The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Your twin dropped by today,” Aaron said casually. My head snapped to attention, and my response was faster than I would have liked.

“Oh yeah?”

Madison and I have always been competitive—it’s a twin thing—but I really thought I’d gotten over it. For some reason when my housemate mentioned her, it was like it all came rushing back. The years of seeing who was taller, smarter, faster, of who had bigger breasts...it was like it had returned, and been turned up tenfold.

I suddenly had that burning urge to be better than Madison. I wanted Aaron to like me better than her.

It was weird—I don’t even like Aaron...I mean, I like Aaron, but not in that way...but suddenly I needed to know everything. What she’d said, what they’d done...

“Yeah, she just wanted me to have a look at her computer.” Aaron replied, his tone suggesting it didn’t matter, his glance at me making it obvious that my reaction was important.

“What was she wearing? Did you like it? Was she sexier than me? How long did you talk for?”

A stream of questions wanted to rush from my lips, but I wasn’t going to give into them. I was going to quash this competitiveness once and for all, if it were the last thing I did. I just nodded, and went back to putting butter on my toast.

Aaron watched me, a smile dancing around his lips. I wasn’t looking at him, but I could feel his eyes on me, wanting to know if I’d break. I have no idea how he knew about my competitive side—like I said, it’s been absent for a few years now—but he just expectantly waited for me to ask some of the questions that he knew were burning up inside of me.

Finally, I looked up again, to find him—just as I’d thought—staring directly at me.

“How is she?” I asked. I was trying so hard to ask the questions casually...so of course it came out as forced and awkwardly as possible.

“She’s good, good...”

He paused, and that smug look came back on his face. Aaron’s never been particularly perceptive, so I have no idea how he was suddenly managing to play me so well, but he was. I kept eye contact, my mouth practically twitching with unasked queries. Finally, I snapped.

“How did she look??”

“Good, good. She’s, uh...you guys are completely identical, yeah?”

Identical twins. Of course we had to be identical—as if being a twin wasn’t bad enough. But yeah, me and Madison—identical.

We’d gotten our fair share of trouble from it, growing up—guys who wanted to fuck both of us, or dare us to make out or whatever. We never did—I know the idea grosses me out, and I assume that she felt the same way.

Aaron’s normally a nice guy, but right now I hated him. I don’t know if it was deliberate or not, but the way he’d phrased the question just served to feed my competitive side. Of course we were identical—what was he suggesting? Did she look better than me?

I just nodded, and he continued, agonizingly slowly.

“It’s just...well, she looked more, y’know.”

“What?”

“Maybe it was the top she was wearing, but she looked like she was...well, I’m not saying you’re small or anything like that, but...”

He trailed off. Even he realized that he’d gone too far. You never, ever insult a girl’s boobs. And you never, ever, ever compare them to her sister’s.

My glare was so fierce that for a second I thought he was going to fall over backward, but as if he had no survival instinct at all...he just kept going.

“I mean, it’s only because you never show any cleavage! She was...that’s all I was...”

There were so many things that I wanted to say or do to Aaron right then, but I took the higher moral ground. I left the room, glaring at him the whole while. He didn’t say a word, of course, and when I got to my room, I sat on my bed, took a good hard look at myself in the mirror, and had to admit that perhaps he was right.

I dressed professionally. I’m a professional, after all...and an unintended side-effect may, in fact, have been that so much attention was drawn away from my breasts that it looked like they weren’t even there.

Not that I wanted to look like a slut, or anything, but...well, who wants to be the twin with the small tits?

I rifled through my wardrobe for a few minutes. It seemed that I only owned two tops that gave me any cleavage at all, and one of them was far too fancy for everyday use.

It seemed that it was time to go clothes-shopping. I’m overdue for a new outfit anyway, I told myself, but in my head a mantra was forming, and repeating itself over and over again.

I must be better than my twin...

“Madison dropped by again today,” Aaron said. Tempted though I was to throw him another glare, I just raised one eyebrow, and gestured for him to continue. He just sat there, though, this dumb grin on his face, and so I rolled my eyes and broke the silence.

“What is it this time?”

“She came by again today—she managed to download another virus, somehow. She ended up making some lunch for the two of us as thanks. Best Mexican I’ve ever had!”

A part of me thought that he must have been deliberately pushing my buttons—he knows how much I pride myself on my cooking—but it didn’t matter. I was suddenly hooked. I needed to be better than Madison.

Our shared love of food was one of the main reasons Aaron and I decided to live together—he’s a foodie, I like cooking...I don’t get a chance to make us food too much these days, between work and my boyfriend Mike, but Madison? Madison could barely boil water without setting the kitchen on fire.

“Mexican? What’d she make?”

“Well I was just going to have a sandwich, but she said she’d learned some kind of new tortilla recipe. She raided the cupboards and half an hour later, we were eating these amazing burritos...seriously incredible.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, it was great. Man, living with her when you were growing up must have been the best...”

