The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The following is a story of erotic mind control. Anyone who finds this subject offensive, or who is under the legal age for reading adult material, should stop right here.

All persons and situations depicted herein are entirely fictitious. Any resemblance to actual individuals, living or dead, or actual situations, present or past, is entirely coincidental and unintended. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Synopsis: After a fight with his girlfriend, a man answers an ad which promises to solve all his problems.

Try Wacky Snax!

Chapter I: The Offer.

The door slammed.

Vince Connaught glared at it. “And fuck you, too, bitch!” he yelled.

He and his girlfriend Sharon Banning had just had a classic fight, the latest in a series. Somehow, he always ended up crawling back to her, and after he’d humbled—hell, face it, humiliated—himself enough begging for her forgiveness, she always took him back. Lately, though, it was getting a lot harder to justify making up with her.

I don’t need this, he thought. Sharon’s gorgeous, yeah, but I don’t need this kind of bullshit in my life.

The trouble was that Sharon was gorgeous. Long legs, that she always showed off in tight pants or really short skirts; a really great rack; a beautiful face with bright green eyes, framed by a mane of rich red hair. She could have modeled for any of the men’s magazines he collected. She pushed all his buttons; just thinking about her—even now, after a fight like that!—got him so hard he was dizzy.

And she knew it, too. She took advantage of it all the time, especially when they reconciled after a bad argument. He always ended up agreeing to buy her something really expensive; with his face pressed between her breasts and his whole body limp after an explosive climax, whatever she asked for seemed perfectly reasonable. It was only later, when his head stopped spinning, that he’d realize she’d suckered him again. By then, backing out on whatever he’d promised her was a bad idea. The few times he’d tried it had touched off fresh hostilities, and he’d ended up giving in anyway.

He wondered sometimes why he let her get away with it all. It was as if she had him hypnotized or something. But no, he admitted to himself, she didn’t need to swing a watch in front of him or anything. Her body was enough. Well, that and the head games she was so good at playing.

Scowling, he headed out to the kitchen for a beer.

Quite a few empty cans later, Vince looked around for the latest copy of Babes magazine. He’d bought it the day before and hidden it discreetly away before his date with Sharon, certain that she’d blow up if she saw it. He could just imagine: “What, I’m not woman enough, you have to ogle a bunch of undressed sluts to get excited?” delivered in the shrill, fingernails-on-blackboard voice Sharon got when she was really pissed off. But as it turned out, she’d gotten mad at him anyway, over his reluctance to sign the two of them up for a cruise she wanted.

He settled into his favorite chair and went through the Babes. One in particular turned him on, a leggy redhead. Sober, he might have realized she looked a lot like Sharon; after most of a six-pack, the resemblance eluded him. Eyes roving over her pictorial, he jerked off enthusiastically, coming so hard he saw stars. Then he slouched in the chair, lazing in the warm afterglow.

Eventually he roused himself enough to finish the magazine. He was just about to set it down when a back-page advertisement caught his eye.

GUYS! it said. GIRLFRIEND JERKING YOU AROUND? FEEL LIKE YOU’RE NOT IN CHARGE?

“You got that right,” Vince grunted. He kept reading.

Try Wacky Snax! the ad urged. The sure-fire cure for your troubles. Dating a stone-hard bitch? She’ll melt like wax once she’s had Wacky Snax. You’ll have her eating out of your hand; she’ll be yours to command! She’ll do anything, believe anything!

“Yeah, sure,” Vince muttered. The Spanish Fly ads promised the same thing, and they were all drivel.

But the ad went on, FREE TRIAL OFFER! No obligation! If not absolutely satisfied, you need order nothing more!

“What the hell,” Vince muttered. He tore the ad out of the magazine.

There was a Web address at the bottom for on-line ordering. Vince logged onto his computer and went to the site. When it came up, it showed the Wacky-Snax label above a realistically-drawn cartoon of a guy dressed like a lion-tamer holding out a large metal ring, through which a gorgeous naked blonde was diving. In his other hand, there was a small squarish object. The caption read, SHE’LL JUMP THROUGH HOOPS FOR WACKY SNAX!

Picturing himself as the tamer and Sharon in place of the blonde almost made Vince come. It was an effort to fight through the lust and the beers to follow the on-screen directions. Finally, though, he managed to finish. He clocked on a SEND MY FREE TRIAL OFFER button, and the screen blinked and showed a message: Your order has been submitted. You will receive a confirmation e-mail shortly. Welcome to the world of Wacky Snax!

