The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Randy, as his name suggested, was a horny little bastard. He would have been the first person to point this out. In certain respects he took great pride in the fact. He’d considered having business cards made up. Randy’s biggest problem, or at least his problem most relevant, was his particular fetish. Randy simply could not get off unless this unique compulsion was met. And unlike a foot fetish or a hair fetish that can be relatively easy to explain, or even leather or bondage or some other more socially acceptable obsession, Randy’s was difficult to bring up with his partner and even harder to get acquiescence. Randy McNalis was a hypno-fetishist.

It had started in third grade when he’d found the book in the library called Mind Control. He’d read it, then concluded, in essence, “Damn, that’s cool.” Fifteen years of study and practice, including old movies and Las Vegas performers, had more or less indented the concept of a beautiful woman under hypnosis as the most intensely erotic thing in the universe. And, explained like that, Randy’s hypno-fetish was perfectly understandable; merely a specific variation on the old domination/submission fantasy, with the potential to be made even more pleasurable to his partner.

And yet...

Randy had gone through his fair share of girlfriends. Women tended to leave him pretty early in the relationship, either when he asked to hypnotize them, or when he failed to please them in any other way. As yet, only one girls had ever agreed to let him hypnotize her for this purpose, and she’d been so resistance that he hadn’t been able to do more than put her in a light hypnotic state. So few people know anything about hypnosis, really, and even fewer hold any fondness for it. Svengali had ruined women on the idea of submitting their will decades before Randy had ever been born.

Poor Randy. He’d never had the opportunity to mesmerize a woman into the complete and unimaginable love, lust, loyalty, and pleasure that only hypnosis can completely assure. He knew his fetish; all his fantasies were variations on this theme. And time alone had proven that he could jerk, beat, pump, lather, pray as much as he wanted, but could not orgasm without this fantasy. It was hypnotized or nothing for Randy McNalis, and unfortunately, this meant nothing.

Until, at least, he’d met Marissa Lyon on a computer dating service. Marissa was not a knockout. She was fairly plain, in actuality. A little overweight, a little short, one or two blemishes, breasts neither perky nor large. Her recounting of her history showed that she’d had her own colorful past, to put it politely. To put it not so politely, she’d been ridden more than mass transit. Now, however, she was looking for a serious relationship, and, showing mixed levels of pragmatism, had given up on bars and turned to computer dating. Randy probably would not have talked with her under normal circumstances. But it was late and she was the only woman online within five years of his age, so they’d struck up a conversation. Marissa had explained her loose past early on, so that he would have no illusions, but Randy agreed to meet her anyway. After all, he was no stud himself: too tall, too few muscles, too much gut, and a five-o’clock shadow that was still visible even after he’d shaved. He’d given Marissa a chance.

It had worked out wonderfully. Marissa thought he was sexy, and the two had spent the first half of the date talking and connecting and the latter half kissing and petting throughout the entirety of the drive-through movie. Progressive dates had been even more successful, and the time quickly approached, as it does in all relationships, when couples relate their secret fantasies to one another, in the desperate hope that their partner might actually do it. Marissa’s was of the conventional submission variety. Randy related his ill-starred fantasy, and, much to his surprise, Marissa was accommodating. More than, in fact. As he went in depth, buoyed by relief, and described the concept of the “mindfuck,” hypnotically bringing about orgasm with a word, making it grow, last, until she could stand it no longer, Marissa actually requested he hypnotize her.

It was also the beginning of the end.

Marissa was TOO accommodating. She loved submission, with or without hypnosis. She’d been molested as a child, nearly raped as an adolescent, and a slut from junior high to college, and her sexuality had expanded dramatically because of it. She knew more of sex than he’d ever imagined, and the simple fact was that she would do any of it.

Randy was screwed. Here was a woman who would do anything, literally almost anything, certainly everything he’d ever wanted, and she’d do it just for the asking.

It just took all the fun out of hypnosis.

Which was how Randy hit upon this notion in the first place.

“Can you hear me, Marissa?” Randy asked as watched her body go limp with the induction.

“Yes,” she answered quietly.

