The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I didn’t see Mike again until lunch time. All through math class I was thinking how much more fun it would be if I had the Machine to tell Susanne not to call on me. And give me a good grade. And take off her shirt.

I started looking for Mike as soon as I got to the cafeteria, but I didn’t find him until it was almost over. He was sitting in the back on his own, playing with the invisible Machine. I sat down by him.

“Hey, what’re you doing?”

He turned his back on me. “Trying to undo what you did, man!”

I tried to come around in front of him. “What did I do?”

He shoved at me with a bony shoulder. “You broke it!”

I held up my hands. “Hey, chill out, Mike. Whatever I did, we can undo, OK?”

Mike was very thin, and his hands and shoulders were so tense he looked like a razor blade sitting there. “No we can’t! It’s going to stop working!”

“You mean, because I told you not to be mean with it?”

He looked at me, his eyes blazing. “Yeah! I’m supposed to be mean with it! That’s why he gave it to me.”

I felt a little tense spot start to hurt in the middle of my back. “Well, maybe you could be a little bit mean? I mean, it’s fun to have and all, but I don’t think you really want to hurt someone’s feelings...do you?”

His face was shiny with sweat. “What do you know? Well, I may not be able to use this on you, but I have another thing to use!” His breathing sounded very loud as he came up next to me.

I held up my hands. “Hey, just—” But then his fist came up hard under my chin. I saw stars—little green ones. I’m not sure what happened next. I found myself looking up into Mike’s face, blinking. My head hurt.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

“Sure, Mike,” I said, smiling a little. “I can take a punch.” I rubbed my jaw and sat up.

We sat next to each other on the bench then, for a while, quietly.

“OK,” I said. “Let me see the thing.”

“You can’t—”

I rolled my eyes. “I know, I know. Just let me have it, OK? I’ll tell you can be mean with it. I just hope you take it easy,” I said, shaking my head. He gave me the Machine. “OK, you can...you can....” But my throat closed up.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know!” I choked. “I can’t say it!...but I can talk now.”

Mike clenched his teeth at me, his lips pulled back in a grimace. “I told you that you couldn’t use it on me.” Now he looked like he wanted to attack me again.

“It’s not my fault!”

“God damn you!” Mike was losing it again. His face was like some crazed, starving monkey.

“Just cool out, would you, Mike!” I’d’ve used the Machine on him at that point if I could. But I had another idea. “Hey, I know what to do. Just hold on a minute.” I walked over to Latoshi, who was sitting with a girl I didn’t know, I think her name was Taylor or something. I pointed the thing at Taylor (or whatever she was called), and said, “Split. And forget you saw me...only, you think I’m SUPER hot.”

Taylor left, glancing back at me as she went. Yum. I could get used to that. I turned to Latoshi. “How’re you doing?”

She met my eyes. “OK. It’s kind of scary...this power you have.”

“Don’t worry about it. Actually, I want you to help me with it.” I glanced back at Mike, but he had stayed back at his own table, out of earshot. I held out the Machine to her. “Take this, point it at me, click the button, and tell me I can do anything I want with it.”

She took it hesitantly, but she was still meeting my eyes. I guess it had really worked, when I told her to make friends with us, before. She examined it, her eyes growing wide as she turned it this way and that. When she was ready, she pointed it at me, and swallowed. Her voice came out as a whisper. “You can do whatever you want with this,” she said, then cleared her throat a little. Her voice was still hoarse as she continued. “But you can’t use it on me any more. And don’t let anyone else use it on me, either.” Then she gave it back.

I stared at her in shock. “Well...well, you’re a smart one, aren’t you?” She only smiled at me a little. There was something about her eyes, the way fear and determination combined, with a little smile. Bravery, I guess you’d call it. I wanted to stay and talk to her, but I knew Mike would kill me.

I took the Machine back to him. He was watching me with a funny expression. I couldn’t quite describe it, but it made me a little itchy. Still, I knew my duty. It was his Machine. I pointed it at him and held down the button. “OK, Mike, you do whatever you want to with this. Only don’t use it on me any more. And you can’t let anyone use it on Latoshi.” His expression hardened. I swallowed. He didn’t—honestly—look like a nice guy right at that moment. But I gave him the Machine.

