The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Part I: “First Taste of Candy”

Alan parked his VW bug in the mall parking lot, turned the damnable thing off, then crawled out. He popped his back, stretched his legs, and closed the door. He didn’t lock it, because every day he prayed someone would steal it. Then maybe he could use his insurance settlement as the down payment on a GOOD car. He silently cursed his parents for buying nothing but pieces of shit. This one had been the first, and the one they had given to him when he’d turned sixteen. Worse, it was still with him, since his parents never sold a working car, and this one had been the only one to remain fairly operable for this long. It stalled every time it came to a full stop, the mileage sucked, it coughed up a cloud of black smoke every time he shifted gears, and it couldn’t go faster than 45 miles per hour. Next had come the ‘83 Ford Granada, whose horn was on the end of the turn signal lever, and only one of the four horns it needed to be audible over its own engine was working. The muffler dragged the pavement as the car went on, leaving a shower of sparks behind, it couldn’t keep an air conditioner working for more than a week, and on the rare occasions when it would even start on a cold day, the heater took an hour to warm up, which meant you were better off not even turning it on unless you drove to Phoenix, which was a two-hour drive away. The last straw had been the ‘88 Dodge Caravan, which broke down almost every week, couldn’t hold transmission fluid worth shit, and the only way to get the sliding door to latch was to slam it so hard that after a week of it the door would jam. Through it all, the Slug Bug clunked along, outlasting the rest, but causing more trouble than it was worth along the way.

Alan kicked the tire of his POS, then walked to the mall entrance. He tried his best to ignore the pastel monstrosity that was the interior of the mall. They had even given the pillars in the mall’s “square” a ghastly faux-marble facade, then painted peppermint stripes down them. He passed the Chick-Fil-A, giving the finger to the old lady who banged on the security gate every day, demanding to be let in. He came to the Waldenbooks store where he worked, then sighed, letting this single island of normality in a sea of pastel soothe him. He unlocked the security gate and walked in. It didn’t matter to him that he would have to severely cut back his hours once school started. As long as he could continue working here, he could retain his sanity. Ink and paper melded with the occasional leather bound cover to create a perfume fit for the gods. Alan breathed it in deeply, imagining that this must be what Heaven smelled like. He sat in the leather, high-backed “stool” behind the cashier’s desk, and let himself relax. He was glad that disgruntled employee whose name was never mentioned had sued because the cashier’s seat didn’t have a headrest and there was a risk of whiplash. They had settled out of court, and the cashier’s stool had become more like a throne. Some cashiers liked to spin in it during their free time. Alan just liked to sit and relax. His life was hectic enough without having to work off the cost of replacing a bunch of books after making himself dizzy and puking on them.

There was a knock at the back door. That would be the OOPS man. He chuckled to himself at the corruption of the UPS acronym as he climbed out of the throne and made his way to the back.

“Anything good today?” he asked the man behind the door.

“’Fraid not.” the man replied. “Just more clearance stuff.”

“Tell you what, if I give you ten dollars, would you dump that into the sea?”

“Talia usually gives me a better offer than that.” the man replied. “When’s she coming back anyway?”

“With that flu she’s got, probably another day or two.” Alan said as he scribbled his name onto the computerized pad.

“Oh, well. See you tomorrow.”

“Not if I see you first.” Alan replied, shutting the door on the man. He pulled out his box-opening razor, brandishing it like a light sabre, then slashed through the tape on the top. He pulled the box open, and found an assortment of books—the latest Oprah fad-diet, Grade Z romance novels that were strikingly similar to porno stories on the Internet, the latest R. L. Stine Goosebumps books, the latest misadventures of Hank the Cowdog...the list goes on and on. At the bottom of the box, he found one book that definitely didn’t belong. It was a leather-bound thing with yellowed pages, no identifying marks of any kind, even a bar code or serial number, no copyright page, just some kind of hand-written folio with some things written in a weird language, and others written in the English of a very creative speller. It tingled as Alan touched it. On the title page was “Ye Myftic Secrets of Ancient Magicks: A Collection of the Spelles and Summoneings of Caine King.” He looked over the table of contents. The first section was “Quick Spelles for Dire Emergencyes.” He looked it over, and decided to try one, just for fun. He chose “Spelle to Summon Lightening Upon Thy Foes” since it didn’t require any ingredients, was only two words long, and the effects would be quick if they happened at all. He pointed his hand at the clock on the wall, then said the words: “Fulmenos Venite!” A surge of electricity passed from the book to Alan’s hand, then launched itself across the room to the wall. KA-BOOM! It left a smoking crater in the sheetrock. Pieces of clock were everywhere. The spells worked. Not wanting this powerful book to fall into the wrong hands, he hid it among his “wish list” of books he was planning to buy when he got the money. He put the clearance books up. As he was finishing, Candace Keller, called Candy by the employees, walked into the store. Her lovely black hair, dark eyes and well-tanned skin were the perfect accessories to her supple breasts, long legs and her tight, round ass that wiggled as she walked. She was in all the guys’ wet dreams. All during his shift, Alan watched Candy between checkouts as she handled anything that required the use of the Employees Only ladder. Before going home, he decided to sneak the spellbook into his knapsack.

