The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Andy liked to think of himself as an “antiques collector”. But that was inaccurate- to call someone a “collector” implies that they collect something specific. Coins, or stamps, or whatever. It also tends to imply that they know something about their subject, which Andy definitely didn’t.

What was more, most of what Andy bought wasn’t specifically antique. He picked things up in the markets and junk shops of London, things that took his fancy. Usually they were bought cheap because, frankly, nobody else wanted them. What especially interested him was the macabre, the Gothic. To put it another way, anything spooky or weird. He had a massive collection of Victorian junk- masks, clothes, curios, ornaments, even old theatrical goods.

Jane, his girlfriend, hated the collection. But even she had to admit that it was useful. Plenty of costume dramas made use of props hired from him. Horror movies, music videos, photographers- if you needed something unusual, you went to Andy. You might not find what you wanted, but you’d be sure to find something.

And, not to be forgotten, Andy was an artist. He sketched and painted his gruesome-looking collection, and the pictures were very popular. Alright, mainly among disaffected youths who liked to think of themselves as slightly creepy, but at least they made money. So Jane couldn’t really complain about the collection. But to ensure domestic harmony, she insisted that the whole lot was kept in his studio.

The two of them had been living together now for nearly four years. They had met at art school, and hit it off right away. He had considered her right out of his league- she was a pretty, slim redhead who could have any man she wanted, he was a shy, geeky guy who had trouble even asking girls out. But at a party once, fuelled by a bottle of red wine, he had plucked up the courage to talk to her and they discovered that below the surface they actually had a lot in common. And so it was that they got together and stayed together. They now rented a house in North London. Some had said it was a little weird that the two of them should have shacked up together- he was a master of macabre paintings, she was a children’s book illustrator. “Opposites attract,” was their usual response.

One Saturday, Andy returned from his usual bargain-hunting trip around the markets and junk shops.

“Hey, sweetie, take a look at this!” he said, entering the front room. “I got it cheap!”

“That thing’s grotesque!” gasped Jane.

“You say that about everything I buy. You even said it when I did the grocery shopping.”

“Yeah, but that thing, it’s... it’s disgusting.”

On Andy’s arm was a ventriloquist’s dummy. It was an old one, and the varnish on its face had cracked and crazed. It wore an old-fashioned sailor’s uniform, with “HMS CHEEKY” written on the cap. But its face was the most disturbing thing. Jane couldn’t say why, but there was something unspeakably unpleasant about it, with its wide eyes and rictus grin.

“I was thinking he could be a mascot for the website, what do you think?” said Andy.

“I don’t care where it goes, as long as it’s nowhere near me,” said Jane. “It’s hideous.”

“Oh, fine,” said Andy. He put it in his studio, then returned. “The guy on the stall said it was quite well known back in the day. It was part of an act in the First World War, keeping the troops entertained. And then the ventriloquist made a fair bit of cash on the theatre and music hall circuits after- apparently he even got approached about doing a radio show.”

“What’s the point of a ventriloquist on a radio show?”

“I don’t know, but apparently a lot of them did it. Anyway, the ventriloquist died and passed the dummy on to his son, who died himself last year. And so now I have it.”

“If it’s so famous, how did you get it so cheap?” asked Jane.

“I don’t know, maybe the whole story was fake. But it’s a nice enough history.” He took the dummy through to his studio and sat it on a shelf above his easel, then went back through to the front room.

“I put him above my easel so he can watch me work,” he said.

“I don’t know how you can, I couldn’t stand having that thing staring at me all day,” said Jane with a shudder.

Over the next few days, Andy produced several sketches of the dummy, none of which Jane even wanted to look at.

“I don’t get why you have so much against him,” said Andy the next Saturday. “It’s like a phobia.”

“I’m not scared of him,” protested Jane. “Or it, should I say. I just find it creepy. Ventriloquist dummies always are.”

“I was thinking of doing a graphic novel about him,” said Andy. “You know, like a comic version of one of those old-fashioned movies.”

Jane raised an eyebrow. “The really bad ones?”

“You’re so cynical. But yes, the really bad ones with the cheap sets and Seventies haircuts. Blood and bosoms, Hammer horror stylee.” He smiled wickedly. “You could model for the sexy heroine,” he said.

“Ha, no thanks, I’m not starring with that ugly bastard.”

