The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Cady zipped her hoodie all the way up, tucking her chin against the dark grey fabric. She looked at her own reflection in the movie theater’s huge glass door, making a mental note to schedule a cut as her black hair almost brushed her collar. It didn’t look bad, but it was a far cry from her usual pixie cut. Her annual ritual of minimum one horror movie a day for the month of October always pushed back some of the more mundane parts of her schedule. Her brow furrowed over her bright blue eyes, matching the signature annoyed frown on her unpainted lips. The movie hadn’t been worth full price, and some idiot girl kept giggling at her boyfriend’s whispers during the handful of decent scenes.

The tomboy rolled her eyes and shouldered the door open, involuntarily shivering at the cold October evening that greeted her. She pulled out her phone and opened the Letterboxd app as she turned down the alley leading from the theater to her apartment. She was more concerned with logging her review of the movie than her surroundings, her coltish legs carrying her home on autopilot along this route she’d taken dozens of times. She quit typing for a moment to gather her thoughts on the twist ending that she’d clocked in the first five minutes, but the tapping sound continued on. She stopped and looked up from her phone. It was too dark to see more than a few feet beyond her phone screen’s glow. The clicking sound stopped and then started again, slightly louder. It sounded like…high heels? And it was coming from behind her.

She pivoted around on one heel as she thumbed the phone’s flashlight on, brandishing it against…a dumpster. Her lips quirked into the familiar frown as the wind gusted across its plastic lid and recreated the tapping sound. She had been relishing the idea of really laying into whatever bimbo had giggled through her movie and then wobbled down the alley after her at night. Cady could almost hear that stupid, brainless laugh again. No, wait, she could hear it. Right beside her in the darkness.

Scott paused the movie and looked at the front door for the third time in five minutes. He was just about to restart Re-Animator when he heard the low moan again, barely audible when fighting against the movie’s sound effects. A moment later he was at the door with one ear against the painted wood. There it was again, much louder now. He peered out of the door’s peephole, but saw nothing but pitch black night. After a few tense heartbeats the ragged sound came from the other side of the door again, the sound of a wounded animal. At least, that was the best case scenario. More likely it was someone pulling a prank on Halloween night. He sighed as one of his hand brushed his brown hair into place, a nervous tic he’d developed years ago. His other hand tightened on the doorknob just before throwing the door open in a burst of anxious energy.

He had to rush forward to catch the woman that fell hard over the threshold when the door propping her up disappeared all at once. The momentum of her dead drop sent him backward again, and suddenly they were both falling. They managed a mostly controlled landing, Scott coming down a little too hard on his tailbone as he wrapped the lifeless woman in his arms to shield her from the impact as best he could. For a moment all he could do was sit there wincing at the pain in his backside, but soon enough the realization that he was potentially cuddling a mystery corpse hit home. No, corpse wasn’t right. The bundle of girl in his arms was feverishly warm to the touch. He pulled one arm back, letting her head loll into the crook of his arm.

It was Cady! The tomboy let out another chest rattling moan and raised one arm as if to fend off an attacker. The sleeve of her favorite hoodie was slashed to ribbons, and the pale skin underneath it didn’t look much better. Scott counted five gashes each about an inch apart. They were deep, and the coloration was strange. The edges looked like normal dried blood, but the center of each wound looked…pinkish? He caught a hint of iridescence as she dropped her arm back against her stomach with a limp thud. More marks littered her midsection, reducing her oversized hoodie to little more than a tattered crop top. All the injuries appeared to be the same: deep gouges with that pinkish glittering sheen. The most puzzling thing was the relative lack of blood for the severity of the slashes. “Cady!” he shouted, shaking her by the shoulders. She grumbled and turned her head to reveal a deep purple bruise on the left side of her neck. It looked…exactly like a hickey. “Cady!” he repeated, jostling her harder this time. He pulled out his phone to dial 911 just as her eyes fluttered open.

“Scott?” she grunted, voice a bit hoarse. “I told you just because we’re roommates doesn’t mean you can just cuddle-owwwww! Shit, what did you do?” the tomboy moaned as her conscious brain caught up with the pain.