Back at his house, Alan looked over the spells in the section marked “Spelles and Rites Which Give Controle Over Others,” wondering if there was a love spell. Frustrated, he looked again at the section’s introduction.

“Hear ye shall finde a listeing of spelles and rites which give controle over other people, and there counterspelles. Many of these, especially the rites, have been considered Voodoo most vile by the non-magickal population, and should onlye be committed in secret. Included in the Rites Considered Voodoo is the Rite of the Doll, found on Page 239. These spelles can give the user controle over the mind or body of the user, but No Magick Yet Discovered may give controle over any persons emotions.” So much for love spells. He did, however, manage to find a simple spell of obedience. It had to be cast in the presence of the person being put in thrall, and that meant being alone in the same room with the person. The terms of the spell were that they would obey whoever cast the spell until the counterspell was cast. He called Candy’s number. It rang twelve times before Candy picked it up.

“Hello?” she asked.

“Uh, Candy?”

“Who is this?”

“It’s Alan.”

“Alan! Hi! Thanks for being so patient! I was in the shower. What did you want to talk about?”

“Oh, well, I guess you wouldn’t want to...”

“What? What wouldn’t I want to do?”

“Well, I found this weird book in with the clearance stuff. I tried one of the spells, and it worked.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Didn’t you see that hole in the sheetrock? I cast a lightning spell and BOOM there it was, flying right out of my hand, and it blew up the clock and left a smoking hole in the sheetrock.”

“Weird.” Candy said. “Let me get dressed and I’ll be right there. Uh, where do you live?” Alan gave her his address, and they said their bye-byes and Candy left Alan standing there with a dial tone in his ear. He set the receiver back on the hook, then waited. Finally he heard her car come up the drive. He let her in and they had soup. He was getting a hard-on from anticipation of controlling this beauty, and he wanted her to have had enough to eat before he made her his slave, because they were going to be spending a lot of time together. When they had eaten, he took her down to the basement. He set down a can of Dr. Pepper, picked up the book, and opened it to the page he’d bookmarked.

“What are you gonna do? Turn it into gold?” she asked.

“Watch.” Alan said. He raised one hand over his head and chanted the words “SinÈ dubio instantatum.” A green cloud formed on his hand, then stretched forward to envelop Candy. She screamed as though in searing pain, and Alan quickly felt a surge of guilt, but then the cloud disappeared, and Candy was staring blankly at her new master.

“Candy?” he asked.

“Yes, Master?” Candy replied flatly.

“Why did you scream when I cast the spell on you?”

“I was afraid, Master.” she replied. “I fear nothing, now, Master.” Alan had her undress, then he laid her down on the cot in the corner. He straddled her lovely body. He had to command her to get wet, but once he did, there was a flood from her pussy as she obeyed. He licked her all over, then proceeded to fuck her. He came a few times in her gorgeous cunt, but then something occurred to him: What if she held this against him when he let her out. A quick glance at the terms of the spell alleviated that fear, however. She would remember nothing that happened while she was under the spell, but he couldn’t use post-spell suggestions either. He searched for a spell that would allow him to program her. He found none, but halfway through the book the grimorame became a linguistic reference in the magic language. With that, he could make up his own damn spells! He would still have to use the book as a conduit for the magical energy required, but it would work. He dressed Candy, stood her next to the can, and cast the counter-spell.

“Sorry about that, Candy.” he said. “Wrong spell.” He cast a glow spell instead, and the empty can began to glow brighter than the bulb of a sunlamp.