He took it with a dark look. “Well, don’t think I can’t do anything to you with it, even if you gave yourself special privileges,” he said.

I didn’t even want to think about what he was saying. I rubbed my eyes. “Take it easy, would you Mike?” I said.

For the next few days, I kind of stayed away from Mike. He avoided my eyes, whenever I got near him, and has face was getting an angry, pained look to it. He went around with his bony chest up, like a skinny rooster, and he stuck out his lower lip.

I saw a lot of weird things, evidence that Mike was being mean and making sure the Machine kept working. I saw Jeremy Cramer, a burly kid with a crewcut, walking with Carol—the girl that had to perform for our class—and Marla Banner, who avoided boys normally. They were each leaning on an arm, looking up at his chiseled face adoringly. Carol had been totally traumatized since her show, looking down at the ground so much she almost walked into me once. I was still feeling guilty about it.

Marla was wearing clothes that definitely were not normal for her. She had on gold-colored high heels and a plunging neckline, with no bra, stumbling around in a miniskirt. She kept holding the two sides of her shirt together, and the shirt was yellow with red and purple flowers—not the kind of thing she’d have worn if she had a choice.

Later that day Jeremy was walking around naked, with a little plastic monkey hanging from his dick. He had kind of a small one, I thought. I saw him walking down the hallway after second period. People dropped things when they saw him. Kids were laughing behind their hands, while he scowled. He beat up Matt Morris for giggling. I heard Jeremy got sent home soon after. But I think Mike told the teachers not to notice anything weird after that, because no one got sent home after that.

Like when Sally Spener, a pretty blond girl, followed Jeff Lansing around in her underwear all day. Jeff was this really shy, nerdy kid that liked Sally, and I he kept trying to tell her to get some clothes on, but whenever he did, she’d slap him. Then she’d start crying and tell him she was sorry. People would gather round to watch them.

A day or two later, I was in the library at lunchtime. Everything was quiet for once. Mrs. Marston, the librarian, was sitting at her desk doing paperwork. I was just wondering whether maybe Mike would finally chill out, when Cristina Cortes walked in, naked from the waist down, padding around on soft-looking feet with painted toenails. She was wearing a white alpaca sweater, and I could tell she still had on her bra, because of the way her big boobs didn’t move around too much. She looked very nervous, ducking around the bookshelves as she came towards me.

“Hey!...eSolomon, do I...look a li’l fonny to you? People telling me my clothes looking fonny.” She looked like she was going to start crying.

I looked her up and down. Couldn’t help myself. She had wide hips, and the skin of her thighs looked silky smooth below the patch of dark pubic hair, partly visible below her sweater. I thought I could just see the secret folds of her pussy through the hair, where the flare of her hips made a little open triangle.

“You don’t...look funny to yourself?” I said.

“No, I don’! But there’s esomething wrong with me, I know it is.” I glanced over at Mrs. Marston, who wasn’t paying any attention. That figured.

“OK, calm down,” I said, pulling out one of the little chairs at the library table for her. “Just sit over here. You need something else to wear is all. You’ll be OK. There’s a lot of strangeness happening lately. Were you talking to Mike?”

“Yeah, we talked, but he’s actin’ weird lately. I don’t like him no more. What’s wrong with my clothes? They look OK to me?”

Great. She couldn’t see what she was (or wasn’t) wearing. I pulled out a sweatshirt from my backpack. “Here, wrap this around your waist, it’ll be fine.”

She stood up and took the sweatshirt, but instead of wrapping it around herself, she dropped it on the table and pulled her sweater over her head. She had a light blouse under it. Blue. I hadn’t seen it before because it was shorter than the sweater, meaning that she was now even more exposed than she had been.

“Hey, what’re you doing?” I said, reaching out a hand. “Get back on track here.”

“When esomeone’s nice to me, I got to take off my clothes,” she said blankly. “I don’t know about it, and I can’t put ’em back on. When I’m all naked, I fall in love and have sex.”

Super. “Well, don’t fall in love with me, OK? I mean, you’re a very nice girl, but I don’t even hardly know you. Just...can you put the sweater back on?”

Now she looked upset. She looked down at herself, her breasts rising and falling in agitation. “What’s wrong with the sweater?”