Feeling a little foolish, Vince logged off. Whatever Wacky Snax was (were?), the stuff couldn’t possibly be as good as they made it sound. That kind of shit would be banned in no time!

Oh, well, he told himself, it’s free. What have I got to lose? Even if it flat-out doesn’t work, I’m no worse off than before.

He puttered around his apartment for the rest of the evening, then went to bed. When he woke up in the morning, somewhat hung over, he only vaguely remembered what he’d done the night before.

Damn, he thought as he sat with his head in his hands. Was that real, or did I just dream it?

He threw on some clothes and padded into the little room he used as an office. His computer was there, next to his phone on a homemade wooden table with a glass panel top. Sticking out from under the keyboard was a ragged piece of glossy paper.

Oh, shit. . . .

Sure enough, when he looked at the slip of paper, it was the Babes magazine advertisement he remembered.

It was real.

In the cold light of morning, Vince Connaught wasn’t sure he wanted it to be. Sure, last night, hurt and beered up, it had seemed like a great idea. If Wacky Snax turned out to be a hoax—as he was 99 percent sure it would—he lost nothing. And if it was for real, it’d put him in the saddle in his relationship with Sharon. But did he really want to get even with his ball-buster girlfriend badly enough to, what, drug her?

Yes, he finally decided, it was. And if it did work, he could always stop using it on her when the “free trial offer” ran out, if he decided he wanted to.

Shaking his head, he went into the bathroom to shave.

Two weeks later, he came home from his job at a medical insurance firm to find a yellow postal notice in his apartment mailbox, informing him that he had a parcel waiting at the local post office. The next day, he took off at lunch and picked it up.

The package was a large cardboard box bearing the Wacky Snax logo he recalled from the company’s website. He wrestled it into his car and drove to his apartment building, where he hauled it into his apartment. He didn’t have time to open it; he left it sitting on his kitchen floor and hurried back to work.

When he opened it that evening, he found it contained four smaller boxes, each about the size of a large package of cookies. Each package was decorated with the illustration of a gorgeous naked girl jumping through a hoop he’d seen on the Wacky Snax home page, along with the Wacky Snax logo. As he removed the last of the smaller containers from the big box, he spotted a small booklet marked INSTRUCTIONS.

He picked it up and began to read.

“Welcome to the wonderful world of Wacky Snax!” it began. “You have chosen to take advantage of our free offer. The following information is intended to help you get the most out of our product.”

Vince grunted and read on. After a little while, whistling softly, he put the instruction pamphlet down. If this is for real, he thought, it’s the greatest thing since sliced bread. And if it’s not, someone’s gone to as hell of a lot of trouble for no money.

There was only one way to find out.

He picked up the phone and dialed Sharon’s number.

As he’d expected, it took several days to persuade her to come over to his place. It was always that way. He had to ask, plead, beg, and only when she decided he’d jumped through enough hoops would she agree to a reconciliation.

Finally he succeeded.

“Tonight, then?” he said into the phone, trying not to sound too eager.

“Yes, tonight,” Sharon confirmed. She went on: “Don’t get carried away, Vince. This is just a couple of drinks. We’ll have to see if we can patch things back together for real.”

Vince made a noncommittal noise. His girlfriend’s response was simple: she hung up without another word.

When she arrived, everything was ready. Vince had diligently cleaned the apartment, and a chilled bottle of wine was waiting on the coffee table in front of his living room couch. Next to the bottle in its bucket of crushed ice was a bowl of Wacky Snax.

The mysterious treats looked perfectly harmless. They were small light-brown wafers, a lot like the Fig Newtons he’s liked as a kid. He’d tried a couple himself, having read in the instructions that they were supposed to have no effect on males. That assurance seemed true enough; they had crumbled and melted harmlessly in his mouth. They tasted vaguely sweet.

Vince ushered Sharon inside and sat on the couch with her. He opened the wine and poured two glasses, offering one to her before taking a drink himself. When they’d each finished a glass, he picked up a Wacky Snack and bit into it, his eyes on hers.

“Well, aren’t you going to offer me one?” His girlfriend’s voice was peevish. “What are those things, anyway?”

“Just something I picked up.” Smiling, Vince offered one of the wafers to the luscious redhead seated next to him and watched as she sank her teeth into it.