“Cool! This stuff really DOES work.” Candy said.

“Yeah, well I still need some practice. I’ll call you again when I’m a little better, OK?”

“I’ll be here.” she said.

Part II: “Claiming Candy”

Alan had spent a month memorizing the new spell he’d created. It was long and elaborate, and as complex as a computer program, but to get what he wanted, Alan was going to have to recite it precisely. He remembered the first time he’d had Candace under his control. The simple spell of obedience he’d found in the mysterious grimorame had made her into a mindless sex zombie...not what he was looking for in a woman, but he had gotten to fuck her. Now he was hungry for another taste of Candy, and by golly he was going to get it.

Now he had the spell by heart, and he was ready to try it. He used one of the spells from the grimorame, concentrating on her face, her body, her hair...and there, bordered by a swirling ring of blue smoke, was an image of Candy clearer and more vivid than any television picture. She was dressed in a black sweater and blue jeans, black socks, and sneakers perfectly toned to match the blue jeans. She was getting ready for work, reaching for the purse. Alan began the spell, stopping her reach and forcing her to stand at attention, her hands at her sides. As Alan chanted the first stanza of the spell, Candy’s clothes began to glow, and they curled up and migrated, transmuting from cloth to metal, and now Candy was wearing only a golden collar and armbands. The second stanza caused Candy’s breasts to swell a full cup size, caused the hair around her cunt and on her legs to disappear, redid her hair so that it went from being in a bun to a waterfall ponytail, which was, in his opinion, the proper hairdo for a slave, and began the process of toning her skin to a perfection which could only be achieved through magic. Her skin would be soft to the touch, but impenetrable. Her skin attained just the right shade of tan, as he’d always envisioned her in his wet- dreams, in which she had been sunbathing nude. All her blemishes vanished. Her nails transformed, and when they were finished, she looked like she’d spent a full day with the best manicurists and pedicurists in the country. Her lips became fuller, more conducive to giving him a blowjob if he wanted one. Then he began to chant the third stanza, the all-important programming phase, the one which would make her his slave. The fourth stanza bound her life-force to his, so that she would survive as long as he still lived. The fifth stanza kenned a ring for Alan to wear, and when he twisted it, her collar and armbands would return to their clothing form and she would act as if she were not under a spell, but when he twisted it the other way, she would return to Slave Mode. The final clause of the fifth stanza was that she would be invisible and inaudible to anyone but him while in Slave Mode. The sixth stanza brought the new, improved Candy directly to his house by means of teleportation. He was momentarily blinded by a brilliant flash of light, and was glad that he had chosen to do this in a room with no windows instead of merely drawing the curtains.

When his eyes recovered, Candy was kneeling in the middle of the room, her head bowed, her knees spread far apart, her eyes closed, her hands holding each other behind her back. He walked around her, admiring her lovely body as she continued to kneel, waiting for his command to rise.

“State your name.” he said.

“Candy, slave of Alan.” she replied.

“Stand up, Candy.” he said. She obeyed. Alan looked into her eyes, and saw the lust mixed with obedience that glistened in her eyes, but that was par for the course, after all, one of the terms of the spell were that she would be perpetually horny while in Slave Mode. While she was in Slave Mode, she would have no memory of her “normal” life, so he didn’t have to worry about her suddenly realizing she was late for work or anything like that. Alan began to massage her gorgeous breasts, loving the way the magic had made them so pillowy soft and pliant in his hands. She moaned as he massaged them, closing her eyes and surrendering to the pleasure, all the while remaining in her military-attention position. He licked her breasts. She tasted wonderful, and he felt his penis responding not only to this but also to the coo of pleasure she emitted as he licked. This was much better than having a mere sex-zombie!

Alan wondered if he could make her come just by pleasuring her tits, so he continued working on them and listened to her cry out in pleasure. Finally she came, screaming out “Masterrrr!” at the top of her lungs. His prick almost exploded. He looked at her again. Her chest was heaving, her eyes were closed, and pleasure was plainly written on her face. Come was running down her legs, and Alan went down and licked it off, loving the taste of her juices. He licked her lovely cunt and she moaned. He licked her until she came again, and then he slurped up all her womanly juices. Then he stood and kissed her, and she returned the kiss, loving the taste of her own love juices on his tongue.

