The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

There’s a lot to not actually like about working in the stacks.

The buzzing fluorescent lights above that cast a green glow on anyone unlucky to be underneath them.

The fact that everyone thinks its basement location is haunted. The green glow doesn’t help there, either.

The thankless, tedious work of filing records electronically and retrieving paper records on request.

The usual solitude is a mixed blessing.

My one semi-regular visitor—Rose—is makes it all worthwhile. Without her, I’d have left this job ages ago. There are other places that need filing… better places even. Places with windows and more than one friendly face, but Rose is the one perk of the job I couldn’t get elsewhere and couldn’t bear to go without. Despite the tinge of death associated with her visits, she is still one of the friendliest, kindest, most upbeat people I’ve met. She was also stunning, even dressed down in hospital apparel. Her hair falls in lovely brown waves just past her shoulders. Her eyes are both wise and mischievous at the same time, like a child keeping what they think is a big secret.

I’d heard rumors of some new magical website that would make more time with Rose a certainty. My crush was so deep, I am willing to try anything, including sketchy magical websites. The one thing I know going in is that I had to launch it while she is here in the stacks… which means someone had to die. Not by my hand or anything, her job is to pull deceased patient records. I don’t want to root for someone to die so that she’ll come visit. I have to be patient myself. I mean, people die all of the time.

My patience isn’t long required because Rose comes down just one day after I discover the website.

“Hey, Alec.”

“Hey, Rose. How are you doing?”

“You know what? I’m doing fine. You?”

“Better… now…”

She blushes and heads away from my desk and into the stacks. I follow her with my eyes until she’s no longer in sight. Then, I load up the webpage.

I swear the lights flicker oddly as the page comes up, casting a darker green across the room.

I’m prompted to enter my name—Alec—and then I assert that I’m over 18, I understand the nature of a multiple-choice question led journey, and I identify as a male. It then, finally, asks the most magical, most important of these initial questions.

Do you want Rose to be a part of your journey?

Yes/No

I couldn’t click “yes” fast enough.

A list of potential “adventures” appears with a command of PICK ONE:

Building a Better Relationship

Inflation!

Invaders of the Nether Realm

Journey to Uranus

Mystery of the Grand Tetons

One Perfect Date

Prisoner of the Master

Slice of Heaven

The Cave of Remaking

The Curse of the Pink Cookie

The Dame That Came

The Lost Canal

The Secret of the Box

The Cobbler’s Apprentice

Treasure Trove of Wonder Untold

(more)

I select—The Cobbler’s Apprentice.

More flickering from the fluorescents above and then the story begins.

“Mind you not to make no messes and no fusses whilst I’m away,” the cobbler says to you, pointing his aged finger in your face. “I know you think you’re a cobbler already, but you’re far from it. A lot more tutelage needed from me and a lot more practice needed from you afore that ever happens.”

He’s so close as he speaks down to you, you can smell what he had for lunch—cabbage and beef. He steps away to finish packing his bundle. When done, he steps up again with his crooked finger. “Mind me, boy, or there’ll be repercussions.”

Once the door shuts behind him, the cobbler locks you in from the outside.

You look around at all the tools—tools you’re more than capable of using—and all the materials—you’re even familiar with the archaic and enhanced ones. The old man is a fool. You’re sure you’re twice the cobbler as he.

There’s a knock at the door and a female voice calls out, “Hello? Is the cobbler in?”

Alec, do you—

Answer the door

Pretend the shop is empty

I’m all too familiar with old men trying to keep me in my place. In my line of work, they’re called doctors. I laugh, then——

I select—Answer the door.

I feel emboldened. I sit up a little straighter, more confident. The next time I see Rose, it will be more than just small talk, I will full-on ask her out. I am as worthy of her time and attention as she is of mine. Soon, she’ll come to understand that.

You answer the door. A young maiden rushes by you and into the shop. “It is of the utmost importance that my mistress’s shoes are repaired. She has sent me with ample coin for your time. I have been charged to wait here until the task is completed.”