Sharon hesitated. She bit again. Then she popped the whole thing into her mouth and began chewing.

Eventually, she swallowed.

“How do you like it?” Vince watched Sharon carefully.

“Like it,” she murmured. “’S good. What . . . is it?” Her head was titled back now, her eyes half closed and her lips parted. Something was happening.

Instead of answering, Vince handed her another. Sharon took it and tossed it into her mouth without a word.

When it was gone, she sank languorously against the couch cushions. Her eyes closed. Her tongue, so sharp against him before, busied itself licking the last crumbs from her lips. She looked as if she were falling asleep.

“Sharon,” Vince asked carefully, “are you awake?”

The redhead giggled. Eyes still closed, she answered, “’Course I’m awake, silly.”

Vince took a deep breath. “Open your eyes, Sharon, and listen to me.”

Sharon opened her eyes and looked toward him.

“Take off your blouse, Sharon. Take off your blouse, and your bra. Show me your boobs, baby.”

Sharon complied without a word, peeling her shirt off over her head and unsnapping her brassiere.

It was working! Vince could hardly believe it. Normally, if he’d ordered Sharon to bare her breasts like that, he’d have been lucky if she only laughed at him. But after two Wacky Snax, she’d simply done it.

He had to struggle to stay focused, though. Sharon’s great globes drew his eyes like a magnet, and he could feel himself getting hard.

“Stand up, Sharon.”

“Yes, Vince,” Sharon answered in a breathy voice. Again she obeyed.

“Now, Sharon,” he suggested, “take off everything else.” After a moment, he amended his request: “Pretend you’re a stripper, and take it all off.”

Sharon did as instructed, smiling. Slowly, sensuously, she slid out of the rest of her clothes, moving to the beat of a music only she could hear. At last she stood before him in nothing but her spike-heeled white pumps.

She made as if to kick off the shoes, and Vince heard a voice he barely recognized as his own croak, “Stop. Leave ‘em on.”

“Yes, Vince.” Another giggle. Sharon’s green eyes were half-shut now as she posed seductively, one knee bent, spine arched and head tilted.

Wow, Vince thought. He squirmed in his seat as he ogled the sexy sight in front of him. I wish I had a video camera. He grinned. Well, why not? I can always get one—and with Wacky Snax on my side, it looks as if Sharon’s going to be a lot more . . . cooperative . . . from now on.

He turned his attention to the next step. “Sharon honey, why don’t you pinch your nipples? It’ll feel so good. You know you want to, honey; go ahead.”

Sharon’s hands came up to her breasts and her fingers squeezed. The redhead gasped and squealed.

“That’s right, honey,” Vince told her. Focus, he reminded himself. Focus. “Pinch ‘em. And the longer you do, the better it feels. It feels so good you can’t stand it, doesn’t it, baby?”

“Oooooooo. . . .” Sharon’s eyes rolled up into their sockets as her body, obedient to her boyfriend’s suggestion, cranked up the pleasure from what she was doing. She swayed on her feet.

“Don’t try to think,” Vince ordered. “You’re much too turned on to think, Sharon baby, isn’t that right?”

“Oooh, yes,” Sharon moaned. “T-turned onnnn—!“ Her eyes rolled wildly and she shuddered. She stumbled, and Vince stood and put his arms on her shoulders to steady her. He didn’t want her falling.

It was a miracle. Wacky Snax was everything the Babes ad had promised, everything the company’s website had promised. His hard-hearted heartthrob had been turned into a stupefied sex-slave by just two of the little squares. Vince couldn’t help feeling he ought to be ashamed—but instead he was aroused, so hard by now he could barely stand it.

It was too good to be true, some tiny part of his mind warned—but if there was a catch, he didn’t care.

Sharon’s panting drew his attention. “Please,” she begged. “Oh, please, Vincent baby, I need it so bad—!”

And it was true, he knew. One of Sharon’s little quirks was that she called him “Vincent” only when she was really turned on. The rest of the time it was Vince, or sometimes Vinnie. Her use of that name now meant she was just about out of her head with desire—and all from a few offhand suggestions.

Well, who was he to argue with a desperately horny beauty? Grinning broadly, he put his arm around her. Gathering up the bowl of Wacky Snax with the other hand, he led the naked Sharon into his bedroom.

Much later, as the two of them lay amid the tangled sheets of his bed, sweat cooling on their bare flesh, he spoke to her.

