The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I could say I left my hometown a child and came home a man. But stated like that you would either think that I had killed someone in defense of my nation, or lost my virginity while I was away. I did neither, I had lost my virginity quite sometime before I left, and I have never killed anyone. No after my first year at the state college I was pretty much the same as I had left. I had learned a lot, perhaps. I had gone through a phase where I wore only black and hung around in dark coffee shops and bars, talking about philosophy and literature. (As a result my wardrobe consists of an odd cross between denim and plaid and black sweaters and turtlenecks. I was in the denim and plaid to return home in.)

But all in all I was the same person. I still enjoyed the same type of beer. I still laughed at old Monty Python skits and re-runs of the Simpsons. I had died my hair but that was fading, and my roots where showing anyway. I was on balance the exact same person who left eight months previous.

Oh yeah, I had learned hypnosis. This was a big deal for me, being that like you (if you’re reading this where I think you are) a hypnofetishist. My computer tells me this is not a word, so perhaps I have not spelled it correctly, or it is not a word. But you get my drift. I learned hypnotism as part of my first year psychology class. The professor had demonstrated it on a third year blonde with a terrific body. I haven’t been that turned on in my life, watching her eyes slip shut and her head fall forward. I did my mid-term paper on hypnotism, and as part of that had a local stage hypnotist show me how to do it. I expanded that with what ended up to six months or research on the subject, as even after my paper was handed in I kept up the studying. At this point I would hazard a guess that there isn’t an induction technique or theory on hypnosis that I’m not familiar with.

The problem is I’m going to be going through withdrawal, with no hypnosis. The town’s public library doesn’t have any books on the subject, not ones that I haven’t memorized yet anyway, and my parents have the slowest Internet connection in the free world. So for the next four months, until school begins again, I will be unable to expand my knowledge base on the subject.

My parents meet me at the bus station, and we exchange hugs. They came up to the big city for Christmas, so it hasn’t been too too long since I’ve seen them. My friends however I’m dying to see, so as soon as we’re home I’m on the phone calling up the old high school gang.

I’m going to jump ahead about a month, as I’m assuming you’re not here to read about my family life. Nor will I relate in detail the time I spent in a barn trying to encourage my best friend Mark to give up his father’s dream of running the farm, and join me in the big city.

For a bit I’d like to explain my town, which as a homage to the Simpsons, I’ll call Springfield. If you’re looking for sex and hypnosis, which is coming, please skip ahead. It has five elementary schools, three high schools and one technical institute. Despite the fact that my best friend is a farmer, there isn’t much farmland around anymore. I live in a house that is identical to that on the old TV show Leave it to Beaver. Seriously, I’ve watched closely and check the layout. The interior decorating is different, the Beav didn’t have shag carpet in his bedroom, but the layout is the very same. I went to J. Clark high school, which was fed by the suburb kids and some fringe farm kids. There is another suburb school, and a school that we ironically call the inner city school, which is downtown. Downtown is where there is fewer houses and more fast food joints.

Springfield is also a tourist town, resting as it does on a beautiful lake. People from states over come here to camp, swim and frolic in many other ways during the summer. One of the most popular places to go is the state’s largest Indian Casino, which is about half an hour out of town, and also on the lake. This summer I got a job at the Indian Casino, as a bus boy. It isn’t great, but it pays better than anything I could find in town does. And it plays a part in the story we are about to begin.

Prologue done, then let’s begin right about now.