The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

But it was far stranger than I could have imagined.

A few weeks later, she showed up on another Thursday evening.

“Hi Frank!” she said again. “I know you offered to help me out one more time, if I needed, but I don’t want to hold you to that, if it’s not a good time for you. You’ve done more than enough already.”

I took a deep breath. “It’s no problem, come on in.”

“Oh, thank you. You’re a lifesaver. Here, I’ve typed up some more instructions, I don’t think they’re much different from last time, I didn’t really remember what I wrote, I’m just winging it, but it felt so good last time, I’m sure it’ll work this time too.” She handed me a paper, smiling broadly, and sat herself right down to go into her trance with the candle.

I looked at the paper. It didn’t look the same at all. It was hand-written this time, and full of misspellings. It was hard to believe it was done by the same person as the last one. This didn’t appear to be from a straight-A student like Louise at all. It was a D—.

Remember that God loves

your Chris

you cannot ever

You dont hate him

youu’r a good person

And before you

before God and you’re

Pretending not to hating Chris

Frank help me

Help tell me the truth

I’m the Truth

When I say, “Tell me what to do”

Don’t worry, it’ll be OK, father. You can do it. Just tell me what you want me to do.

What did it all mean? What a mess. I stared at the girl sitting at our kitchen table, my mouth dry as dust. I had no idea what to do, but if I did the wrong thing, she might kill herself. The stakes were as high as could be, and I was completely clueless.

I could read the beginning part to her, just clean it up a bit.

I could even read the end to her – “Don’t worry, it’ll be OK, you can do it, you just need to do what you want to.” But was that last part meant to be directed at me? Maybe she was telling me that I wouldn’t screw her up? I wanted to think so.

Her back was straight, her face placid. She said, “Tell me…what to do.”

I said, “Remember that God loves Chris.”

She nodded, “I know.”

I said, “You don’t hate Chris.”

She didn’t say anything. This definitely felt different from last time.

I remembered the previous set of instructions. “Repeat after me,” I said. “I don’t hate Chris.”

“I hate Chris.”

Uh-oh. Not good. Was I supposed to argue with her? I said, “Um, practice not hating Chris.”

“I don’t have time,” she said.

“What are you spending your time on?” I asked.

“Dishes. Homework. Mom.”

“Maybe you could take a little time to practice not hating him?”

“Forget it.” I could tell that she was still totally in a trance, and I was talking to her subconscious, or whatever it was I had talked to before. It was just talking back.

“How can I…what would make things better for you?”

“I need…help me. You tell me what you want. Tell me, Frank.”

I knew what I wanted. “I want you to be happy, Louise.”

“How can I make you happy, Frank? I need…something else to do.”

“Um…” I didn’t think she needed to help with our dishes, or my homework. I was wondering what to say when her strange voice spoke up again.

“Tell me to give you a massage. Make you happy. Tell me what to do.”

“Um…give me a massage. Whenever you feel like hating Chris, call me and chat. I like to talk to you. And if you get really upset, come over here and give me a massage, that will calm you down. And it will make me happy.”

My dad used to give me massage sometimes, when I was really tense. I liked it OK. I didn’t know what it would be like to get massaged by Louise. But I was feeling pretty desperate.

“I need a drink.”

Was she talking about alcohol? Louise never took alcohol. What could she mean?

“But you don’t drink,” I said.

“It’s a problem. Lead me to drink.”

“Um…I can try. But I don’t think you want to.”

“If you say, ‘Louise, this is your animus speaking,’ I’ll just do what you say. Then give me a drink and tell me to drink it.”

“Louise, this is your…animus…speaking?” I said.

“Yes. Help me.”

“OK, Louise, I’ll try.”

“Get me out of trance, this is enough. Then get me that drink.”

Jeez…what a bossy unconscious. How did she get woken up last time?

“Um…OK, forget everything we said. Just remember that you’re working on not hating Chris. It’s working. You’re going to feel better. Time to wake up now.”

She stretched, slouched, her face fell back to into its normal smile.

“Thanks a lot, Chris,” she said. “You’re so nice to me. I don’t know what I would do without you. I guess I should get on home again, it’s so late.”

“Wait,” I said. “Um, let’s chat a little first. It’s not that late to me.”

“OK,” she said. She clasped her hands and sat staring at me, as if waiting for me to say something. It was a little creepy, actually. Not how she usually acted. I guessed she really needed that drink…I’d have to try doing what she said. “Louise, this is your animus speaking,” I said.

I waited. Nothing happened. She looked blank. Was it working?

“Um, wait a minute,” I said, and ran and got a shot glass and some whiskey my father sometimes takes out when he plays pinochle with his friends. I poured a shot – I spilled some on the table – and brought it to her.

“Drink this.” She raised it, and drank it, and gave that little gasping sound people give when they take strong liquor. She handed it back to me, licking her lips. She was still looking at me blankly, and making me nervous.