“Sharon, listen to me, baby,” he said.

“Mmm. Listen.” Sharon’s voice was indistinct, emerging around a mouthful of Wacky Snack.

“You love me.” It was not a question.

“Yes.”

“You trust me completely, don’t you.” Again, not a question.

“Yes.”

“That’s good, Sharon,” Vince told her. “Then we don’t really need to argue, do we? You can just do what I say. If you do that, we’ll be happy.”

“Do what you say,” Sharon agreed. Her eyes were fully open now, but showed no intelligence; her mind was drifting somewhere very peaceful, accepting her lover’s words without argument. “Happy.”

She swallowed the last of her wafer and sighed.

“It’s really easier this way, you know that, don’t you, Sharon?” Vince reached into the bowl on the table beside them for another Wacky Snack, and fed it to her. “You’re too beautiful to think. Too beautiful to have to think. Beautiful girls like you don’t have to think; they can let guys like me think for them. That’s much better.”

“Much better.” Sharon nibbled eagerly at the fresh wafer. Its taste washed through her brain, soothing her. Vincent was wonderful. Everything he said was true. Everything about him was wonderful. Everything was wonderful. . . .

She drifted off to sleep. Soon afterward, a very satisfied Vince Connaught joined her.

Sharon woke up around six. Vince was still asleep. She eased away from him and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to think.

She’d come over last night just for a couple of drinks. She’d still been mad at Vince, hadn’t she? Funny—she couldn’t seem to summon the anger she remembered feeling before. They didn’t need to argue, she told herself; if she just went along with whatever Vince said, things would be much better between them.

She shook her head, trying to think. It was too hard. After a few minutes, she gave it up. She didn’t have to think, anyway. She was too beautiful to need to think; she could just let Vince do it for her. All she had to do—she giggled—was shake her titties in his face, and he’d do anything for her; why not her thinking, too?

It made perfect sense to her.

There was a stirring behind her, and Vince’s voice called out, “Sharon?”

“I’m here, Vinnie,” the redhead answered.

Vince crawled over and eased himself into a sitting position next to his girlfriend. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Just wonderful, Vinnie,” Sharon cooed. She stretched sensuously and yawned.

“Would you like breakfast?”

Sharon’s stomach growled. Suddenly she was ravenous. “Oh, yes, Vinnie!”

“Well, why don’t you fix us some scrambled eggs and coffee, then? Bacon, too, while you’re at it?”

Sharon pouted prettily. “Now Vinnie, you know I don’t like to cook.” She wanted Vinnie to think for her, but she didn’t want him to tell her to do boring stuff like that.

“But I want you to, Sharon,” Vince answered, watching her carefully. Was the effect of the Wacky Snax wearing off? “Please, let’s not argue.”

Sharon struggled visibly. “I don’t want to argue, Vinnie,” she protested. “I just don’t feel like cooking breakfast.”

Vince studied her. She wasn’t back to her old self, or by now she’d be starting to yell, but she wasn’t as totally obedient as she’d been last night. Well, he had something that would fix that.

He got up, went to the bedside table and took a Wacky Snack out of the bowl he’d left there. He handed it to Sharon, who immediately began nibbling at it. As he watched, the slight tension which had begun to show in her face washed away.

“Scrambled eggs, bacon and coffee, Sharon. Be a good girl and fix breakfast.”

“Yes, Vince,” Sharon answered. Still naked, she left the bedroom. Shortly, sounds from the kitchen indicated she was following his orders.

Vince considered what had just happened. Evidently, the deep—he might as well call it a trance, he supposed—produced by Wacky Snax only lasted until the stuff was digested. The “post-hypnotic” commands he’d given her, not to argue and to let him do her thinking, had left her resistance weak, but it had still been there.

He sighed. Oh, well, nothing’s perfect, he thought. And besides, I have plenty of Snax left.

His own belly rumbled. Throwing on a bathrobe, he padded into his kitchen to see how Sharon was doing.

Naked, she was hovering over the stove, prodding at a solidifying yellow mass of egg. On another burner, bacon sizzled in a pan. The coffeepot was on, bubbling away. The smells made his stomach growl again. Hearing it, Sharon laughed.

“Shouldn’t you have gotten dressed first?” Vinnie gestured at her.

Startled, she looked down at herself. “Why, I’m naked,” she squealed. “I just never thought. Wasn’t that silly of me?”