“You just showed up like this! I’m calling 911,” he answered as he brought up the dialer.

“What? No,” she groaned, sitting up and pushing the phone against his chest before he could dial. “I’m fine. Just, ugh, Bactine.”

Five minutes later Cady was standing in her sweatpants and sports bra in front of the bathroom mirror. She worked through her entire vocabulary of expletives under her breath as she sprayed whatever generic alcohol concoction Scott had rummaged from the first aid kit onto her injuries. Overall it was painful, but it didn’t look serious. She’d had worse from her cat when he didn’t want to cuddle and she forced the issue.

“At least let me drive you to the ER,” Scott pleaded from the doorway for the umpteenth time. “You were unconscious and burning up! That can’t just go away like it did. And it looks like someone rubbed lip gloss or something all over those scratches.”

The tomboy rolled her eyes and dropped the alcohol bottle into the sink with a clatter before rounding on him. “For the last time, no. They’re scratches. You freaked out after watching a shitty horror movie and imagined that I was bleeding to death.”

“You were bleeding to death! You were so pale, and the gashes all over you were so big. You fucking...” he waved his hand, gesturing at what were now little more than cat scratches on the perfectly lucid girl’s torso, “you Wolverined out of it! We need to see a doctor.”

She took a step back and raised both arms, palms tucked inward to gesture at her scratched but clearly not medically dangerous midsection. “I don’t know what you think you saw, but…” she paused, her look of annoyance shifting closer to outright fury as she followed his gaze. “Oh, yeah, you’re real concerned,” she spat as she grabbed her ruined hoodie and covered her chest with it. “How can you manage to be such a pig? I barely even have tits, and you still manage to stare while I’m cleaning up after being fucking assaulted!”

The door slammed hard. He barely made it out of the way in time to save his nose, yelping as the quick hop backward made the pain radiating from his tailbone flare.

Inside the bathroom, Cady slumped onto the cold tile floor and struck the door with the bottom of her fist for good measure. The scratches on her forearm sheened pearlescent pink with the motion. OPI Hotter Than You Pink nail polish. She knew it instinctively. Cady hadn’t worn any nail polish since she was a kid. Even when her mom or her sister dragged her along for a manicure she just got clear coat, but despite all that she knew without a doubt what was on her arm and stomach. She knew every place at the mall that sold coordinating tops, too. And which liquid lipstick would match. And which of those wouldn’t smear no matter how rough she sucked cock.

She blinked. Those weren’t her thoughts, especially that last one, but they were sitting there in her head all the same and they wouldn’t leave. It was all his fault. She was in shock, and he was a horny asshole, and it was making her all confused. “Asshole,” she said out loud, fuming despite the pink bubbles of intrusive thought popping up in her head. “Stare at my chest, will you? Well, let’s see how you like it when I spit between my tits and wrap them around your di-wait, what?” She giggled, an eerily familiar empty-headed tinkle of a sound.

Anne sighed as the call from Scott popped up on her phone screen. He wasn’t a bad guy so much as single minded.

“No, I won’t go out with-AHHH!” she yelped, holding the phone away from her ear as a thunderous crash echoed from the earpiece.

“She’s trying to fuck me!”

“Alright, I have to admit this is an unexpected new angle from you, but I’m not the jealous type,” Anne laughed as she tapped the speakerphone button and sat her phone down on the desk and out of hearing damage range. Another boom came from the speaker on cue, a sound like someone slamming a door.

“No! Cady. She’s - FUCK! How is she that strong?”

Another crash and an animalistic howl.

“Scott, my best friend won’t fuck you. What the hell are you talking about, and what is that sound? Did you try to rescue another feral cat?” Anne asked, more and more concerned that this wasn’t a bit. Scott was a broken record as far as trying to score a date with the redhead, but he wouldn’t stoop to whatever subterfuge this was. He was too…sweet. That was most of the reason she hadn’t hooked up with him just to annoy Cady.

“I know you’re hard in there!” someone snarled. The voice was definitely feminine, but she couldn’t place it. It had a harsh vibrato quality with a feral need punctuating every word.