Well, it was on the table, for one thing, not on her. But she couldn’t see it, and it seemed like talking about that wasn’t going to help. And I had to be careful not to be too nice, or she might take off more clothes. That would be nice. Bad, I mean. That would be bad. I didn’t need her falling in love with me. There was enough weirdness going on already.

But I didn’t want to be a total jerk, either. I said, “Cristina, just leave me alone, OK? And put on this sweatshirt, would you? I can’t talk right now.” That should do it.

She picked up the sweatshirt and pulled it on. “It makes me look all baggy. I don’ wanna get stare at any more.”

I smirked, ogling her bare legs. I couldn’t quite see her pubic hair any more: the sweatshirt was a little longer than her white sweater, now sitting forgotten on the table. “Believe me, no one will stare at your chest.”

She put her hands on her boobs; she had small hands, and they didn’t cover them, not at all. “Chew makin’ fon of me?”

I put up my hands. “No, no. I’m sorry, Cristina. I don’t want anyone to make fun of you, OK? Just go home, you’ll be OK.”

Now she looked like she was going to cry again. “Thank you, eSolomon. I’m sorry for...for all this.”

I touched her arm. “Well, I’m sorry you’ve had such a hard day. Just get out of here.”

“Thanks.” But instead of leaving, she took off my sweatshirt and dumped it on top of her discarded sweater. She turned away. “See you later.”

Oh no! I’d been too nice! Idiotically, I reached out to stop her. “No! Put it back on!”

She turned back to me. “Put what?”

I pulled at my hair. She was down to the short blue blouse again. Its little plastic buttons were straining to hold in her boobs, which pulled up the front of the blouse in the most fetching way, so it hung down a few inches away from her belly, completely exposing her pussy and her lower belly. I grabbed up the sweatshirt and held it out to her. “Just put this on, OK?”

She kept her hands on her boobs, tears threatening to fall down her pretty face. “What’s wrong? Something wrong with my dressing again now? I don’ look OK?”

I didn’t know what to do, and it was completely impossible not to keep looking at her pussy. My dick was raging in my jeans again. I was going to have to be mean to her to get rid of her without her losing any more clothes...but I couldn’t send her home like this.

I pulled my hair harder, staring. Shit. Don’t be a jerk. Stop staring. Well, I was supposed to be mean to her. So staring wasn’t a bad start. But it was embarrassing. I ended up looking at the fluorescent lights in the library ceiling.

“eSolomon, why are you pulling your hair? Is i’ my shirt? Wha’s wrong with my shirt? Oh, God, I’m afraid I’m going to go crazy.”

Just then Mark Bosworth walked into the room. I used to play basketball with him, when we were in, like, sixth grade. Now he was in a band, and he wasn’t interested in boring, uncool, non-band-members like me any more.

Well, except when they were talking to half-naked Mexican girls. He sauntered over to us. “What’s going on, man?”

I put my hands down—no point in pulling my hair any more, it wasn’t helping. “Just leave us alone, OK, Mark? It’s complicated.”

He waggled his head at me. “Well, maybe I want to be part of the problem,” he said. Then he looked at Cristina. “Hey, babe, how’s it hangin’?”

Cristina said, “I dunno, I feel like esomething’s wrong with me.”

Mark grinned at her exposed bush, licking his lips. “Nope, you look great.”

She grimaced. “Thanks.”

He came around behind her and put an arm across her shoulders. “You’re doing great, Cristina. Really. You da shiznitz. I think all the girls should dress like you.”

She pushed him away. “Hey, cut it out. You jus’ making fon of me.”

He looked at me, then back down at Cristina’s bush. “What’s her problem, dude?”

“Mark, can you please—”

He lifted his head and stared down his nose at me. “I’m not doing anything she’s not doing, man.” He pushed up against Cristina, so she was caught against the table, and patted her bare butt. “This is all her fault, and there’s nothing I—”

She shoved him harder, so he stumbled away, almost falling over. “You bastard! You leave me alone! I get my brother, he gonna kick your ass.” Cristina’s brother was a big guy. Kinda fat, but tough. I didn’t know him very well, but now that I thought about it, he probably would kick Mark’s ass if he got an idea of what he was doing. If he would even believe the whole situation.

“Whatever,” said Mark. “You guys can suck my dick.” But he left, staring backwards at Cristina’s ass as he went out the door.