Her voice is balanced with a hint of refinement that doesn’t shoe in her shoddy clothes. She sits down on a stool and presents a pair of shoes in need of new soles—a simple task for an accomplished apprentice such as yourself.

You grab the shoes from her hands and get to work. It’s a good thing you’ve studied hard and long, because your gaze keeps drifting from the shoes to the woman.

“Do you have a name?” you ask.

“Rose,” she says.

“Rose. You are indeed a darling flower like your namesake.”

“I hope you’re better with shoes than you are with flirtation.”

You smile and say, “Only passingly.”

Your smile seems to queue up her own.

You can’t stand the idea of her leaving, but it’s clear to anyone with eyes that you’ve finished your work.

Alec, do you—

Charge her for the shoes and send her on her way

Offer some shoes for her to try on

If It were in my power to keep Rose by my side, in this world or in one of fiction, I will choose that option. Always.

I select—Offer some shoes for her to try on.

I don’t know why I’ve never realized this before, but I am a man who has the right answers to everything. The only reason why Rose isn’t mine already is that I never actually bothered to try. I will remedy that mistake the moment she re-appears from the stacks.

“It would be a shame for you to rush out of my shop with the shoes you wear on your feet. My reputation would never recover.”

She smiles coyly. “If only there were a solution to your predicament.”

“If only…” You say and scratch your chin as every wise man you’ve ever seen does when thinking. Then, you hold up one finger as your face brightens putting on quite the show. “I’ve got it! I shall put you in some of my finest shoes, the likes of which the world has never seen!”

She plays along. “That sounds lovely.”

She swings her legs around and kicks off her worn down, peasant shoes.

You browse your selections. You have everything from sandals and flats to boots and even high boots.

Alec, do you—

Offer sandals

Offer flats.

Offer boots

Offer high boots

I’ve always found a woman wearing high boots particularly alluring.

I select—Offer high boots.

I’m picturing Rose dressed up in some high boots—what a delicious image that makes—when I hear something fall in the stacks behind me. Rose calls out, “I’m alright! I just lost my balance!”

After sizing her up, you choose a very high pair of boots from your personal collection—samples and projects that you’ve put the utmost care in crafting to prove your growing talents. You caress her calf gently as you work the soft leather up her right leg and then her left leg. She stands and takes a few steps. “It is as if these were made specifically for me.”

“It would look that way,” you respond.

You take the moment of her trying out the boots to admire her form. The accentuated curve of her leg disappearing under the long skirt. The cinched-in waist shows that her figure is trim, but the overflowing peasant blouse suggests curves in other areas. Unfortunately, the beautiful boots make the rest of her outfit pale in comparison. Sending her out of the shop in her original shoes would not have hurt the shop’s reputation. Her outside in your boots and this outfit just might.

Alec, do you—

Give her some coin to go to a nearby store and get a new outfit

Give her one of the outfits that you’ve been crafting

I select—Give her one of the outfits that you’ve been crafting.

I briefly pause from the story to thumb through my phone. I see this morning’s texts from Rose and smile. She likes me to pick out her wardrobe for the day. That has, to this point, been the extent of the game, but it’s still intoxicating. It’s actually rare that I see her, so it’s rare that I see the fruits of my decision. At least I have the pictures. Today, I wanted her to wear something that really highlights her trademark high boots. Tight pants that act like a second skin to seemingly vanish into her boots. A nice top that says I’m a professional, so long as it stays completely buttoned. I know she gets a thrill from this little game, because she’s said as much. I’m electrified that work brought her down to my domain today, even if, to this point, I barely caught a glimpse.

You present Rose with an outfit crafted from the softest suede. Beyond your shoemaking, you’ve ventured to address the problem of the clothing not complimenting your footwear. The soft pants and corset drape over your arm. She moans when she touches them. “How did you get this to be so milky?”

You smirk. “Trade secret. If I told you, I could never permit you to leave this shop.”