Anne cocked an eyebrow and looked at her own emerald eyed reflection in her closet mirror. “Thaaat does not sound like Cady. What’s going on? Do I need to come over?”

“No! Yes? I don’t know. She came home hurt and locked herself in the bathroom, and I was watching Re-Animator with that hot blonde-“

“Barbara Crampton,” the redhead sighed, rolling her eyes. You’d think the man would apply himself even a little with two cute film nerds he was actively trying to impress in his social circle. Another boom, another howl, this time loud enough to distort the audio coming from her speaker. Pure animal frustration.

“Right! So she comes out of the bathroom, but she’s all blonde! And her boobs are huge, and she’s all ‘I can smell it on you’ and she pounced on me,” Scott explained in one frantic breath as the pounding continued.

“I do not remember that scene in Re-Animator.”

“No! Cady!”

“Cady, blonde? I put a blonde streak in her hair when she was sleeping Freshman year and she didn’t talk to me for a week. Jesus are you murdering a cat over there?” she asked as another guttural scream made her speaker go tinny.

“Give. Me. Your. Cum!” the other voice bellowed, each word followed by a crash and the crackle of splintering wood. The line went quiet for a few seconds before a girlish giggle floated over the empty air.

“Anne, shut up. She said a bimbo attacked her. Where can I find bimbos?”

“Bad internet porn? The red light district? Cheer squads,” she offered as the lights from the campus football field caught her eye through her bedroom window. She laced up her tennis shoes and pulled on a hoodie, green to match her eyes. Glass shattered on the other end of the line. “I’m coming over there. Don’t get hurt. Don’t let Cady get hurt. Scott? Scott!”

Scott shoved his phone in his pocket and lifted the lid off the toilet seat as the bathroom doorframe cracked behind him. He closed his eyes and slammed the porcelain rectangle against the frosted window on the shower wall as hard as he could. The bottom third of the door caved in. He looked back long enough to see a dainty hand, manicured with glittering pink nails, appear from under it and reach up in the direction of the door handle. Before he lost his nerve he gritted his teeth, lifted his jacket up to protect his face, and leapt.

“Gmmmmmmph,” he groaned as he came back to consciousness. He shook his head and winced at the pain. A hundred little cuts from the window and the fall through the huge bush under it burned, but as near as he could tell by running his hands over himself in the darkness there were no major wounds. He winced again, willing himself to stay quiet as a howl echoed from inside the house. He hadn’t been out long judging from the continued sound of Cady somehow slamming her thin frame against the bathroom door like a linebacker. Scott held his breath as he crept from the bush as quietly as he could manage, fumbling in the dark toward the street.

He was a block away and just starting to come down from the adrenaline rush when the echo of the door being smashed from its hinges along with the ear-piercing howl of rage sent him sprinting again. He didn’t slow for half a mile, fearing every moment that he’d hear the sound of a feral cumslut bounding up behind him over the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears, but the ambush never came. When his cell phone rang he screamed like a little girl and dashed another ten feet before he realized what it was. Right, Anne. He lifted the phone to his ear without even looking at the screen.

“Dude, you’ll never guess what just happened!”

“Dan?”

“Yeah, I’m at the game on campus. Listen, this chick just blew me!”

“Uhh, congrats? I’m kind of dealing with a lot right now so-“

“No, you don’t understand. I’m minding my own business, walking back to my seat under the bleachers after taking a piss, and this absolute smokeshow jiggles up in high heels and not much else. Doesn’t say a word, kneels down, unzips me and goes to town! Then she gets up, doesn’t even wipe her mouth, and giggles as she walks off into the night.”

“At the football game?” Scott asked as he started to jog again, eyes cast toward the field lights in the distance.

“What are you going to head over and try your luck? Scott? Helloooo? Dick.”

Jenni popped her bubblegum and gave him a look like he was the stupidest person in the world. “You know how hard cheerleaders can kick?” she asked, voice saccharine sweet in the way only a real queen bitch can achieve.