“Your loss. Well, I’m off bargain hunting. See you at lunch time.”

He left the house. Jane went into her studio. It was a tidy room, with a few photos pinned to the walls for reference material. She chuckled as she looked in the mirror. Sexy heroine? She was wearing her paint-spattered T-shirt and jeans for work, with her long hair tied up and some not-at-all attractive glasses.

“It’ll take a lot of work to make me look like a sexy heroine,” she said to herself, as she sat down to sketch.

She was working on illustrations for a book about a rabbit going to school, but the author was being difficult. It seemed that every sketch Jane provided was wrong in some way- she was half tempted to give up and tell the author to do it herself.

She was just sketching the umpteenth version of the schoolhouse when the point broke on her pencil. She looked around for a pencil sharpener, but couldn’t find it. Then she remembered- she had lent it to Andy yesterday, and he still hadn’t given it back. That meant going into his room to retrieve it.

Oh well, she thought. It has to be done. Face up to your fears. She went into Andy’s studio. This room was a complete contrast to hers- it was cramped and full of junk. The bits that weren’t taken up with Andy’s collection were taken up with art materials that should have been put away, and sketchbooks that were all out of order. Andy never put anything away.

As soon as she’d plucked up the courage to step in, she wished she hadn’t. The eyes of a hundred grotesque faces seemed to be staring at her from every shelf and table top and there, right in front of her, was the dummy. She shuddered again, and resolved to get out of there as soon as possible.

The sharpener was on the floor. She bent over to pick it up.

“Nice arse.”

She stood straight up and looked around for the source of the voice.

“Over here!”

She spun around. There was nobody there.

“It’s me, you stupid bitch,” said the dummy. Jane’s eyes widened and she let out a scream.

“Shut up!” said the dummy.

“Andy?” she said. “Is this a joke?”

“I’m not your pencil-dick boyfriend,” said the dummy. “I’m me. Looks like your fears were well grounded, huh?” There was something deeply disturbing about the way he talked, his mouth moving just like a dummy but with none of the awkwardness of a ventriloquist’s act. Jane wanted to run, but she found herself paralysed with fear.

“Now,” said the dummy. “I bet you’re thinking this is pretty weird, aren’t you? I bet you’re wondering what’s going on. Why that dummy on the shelf is talking. Because dummies can’t talk, can we? We also can’t do this.” With that, the dummy pushed itself off the shelf and landed on a stool in an awkward heap. It lay there for a minute or two, then pulled itself up to a standing position and stood there, swaying slightly on its stuffed cloth legs.

“Truth is,” it said, “I don’t really know myself. Maybe it’s some sort of ancient magic. Maybe I’m possessed by the spirit of my old owner, but I don’t remember anything from his life, so I doubt that’s true. Or maybe- and this is my favourite theory- after years of my owner fooling audiences into thinking I was real, some of that showbiz magic has rubbed off. I’m a real live boy!” It laughed a grating laugh. “I can dance and sing and walk and talk!”

Jane’s mouth had gone dry. This wasn’t a joke. Maybe it was a nightmare. There had to be some explanation. Things like this didn’t happen in reality.

“And you know the best thing,” continued the dummy. “When you see a ventriloquist act, the ventriloquist himself is just some boring guy, the dummy’s the one you remember. He gets the laughs, he’s the thrust of the routine. In fact, sometimes it seems like the puppet dominates the puppeteer. And do you know what? After nearly a century as a dumb dummy, I think I’ve worked out how to puppeteer myself.”

“W-w-what do you mean?” stammered Jane.

“I mean, instead of humans controlling me, I control humans. That’s why you haven’t run. Again, I don’t know how it’s done.”

“You don’t control me,” said Jane. “I didn’t run because—”

“Give us a kiss,” interrupted the dummy. Helplessly, Jane walked over and bent down to the level of the dummy’s hideous face. She leaned forward, unable to resist. Suddenly, the dummy grabbed her head and, with far more strength than should have been in those cloth arms, pulled her in. His forehead knocked against her glasses. Their lips met, hers warm and soft, his hard and wooden. As they kissed, she felt a tongue force its way into her mouth- not a cold, wooden one but a human tongue of flesh and blood. She was repulsed, but could do nothing. A cloth hand reached up and began to grope her left breast through her T-shirt. To her relief, at last, the dummy let her go.