Cristina looked at me. “What am I doing?” she said. “What’s wrong with me, how come I had to push him off me? I’m not that kine of girl.”

I was focusing all my mental powers on not staring at her, so of course my jaws started flapping. I said, “No, Cristina, it’s not your fault, none of this is your fault. How could it be your fault? You’re a very nice girl, a nice Catholic girl, you never—” Unfortunately, at that moment, she proved how right I was by starting to unbutton her blouse, thus revealing the little gold cross between her boobs. All the nice Catholic girls have them.

I tried to grab her hands. “Stop, stop, stop!”

But her hands ignored me. I couldn’t make them stop, they were strong, and in a second, the blouse was unbuttoned. “eSolomon, what you trying to do to me?” She pulled it off, while I tried to pull it back on her.

I was still babbling, staring helplessly at her boobs. They looked even bigger up close, busting out of her lacy pink bra. “I just...Oh God...don’t...”

“Now you’re estaring at me, too!”

I dragged my eyes up to hers. “No! I’m sorry, I really am. I’m not estaring, I mean staring, you’re...you’re a normal girl, there’s nothing wrong with me—with you, I mean—you’re...I just don’t know what to...” I collapsed on a chair, hiding my head. At that moment, I truly believed that nothing could possibly get any worse. “I’m sorry, Cristina, I didn’t mean to stare, even if you look like—” I was talking to the table, which was fine, because there was no possible way to finish that sentence. Maybe if I kept my head down, she would go away. Maybe she would be OK, somehow she could make it home with nothing on but a pretty pink bra. There wasn’t much chance of anyone being nice to her, at least. Not dressed like that.

I felt her hand on my back. “Is OK, eSolomon. I’m esorry, is been a long day.”

“I’m sorry too,” I mumbled. Please, please go away, I thought.

“Is OK,” she said again, a new tone in her voice now. Her hand left my back, and I glanced up just in time to see her pulling one hand through her bra strap. I watched in horror as she dropped the strap off the other arm, then slid the bra around so the clasp was in front, and undid it. She had to lift her heavy, round breasts to let the bra fall out onto the carpeted floor of the library. “It’s OK, eSolomon. I love you so much.” She leaned over me, her boob brushing against my arm, and she kissed me, softly, on the lips.

I couldn’t stop kissing her back. I mean—I had muscles which could have pushed her away—somewhere—but at that moment I couldn’t have used them to save my life. Did I love her? Probably not. But who could tell, at that precise moment?

Cristina wasn’t making it easy. She slid onto my lap, pressing herself against me, bringing her face up close to mine. Her brown eyes were a long, dark, slippery tunnel into the depths of her soul—and her soul was full of love, and longing, and the desire to open her heart (and her hot, slippery pussy) to me.

“Cristina, you don’t really love me,” I choked out. “I mean—it’s just the magic.”

She pulled back away from me, still sitting on my lap, and looked down at me. “eSolomon, don’ be mean. You know I love you eso moch. eSo moch.” She kissed me again.

I turned my head away. “No, Mike cast a spell on you so you just think you love me. It’s not real, you hardly know me. It’s the Devil’s work.” That should get her attention.

But she just took my head, gently, in her hands. “I could never hurt you, eSolomon. I would never talk to you like that.” She kissed me several more times. “You got to estop it, too. We are meant to be together, lover. If you won’t be with me, I don’ know what I do.” Her wide eyes opened even further, and her boobs pressed against my chest. I patted at Cristina’s naked sides as if to get her off me. Tap tap tap. My hand brushed a boob.

I looked over at Mrs. Marston in desperation, but she apparently didn’t see anything unusual happening. Naked girls seducing helpless teenagers in her library was totally normal from her point of view, I guess.

Cristina stood up. I looked up hopefully. Would she come to her senses and get dressed? But I was only subjected to the full force of her naked glory. She closed her eyes for a moment, clasping her hands around the cross between her boobs (I was unable to stop myself from ogling her while she did it), then she knelt in front of me, and undid the zipper of my pants.

Uh-oh.

I tried to push her away, but I must not have tried very hard, because before long, my pants were on the floor, and my underwear. Then she started to kiss my dick, softly, lovingly. She kissed it up and down, kissed the very tip, stroking it gently with one hand while she held it steady with the other.

She looked up at me, her eyes shining. “You like?”