“Good. Good. Now, Marissa, I am going to count from three to one, and on one you’ll open your eyes. As always, when I saw ‘Sleep,’ you’ll immediately go back down, as relaxed and open as you are now. Now, though, when you open your eyes, you’ll find that you are almost a new person. All your memories of sex are distant, detached, and almost forgotten. You do not remember ever having sex, or for that matter ever feeling the slightest sexual urge. To the best of your recollection, you’ve never been horny, you’ve never masturbated, you’ve never even considered having sex. On one, as you open your eyes and become this new person, you are the biggest prude in the world. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she softy replied.

“Good. Three...two...one. Open your eyes.”

Marissa yawned and wiped the sleep from her eyes, blinking to focus. She looked up. “Hello, Randy.”

“Hi, dear. How are you feeling?” Deliberately, he placed his hand on her leg.

She shooed it off immediately. “Please don’t, Randy. You know I don’t like that.”

He grinned sheepishly, playing along. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” she insisted.

Randy nodded solemnly, and suddenly said, “Sleep.” Marissa’s fell into herself as complete relaxation instantly overtook her body. “Now, Marissa, when you open your eyes, you are still a prude, the biggest prude in the world, even more so than you were before. However, each time I tug my ear, you find yourself feeling horny. This feeling you cannot ever recall having experienced before comes back, stronger and stronger each time I pull my earlobe. Do you understand?” She nodded silently. “Three...two...one. Open your eyes.”

She woke again, looking at him. “How are you feeling?” Randy asked, purposely replaying the previous scene fairly closely. Again, he slid his hand onto her leg.

This time, her new prudish nature enhanced, she actually slapped his hand away. “I said no, Randy.”

He smiled. Not sheepishly this time, but mischievously. As he tugged his earlobe, he asked, “Are you sure?”

Marissa suddenly flushed, an unfamiliar lust racing through her body. An itch grew in her crotch, and she found herself starting to shake. “Well, actually—”

Randy cut her off with another tug of his earlobe. Already hard from the mere induction, blood raced to stiffen his penis almost uncomfortably. A similar, if inherently opposite, feeling found its way into Marissa. Her entire body flushed, and she clamped Randy’s hand on her leg before he could move it away.

Another tug and Marissa’s breathing turned heavy and deep, further reddening her skin as well as heaving her breasts pleasantly. She grabbed Randy’s other hand and forced it onto her left breast. “What am I doing?” she asked, her breathing too intense to make it come out as more than a moan. “What is this—”

She found herself cut off again as Randy pulled his hand away from her leg to tug his earlobe. Once, twice, three times.

Passion forcing its way back into her body, Marissa threw herself toward him, unbuttoning his shirt and kissing his chest, forcing his hands over her body as she explored his, whimpering slightly in the lingering traces of confusion that had somehow survived this omnipresent lust.

Randy carefully pulled her head back up to his, where she blindly kissed him, not really caring if she hit his lips or not just as long as she kissed. As soon as Randy saw her open her eyes, her quickly jerked his earlobe as many times as he could.

Marissa’s eyes widened, all traces of humanity disappearing beneath her lust. Randy had worked hard in previous hypnotic sessions to make her inhumanly horny; this incalculable carnality now forced itself into an unsuspecting victim. Marissa tore her shirt off, literally ripped off her bra, grabbing his hands to her tits and forcing him to massage and knead them as she nearly suffocated him with kisses, her tongue finding its way deep into his mouth. Mad with desire, she fumbled desperately with the buttons and zippers of their pants. One last tug on his ear and she gave up, dry-humping and coming regardless. He pulled down their pants and she slid onto him more than the other way round. Randy had to force himself to the top just so that her powerful gyrations didn’t crush his groin.

It was a hypnotized girl’s desperation, Randy realized, her mind’s attempt to balance morals and emotion, super-ego and id, that was truly sexy. Only by reinstating Marissa’s lost morality could he use hypnosis to take it away. Beneath Marissa’s mixed cries of animal lust and puritanical incomprehension, Randy found himself laughing, and happily he came.