“Follow me.” he said after breaking the kiss. She followed her Master into the kitchen. “Good, Candy. Now, here’s what I want you to do. I want you to fix lunch for the two of us, then I want you to bring it up to the bedroom where we will eat, and then when we are both finished, you will give me a blowjob.”

“And what would you like for lunch, Master?” she asked.

“Use your best judgement, Candy.” Alan said.

“Yes, Master.” Candy replied. “I’ll do my best.” Alan walked upstairs to wait for his slave. A few minutes later, she came in with a tray holding two plates piled high with Hamburger Helper’s latest attempt to break the world’s record for largest number of cheeses stuffed into a single packet, two cans of Dr. Pepper, and two saucers of mashed potatoes. After lunch, Alan found that the spell had given Candy the skills of a career suckstress. She kept him just on the brink of orgasm, prolonging his pleasure for almost half an hour, as her wonderful mouth worked a magic all its own.

“Candy, you are a wonder.” he whispered to her.

“Thank you, Master.” she sighed, snuggling close to him.

“You’ve earned your rest, my beautiful one. Go to sleep until I wake you up.” She fell asleep as soon as he finished his command. He had a feeling his life with Candy was going to be a good one.

Part III: “Letting Go”

Candace pulled down the security gate, grateful for an end to the hustle of the fat ladies, their flabby bodies reminding her of a time-lapse film of a lava lamp in motion. She reorganized the bargain bin, neatly arranging the few remaining Oprah diet-books there while Alan replenished them with their myriad clones from the stockroom.

“We’re never going to get rid of these.” Candace said.

“It could be worse.” Alan said. “You could be stuck in a maze with nothing but Oprah books to read for the rest of your life or until you got out, whichever came first.”

“Very funny.” Candace said. “I’m going to go get something GOOD out of the stockroom.”

“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.” Alan said.

“You don’t scare me, Alan.” Candace replied, entering the stockroom. Alan had been in charge of arranging the boxes in the stockroom today. The room was half full of really bad Knomf boxes and celebrity fad-diets, so Alan had come up with the idea of a Maze of Bad Books, with all the good books at the center as a reward for those who could navigate the maze. “Alan!” Candace called. “Get me out of here!” Alan chuckled to himself.

“You get turned around?” Alan asked, about to enter the stockroom.

“Very funny, Alan. Get me out of here.”

“Boo.” Alan said, startling Candace as she stood at a crossroads, confused as to where she should go.

“Rats like you may be good at mazes, Alan, but us regular people have a little bit of trouble with them.” Candace said in a half-snarl.

“With all the bullshit I spout, I thought you would have figured out by now that I was half minotaur.” Alan replied, unflapped by Candace’s acid tone. He gestured for her to follow him, and navigated his way through the labyrinth he had created. Candace was inwardly amazed he had been able to create such an elaborate maze in a fifty-by-fifty foot room half-full of boxes. Finally they reached the center, where the good books were stored.

“You’re a real comedian, Alan.” Candace said, looking through the labels on the boxes for something that struck her fancy.

“The best stuff is in here.” Alan said, walking into a recess within the block of “good stuff.” When Candace entered, Alan pushed a stack of boxes in front of the entrance.

“A kiss for passage to the outside?” Candace asked, simultaneously exhasperated and interested. At least his games weren’t boring.

“Something like that.” Alan said, twisting his ring. Candace’s face went blank as she transformed into Candy. Candy smiled and knelt before her Master. Alan opened his jeans and allowed Candy to suckle him, which she did with extreme relish. When she finished, he had her clean him up, and when he was once more presentable, he twisted his ring again.

They sat and talked for a while, Alan speaking of his automotive woes, Candace relating her recent stress level. It was a great release for both of them—greater even than the blowjob Candy had given him.

“I’m glad I have someone like you to talk to, Candace.” he said sincerely. “You make it worth the trouble of getting my POS car up here and back every day.” Candace smiled. As Alan moved the boxes out of the way so they could leave, Candace made up her mind. When all the boxes were out of the way, she kissed him. He was so surprised by this that he wasn’t quite sure what to do, but finally he gave in, returning her passion with an equal measure of his own.

“Let’s talk some more at my place. You can leave the clunker here.” Candace said.

