The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“You aren’t even supposed to see me yet,” Caitlin said, as he fucked her.

“Here comes the bride,” Nathan said. Lately he liked her at the side of the bed, with him standing, her legs kinked open.

“Oh god, that’s not funny,” Caitlin bit her lip. “Ohhhh god. Nathan why--- ohhhhhhh….” As usual, when she was close Nathan switched to short, sharp strokes. The position didn’t feel particularly great, but he’d found out that what he really wanted was a view. Caitlin’s entire body rippling, her fingers gripping the hotel bedspread, pushing her head back into the pillows, her legs shivering. And of course the way her nicely trimmed pussy gripped his dick. His bride came and came. Nathan put his hands on her legs and sped up his own pace. Soon the groom came. He pulled out, still dribbling, and wrapped his dick in a tissue.

“The bride is going to be dripping jizz at her own wedding,” Caitlin said, once her eyes reopened.

“Something new? No. Something borrowed.”

“Disgusting,” Caitlin said. “Very gross.”

“Its not old or blue,” Nathan said.

“Stop,” Caitlin said. She sat up, examining her own privates. Already his cum was leaking out of her. Nathan waited, just in case she absently licked her own fingers during cleanup. That had happened once, and she had spent an hour in trance while he played video games, unknowing. She’d written it off in her own head as a nap. Nathan had found there was nearly nothing she couldn’t accept.

Nothing at all.

“Shoot, this really is gonna be a thing,” Caitlin said. She balled up a cummy tissue and tossed it at him. “You had to gush in me.”

“I gush!”

Caitlin was just teasing. Fucking him had been her idea. Sort of.

He had been very careful, very very careful. Just enough commands to even out the head/pussy ratio. And also he’d added a distaste for her own pubic hair. Nathan had reasoned: there was an easy way to keep him from semi-cheating on her ever again, and it was to have a popping pussy that would fulfill all his fucking needs. His command had been, he thought, pretty well phrased: “you like having sex with Nathan, almost as much as blowing Nathan”.

As it worked out, Caitlin had been quite a lot hornier.

The intent had been to even it all out, which in a way it did, but not, as intended, by lowering Caitlin’s interest in blowing him. She’d just added more interest in sex. As an affianced couple they were going at it a lot.

Nathan had surprised himself with his own stamina. He was young, but guys still had refractory periods. A gush of oxytocin should’ve made it hard to get back up and fuck. Further google searches revealed that men didn’t produce his quantities of cum. Obviously he was a freak; his jizz induced life-altering trances. But how much of a mutant was he? Nathan wiggled the rest of his drip out into the very nice, very white, wedding hotel potty.

“Guess we should go get married now,” he said.

“Let me have the bathroom,” Caitlin said. He watched her walk in. She’d gained weight over the past year. It came and it went, and right now it came. His fiancee had just about enough time to attend classes, work on her thesis, fuck and suck him, and play a little video games. Her pear shape threatened to spill into a full melon. But it hadn’t bothered him -- it had been fun, being affianced to Caitlin. They went on long, sexually charged hikes. He felt like he’d gotten really good at innuendo. True, they hadn’t made any friends, but this was not that part of the lifecycle. This was when they lived in a tiny apartment they could barely afford and fucked all the time. Fine by him.

Except he sometimes laid in bed and thought: I cheated on you. I want to do it again.

The electric razor started up almost as soon as the door closed. Caitlin hadn’t even cleaned up post-sex. “You like keeping your pussy trimmed” had been the only command he’d given her all year, besides the one about fucking him. It was the best-kept bush in town. And as usual it had come with an unexpected side effect -- Caitlin never ever referred to her privates as anything but a pussy now. She liked to chant “fuck my pussy, fuck my pussy,” particularly when they were outdoors.

“I’m gonna be sticky for my own wedding!” she called out, over the razor.

“It’ll match the dress, you’ll look beautiful,” Nathan called back.

“I’ll look good in the category, chubby brides,” Caitlin said.

He’d thought about working on that. But it seemed obvious now that any attempt to rewire her weight issues would backfire in some way. Nathan felt good about her heaviness, actually. It showed how good he was at abstinence, at not taking his hammer to every nail.

He was still dripping cum onto the carpet.