I shook my head, wildly. But I don’t think she believed me, perhaps because of the way my rock-hard dick was sticking straight up in the air. She kissed it once more, then stood up, spread her legs, and sunk softly onto me. She was so wet, there was no resistance whatever, until she stuck.

“Oh!” She was looking hard in my eyes.

“Geh...get off me,” I protested weakly. “Please!”

“eSolomon, chew know I love you so much.” She bore down harder, but it was still stuck. It was pressing hard on my dick.

“Ow! Wha. What are you doing? Cristina!” I was trying to push her away again. Still no luck. My hands were useless things for pushing. They didn’t want to push. They wanted to feel her. They kept getting stuck on boobs and things. But I could do this! I grabbed a handful of Cristina on each side that wasn’t boob. Her ribs. I’d push her ribs. But then my hands touched boobs. Yum! But I moved them down, on the sides of her belly. Her boobs swung. She was pushing down on me. I gathered all my strength to push—

But at that moment, something gave way. Something broke in her pussy, it kind of stretched out around my dick, and she fell down on top of me with a little sound, a special sound I’d never heard before. A beautiful sound, but this was not the time for it.

All was lost.

...her warmth and wetness surrounding me, her breasts pressing into my bare chest (when had my shirt disappeared?) as she started to kiss me with a kind of religious fervor. I think I even heard her mutter something to Jesus.

Was he listening? I hoped not.

“Oh, eSolomon, oh, eSolomon, oh, eSolomon,” she chanted. “I love you, love you, love you....” She was already moving faster on top of me, and our breathing was synchronized, as my treacherous hands stroked across her back, slid around the sides of her boobs, touched her face.

My body was buzzing with red-hot lust. And fear. What was I doing, losing my virginity to a cursed Catholic girl with a big, homicidal brother? Something bad would happen!

She was calling out that she loved me, while Mrs. Marston sorted library books. Did I love Cristina back? I kind of wanted to say I loved her too, but I had the feeling that when this was over, I might not. I had been thinking about Latoshi kind of a lot, actually.

“We should stop,” I mumbled. Cristina kissed me. Again and again. She pushed herself up and down on me. Up and down. I kept trying. “Stop? Please?”

She was not going to stop. She was repeating my name over and over again, holding me tight. My face was caught between those big, beautiful tits. There was nothing I could do. Absolutely nothing.

With each up and down, she rubbed herself against me. Rubbed my face in her...self.

She cried out “eSolomon!” I was still trying to try to push her off, but I doubt she couldn’t even tell.

Helplessly, I felt the jizz rising in my dick.

She was going to get pregnant! “Shit,” I said, “No! I don’t want to...no, I...”

“I’m coming, lover,” she said, leaning back enough to meet my eyes. Hers were very wide open, her pupils so big you could just a tiny rim of dark brown iris on the edges. Then she leaned forward again, and held on tight, as I felt her pussy start to spasm, once, twice...squeezing the jizz out of me.

Oh shit. “Fuuuuck!” I was coming too. My body was burning, all over. I tried not to scream too loudly. It felt like dying and going to heaven. Only much more guilty.

At that moment, Latoshi came into the room. Her eyes met mine as I came in Cristina’s wet, wet pussy, and the Mexican girl sang a glorious chorus of love and orgasm. Latoshi turned her head a little to one side, and crooked an eyebrow, as if to ask, “Solomon, what do you think you are doing?”

I shut my eyes. When I opened them, Latoshi was gone. Figured.

Cristina seemed to wake up. She looked around, then down at me. She smiled sweetly. “We gotta get marry, you know,” she said. “We gotta do it soon, I could get pregnant. We got to be marry when I get pregnant.”

“Glurk,” I said.

After that I could get her dressed. I got dressed. On the way out of the library, I said to Mrs. Marston, “So how’s your day going?”

She looked up, a little surprised. “Fine.” She smiled and stamped a book. “Thanks for asking.”

I got Cristina on the bus to go home. Trying all the while not to promise anything while she talked about weddings. As she got on the bus, she tapped me on the nose. “OK, tomorrow you tell me when we do it. OK?”

“I’ll think about it,” I promised. “Don’t tell anyone, though. OK?”

She grinned. “Everybody know soon though!” She waved as she got on the bus.