Candace’s apartment was definitely a feminine dwelling, though not as pink as one might expect, it had that girlishness that turns most men off. The exception was the bedroom, a sultry haven for crimson lust amid the girlish shyness of the rest of the apartment. Candace and Alan kissed passionately upon entering this room, and Candace closed the door. She turned off the lights and lit the candles around the bed. The smell of loganberry and vanilla swirled around the room. She disrobed slowly, teasing him, making her movements liquidly sensuous to arouse him as much as possible.

Alan knew better than to treat Candace like Candy, but he didn’t know what else to do, so he let her guide him, carefully placing his clothes on the floor, away from candles. He let her set the rhythm, allowed her to maintain her own pace, and basically enjoyed the ride. She was incredible. He’d never come so hard from non-oral sex in his life.

As Candace slept, a gnawing worry kept Alan awake. He hadn’t considered the moral ramifications of making Candace into a sex slave. He felt selfish for what he had done. How could he make it up to her?

The grimorem! It had helped split Candace asunder, it could heal her as well! All he had to do was to go home and make a spell which would restore Candace to the way she was before. He also felt that he owed Candace the memories obtained as Candy. He just hoped she could find it in her heart to forgive him. He hoped he could find it in his heart to forgive himself. He gave Candace a kiss, which was sleepily but lovingly returned.

“You still up?” she asked in a voice that melted Alan’s heart.

“There’s something I have to do.” Alan said. “I wish I could stay forever, but...”

“I understand.” Candace said. “See you tomorrow?”

“I hope so.” Alan replied, kissing her once more. “I love you.”

Alan showed up for work early. He had stayed up the remainder of the night concocting this new spell. When Candace showed up, he beckoned her into the stockroom and led her to the center of the maze. Once there, Candace finally spoke.

“Are you alright?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s something you need to know.” Alan said, then pulled the grimorem out from under his shirt and a piece of paper from his pocket, and began chanting his spell. The first stanza undid Alan’s control over Candace. The second gave her Candy’s flawless, impenetrable skin and the ability to live as long as she wished, and to alter her own appearance as she so desired. The third restored Candy’s memories to Candace’s mind. The ring disappeared. Candace’s face was introspective for a few minutes, then she looked up, and met Alan’s guilt-ridden eyes.

“Alan, I...” she began.

“I’m sorry.” Alan said. He handed Candace the grimorem and left her in the maze that was the stockroom. Candace glanced down at the grimorem in her hand, seeing the power it represented—the power that Alan no longer trusted himself with.

Part IV: “The Return”

Candace rang the bell again. It had been almost five months since Alan had left her in the bookstore. He had quit the job, withdrawn from school and shut himself away in his house. His mother had come to take care of him, and from what Candace had heard, wasn’t doing well at it. Finally the door came open. Alan’s mother appeared.

“I’m looking for Alan.” Candace said.

“He’s very sick.” Alan’s mother replied.

“Please, this is important.”

“Alright.” the elder woman said. “Maybe you can help. The doctor says it’s psychological.”

Candace made her way into Alan’s room, where she had spent so much time as Candy. It didn’t take her long to find out why Alan’s mother had come to take care of him. Alan was a wreck. He had noticably lost weight, he was pale, his hair poofed out in a frizzy, unkempt mass, and his eyes had sunk in, giving him a hooded, haunted expression. Every moment of the emotional self-torture he had been giving himself was written in his appearance.

“Alan,” she began, closing the door behind herself, “please don’t die on me.”

“Candace.” Alan croaked. “Never thought I’d see you again.”

“Alan, whatever wrongs you’ve committed, you’ve already paid for them. I want you to know that I love you. You made me so happy as Candy. Even when you were making a slave out of me, you wanted me to be happy. I want to thank you for that.” She pulled the grimorem from her satchel. “If you want forgiveness, Alan, you won it months ago. If you want my love, you’ve got it. Anything you need or want, Alan, it’s right here in this room.”

“What do you plan on doing with that?” Alan asked.

“You’ll see.” Candace said, opening the book to a place she had marked. She began chanting a spell she had written herself. The first stanza bound Candace’s and Alan’s life-force together. The second gave him the impenetrable skin he had gifted her with. The third connected them on a more intimate level than even telepathy could manage—they were now connected at the soul. She let her love wash over him like an ocean of aloe vera over the body of someone with a third-degree sunburn. The sharing strengthened him. His illness faded. She embraced him, and he her. “We belong to each other now.” Candace said.

“I don’t know what to say, Candace.” Alan said.

“You don’t have to say anything. And you can call me Candy.”