The sun was in every single guest’s eyes. They’d worked so hard -- actually, Caitlin’s Mom had done most of the planning. Caitlin didn’t have the patience or interest for designing table centerpieces, unless they were actually load-bearing. The wedding was outdoors at the University gardens. Caitlin had gotten a 10% discount as a grad student. They were surrounded by still-dead flowers on one side and what Nathan supposed to be Iowa’s only outdoor succulent garden on the other. But the gazebo was exuberant with white climbing roses. The weather had given them a beautiful 76 degree day. Then the sun set just behind them, burning out the corneas of the guests.

They kissed. Nathan thought: holy shit, when was the last time we KISSED? A thought flickered: he should kiss her more often, but it didn’t have time to land. They had to acknowledge the applause.

In the front Nathan’s Mom wore a bad brown-beige dress that made her look like a muddy statue. She had been absolutely thrilled by the match, describing Caitlin as “getting the iphone out of the claw game.”

Nathan had no idea who his Dad was, which was a far more significant fact these days.

Behind the brief set of family was a big batch of fraternity brothers, about half of which had girlfriends in tow. The men were very poorly dressed. He was the first one to get married.

And then, behind them, some co-workers and some strays. Purely by coincidence, the second person he’d ever hypnotized sat next to the third. Number two was Carli, wearing a white and strawberry-colored dress with a daring hem. And next to her, Caitlin’s thesis advisor, Professor Beman.

They were right next to each other, staring vaguely in his direction, but with the sun keeping them both downcast. Beman wore a classic suit for an aging Professor -- soil brown, wide tie, oxford collar. The sunlight was not helping an already florid-red complexion. His nose outshone any dress in the crowd. Nathan struggled to break eye contact with his second and third subjects. The first and best one took his hand and walked up the aisle, radiant in white. Their shadows preceded them. Caitlin looked happy. If she had to crabwalk, so she wouldn’t drip cum, he couldn’t tell.

He’d drugged Professor Beman very deliberately and with a lot of pre-planning. Obstinate and sexist, he’d made clear that Caitlin was his concession to complaints about a twenty-eight year unbroken string of choosing male graduate students. He treated her as data entry, delighted in shitting on her thesis proposals. Caitlin had eventually broken down in tears during a hike.

Of course, he’d had to drug his bride-to-be to make it work. That very same trip he’d insisted on a blowjob just off the main trail. “Invite your professor over for drinks,” he told her. She’d already told him that Beman was an alcoholic. “When I say, ‘A Toast, to Caitlin’, you will have to leave the room to go to the bathroom for five minutes. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Caitlin had said, in her monotone, cum dribbling out of her mouth. That had been a blindingly sunny day as well.

It had all gone very well. Nathan had even bought a set of frosted-glass wine flutes for the occasion. Professor Beman had shown up for drinks, Nathan had effortlessly collected a drop of cum under his finger, and passed the drugged glass over. He felt none of the frightened risk from the Carli experience, even with Caitlin there, looking confused about why she’d brought her hated professor over. And it’d be good to know if his batch also worked on men.

In the event, the only issue had been Professor Beman going bottoms-up too quickly. Nathan had had to nearly yell ‘A TOAST TO CAITLIN’ to get Caitlin to look startled, flush, and abruptly leave. The Professor drained his glass. Nathan had thought of catching the cup, before it splashed onto the floor, but decided against it. Nonreaction to broken glass was a perfect tell. And he had the situation under control.

“You like Caitlin as a student and want to encourage her thesis,” Nathan had told him, once he was tranced. Snap of the fingers. The Professor had looked truly stupid, gaping with wide eyes, red wine staining his shirt. Not that different from at the wedding, struck by the sun, mouth open to the wind.

“You gained weight, you definitely gained weight,” Paul told him. The fraternal male human pyramid had gone poorly. They’d fucked up by trying for a fourth row. Three rows, six brothers, might’ve worked. Caitlin had stood there, in her wedding dress, thin-lipped at the structural engineering going on.

“Ow,” Nathan said. He’d gone down hard on the dance floor. His newly wedded knee in particular felt badly bruised. The good news was that they were already through most of the wedding: speeches, dinner, dancing, bouquet toss, and now a poorly-thought-through human pyramid.

Up until that point the only hitch had been one of the napkins catching fire in one of the centerpiece candles, also due to fraternal brothers. And an awkward moment when Carli had come through the receiving line. Caitlin and Carli had never met. They shared a very brief glance, a brief smile.

