The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Andrea arrived at her second period class late, like she usually did, but did closer to on time than usual. Mr. Karaghorn was, well, he had a stick up his ass. He’d heard one student packing before the bell and kept them all late, ungodly amounts of late, on one of his pissed-off lectures about “presentability” and “professionalism.” It had been all Andrea could do not to get up and storm out, honestly. Heard one sputtering fool hiss that the world was ending and it was the youths’ fault, heard all of them. Besides, that middle-aged white guy was in no position to tell HER what was wrong with the world. At least her freshman year history teacher had been pissed off about shit worth getting angry at.

She sat down at her desk, ignoring the buzz of other, more social students talking. This class was populated mostly by boys, and none she gave a shit about. Well, maybe the two nerdy kids in the back who talked about video games all the time. They seemed mostly alright, and the heavier-set of the two got bullied a lot for having a stutter. Pissed her off, that did, but they weren’t friends and she had her own profile to keep low.

“Students,” started the teacher at the front of the room. She was a younger lady, mid-twenties if Andrea were a guessing woman. Not that she was, anyhow-playing Price Is Right with her teachers’ ages seemed like some shit her crusty old father would do. The teacher smiled that patient little grin of hers as she waited for her class to take a seat.. “We have a new student joining class today. It’s a bit late in the year, so please help her if you have to.”

And then SHE walked in. Andrea squeezed her eyes shut, popped them open, did it again, then did it again. A stunning, almost supermodel-looking girl strutted into the room on long, slender legs that somehow looked compact, powerful and soft at the same time. Her walk seemed intentionally provocative: crisscrossing her thighs over her crotch, legs bending and extending slowly and sensually with each step, her torso twisting a little in time with her walk to call attention to her flat tummy and...very, VERY not-flat hips. A hand with three (and only three) long, perfectly painted nails traced up the soft, flawless skin of her ribs, along her pretty neck and petite jaw, and flipped some of her breathtaking locks of platinum blonde hair, which fell lightly back into the slightly messy mane that hung to her tailbone. Andrea was so shocked by this girl’s beauty that it took a second to notice her plush, kissable lips adorned in vibrant red lipstick or her big, baby blue eyes. She looked like the archetypal cheerleader sprung to life with a pop in her step and just a slight undercurrent of dark sexual energy.

Then a second more passed. And Andrea realized the new girl was naked. A pair of appealing, pastel-colored heels called attention to her long legs, a small leather choker with a kitty face on the buckle covered some of her neck, and a plain but pretty black bra contained her pair of beautiful, full, juicy melons, but those things aside the girl was completely, totally naked. Andrea looked to the teacher, supremely confused. Surely she’d have something to say about this!

“Say hi to Stella.” The teacher chirped with her usual gentle expression.

“Hi, Stella.” The classroom practically swooned back. Andrea shot a barrage of scattered, panicked looks at her classmates like pellets from a shotgun with an anxiety disorder. Sure enough, every single one of them had the same expression: gazing up at her fondly with an adoring sort of awe. Was Andrea hallucinating? Something was very wrong!

“Hi cuties! You’re all my slaves now, okay?” Andrea’s jaw practically unhinged, falling as low as it could like discarded ballast. There was a quiet murmur among the class. “Oh, huh, I guess we are,” said one boy, “Ah! Okay Mistress,” said a girl, “I live to please you,” said another. After a few seconds the entire class nodded in approval.

“Yes Stella!” They all spoke as one, smiling ear to ear. “We’re all your slaves now!” Stella grinned wide and giggled, skipping in a full circle around the room. Andrea’s mind finally had a second to try and catch up with what was happening as she watched the new girl and, with great effort, she forced her mouth closed. What the fuck? Stella finished her circuit around the room and came to a stop at the desk on Andrea’s right, her massive pillowy breasts hanging as she leaned playfully over it.

“What’s your name, slave?” She asked the student sitting there, a skittish and vaguely Hispanic looking girl with a modest rack and nice legs. Is how Andrea overheard boys talking about the girl, anyway.

“M-my name? I’m Lucia.”