Scott groaned and took a reflexive step back, hands raised in a show of innocence. “No, you don’t understand. My friend is in trouble, and my other friend said a bimbo gave him head here, so I’m just trying to find some answers,” he said with a hopeful smile. She just kept staring daggers at him.

The platinum blonde cheer queen adjusted her bra and leaned forward, already impressive cleavage deepening as a mischievous sparkle glinted in her eye. “Oh, well in that case…fuck off~” she chirped, straightening back up and turning on her heel with a practiced twirl of her pleated skirt. “If Nat fucks up her next fly routine she’ll never even see another cookie again in her life, Tiffy is nowhere to be seen, and this asshole thinks the championship squad leader gives bleacher blowies…” she muttered to herself as she skipped back toward the field. Fantastic, his one lead gone. Scott hung his head and slowly started pounding it against the nearest metal pole. Tink…tink…tink…

“Vïfhóra,” a thick accent said from behind him. He turned, rubbing the red spot on his forehead, to see a short woman in her 20s. She was very pretty and very pale with hair so platinum blonde that it made the cheerleader’s look like dishwater. “Vïfhóra,” she repeated.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“It is Old Norse,” she explained, her accent lightening to mild lilt as she switched to English. “Even a woman who is pure in heart and chaste by night, may become a…slut…when the, I’m sorry, the translation is hard,” she tapered off.

“When what? I’ll take any lead at this point,” Scott replied, his eyes following her gaze to his crotch.

“Rod,” she said after a few more moments of consideration. “May become a slut when the man’s rod blooms and the lipstick is bright. The translation is not perfect, but…”

“No, I think I get it. Did…you attack Cady?” he asked, feet taking him back a few steps as he remembered the feral girl that used to be his roommate.

“Nej!” she said, her pale cheeks flushing deep pink at the very idea. “I am not vïfhóra. I am Crystal. Swedish exchange program.”

Scott ran his fingers through his hair to work out some of his nervous energy as he eyed the girl up and down. She was pretty, beautiful even, but she was wearing a fairly conservative sweater and leggings. That and the fact that she hadn’t morphed into a sex demon under his appraising male gaze made him inclined to believe her. “Do you have any friends in the program that are…bimbos?” he asked, waving his hand in the air as if the gesture might help clarify the term somehow.

She giggled, a sound of knowing amusement more than the Cady creature’s braindead exhortations of lust. “No. It’s a STEM program.”

“Oh. So…how do you cure a vifhora?” he asked, butchering the pronunciation.

Crystal gave him a sad smile. “The convent. There is no cure. She is not around men, or she is slut,” the Swede explained, her smile fading to an empathetic frown as Scott processed this information. He was about to implore for more information, any chance he had turning Cady back, when his phone rang.

“Anne! I have a lead on what’s going on with Cady, but it’s not good.”

“Scott, Cady is fine. I’m here with her.”

“Tell that son of a bitch to get back here so I can kill him! He shattered the TV!” his roommate bellowed in the background, sounding very much like her old self.

“Cady says hi, and that she looks forward to you coming home for a serious conversation,” Anne translated.

“Anne come on, look at the bathroom door. I’m not making this up. You shouldn’t even be there, she could vifhora you too!”

“She could who what now?”

“Just tie her up or something. I’m coming home.”

Crystal yanked his sleeve, her eyes wide with concern. “You should not,” she advised, shaking her head.

Scott nodded at her, covering his phone’s mouthpiece and whispering toward the blonde. “I owe you for your help, but I can’t just abandon Anne with her,” he said as he turned toward home. She sighed and let him go. There was no convincing Americans sometimes.

Anne laughed on the other end of the line. “Tie her up? Fuck it, could be fun. Cady, where’s your bondage rope stash?”

“Are you still on the phone with him?!?”

“Oh like he hasn’t fantasized about worse. Come on, tell me.”

Scott hit the end call button as Anne continued to poke at the tomboy in the background.

The TV was in fact shattered. The couch didn’t look much better. As near as Scott could tell, Cady had thrown the whole bathroom door behind her once it was off its hinges with enough force to buckle the back of the couch, ricochet off and smash the big screen through the back of the entertainment center.