I poured her another. “Drink this one too.”

She drank, and gasped, and licked, and gave me back the glass. But I thought that was enough. How was I going to get her back to normal? I only hope I hadn’t done something wrong. I came over and touched her shoulder.

“Um…” I was going to say something else to her, but it seemed like she woke up when I touched her. I was standing, she was sitting, and she grabbed my leg and pressed herself into me, very intimately, turning her face up to me.

“Thanks, Frank,” she said. Her face was devout. Her breath smelled. She stood up and gave me a hug, pressing her entire front against me. I wasn’t used to being touched like that by a pretty girl, much less Louise. I’d never had a girlfriend. I felt my wiener get hard, blushed, hoping she wouldn’t notice. I had to get things back to normal.

“OK, you gonna be OK Louise?” I asked.

“Yeah, thanks, Frank. I’ll talk to you later.” And she was gone. Thank God.

That night I dreamed of Louise taking her clothes off. But I couldn’t see her naked body. I woke up in a sweat, with my wiener pounding away. I was terrified. I finally got back to sleep, and had the same dream, but she was saying, “Frank, I am your ANIMA!” I woke up wondering what I could make her do with that magic phrase. But I would never do a thing like that. Would I? What was happening to me?

And what was an animus?

The next night she called me. “Hello,” I answered.

“Hi Frank,” she said casually. “Shall I give you that massage I owe you?”

I wasn’t aware that she owed me a massage, but I guessed her unconscious mind had come up with an excuse to get her over here. She must be having a hard time with Chris today.

“OK, thanks,” I said. “That would be great. I need to finish some homework, how about at 10?” It was 9:10.

“Sure,” she said, “see you then.”

She showed up thirty seconds later on my doorstep. I opened the door, looking a little confused, I’m sure.

“Ready?” she said. It was as if she’d completely forgotten that we’d agreed on a later time. She must really need some help…I knew I was out of my depth, but I resolved to go through this with her. I had to be able to help her. Somehow.

She stepped inside, and sat down on the couch, and clasped her hands as she had done the previous night…I could only assume she was asking for a drink, again. Should I give it to her? I didn’t have any clear idea of what might or might not be good for her, so I decided to just play along.

“Louise, this is your animus speaking,” I said. Once again, nothing much happened. She stared a little more blankly. I went and got her a drink, and started to hold it out to her, but before I gave to her, I found myself stopping.

“Do you really want this?” I asked. No answer. “Tell me how much you want this,” I corrected. She had said I could tell her what to do.

She answered. “More than words can say.”

“OK,” I said. “Drink it.” She grabbed it like a drowning woman, staring in my face as she drank it down.

Then she was waiting again. “You want another? Tell me.”

“Yes.” Her eyes were alight with devotion. It looked like religious fervor.

I filled the glass again. Then, suddenly, I was filled with the desire to see her naked. I could do it. Would she want that? That was crazy. But…was it? I could ask her.

I could ask her. I was pretty sure she’d never know I had asked her.

“Would you…let me see you naked to get this drink?” Was that what I wanted to say? No.

“Yes.” She put her hands to her blouse and started to undo a bottom button.

“Stop!” she stopped. My heart was pounding. She would do it. All I had to do was tell her to go on. I hadn’t even told her to do it. She did it on her own.

Then my tongue got loose in my mouth. I swear I lost control of it. “Forget that I’m here,” I heard myself say. “Just take off your clothes, as if you’re alone, and drink this.” I put it down.

She took off her clothes, not in a sexy way, just getting undressed. Not that it mattered to me. I’d never seen a woman in her underwear before, much less naked. In seconds, she was gloriously uncovered. Her big breasts swayed as she walked over to the drink, and she pressed her hands together over in heart – between her breasts – in a praying attitude above the drink. Her mouth moved silently.

Look at those breasts. And the holy mystery of her sex…I had no control of myself. My mouth spoke out of turn again. “Don’t notice me. Don’t see me.”

I walked over behind her and began to run my hands over her body, touching her back, her stomach, her arms, her neck, her hips…avoiding her breasts and her sex. The sensation was indescribable, her softness as she ignored me. My private parts were painfully hard.

Suddenly I was drowning in guilt. What had I done? I pulled my hands away. I nearly screamed. Would she die because of me? I was speaking quickly again, with no control, barely able to breathe as I blurted, “Get your clothes back on. Go home. Don’t remember any of this.”

She turned around, and looked me full in the eyes. I was frozen in place. On her face was a laughing half-smile. She touched me, in my most explosively pleasurable spot. Her hand lingered, caressing…then pulled away. I gasped.

“Sure, hon,” she said, and kissed me on the lips, softly. I swear I almost passed out at the sensation of her lips on mine, so very soft. And then, without hurry, she got dressed and left.