He’d transferred out of Sales Support and into Sales proper soon after the Fingerbang Incident. After that he saw Carli once every few weeks, literally just “saw” in that she passed by his field of vision. It had been Caitlin’s idea to invite her -- he had given Carli proper and due credit for helping the divisional transfer happen. Also they needed to fill seats. They really hadn’t met many Iowans.

Nathan stood up and limped off the dance floor.

“Good wedding,” he said, to his bride.

“Mom is livid about the centerpiece aflame thing.”

“The centerpieces were maybe a little much,” Nathan said. Caitlin frowned at that. Her Mom circled the fraternity boys in her floor-length dress, eyes still ablaze. Her sister, Jenna, was out on the dance floor with several friends, aggressively ignoring the mound of male former pyramid participants. “The candles were on little stilts. They invited a challenge.”

“I can’t believe I slept in that gross fraternity house so many times,” Caitlin said. She gave him a punch on the arm. “Did your successor in that room have ANY idea?”

“I thought we kept it off the carpet pretty good,” Nathan said. He winced. “Excuse me. I have to make sure the bone isn’t sticking through.”

“Did you really get hurt?” Caitlin’s snark disappeared. Immediately her concern was focused and total. Nathan shied away from it. Was it love? It felt like too much for love. He waved her off.

The men’s bathrooms were very nice and not far away. The party was already breaking up. The sunlight had been replaced by a bright full moon. He limped into a stall, pulled up his pant leg, and heard the door open and close behind him.

“Occupied,” he said. Not a mark on his leg. All the damage was internal.

“Yeah, I know,” Carli said.

She had fixed a wide smile on her face that didn’t survive his expression. Up close he could see that she’d gone the extra mile: two-layer lipstick, her eyes latticed with blue shading, eyelashes curled out to their greatest extension. She’d painted her nails to match her dress, and the dress was very new.

Nathan let the pant leg drop. He was pinned between her and the stall. “I’m married,” he said.

“I know, I watched the whole fucking wedding!” Carli said. Her eyes flashed. She seemed caught between being mad and trying another sad smile. “It was very nice, you’re really lucky.”

“I--- thanks. I appreciate….” the pause sat between them. “Everything. Can I… go? Now? You want the bathroom?”

“No, I…” Carli covered her face. “Nathan you… I don’t…. GET IT. I just don’t! I don’t…. understand what -- it just doesn’t… why is this so HARD?” Each word was choked, forced out of her throat.

“Carli---”

“Like when you invited me to your--” anger momentarily broke through “FUCKING” and then receded again “wedding. I was like, is this some weird revenge? Or does he want to keep me close, which in spite of everything I just can’t seem to stop… what is this? What is us? Did I do something bad? Am I bad?” She’d lost control of her expression. It was just needy, desperate, shining through her makeup.

She seemed drunk, swaying, although Nathan had the cold feeling she hadn’t drunk a drop. “Carli, I’m sorry how… it all went down,” the apology was a rag over a hole in the dam. Carli had to hold on to the bathroom door just to stay upright. Whatever was going on, inside her head, it looked painful. She actually winced.

“You jacked me off!” was all she could manage. “I know I -- I just rubbed it in your face, I thought that was on me, but I just… I keep thinking about it. It was a lousy handjob, I got a nasty UTI from it, and I keep thinking about it!” She tugged her dress up, helpless to stop herself. No panties yet again. She was pink and smooth and perfect for him.

“Carli…” what choice did he have? “Close the stall. Get in here. Right now.”

She obeyed immediately. Was that part of this? Was obedience just inevitable? He struggled to get his cock free of his suit. There were a lot of pieces of rental fabric. “Get on your knees,” he ordered.

“What-- why…” Carli did it anyway, although it was possible her legs no longer worked. At long last he got his penis free. “Why am I doing this?” she asked him, plaintive.

“Suck,” he told her.

Whatever Carli had expected, being roughly told to suck his dick wasn’t it. Still, both eyes were on it. He could see the gears turning again: what had she expected, storming into the men’s room on his wedding day? What authority did she have to demand a more respectable piece of intimacy? Getting her mouth fucked on a concrete floor was what a homewrecker like her deserved. And she really did like Nathan. She just couldn’t stop liking him.”

“Oh--okay,” she said. “Just a little?”

“Hurry,” Nathan said. He pushed it towards her mouth, angry at her, at himself. Now he had to come up with some phrase to fix this while simultaneously getting his cock sucked, hoping no one else came through the door.

