The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

THE BREAKER

Biology was very, very good to me.

I’m not sure how it could be topped, really, but I’m not afraid of a challenge — I rise to it.

Of course, as I promised myself, I pull some strings and become a woman. A reasonably attractive woman. On a scale of 1 to 10, I’m a solid 8.5, about a half a point below a truly successful pinup girl and a point or two above porn star. I packed a lot of sex appeal into my new smaller stature with ass, hips, and tits built to undulate and sway hypnotically. My new form is capped by a voice so sultry that if I speak for more than fifteen seconds straight, about half of the room I’m in, despite the size and numbers, will spontaneously orgasm. Unless I whisper. When I whisper… it’s one hundred percent effective on the listener.

I take a gander at the board on my walk to the front of the room — this one a more modest classroom without stadium seating and with simple, old-school desks. The board clearly reads Ethics and Philosophy 101. Two things about this get me excited.

The professor, a hip-looking thirty-something with a goatee, black jeans, and a tight black t-shirt, pushes past me.

I follow closely behind him and when he starts, I whisper into his ear. “There are two things about Ethics and Philosophy 101 that get me excited. The first being that a 101 class equals mostly Freshman. And it looks like they’re all fresh and thankfully not all men. The second is the very basic idea of bending Ethics and Philosophy to my own nefarious ends. I imagine you’ll be too busy trying to get your pants clean to mind too much.”

Having surpassed fifteen seconds, I feel his body jerk next to mine and, once his teeth stop grinding to keep his moans inside, I watch him awkwardly walk out of the room with a crotch full of cum.

“Hi. I’m Professor Breaker. I’ll be filling in for… whoever Mr. Cumpants was. Any questions so far?”

Austin Carroll raises his hand. “Will any of this be on the test?”

There’s always one. One that doesn’t understand nuance. One that doesn’t understand… pizzazz.

I pull on Austin’s strings. He will now believe everything he hears. He’s now the most gullible person who has ever existed on Earth… which is to say a lot considering some of the gullible people who have come before him. So… if you meet someone named Austin Carroll in any of your travels, go ahead, have some fun and sell him the Brooklyn Bridge. I’d appreciate half of whatever you make, but… you know, I get it… Tough economic times all around. But also, consider the ethics of not sharing your newfound wealth with me… the ethics and any and all repercussions.

I wave a finger at the rest of the room. “Who among you can tell me a prevailing ethical theory.”

Liliana Duncan, a tiny waif of a girl with a blessedly innocent face, raises her hand and then shares, “Virtue ethics.”

I look inside her and, it would seem, that virtue ethics requires the avoidance of vices like greed, jealousy, and selfishness. She already seems to live a life like that, somehow maintaining her virginity well into her Freshman year. None of that seems like fun. She’s lived a sheltered and uninteresting life. I pull on Liliana’s strings and she now wants to only seek out greedy, jealous, and selfish acts. Her outward appearance of much more glitzy clothing mirrors the inward shift of priorities. She sees no need to stay in the class as she doesn’t see how it will immediately benefit her and I make no motions to stop her hasty exit.

“Who else? What else?” I ask.

Nolan Knight, a tall student who I learn plays basketball for the university’s team, raises his long arm up. “Utilitarianism?”

I have to give him a lot of credit — that’s a lot of syllables for a jock. I dive in to gleam his understanding of the term and it involves the creation of happiness and suffering revolving around a person’s actions. A little string pull and he will now only do things that make him happy with no regard for any other impacts. As such, he pulls out his rather meaty dick and starts to stroke it. Ivy Elliott, a dark haired beauty seated behind him, sees this and gasps loudly, judging.

“Ivy?” I say and she looks up at me. “What is the categorical imperative?”

She recites a textbook definition from memory. “In Kantian ethics, the categorical imperative is an unconditional moral obligation that is binding in all circumstances and is not dependent on a person’s inclination or purpose.”

“So basically, in a nutshell, you imagine a reality wherein everyone acted a certain way, yes? And then you judge whether that would be a ‘good’ reality, right?” I ask.

“Something like that,” she says.

“So imagine a reality wherein everyone masturbates for pleasure whenever they want. What is the downside to that?”

“Well…” she says, pausing to think, “It’d be a bit disgusting, wouldn’t it?”

“Disgusting? Doesn’t that seem dependent on your personal inclination?”

She pauses. “Yeah… I mean, I could see that.”

“And masturbation is purely pleasurable…” I say.

Ivy nods.

I continue, “And pleasure is a form of happiness, which, in my humble opinion, is one of the key human drivers. Am I right?”

Ivy nods, as does more than a couple of her classmates.

“So, I’d say that a world wherein everyone masturbates for pleasure whenever and wherever they want, would be a positive and therefore a ‘good’ reality.”

When Ivy can’t immediately come up with a counterargument, her perspective shifts. She will now openly masturbate whenever the need or desire strikes her, and, in seeing that big meaty dick in front of her, propels her to follow suit, shucking her pants and rubbing herself through some white cotton panties. The smell of sex starts to pervade the room as Ivy’s aroma is quite pungent.

“Who else?”

A preppy-looking motherfucker towards the front — Parker Andrews, future businessman — adds, “Contract theory.”