“Damn,” it said, laughing that horrible laugh, “that’s something I’ve never done before. And it was pretty enjoyable too, as you can see.” To Jane’s horror, something was pushing its way through the front vent of the dummy’s trousers. It was a huge member, swelling to almost a foot long and mighty thick. Like the tongue, it was clearly flesh, and on the two-foot-tall dummy it looked quite comical. Or it would have done, if Jane wasn’t so afraid.

“I got wood!” said the dummy, and laughed again. “And I bet I’m bigger than your boyfriend, aren’t I?”

“Y-yes,” said Jane reluctantly.

“Yes I am,” said the dummy. “Heck, there isn’t another man alive whose cock is the length of his torso. It’s so amazing, I bet you want to suck it.”

“Not much,” said Jane bravely.

“Oh yes you do,” said the dummy. “It’s only fair, you gave me this erection, you can take care of it.” He pushed his hips out, emphasising that massive phallus. Jane’s knees gave way, causing her to land painfully in a kneeling position. Then that eerie mental compulsion pulled her forward, so her lips were level with the tip. Powerlessly, she again leaned forward, taking the helmet into her mouth. She ran her tongue around, taking more and more of the shaft, bobbing her head up and down. The dummy placed its hands on her head, urging her on.

“Mmmm,” it said. “You’re good at this. I warn you, baby, I ain’t gonna last too long. Ah, when I saw you, I thought you’d be a crappy blow, with your hair all tied up and your schoolteacher glasses. But damn, you are awesome. Oh shit, I’m gonna shoot!” It pulled out of her mouth and held its cock in its hand, pointed at her face. It came, blasting spurt after spurt of its spunk into her face. She gasped and tried to move, but couldn’t as the dummy kept coming. She had never seen such a volume of sperm. At last, it seemed the dummy was exhausted, and collapsed. She looked in the mirror. Her face and shoulders were covered.

“Ahhhh,” said the dummy. “Man, you do not know how long I’ve needed that. See, Pinnochio had it all wrong. He became a real boy to be good and nice and sweet. Me, I became a real boy so I could do the bad stuff! Get laid!”

“Well,” said Jane, “you’ve done that now. I’m... I’m leaving.”

“No you’re not,” said the dummy. It stood up. “This big boy is still hard. I’ve been around a hundred years and not got screwed once, it’ll take more than a blow job to satisfy me. Stand up.”

She did as she was told. The dummy looked her up and down. “You’ve got a fine body,” it said approvingly. “But I’d like to see it in more detail.” It reached over and tugged at the T-shirt with incredible strength. The shirt tore. Jane wore no bra underneath, and her large, firm breasts with their reddish nipples were exposed to his view.

“Mighty fine,” said the dummy. “You’re looking pretty aroused, too.” Her nipples stood erect on her chest.

“Well, I’m not,” said Jane.

“I’m controlling you, girlie, and you are.”

Strangely, it was true. She was outwardly repulsed, but some inward, subconscious, instinctive part of her actually did feel turned on. It was the dummy’s influence. That weird power. The dummy reached down and unbuckled her belt, pulling her trousers down over her hips. She kicked them off.

“What the hell?” said the dummy. “Look at these panties! Where’d you get them, your granny?” It pulled at the plain white panties and again, they tore. It nodded.

“I see you’re a true redhead. Lay down on the floor.”

She did, slipping on some of the dummy’s semen that had dripped on to the floor. The dummy jumped down and started walking around, looking at her from all angles. His walk was loose, again almost comical, especially as he seemed to be fighting to stay upright against the weight of his penis.

Suddenly he leapt up on to her torso, no heavier than a pillow. He fell flat on his face, his head resting between her breasts. He raised it and took her left nipple in his mouth, between those wooden lips, stimulating it with that strangely human tongue. He moved to the right, doing the same again. Then he began to crawl downwards (when had she started thinking of him as “he?” When did he stop being “it?"}until he lay between her legs. He looked up and their eyes met briefly before he ducked down, that lolling tongue sticking out.

He began to lap at her pussy. The dummy’s technique was not particularly good, but again Jane found it strangely stimulating. Even- and she winced at the fact she was even thinking this- enjoyable. As if the dummy’s powers were doing as much work as his tongue. She relaxed a little. Maybe she could even get to like this experience. And at least it shut the dummy up.