Evidently her mind was still not firing on all cylinders. She’d do what he told her to, competently enough—but Wacky Snax seemed to make her absent-minded about things he hadn’t told her to do, even things she’d normally do just automatically, like getting dressed. That could cause trouble, worried Vinnie, if she did something stupid out in the open. He’d have to take care of it before letting her out of the apartment.

When everything was ready, the two of them sat down and ate. As they made their way through the meal, Vince had to admit that Sharon was a good cook, even if she didn’t like to do it.

Finally they were done. They sat together at the table for a few minutes. Finally, Vince cleared his throat.

“What is it, Vince?” Sharon looked at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“I think you should do the dishes, Sharon honey, and then get dressed. It’s a work day, remember?” Vince smirked. He could have given the orders the other way around, but it was more fun this way.

“Of course I remember.” Sharon laughed and stood up. She collected the dishes began to wash them carefully. Vince went into the living room and turned on the morning news.

Shortly, Sharon wiggled by on her way to the bedroom. She emerged a few minutes later neatly dressed, and patted her hair into place. “How do I look?”

“Just great, Sharon,” Vince responded. She seemed almost normal. Maybe the one extra Wacky Snack he’d given her this morning was wearing off already.

Best to make sure. . . .

“Sharon dear,” he instructed her, “stand on your head.” He knew she could do it; she’d been a top cheerleader in high school.

She obeyed. “How’s this?”

“Just fine, baby. Just stay like that while your Vince does some thinking, okay?”

“Yes, Vince.” Sharon remained in position, balanced with elbows supporting her and hands locked behind her head, legs together and extended straight up. It was amazing. Vince knew he sure couldn’t manage it.

Evidently she was still under the influence. Judging by the morning’s events, that meant he’d better take some precautions before turning her loose. Vince thought carefully and then addressed the befuddled babe before him.

“Sharon honey, stand up.” He needed her full attention for what he had in mind.

Of course, Sharon obeyed, nimbly dismounting from her elbow-stand and getting to her feet.

“Listen carefully, Sharon.” Lord, I hope this works.

“Yes, Vince.” Sharon stood with her head bowed slightly, hands clasped in front of her, for all the world like a bad little girl being told off in the principal’s office. The image was rather stimulating; perhaps later, Vinnie thought, when he’d gotten his hands on a video camera. . . . He refocused.

“Now Sharon, in a little bit I’m going to let you go.” He caught her gaze with his own. “When you leave my apartment, I want you to remember that you came over last night to make up with me. I want you to remember that we had a great time, including really great sex.” He paused.

“Yes, Vince.”

“What you will not remember is anything unusual. That means you won’t remember how the little brown wafers—they’re called Wacky Snax—made you feel, how they made you do everything I said and made it hard to think. You won’t remember cooking naked, you won’t remember standing on your head, none of that stuff. Repeat my instructions if you understand them.”

“Yes, Vince.” Sharon parroted his orders.

“You will think and act just as you always do.” He smiled. “Except that you won’t want to fight with me anymore. You love me, you trust me, and you want me to be happy. It makes you so happy to make me happy.”

“Yes, Vince.” The redhead’s voice was very soft now. “I won’t want to fight with you anymore. I love you. I trust you. I want you to be happy. It makes me so happy to make you happy.”

“That’s a good girl, Sharon.” Vince stood up and took Sharon by the arm. He escorted her to the door.

When Sharon was gone, Vince breathed a nervous sigh. He hoped the suggestions he’d left her with would do the job. If she started acting zoned-out where others could see her, people might suspect drugs—and if the cops got involved, it probably wouldn’t be long before they got around to him. He seriously doubted that they’d swallow it if he claimed he thought Wacky Snax was just a gag—not if they saw Sharon under its influence.

But, God, it was great. He was finally on top in their relationship! And he was going to stay there, too.

At least, as long as his free trial offer lasted. He frowned as that occurred to him.

Oh, well, he thought, I’ll deal with that when the time comes.

He put it out of his mind.

Sharon Banning smiled as she drove toward her job. It felt so good to have patched things up with Vince.

Her smile widened as she remembered the previous night. They’d had a great time. The sex, especially—it had been the best ever! The details were kind of foggy, but she knew she’d never had a better ride.

She never wanted to fight with Vince again. She loved him, she trusted him, she wanted him to be happy. It made her so happy to make him happy!

She could hardly wait for their next date.