The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

So Very Happy


I’m so happy—so very happy that it seems a bit silly to write out my little doubts and uncertainties. I hope that writing this down will help me sort things out.

Actually, I thought my life was going really well, before I met Dale. I had a nice job that paid well for interesting and challenging work, and seemed to hold the promise of future promotions and career advancement. I had my own apartment downtown, in a great old building that had just been renovated. It was in a neighborhood filled with shops, restaurants, clubs and galleries. I had a wide circle of friends, and dated a lot.

Then I met Dale. The thing is, he wasn’t even my type. He is average and ordinary, a little bit overweight, and sort of dumpy and awkward. In other words, he is kind of a dork. He looks out of place at any of the trendy clubs that I hung out at; and at the really snooty places the doorman won’t even let him in. I am tall and slender, with a good figure. Everyone who meets me will say (in the first few minutes) either “Are you a model?” or “You should be a model!” (and sometimes both!) I try to be fashion-forward, even cutting-edge sometimes (though nothing too radical). People who see Dale with me can’t believe we’re together. “Is that nerd your brother, or what?” they’ll ask me when he’s not around.

OK, if writing this is going to do me any good, I have to be completely honest. Saying that Dale is not my type is an understatement. He’s not even my gender. I dated a few guys in college, but for years now it’s been just women. Boys—Yuck, Girls—Yum. I was exclusively lesbian. Why I started dating Dale was doubly and triply confusing to my friends, and to me as well.

Dale and I got along really well. We never argued. He was more “slow lane” to my “fast lane” as far as lifestyle, in fact, I would have described him as dull and boring. Somehow, though, being with him made me feel relaxed and comfortable. I didn’t change my habits overnight, but gradually I spent less of my time partying and buying expensive clothes, and more quiet time with Dale.

Then we got married. Everyone was in shock. My friends didn’t understand—I had become a die-hard “Like a fish needs a bicycle” woman in my attitude towards men. And at the very least they expected I’d land some ultra-cute guy with an intriguing, dangerous edge, not “Mr. Normal”. His friends were equally stunned. I overheard one of them ask “How did Dale end up with an Incredible Babe like that?” This made me blush, even though they didn’t realize I was standing right in the hall there. I never did hear the answer.

Being married to Dale has made me so happy. So very happy to do all the little tasks I once found trivial and annoying. I used to eat out all the time, but I’ve discovered that I love to cook. I’m still learning, but Dale seems really pleased with my efforts. Even doing the laundry gives me a pleasant feeling of a necessary job well done. I buy the groceries and keep the place looking nice. I’ve become little Miss Domestic. I’m proud of how our house looks and runs smoothly.

Not that Dale doesn’t help out. He’s almost obsessively neat, and pitches in cooking, cleaning, and sorting laundry. I think he just likes to, he’s the most domestic guy I know of. Somehow that just makes me try even harder to get everything just right, like a challenge.

I guess I never realized that household chores would make me so happy. I used to go out to parties or clubs almost every night, and I would let stuff like laundry just pile up till I could haul it down to a laundromat and shove it all in. Dale has me on a strict budget, and I don’t really miss dressing to kill and going out to dance and drink at the trendiest places like I used to.

Dale and I are planning a large family. I never wanted kids at all, I didn’t think I was the maternal type. Now that I’m married to such a great guy, though, and I’m really enjoying my domestic skills, it seems doable. Lots of kids someday, that is. I’m ready for dozens and dozens, but Dale wants to enjoy some time with just the two of us before we begin our huge family plan. I thought that I didn’t even like kids.

Imagine I actually once thought that Dale was kind of dull in bed, not that great as a lover. I knew that I adored him so, and had to make every aspect of our lives together work. I decided that I should try harder, and see if he would respond. Now I try to be as sexy as possible whenever I’m with Dale. I practically attack him when the need comes over me, and it seems like I need him all the time now. I go a little crazy in bed—setting a scene each time—sometimes wild and chaotic, or gentle and slow and romantic, or raucous and funny, or . . . . intense and almost depraved. Dale hasn’t changed much, he does try his best, though. But now the pleasure I get from surprising and pleasing him is more powerful than any sensation I ever felt before.

Everything seemed to be going really well in my life. I was finding happiness in the most unusual things. Who would have guessed I would be so happy to be married to a dull and ordinary guy like Dale?

A week ago, Dale left the house without logging out and shutting down his computer. He is a little protective of the computer in his study, he logs on and off with a password, and has a little key as well. I was suddenly struck with curiosity. I’d never really wondered before, but now he was gone and it was all there for me to explore, whatever it might be.

I already knew where the spare key was. The first thing I did when I sat down was to get his password. I work with computers on my job. Now I could access his machine whenever I wanted.

Apparently he spent most of his time writing cute stories about women being hypnotized. Some of the better ones had been put on the internet. I read a couple of them that afternoon, and the rest over the next few days, whenever Dale was gone. They seemed harmless enough.

Then I found a folder with unfinished works. Mostly it was more of the same, stories that just trailed off in confusion somewhere in the middle. Some of them were all but complete but were much nastier, tales of betrayal and revenge, filled with mean and loathsome people and innocent victims who didn’t deserve the misery that was inflicted on them. I could see why he hadn’t finished them.

Then I found the file that has been the source of all my doubt and confusion. It was an outline for a story. At least, it was in with all the other unfinished stories. It was a very detailed outline. The main character in the story was a guy very like Dale. He hypnotizes a pretty girl and makes her into his hypno-slave wife. The girl was very like me.