In her rush to feel the outfit against her skin, she undresses in front of you and your previous judgment of her features was wrong—she’s even more beautiful than you could imagine. The highlight, though, is the twin dimples above her buttocks. You want to put your thumb in each, wrap your hands around her hips, and pull her to you. Instead, however, you breathe in the sight of her like a fine vintage.

Fully clothed, you can’t imagine a better model for your work. It is indeed as if the whole thing were made for her, like you dreamt her into existence only to have her come and knock on your door.

“You look ravishing.”

She blushes, unused to compliments. “It’s a shame this play has to end.”

“How so?”

“I could never afford vestments as fine as these.”

Alec, do you—

Ask for the return of your crafted wears

Give them to her

In your mind’s eye, your Rose wears this fine regalia. Who would you be to ever deny her something that brings so much pleasure to her life?

I select—Give them to her.

File folders drop down to your desk.

Rose looks down at me with a half-smile. “Now that work is done, it’s time for play.”

She sits on the corner of my desk, legs crossed at the knee, which is about where her boots end. Her hands delicately placed atop her thighs. “What did you bring me?”

At first my periodic gifts were random, but now they’ve come to be expected whenever Rose visits. The trips have become more frequent and I’m starting to think that the work is a smokescreen excuse for her to come down and receive something from me. Today’s gift—diamond stud earrings.

I present the box. She “oo’s” and then feigns a “for me,” removing her previous earrings to place these in.

She hops off the desk. “I’m going to go admire your generosity in the mirror, if you don’t mind.”

I gesture her towards the bathroom and return to the story.

“Those are now yours. Now that I’ve seen you in them, I can’t think of a form or person that could ever do them such justice as you have,” you say to Rose.

She is struck dumb for a moment, having never experienced such kindness or thoughtfulness in her entire life. Then, her voice returns to her. “I cannot. You are far too charitable.”

“Is it still charity if it gives me pleasure?”

She lunges across the room to wrap you in a hug. “I will sing your praises far and wide. There will not be a man, woman, or child who will not know the talent of your craft.”

Alec, do you—

Say there’s no need

Thank her

Appreciation probably warms my heart more than anything else and much more than false modesty.

I select—Thank her.

“You are the best,” Rose says, returning to my desk.

“So, we’re on for tonight?” you ask.

“Which part of you being ‘the best’ didn’t translate?”

Rose sits in my lap, wraps her arms around my neck, and kisses me passionately.

When she pulls away, I say, “I’ll never get used to that.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want you growing complacent.”

“Me? Complacent? With you? Never!” I protest.

“You can stop with the gifts though, you’ve already won my heart,” she says pleasantly.

“Maybe it’s not your heart that I’m after. Maybe I want you mind, body, and soul.”

“Well, that package? The total package? That will cost you,” she says with a laugh. “I have to run these upstairs. Then, I believe I have some shopping to do.”

“What for?”

“You’ll see the pictures when I get to the store. You’ll have to pick how I come tonight.”

“And then some,” you say with a grin.

“Mind out of the gutter… at least until you see the pictures. I have my eye on a new pair of boots that I know you’re going to love.”

“If they’re on you, I know I’ll love them.”

She starts to walk away, her strut sending her ass hypnotically swaying side to side.

She calls out over her shoulder, “Try finishing your workday knowing that you’ll have all of this off of me later on.”

She winks as the elevator doors close.

The woman sure knows how to enter and exit a room.

What’s the phrase?

I hate to see her go, but I love to watch.

“That would be so kind,” you say with a bow.

Rose curtsies and then gathers her things.

You watch as she leaves the shop, saddened to see her depart.

The spreading of her praise was even more powerful than you could imagine.

By the time a mere week had passed, and the cobbler returned, you gathered enough interest and customers to set up your own shop in the next town over.

More so, your favorite model visits every day, chore or not. It’s clearly not out of necessity. It’s clearly a sign of her growing devotion to you. Something you echo completely.

You toy with the ring in your pocket.

She will be your wife.

And you will live happily ever after.