“Are you happy, asshole?!” his roommate cried, interrupting his post mortem of their ruined living room. She was tied tight against the bottom of the stairs leading up to their bedrooms, her arms lashed to the banister on either side of her head using dark purple rope. Anne waved from beside her, conveniently just out of kicking distance as Cady flailed her lower half.

“I do good work, huh?” the redhead tittered before giving Scott a moderately more serious look. “But we do need an explanation. After seeing the bathroom I gave you the benefit of the doubt, but I can’t keep my best friend tied up even if it’s incredibly amusing.”

The tomboy beside her stopped flailing and hung her head. She brought her denim covered legs back under her with a petulant stomp of her Converse. “Fucking unbelievable. I’m getting a new apartment with a new roommate and a new best friend.”

“Don’t untie her! A Swedish girl explained it to me,” Scott offered. “There’s a rhyme.”

“A fucking rhyme?” Cady crowed in disbelief, struggling once again against her bonds. Anne just gave him a look that said her patience was running out.

“Even a woman who is pure at heart and chaste by night,” he recited, words coming slow as he struggled to remember it accurately.

“That’s our Cady!” Anne cheered.

“Shut up, there’s more. It’s uhh, may become a slut when the man’s rod blooms and the lipstick is bright.”

Cady let out an exasperated sigh. “Un-fucking-believable. Anne, untie me. Anne. Wipe that look off your face,” she pleaded, craning her body to no avail against the redhead’s knot work. Anne walked over to Scott with a Cheshire grin.

“So let’s cut the poetry and get this straight. Cady,” she said as she inclined her ginger locks toward the bound tomboy, “our Cady. ‘Don’t be such a slut, Anne’ Cady. A guy pops a boner and she’s going to turn into whatever gigaslut I heard over the phone?”

“Well. Yes? I think.”

“Fine, unbutton your pants.”

“What?!” Cady and Scott both screeched in unison.

“Oh come on,” Anne laughed as she continued on her path toward Scott. “You’ve asked me out a hundred times, and that’s only because Cady shot you down a thousand times before that. Here’s your shot. Pull your dick out and prove your story.”

“I-I’m…what? No!” Scott stammered, looking up at Cady for moral support. She just glared at him and shook her head.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” Anne said as she closed the distance between them. Before he could even protest her hands had his fly unzipped with his dick pulled out of his boxers. “Oh come on, performance anxiety?”

“Anne, I really don’t think-“

“Oh calm down, it’s for science,” she replied, waving away his complaint with one hand as her other hand started stroking rhythmically up and down his flaccid shaft. “Hey, don’t look at me. Eyes on the werebimbo,” she instructed, shifting her grip so she could walk around him and out of Cady’s line of sight while still jerking. He felt himself growing hard under her practiced hand despite the fucked up circumstances. Scott was about to renew his protest when a giggle echoed from the stairwell.

“Mnnngh,” Cady grunted, her eyes locked onto Scott’s erection. She licked her lips, tongue making a slow arc across her bottom lip and then the top. They sparkled pink as she let out another eerie giggle. The sound of popping stitches filled the air as the bimbo laughter faded, her already impressive hips morphing into an hourglass too cartoonish for her jeans to contain. The tomboy shook her head vigorously, knocking out all thoughts except one.

“COCK.” the Cady creature moaned, platinum blonde hair pouring over her shoulders as she stopped shaking her head. She flexed forward against her bonds. The whine of overtaxed fabric whispered across the air moments before her baggy hoodie burst open, unable to contain the spherical GG cups now overfilling it. She bounced on her heels to make them jiggle and gave a wink. The wooden stairs groaned as her manicured fingers gripped against the rope tying her there. Scott could see it fraying where her pink nails bit into the nylon.

“Anne? Anne! Stop jerking, look at what’s-OWWWW!” he yelped as something nicked his pelvis. He looked down to see, long manicured nails wrapped around the base of his dick. OPI Hotter Than You Pink nail polish. Two immense orbs of flesh pressed into his back as he felt hot breath on his neck. A voice whispered into his ear.

“So, like, did you ever figure out who attacked Cady?” giggle