“Yeah...for her! I used to cook all the time—she would just eat!”

“Oh right, I forgot that you like to cook. You should get her to teach you some stuff.”

I was suddenly so mad that I could barely speak, but I didn’t say a word—I just got up, went to the cupboard, pulled out the mixing bowl, a wooden spoon and some corn flour...and went to work.

Mike was annoyed when we went out later that night that I wasn’t hungry, but he didn’t complain too much. Side-effect of showing more cleavage: it’s suddenly much, much easier to keep your boyfriend happy. Who knew?

“Does your sister run?” Aaron asked, out of the blue. I was in the middle of removing the frittata from the oven—I’d cooked dinner every night that week. I was going to prove that I was a better cook than Madison if it was the last thing I did.

I had to be better than Madison.

“Mmmm...no, I don’t think so.” I said. I’d almost dropped the tray when he spoke—there was something about Aaron talking about my sister that really got into my head. I was trying to sound nonchalant, but every fibre of my being was buzzing to hear what he was going to say next...

“When she was cooking the other day, I just noticed her legs...she’s so fit! I figured she must run, because...well, damn!”

“Oh really? I have amazing legs too!” I wanted to scream, but focused on serving Aaron dinner. Most nights he’d come home and I’d cook—he’d offered to help once or twice, but I’d told him to just sit there so he could really focus on the quality of my food.

Back in the day, I would have had him do the dishes in exchange, but I didn’t think Madison would make him do that. She’d set the bar, and it was up to me to beat it.

“Nah, I don’t think she runs,” I replied, proud of my self-control. Then, of course, I went and ruined it by adding, slightly smugly, “I do, though.”

“Oh really?”

“Uh huh.”

“I guess I just never noticed, because of the way you always cover your legs up.”

That night, after another routine date with Mike, I found myself sorting through my wardrobe again, and looking at my bank statement. I’d gone a bit overboard the last time I’d gone online shopping, but when the tops arrived, it had been totally worth it. And Aaron, annoyingly, was right again—I didn’t own a single item of clothing that showed off my legs.

Screw it, I thought, opening up a new browser window. What’s the point of running if you don’t even show it off?

I was home, the next time that Madison came ’round. I’d casually mentioned that I was going to be cooking, and that she could drop by if she wanted.

Even though I knew it was immature, I wanted to rub her face in the quality of my cooking. I wanted her to see that I was better than her. The thought had started worming its way into my head all day, every day...no matter what I was doing, I’d mentally chant, over and over again, “I must be better than my twin.”

I had to be better than Madison. I had to show her that my skills easily surpassed hers.

So Madison came over, and I showed off by cooking Duck a l’Orange. She brought desert—some elaborate cake thing. Mike came ’round as well—he’d never met Madison, so it was nice that they could get to know each other.

Honestly though, I might as well have reheated a pizza for all the attention that anyone paid to the meal. Madison spent the whole evening alternately flirting with Mike and Aaron, and worst of all...Aaron flirted back.

I mean, I guess it would have been worse if Mike had reacted the same way, but I couldn’t believe the audacity of it. Madison only wanted him because I lived with him, I knew that. She only wanted him because he was mine.

Well, I’m not one to be outdone. I pretty quickly started flirting with Aaron—I even went one step further, and started rubbing his leg with my foot. Fortunately Mike couldn’t see that—honestly, he was starting to get annoyed by my behaviour—I was practically ignoring him, while at the same time hanging off Aaron’s every word.

Mike pulled me aside at one point to talk to me about it, to ask if anything was wrong. I tried to explain that I wasn’t actually into Aaron, that I just didn’t want to let Madison...win, I guess...but he got annoyed, and then I got pissed that he wasn’t supporting me. He just didn’t understand how important it was to me.

Mike ended up leaving in a huff, which obviously I wasn’t happy about, but it meant that I could spend the rest of the meal flirting like I’d never flirted before. I was laughing at every semi-witty comment, making sure to show as much cleavage as I could...my foot had even begun tracing all the way up Aaron’s leg.

The whole meal, Aaron just sat there with this smug look on his face, like he’d actually done something to deserve these two beautiful women buttering him up and hand-feeding him food. I wanted to tell him that nope, he was just the lucky victim of two competitive sisters, but of course that would have been a point against me. Anything that put Madison ahead of me was unacceptable.

The dessert that Madison brought was okay, I guess, but from the way that Aaron raved about it...Jesus. I mean, he didn’t actually say anything, but I saw the smile on his face while he ate, and it spoke more than words would have.

After that, I pretty heavily hinted that Madison should leave, she made a snide remark about my dress (I think she was jealous that it actually managed to be shorter than hers—I’d shaved my legs especially for the dinner party, and one of my new dresses really shows them off) and then she was gone.

Aaron began to do the dishes, but I told him that it was fine, and that I’d take care of them. He thanked me, and winked on the way out.