In peaking into his mind, I learn that I kind of like and sometimes abide by contract theory. Its ethics isn’t, by nature, about character, consequences, or principles, merely agreements between people. As a reward, I shift Parker’s capabilities. He is now an expert negotiator and can basically talk his way into any outcome he desires. I don’t keep this a secret from him. I let him know the power I’ve bestowed upon him. He makes eye contact with me, basically asking “really?” With his raised eyebrows. I give him a nod with a slightly stern gaze to ultimately imply that he should use this power wisely. I’m not typically one to reward suit-types, but I think watching his corruption from afar will be wildly entertaining. It begins quickly as he whispers to a very uptight girl alongside him. After a few seconds, Trinity Johnston removes her bra from underneath her shirt and her panties from underneath her long skirt and presents them to him.

“Trinity?” I ask and she nods, seemingly unaware that she’s done anything wrong. “Philosophically speaking, what would you call a girl who gives her underwear to a stranger in a classroom full of strangers.. and, please, be honest.”

“A slut,” she says, matter-of-factly.

“If you had to, what would you assign as a slut’s philosophy?”

She accepts this question earnestly. “Well, a slut wants sex so her actions, her words… everything about her is decided on what would best put her on a path to get sex.”

Of course, as she speaks, I pull the strings to make those assumptions the key philosophy by which Trinity lives. It’s a good thing that Parker got her panties and bra before she spoke, because Trinity isn’t the type to wear that sort of thing — panties and bra would impede sex and therefore they don’t fit into her philosophy. She wears easily removed tops that showcase her breasts and easily lifted skirts to provide quick access to her front and backside. She advertises her wants with heavy makeup and bedroom eyes. When she leans over to ask Parker if he wants to fuck, she does so with sultry tones that tell him that any and all acts are in her repertoire. She leads him out of the room. She may be a slut, in constant need of sex, but she’s not the type to just fuck in public.

“So… what’s another ethical philosophy?”

Brielle Berry, a dark-skinned girl at the university on a dual scholarship of educational and cheerleading chimes in with, “Care ethics.”

Apparently, based on her understanding, care ethics focusses on relationships.

I know the answer, but I ask, “Are you currently seeing someone?”

She blushes and says, “No.”

Being in a relationship is her ongoing central preoccupation. It’s more important to her than her studying and her cheerleading and she will bend herself to fit into whatever her partner desires to keep them happy and keep herself in a relationship. This could be a dream or it could be a nightmare, depending on the character of whoever she latches onto. She promptly starts scanning the room for candidates and I continue my teaching.

“Who here has a personal philosophy they could share with the class?”

Of the three “untouched” students, Adam Cunningham is the first to raise his hand. He’s a blond and looks like a slightly more grown-up version of the Village of the Damned kids. “I try to live by the Golden Rule — Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

I have to pull a lot of strings to make this happen, but Adam now has, for lack of a better term, a karma field around him. So, whatever he does will be revisited upon him. If he lives his life well, it will be beneficial. However, sexual relationships will be awkward and his female partners will have to have a strap-on dick handy to deliver unto him what he does unto them. His ass will take quite the beating before he comes to understand his situation fully.

I point to a stoner-looking dude — Chase Hudson — in the back of the room. “Personal philosophy, Chase?”

“Be excellent to each other and party on!”

I was about to make having a good time his new sole focus but find in his strings that it already is. Frankly, I’m surprised he took the time to come to class today. I shift focus to the “be excellent” starter and give him a strong perfectionist streak. He will fail out of school, not for lack of trying but merely because “perfect is the enemy of completed.”

The only student remaining is Josephine Bradley, a tall, freckled, red-headed girl. I point to her with the request, “Tell me something ethical or philosophical or something of that ilk.”

She does a bit of deep soul searching, trying to find some kernel of truth to share with her impromptu professor. “It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”

She’s an English major, clearly. Her philosophical perspective is limited to Alfred Lord Tennyson, more of a poet. Poetry is fueled by heartbreak and I believe the world is in dire need of some truly great poetry. Josephine will now fall in love, deep, undeniable love, in twelve hour increments. She will spend the next twelve hours sad and despondently writing about the loss of that love before the cycle repeats again. I bump up her looks to a solid 9.5 to make sure that her ability as a heartbreaker is unparalleled. She might even push her exes to write some stellar poetry of their own.

I look around the room at my work with a smile.

Nolan is on the verge of a good cum.

Ivy is on the verge of her fourth.

Brielle and Josephine are fighting over Adam’s potential affections. Though Brielle is a beauty, she’s likely going to lose to Josephine because of the upgrade until she professes that he can do anything he wants to her. They’ll make a long detour to a sex shoppe to get the proper strap-on to balance the equation once he’s done taking her anal virginity.

Josephine will lure Chase into a perfectly perfect twelve-hour fling. It will take her another twelve hours to recover from it. Chase will never recover.

I take a deep breath, nod to them all, and make my way out of the classroom and into the hallway — I bump into the usual philosophy professor and give him another whispered earful, undoing the cleaning work he’s just finished. Then, I seek out the next stream of students who will learn at the feet of Professor Breaker, wondering what sort of class I’ll find myself in.