At first I thought Dale was just using us as convenient models to base his fiction on. Something in the back of my head kept saying “It’s you! It’s YOU! Don’t you see it?” I couldn’t sleep that night.

At least the story wasn’t one of the mean ones. The girl seemed to know all about it, and thought it was cool. The outline described what kind of girl he was looking for and where he would find her. He was targeting someone without a steady boyfriend, or whose boyfriend was a jerk. A footnote to that said: “Lesbian?—Don’t rule out”.

A lengthy description of an initial induction followed. Hypnotic commands to obey and go into a deep trance and stuff like that. Dale has never done anything like that to me. The thing is, I can’t remember the night I met Dale. Was Dale carrying out his storyline? I read it over and over in the next few days and made a list of pro and cons.

PROS: (I AM Dale’s hypno-slave wife)

I don’t remember the night I met Dale. There were actually a number of dates and occasions that I can’t remember now. But there are nights BEFORE I met Dale that I just can’t remember. I used to stay out all night and drink all the time, so this one’s hardly conclusive.

Uncharacteristic behavior. I didn’t use to stay home and watch TV on Friday nights. Or cook. Or save money for my retirement. Or want kids. Or date guys. Hmmm.

Eerie similarity to character descriptions. He practically describes me down to the mole on the back of my arm. The guy in the story isn’t described, but acts just like Dale. Of course, like I said, we could just be the people he based his characters on.

We agree on everything. We’ve never had an argument. I thought we just shared the same outlook on life. The only things we ever disagreed on—Dale wanted me to stop spending all my money on expensive clothes and going out every night—I decided I needed to change, anyway. Or so I thought. Hmmmm.

The Commands in the story all seem to apply to me. The guy in the story has the girl straighten out her crazy life, and take delight in her job and marriage; as well as cooking, cleaning and housework. Hmmmmm.

Fantastic, Frequent Sex. Kind of explains itself. I have never before experienced the kind of incredible sensations and climaxes that I have with Dale. I just seem to want him all the time, more and more, and it gets better and better. No complaints, mind you, but Hmmmmmm.

CONS: (I am imagining things)

Dale has said nothing about any of this. I never would have suspected anything if I hadn’t broken into his computer. I didn’t even know he was into Mind Control Stories. The Girl in the story knows what is happening (part of the drama seems to be her being helpless to resist). She eventually gives in and consents. At no point in the story is anything concealed from her.

Dale’s behavior doesn’t match. He doesn’t try to be dominant, he doesn’t order me around. He treats me like a princess. He helps with all the chores that he’s supposed to be making me do. He is really nice, all the time.

I’ve been known to let my imagination make me sick. I read a description of some dread disease, and suddenly I have all the symptoms. I feel weak and have to lie down. I watch a vampire movie, and all night I hear them trying to get in through the windows or just outside the door. I can’t sleep. I’ve done this sort of thing to myself many times before. Perhaps I’m just suggestible. Hmmmmmmmm.

Dale still acts like he can’t believe I’m his. If he had me locked firmly in his hypnotic thrall, he would be really smug and confident, wouldn’t he? He’s always trying to do some little favor, or thoughtful gesture, or expression of love, as though I would walk out on him if I felt neglected for any reason.

They can’t really do that, can they? I mean, I would remember something, right? You’re not supposed to be able to hypnotize someone against their will, or so I’ve always heard.

* * *

So I’m sitting here, having just written out all my suspicions. The Girl in the story is forbidden to speak to anyone about what is happening to her. I don’t seem to have any such limitation. Of course, I haven’t really tried. I am beginning to think that Dale has hypnotized and enslaved me. None of my own thoughts are really mine for sure. I can’t believe he would do something like that, though, he’s such a nice guy. Unless he’s really a pig, and I just can’t see it.

I am going to confront him on this. It will be our first argument, ever. If I am right, he will know that I am on to him, and he may use his hypnotic power to make me forget all this. That is one reason why I am writing this. I will save it on my computer, and I will mail it out to several good friends. I don’t know what you can do for me if you get this, but at least you’ll know the story. I may also send this off to those Internet Sites where Dale seems to get his ideas. They should get a kick from it.

If I am wrong, I may be destroying my own happy marriage over some crazy suspicion that I can never prove. If Dale denies everything, well, isn’t that what he would do either way?

I’ve been thinking about it for some time. What if I confront Dale and he feels guilty and lets me go? Am I better off? I am so happy. I mean, I have never been this happy. Does it matter if I have an incredible orgasm because my lover touches me in just the right way, or because he makes me THINK that whatever he does is just the right way? I was tired of drinking till I passed out, or waking up in some girl’s bed and not knowing her name. Does it matter if I quit because I resolved to change, or because some friend tricked me into it? I am happy with Dale, and with my life. I don’t want to be rescued, I just want to know the truth.


I saved this file, and attached it to an e-mail. I copied it “To” all my friends. All I had to do was click the “Send” button. I couldn’t do it. I tried using both hands. It was weird and scary. Maybe I have worked myself into some sort of hysteria, but I think this is a strong “Pro” on my list. Write about my enslavement = easy; tell someone else about it = hard. I will talk to Dale when he gets home. Until then I will spend every once of willpower and resolve that I have to try to bring my finger down on that “Send”. If you are reading this, then I made it.