I really hope he doesn’t get the wrong idea. I’d hate for him to think that I was into him. After I washed up, I gave Mike a call, and we talked things out. I still don’t think that I was out of line, but I’ll admit that I got a bit carried away, and promised him that I wouldn’t let it happen again.

Having my sister around is just so...so stressful. I ended up masturbating a few times before I went to sleep, just to get the tension out. The day’s events kept playing in my head while I did, over and over—at first it was really distracting, but eventually I just went with it.

“Is Madison on some kind of special diet?”

I immediately tensed up. I’d been so relaxed, all day—I’d left work early to stop by the store (I had a new steak-sauce that I’d wanted to try) and once I got home, I’d spent a few hours cooking—making the demi-glace, making sure the steak was just right, and then grilling it to perfection.

I’d found it all very relaxing, but Aaron hadn’t even complimented it; we’d been eating in silence when he hit me with the question.

“What is it this time?” I answered, through clenched teeth. If this is about my weight, I thought, I swear I’m going to kill him. I’d been getting up early and running every day for the last week or so—now that I was showing my legs off more, I wanted to make sure they were in shape.

“She came by today,” he said. Aaron works from home, in IT—he does a lot of contract work for the government, stuff like that. Whenever there’s any kind of issue with my computer, I give it straight to him, and he gets it back within an hour, working perfectly. “And I’ve got to tell you, she has got one great-tasting pussy.”

“That’s not because of diet,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. “That’s just...I mean, I’m sure I taste just as good.”

“Yeah...” Aaron said, sounding wholly unconvinced. I wanted to punch him. “I don’t know about that...I mean, you’ve got to understand, she tasted amazing.”

He pushed the steak away—he must have enjoyed it, to wolf it down so fast, but he hadn’t said anything to that effect, and I’d found myself hanging on his every word, desperately wanting to hear just one, tiny compliment.

Instead, he casually dismissed my attempts to impress him.

“Sorry, but I just don’t think that you can compete...”

It was like he’d found the perfect combination of words. The second he said that, I knew that I was going to convince him that my pussy tasted better than Madison’s. If it was the last thing I did, he’d admit that my juices were better than my twins.

Without a word, I stuck a finger into my panties, and pulled it out for him to taste. He just let that arrogant grin of his creep back over his face, opened his mouth, and sucked on my finger for a second.

“Mmm...” he said. “I’m sorry, but...”

“Wait,” I said, cutting him off. I knew that I didn’t want to hear the rest of that sentence. “Did you taste hers...from the source?”

Aaron nodded, and I sighed. Like he knew exactly where this was going, he moved the plates to the side, and lifted me up on the table. I sat in front of him and spread my legs. There was nothing between Aaron’s mouth and my pussy but air—he’d mentioned a few days ago how sexy it was that Madison didn’t wear a bra, and so in an effort to beat her, I’d stopped wearing panties.

“Wow...” he said. “You’ve...you’ve got a really beautiful cunt.”

I was practically glowing with pride at his words—it was the nicest thing he’d said to me since this bizarre competitiveness of mine had started—until his next sentence just as swiftly deflated me.

“Of course, Madison shaves hers...”

Before I could respond, he leaned forward, and pressed his tongue to my pussy-lips. I sat there with bated breath as he thoroughly explored my cunt with his mouth—he licked up one lip, and then the other, and then after briefly tonguing my clit, burrowed his wet muscle as deep into my hole as he could.

After a few seconds, he came up for air.

“Hmmm,” he said.

“What!?” I snapped. I was dying to hear what he thought. “Do I taste as good as Madison?”

“Oh, I totally forgot about that. I was just thinking, it’s interesting how twins are different...”

“How?” I asked nervously. I’ve always hated being compared to my sister, and he didn’t sound like he was about to say something nice. “How are we different?”

“Oh, it’s just that Madison cums really easily...hang on, I’ll go in for a better taste.”

His words ringing in my ear, I realized that I’d really have to pull out all the stops if I was going to win this one. I shut my eyes, and thought about sex with Mike, my favourite erotica, of the fantasies I’d had since I was a teen...my thoughts made my cunt extraordinarily sensitive, and he was still tasting me when the first orgasm wracked my body.

“Oops,” I said, acting coy. “Sorry about that, Aaron...”

“It’s fine,” he said, seeming completely unfazed. “When Madison cums, she’s much louder, so it really doesn’t bother me.”

“Oh really?” I asked, and reached out to push his head back toward my pussy...

We spent over an hour that night, his mouth pressed against my mound, his tongue getting me off over and over, as I attempted to beat my twin in volume, strength of orgasm, anything I could...finally, after six increasingly loud orgasms, I told him that I was exhausted and needed to stop.

“Okay,” he said simply, but I could read the subtext of what he was saying. I knew I had to get a good night’s sleep that night—we’d arranged to try again tomorrow—but before drifting off, I played with myself for over an hour.

Building up my stamina was going to be vital, if I was going to be beat Madison. And I was going to beat Madison, if it was the last thing I did...