“Mmmm.” Stella leaned in closer, her breasts flopping back and forth a tiny bit. The students in front of them turned all the way around in their seats to oggle Stella’s butt and, as if she could see them, Stella wiggled it a little. “I like you Lucia. Give me your panties.” Lucia seemed shocked. Of course she did! The request was absurd! Andrea held her breath and glanced at the teacher. Surely requesting another student’s underwear was crossing the line!

“My...panties?” Lucia repeated, looking spooked. Stella nodded. The teacher watched, seeming happy and excited.

“Your panties, slave. I want them.” And just like that, Lucia’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Y-Yes! Anything Mistress wants! With pleasure!” Lucia shot to her feet so hard she tripped over her chair and went stumbling back with her arms flailing. She didn’t care. Once she caught her balance she leaned forward and unbuckled her jeans, sliding them to the floor. Every pair of eyes in the room (save Andrea’s and one or two of the boys still occupied with Stella’s rear) was glued to Lucia’s buttery smooth legs as she reached back up, hooked her fingers under her plain white panties, pulled them down, then stepped out of her jeans. With the most confident smile she’d ever worn away from home, Lucia triumphantly held an arm out to Stella. “My panties, Mistress.”

Stella gladly but gently took the undergarment from Lucia’s hand and slipped it into her bra, then cast a mischievous look out. “What are you doing?”

Lucia froze, bent forward gripping her jeans held at knee height. “Putting...my pants back on?”

“Nope.” Stella purred. “You’re going to leave them there. On the floor.”

“Oh, okay Mistress.” Lucia flashed an embarrassed smile, like she’d been caught doing some silly act, and let go of her jeans. They fell gracelessly to the floor. Lucia smiled at the teacher as she returned to her desk and took a seat.

“Boys and girls,” said Stella, “Give this slave a hand.” Instantly the entire room totally forgot where they were and launched to their feet, loudly smashing their hands together. The teacher smiled from ear to ear and lept up and down with joy. There was screaming and hollering. Boys and girls alike stared at Lucia with pride and love, so happy to see one of their classmates capitulate to Stella’s whims so easily and do such a lovely job of meeting them. Andrea blinked rapidly and awkwardly, and a few seconds later, tried to play along. There was something weird about this girl.

Well, obviously. But something let her get away with…that.

Andrea sat in her room, struggling to convince herself second period had been a really weird dream. None of her flimsy excuses did any convincing job though. Her brain rejected the idea it was a fever dream. She had no history of mental illness or anything that might suggest she’d hallucinated it. Maybe it was from heat? But if that was it, why would it be self contained like that?

Besides, her mind insisted, it hadn’t just been second period. Sixth and seventh had gone similarly. In sixth period she asked if a boy and a girl could leave class to practice making out, and the teacher said yes. The other two hated each other too, Andrea was pretty sure, and she was DEFINITELY sure the boy had a girlfriend. He never shut the fuck up about her.

That felt mean, Andrea realized, even to think. The lad was polite and his stories about his girlfriend had always been cute and kind of sweet, at least. She silently apologized to him in her head. Then she mulled over seventh period, when Stella had told the class the teacher was going home with her and they all had off. It had been the most abrasive use of whatever disgusting power the beautiful woman had performed that day (that Andrea saw, at least) but the fact the visible part had come and gone so quickly had practically given Andrea whiplash.

Who was this bitch? Was she even a person!? Andrea looked down at some notes, hastily scribbled an hour prior, and laughed. It was a strained laugh, but divorced even slightly from the context she’d written them in her notes were genuinely really funny. Nymphomaniac? Her writing asked her. Literal nymph, possibly? Is she a witch? A crude stick figure in a witch hat stirring out of a poorly doodled crayon. Some kind of manic sex goddess? Andrea groaned. She wasn’t sure whether to be more embarassed by herself for the awkwardly scrawled “sex goddess” or the cute little stick kitty she’d drawn lounging on it in loaf mode.

Some kind of scooby doo girl detective, she was not.

“I’m hooome!” Andrea heard her mom call out from the first floor. She sighed and closed her notebook, content to get to work later.

The next day started out normal. Andrea had a weird dream about having a bunch of cats, but that was nothing new. Breakfast was the usual bowl of cereal, her mom kissed her on the forehead, she caught the bus to school, it was all totally bog standard fare and she almost forgot about her tumultuous last day prior. That changed when second period started.