She gave a short gasp. Her face went deep red as she reached intense orgasm, coming as she never had before. It was the most amazing sensation of her life. But then, as her mind returned to earth, she remembered her circumstances and felt dirty. Because this wasn’t Andy. This wasn’t someone she loved. It wasn’t even someone human. The dummy looked up, grinning as usual.

“Yeah, you liked that,” he said. “I ain’t bad, am I?” He stood, that enormous phallus bobbing up. “And that’s the wonderful thing. You hate this, you hate the idea that something that used to be a puppet is having his way with you. But you also like it, because I say you do. Because I control your body, and while your mind is revolted, ultimately it’s your body that gets the casting vote.” He ran a cloth hand down the length of his penis, reached into the vent of his trousers and freed an equally enormous pair of balls. “Control the body, control the person. And since I control that tight little pussy of yours, I control your sex drive- and so I could make you hate this or love it.” He poised the head of his cock at the entrance to her vagina. “I’m going to make you... confused, I think. You’ll kinda like it and you’ll not know why.”

He thrust forward, and then he was inside her. He began to pump aggressively in and out, his balls banging against her buttocks.

“Are you- uhhh- enjoying yourself?” asked the dummy. And Jane found, to her shame, that she was. The only thing that was bothering her was the risk of Andy finding out. The fact that she was helpless, the fact that this was technically rape, even the fact that this was a weird ventriloquist’s dummy doing it to her didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except her pussy and the huge member inside, that filled her better than anything ever had. Was it that this creature was the best lay she’d ever had, or was it just the dummy’s powers making her think that? Did it matter?

The dummy was panting away in a ridiculous manner, his head being thrown forward and back by the confident thrusts of his own hips. Breath hissed from between his lips. But somehow, to Jane, he didn’t look so stupid. She was approaching a second climax.

“Ah... f... fuck, I’m gonna come,” grunted the dummy. A tiny voice of reason in the back of Jane’s mind pointed out that the dummy wasn’t wearing a condom. Could the dummy make her pregnant? Probably not worth the risk. She had to get him to pull out. She reached out and tried to grab hold of his legs but, to her horror, found she couldn’t. Instead, her hands moved of their own accord around to the dummy’s back. Instead of pulling him back, they pushed him forward, urging him on.

“Oh, f-f-f—” said the dummy and began to buck more wildly. Jane’s fears were submerged as she was overtaken by an incredible orgasm. She thought the last one couldn’t be beaten, but this was more powerful yet. As the waves of sexual energy washed over her, the dummy came himself, exploding into her, flooding her womb with his seed.

He collapsed back, withdrawing from inside her. As she watched his cock deflate and withdraw back into his trousers, sanity returned. What had she done? More to the point, what had this monster done? Lying there, exhausted, it looked lifeless- like a normal dummy. She wondered if maybe this was some kind of strange waking dream, a surreal (but strangely erotic) nightmare. The truth made no sense, even this soon afterwards.

But then the dummy sat up. “Damn, but that was good. How was it for you... darling?” He leered forward. Jane couldn’t answer, but gathered up her torn and discarded clothing.

“Hey!” called the dummy as she made to leave. “Where are you going?”

“I need a shower,” said Jane.

“You’d better clean me up as well,” said the dummy. He gestured at the glistening patches of semen on his sailor suit. “Wouldn’t want boyfriend to know he’s been cuckolded, would you? Especially not by a dummy- that’s the kind of thing that can damage a guy’s self-esteem, you know what I mean?”

Reluctantly, Jane gathered the dummy up as well and took him to the bathroom. As she showered, he became aroused again, and she had to masturbate him to a third orgasm before she could clean him up.

After that, she did her best to set the studio back up as it was, taking guidance from the dummy.

“You know,” he said, as she lifted him back on to the shelf, “I really enjoyed today. I think I’m gonna make it a regular thing. We can do it every Saturday morning. You’ll come here and we’ll do what I want. I think next time I’d like to get into that tight little arse of yours.”

Jane scowled.

“Don’t look at me like that,” said the dummy. “You know that deep down you enjoyed it too. That’s why you’re not going to tell anyone about the arrangement. No matter how much you might want to. Put it another way, you’re going to have to stay dumb from now on.”