He sat back on the toilet seat. Outside there were dozens of men who had drunk a lot of free beer. He could tell that Carli was trying to make this experience personally meaningful, making eye contact with him while licking, kittenish, at his cock. “Carli, if you don’t put my dick in your mouth, I’m going to turn you over my knee and spank you,” he said. “I will paddle you red.”

Her cheeks burned Camarro-red, but it did the trick. Carli dipped her face full of makeup and stuck her lips around his dick. He was in someone else’s mouth. His erection, flagging from the sheer strain, went right back up. This was a new place. He’d cum in Caitlin’s mouth so many times. There was a new tongue cautiously probing him, a new set of lips unsure of how soft to be, even the half-sensed buds of her teeth. Carli had no idea how to blow a man, and that was somewhat exciting. Nathan packed the self-loathing and disgust into a ball for later examination. It wasn’t actually that hard. The truth was, a girl was blowing him, and he was kinda into it.

“Faster, harder,” he said, and rubbed at her hair. Shiny and black. Carli kept trying to look at him. Nathan tried to think of what to do after he came in her mouth. It had to be a permanent solution. She was learning really quickly what he liked. Carli just had a different angle. Why not both of them, part of him whispered. Simply inform his wife that there was nothing to fear, he loved her first and best. In fact he had a toy for both of them to enjoy, named Carli.

“God, I’m coming, god damn you,” Nathan croaked. Hurt had just a half-second to register across Carli’s face before they heard the voice.

“Nathan?” His beloved bride had a naturally low volume. The door handle turned. “You okay? Did you actually hurt yourself for real?”

“Don’t come in, just a sec!” Nathan said, breathless. Carli started to slacken, her eyes wide with alarm. In years to follow Nathan would relive the moment over and over. He was about to get caught getting his dick sucked at his own wedding by his own bride. A normal person, he was sure, would have his dick shrivel into a terrified, flaccid ball.

Instead he caught Carli’s head and urged it forwards, for a sudden deep throat. At the same time a surge of fear, something about Carli’s alarmed eyes, and the feeling of her lips sliding down to the base of his cock, combined and multiplied. He started to cum as hard as he ever had. Carli was suddenly gripping a firehose, and probably would have choked if his trance hadn’t taken over. Her lips grew heavy and loose, body placidly taking in every surge his balls had.

“Did you say something?” He heard the door open. The moment Caitlin looked down she was going to see two girl legs, in high heels, the stilettos pointed upwards. A very familiar pose. In the second before she did, Nathan choked out:

“A TOAST TO CAITLIN!”

He’d never erased the command from the Professor dinner date. He could only hope she would immediately turn and make her way to the ladies’ room. Instead he heard a shocked, confused gasp, a sharp sound, and then the ruffled noise of his wife sliding down the side of the wall. Her wedding dress was bunched up on the bathroom floor.

It had been an eventful several seconds. The bathroom door clicked shut.

Carli first. He mopped her up with toilet paper as best he could. Her eyes followed him from a very great distance. Finally he leaned in, so Caitlin wouldn’t hear. “You got what you wanted out of Nathan. You don’t want anything from him anymore. You’ll never tell anyone about the time you blew him. When I snap my fingers you’ll wake up and go home. You won’t see Caitlin while you’re leaving.” So many commands, poorly thought out. He snapped his fingers. It had to be his off hand, his other was full of cum paper.

She only half-awoke, brain still enmeshed in processing all sorts of orders. She dribbled cum freely. “I have to… go,” she told him, poorly focusing, having difficulty standing. “I have to go home.” She wiped her mouth, and seemed puzzled by how icing-white she was.

“Drive safe,” Nathan said.

Carli fought through the haze just long enough to give him one last, searching look. Then she went out the door, past Caitlin, who was conked out cold on the ground.

“Wake up,” he told Caitlin, urgently. The only thing he could figure was telling her to go to the bathroom, while in the bathroom, had caused a mental short circuit. Or maybe all the conditioning, over years… “Caitlin please wake up.” On impulse he stuck his hand under her nose. Maybe cum was like smelling salts to her, these days.

“Oof,” Caitlin said. Her eyes snapped open. She sniffed, cautious. “Nathan? What… what’s going on?”

“Too much wedding,” he told her. “You’re in the bathroom.” He really had to stop this. He had to stop everything, erase all commands. She was married to him, she had to love him at this point. Later.

“Is your leg okay?” Caitlin said. Her nose twitched.

“Thanks for asking,” Nathan said, hoisting her back up. “Its fine.”