge. I think shaved legs on a man are really sexy”, she responded. Her smile had vanished, but the men hardly noticed, as three sets of eyes had wandered down to her bosom which filled out her spandex top.

“What’s your name?”, she asked the first man. His head jerked up, and their eyes met.

“Rick,” he said.

“Hi, Rick, I bet you would love to wear lavender tights. On shaved legs. I can make this happen.” Rick’s faint smile disappeared, and his eyes tightened.

“No, ma’am, I don’t think so,” he said, shaking his head. He never broke eye contact; her powers were already at work. Already, the furrow of his brow softened, his pupils beginning to dilate, ever so slightly. She stood up, and turned to face his friends, setting him free momentarily.

“Do you think Rick should take me up on my bet?” She smirked, as she placed one hand gracefully along the contours of her hip. Her other hand wandered to Rick’s chest, and began to press lightly. She felt his heartbeat quicken.

“Do it Rick!”, said the youngest of the three.

“She’s just pulling your leg. My name’s Ted, by the way,” said the bearded man. The woman removed her hand from Rick’s chest, and sauntered over to him.

“Oh, I’m not joking. I’m feeling.. frisky. He’ll be wearing lavender tights later. Now think about it... if I can make him wear something feminine like this, imagine what I could do to you two while I’m wearing this outfit. Indulge my imagination. What would you like from me, Ted?” She wrapped her hand gently around the crook of his arm.

“Just a little medicine. But that can wait until late this evening,” Ted said with a grin.

“You’ve got it. And YOU, what would you like from me?”, she asked the youngest.

“My name is Ed, and my tongue needs a SERIOUS workout.” He raised and lowered his eyebrows a couple of times.

“Done. So it’s settled. That is, IF Rick takes me up on my bet.”

“Alright, I’ll do it,” Rick said. “But let’s get this out of the way first: I’m not gay.”

“I know that already,” she said. “You really don’t understand the nature of my proposition yet, and you’re frightened. Completely understandable. Now, I have a full workout to do. Would you three please join me? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“My pleasure, ma’am,” said Rick. The others rubbed their hands together even as they looked her up and down.

“Are those leather boots?”, asked Ed.

“No. Latex. Pliable latex.” She lay back on the bench, and they gathered around. Their gazes naturally were drawn back to her bosom.

“Now it’s getting late, so you three don’t fall asleep while spotting me.”

“I won’t.”, said Rick.

“Well, it’s happened before. Men’s eyelids get so droopy at night watching weights lifting and falling. Here we go.” She started extending her arms, then stopped.

“Could you look at my beautiful eyes, and not my breasts?” she requested sternly.

“Sorry, ma’am,” said Rick, Ted, and Ed in unison.

“Okay, second try.” This time she lifted the bar off the stand, and lowered and raised it slowly, as her voice counted softly.

“One... so heavy. Two... Three... even heavier. Hard to keep them lifted. Four... okay, steady breathing now... Five... heavier... Six... Seven ... don’t mind my counting. Just keep looking into my eyes. Are you three with me, now?” Heads nodded, but no one spoke. They fell so quickly under her power; by the time she finished the set, they stood silently, gazing into her eyes, waiting. They followed her as she resumed her workout. Now that they were entranced, she had them load the machines to their limit, and get her the real workout she craved.

She had them use the equipment as well, yet they never had a chance to emerge from trance. The man who showed up half-way through to vacuum the floor did not even suspect—just three men and and an attractive woman working out together. You would have to have been close to see how dazed the men’s expressions were. At last, the woman stood up from the leg press, and bent over to adjust her tights. She looked up to see the men standing side by side staring at her legs, drool seeping from their mouths.

“As promised, only one lucky boy will be wearing tights like these tonight, and we know who that is,” she said, gazing right at Rick. He began to smile. In retrospect, he truly was the lucky one.

Ed woke with his tongue caught in the weight stack. “Ahhhhhhhhhhh!”

Ted found himself in a fetal position attended to by EMTs, feeling a pain no man wants to think about. The imagery intruded on his sleep for years afterwards. He saw her, standing over him in her ... purple?... tights. His arms extended rigidly, clutching a medicine ball.

“Time for another drop of your medicine, boy. Now...” The ball released, crunching his nuts. Deep down he wanted to scream, but his vocal cords were paralyzed. “Again.” Despite the pain, his arms obeyed her, extended the ball upwards, and dropped it.

“Now be sure to complete this set for me. I’m going to spend some quality time with Rick now.”

The cleaning staff was none too pleased early the next morning...

“Goddammit, someone fetch me a bucket of Drano. Just look at all this hair!”

Country twang played, interspersed with the sounds of clacking pool balls and beer mugs finding their home on tabletops. A man sat on a barstool, drawing on his cigarette. He faintly heard the door swing open, then gasps sweeping the room. As he finished tapping his cigarette, the man turned on his stool, and the cigarette fell. Underneath a holiday wreath stood a man wearing... purple?... tights, and nothing else. His eyes were vacant, but he apparently knew the country tune. For one excruciating minute, the bar became host to a surreal karaoke event.

As the words rolled off his tongue, a light show filled the windows and the entranceway. Police cruisers had pulled up, blue and red flashes pulsating. When the music stopped for good, an amplified voice rang out.

“This is the po-lice. Man, you there in the purple tights. Turn around, and walk out with your hands in the air.” He obeyed, and shuffled outside like a zombie, his arms lifting in the air. The bar would remain silent for some time.

As the man was cuffed and stuffed into the cruiser, his voice could be heard by all. “They aren’t purple, dammit. They’re lavender. Lavender!”

“I appreciate the tip, ma’am. We can’t have men walking around dressed in purple tights. It’s a community disgrace. I can only hope the media didn’t get wind of this.” His worst fears were realized, as the KC-Action 16 chopper swung into view, a spotlight flooding the parking lot.

“Shit! Well, thank you anyway. And for the record, who are you?”, the officer asked.

“Tell the reporters my name is Mercury.” She looked up to make sure she was in full view of the camera, and leapt into the air, her cape flapping.

“It doesn’t matter now that the world has seen me. I can make anyone forget again with a snap of my fingers,” she thought. Her soft laughter faded into the night. The officer shook his head. This would not be the last time the police would respond to the scene of a greatly needed hypnotic ass-kicking.

Mercury will rise again.