“Good morning, sweethearts!” Stella walked confidently into the classroom, wearing nothing but the panties Lucia had given her the previous day. With horror Andrea realized that the jeans were still on the floor next to Lucia’s desk, too.

“Good morning, Mistress!” The entire class answered in delighted unison, their happy faces a sea of vacant smiles and glassy wide-eyed stares. “We love you, Mistress!”

“I love me too, dolls,” said Stella as she lightly cupped her impressive breasts. “Girls, take your shirts off and get in line to make out with me. I love kissing and I need more than I’ve gotten today.” Every girl in the room shot to their feet, all fumbling to unbutton their tops or slip them over their heads. A dazed Andrea realized with terror that if she did nothing she’d be...she didn’t know. She didn’t want to. So she jumped up, hurriedly trying to get the buttons in her shirt undone as blood rushed to her head. Sure, this girl was hot, but...suddenly, at the thought of kissing Stella Andrea smiled. It sounded nice. Her body was soft and sweet. Smooth. Warm. Drool trickled down Andrea’s neck and she limply dropped her blouse to the ground. She was going to kiss Stella.

The wait was torture, but it was also nice. Hearing the loving, sensual moans of Stella and her classmates filled Andrea with the sort of happy tension you feel before opening a present. Those beautiful tits, her thighs, her hips, Stella’s whole body demanded to be carefully touched and treasured and worshipped.It was almost like a thread was reaching out from it. Sliding gently down Andrea’s ears and whispering to her very being that she was going to love and kiss and worship Stella’s body, unfurling thoughts directly into a part of her brain so deep she was helpless to do anything but accept that those thoughts were obviously her own. Andrea unbuckled her pants without thinking and began to gently cup her crotch with one hand. Images of Stella, bits of her voice, continued to flash across her mind. She couldn’t resist. She didn’t want to resist. She wanted to smile and obey and enjoy. Andrea was powerless and it felt positively amazing. By the time it was Andrea’s turn she was struggling not to finger herself.

“I love you, Mistress!” Andrea blurted out. A wave of joy exploded through her.

“I love you too, slave.” Stella answered. Then Stella held out her arms for an embrace and everything but that sublime body vanished from Andrea’s mind as she rushed into them and the two locked lips.

Andrea marched through her front door confidently and dropped her backpack. Then she blinked. Some kind of...fog...was lifting from her brain but she couldn’t tell what. Andrea stumbled to the bathroom and looked herself over. She was wearing cute blue panties, a bra, and some earrings. Nothing was out of the ordinary. She tentatively groped her own breasts, biting back a moan. It felt good. Really good. Almost as good as Stella.

Andrea smiled wide as the yummy haze flooded her mind again. She remembered bouncing her breasts for the class in sixth period, reciting her bra size and height and weight over and over-

Wait. That was weird. And like, objectify-y. Andrea didn’t like that. Did she? It had been fun at the time. It had made Stella smile

Andrea grinned. Her phone made the snap! sound of having taken a picture. She giggled and typed out “I thought of you, Mistress!” Before sending the text to a number that she immediately deleted from from her phone. Andrea blinked. Why’d she do that? When did the big messy heart get drawn across her cleavage in lipstick? Oh god, that was mortifying. She’d have to clean it off in the shower.

Andrea lied in bed, pouting at the ceiling. Her head was clear now, she was pretty sure. She couldn’t find the blouse or pants she’d worn to school that day so they were definitely gone. Stella

Damnit. She’d recorded herself groping her chest and cooing over Stella, then sent it to that number again. She hated how little she could even force herself to be angry about it. Stella

And she’d texted Stella

And she’d sent Stella

Stella

Stella

Andrea loved Stella

Andrea fucking loved Stella

Andrea had her hands in her panties just like Stella

Andrea came for Stella

Andrea was a good girl for Stella

Picture of wet panties for Stella

Wearing wet panties for Stella

“Goddamnit!” How long had she been out like that? She looked at her alarm clock. It was one in the morning, so about three hours. She didn’t bother going to look at what she’d probably done to herself. Hopefully whatever...THING was in her head would be gone by morning.