The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

As usual, Frank was trying to control the young woman sitting by the window. He stood in the aisle on the bus, holding a seatback with one hand, looking over his magazine at her.

As usual, she was asleep in her seat, three rows behind the driver, sitting next to the older woman with the penciled eyebrows. And as usual, she was oblivious to his efforts.

He’d been riding this bus route for four years; she for the last 18 months. She evidently got on somewhere close to the beginning of the line and was always in her favorite seat. He almost never got a seat, but that was fine with him. Standing, he had ample opportunity to study her lovely face.

And to try to beam his thoughts into her brain, to bend her to his will. It was stupid, he knew, but it had been one of his biggest masturbatory fantasies as a teenager, and the imagery was still powerful. He’d read books on hypnosis and psychic powers. They had fueled his fantasy, but he had never had the nerve to hypnotize anyone.

Sometimes she read or gazed out the window, but he liked it best when she slept. He imagined she was more vulnerable then, and he often grew hard as he watched her close her eyes, pretending to himself that she was falling under his spell. You’re getting sleepy. Very sleepy, he’d think. And so she was, but, to his everloving frustration, not because he said so. He’d tried matching his breathing to hers. He’d focused on the faint pulse at her throat. He’d tried telepathy, psychic cajolery, and domineering mental commands, all while maintaining what he hoped was a bland expression. The most he’d gotten to date was several protective, rebuking looks from old Pencil-Brow.

He watched her breasts jiggle slightly as the bus went over a bump, and he yearned to touch them. Sometimes he got so horny that he would all but attack his wife when he got home, pulling her down on the bed as she changed her clothes after work. She was usually pleased by his uncharacteristic outbursts, and they made hot love. Sherry was a good match for him—decent, industrious, tolerant of his somewhat underachieving ways, more plain than pretty, but aging well in her mid-thirties. He had never shared his fantasy with her.

His fantasy. Bethany—he knew her name from the big plastic tag on her keyring—favored cardigans and sweater sets, and dressed primly. He must have been staring too hard, because Pencil-Brow looked up sharply at him. He raised his magazine, but his thoughts remained focused on Bethany.

Your nose itches, he thought. You want to bring your right hand up to scratch it.

Bethany slept on.

And so it went, day after day, in Frank’s humdrum life.

Your earring feels loose. You need to check it. He focused all his attention on the delicate flesh of her earlobe. He nearly had a heart attack when she reached up and adjusted it, and dropped her hand back in her lap, never opening her eyes. Frank stifled his panic and quickly beamed, Your nose itches. Bring your right hand up to scratch it! Her hand never moved.

Today, weeks later, he was watching her eyes move under her long-lashed lids. Her sweater was thin enough that he could see her nipples harden, then recede as she dreamed. He was concentrating on her right arm, trying to get a sense of what it would feel like to have his nerve impulses travel down her arm, moving that delicate hand to her beautiful nose. In his mind, he overlaid his arm on hers and the feeling of his nerves on top of hers. Your hand is moving towards your nose. Your nose itches, he thought, with tireless optimism.

He watched, astounded, as her hand slowly came up, scratched her nose mechanically, and returned languidly to her lap.

He wasn’t sure what he had done right, only that he had done it. His knees trembled with fear and anticipation as he willed the nerves in his arm to reach into hers again. He felt his way into her hand, caused her fingers to flex, then clench. He had done it! Feelings of power and lust stormed through him, but before he could do anything further, the bus arrived at his stop. Reluctantly, he pulled back from her arm and felt a twinge as he separated from her. Her brows knitted for a moment, and she covered her right arm with her left. But she slept on.

Sherry was already home, and she met Frank at the door. Minutes later, they were half-clothed on the sofa, Frank pounding away, Sherry, disoriented and surprised, was feeling the inklings of her first orgasm.

Both spent, catching their breath, she gasped, “Whew, loverboy! What was that about?”

“Oh, I just feel good today. Good to be alive,”

It was true, but it was a lie all the same. Sherry just snuggled closer.

He could hardly wait for the next day to end. He’d hardly slept a wink, and had awakened Sherry for an encore in the wee hours. This time she was more puzzled than flattered, but her willingness soon became eagerness.

He was at his stop five minutes early, lest he miss the bus—and Bethany—on this portentous day. He boarded, and there she was, looking out the window, in her usual seat. All the other regulars were there, too. Frank was trembling so hard that he couldn’t even pretend to hold his magazine; it shook visibly in his hand. He put it in his bag and took a deep breath. And another. He had decided that the trick was to somehow psychically overlay his entire nervous system onto hers, that the arm had just been the precursor to a total linkup.

He closed his eyes and visualized his nervous system as best he could, from brain to spinal cord to the ever-finer branchings of his nerves, all the way out to his fingertips. In his mind, he maneuvered his skein of nerves until it was positioned over her, and all at once, overlaid it on her. He felt an electric twinge and opened his eyes in time to see a slight shudder go through her body. It worked—he was sure of it!

Relax, he thought, calming himself and, hopefully, her, and was gratified to see her face clear and her shoulders slump; she stared forward blankly. He had about 15 minutes until his stop, and he had thought all day about how he would explore this weird, wonderful connection. Close your eyes, go to sleep, He throbbed hard and his heart beat wildly as her eyes closed and her head lolled slightly. In short order, he had her scratch her nose, fiddle with her earrings, and fold her hands with fingers interlaced. He felt the feedback from her body along his own nerves, but she noted his presence in her mind as a dull question mark, wondering, but seemingly powerless to object. He thought, Happy, and was rewarded by a beatific smile on her face. Relax. Deeper. It faded.

He stood there, swaying as the bus rounded a curve, and could hardly believe his good fortune. Not that he knew what he was going to do with his newfound power, but he’d think of something. As his mind filled with erotic images of her, her lips parted and her chest rose and fell a bit more quickly. He looked longingly at her breasts and her hand fluttered up to her cardigan. One button. Two buttons. He watched, enraptured.

Pencil-Brow noticed the girl’s unusual movement and looked sharply at her, then at Frank, who managed to look stricken and guilty in response. He turned away from her stare and beamed relax to Bethany, who sighed and let her hand fall to her chest. The woman continued to glance suspiciously at him, and Frank dared not try anything else. The standoff continued for several more minutes, and Frank’s stop was coming up quickly. He took a step towards the front of the bus and felt a tugging tingle in his whole body. As the bus slowed, inertia made him take another step. Bethany jerked upright in her seat, as though by a rope around her shoulders. Frank realized that they were still connected. He tried to pull back from the connection—and failed. The driver arced the bus to the curb and Frank desperately beamed, Get off the bus here! Say excuse me—you feel ill! Follow me!

As the bus pulled away, Frank stood face to face with Bethany. She stood there, eyes open but registering nothing, beautiful, vulnerable under the street light.

Frank quickly took stock of the situation. The object of his sexual fantasies stood three feet away, more utterly in his power than he had ever dared to imagine, staring blankly. His house was only three doors down from the stop. Sherry would be home late; tonight was book club. And Frank didn’t know how to release Bethany from the trance/posession/whatever or what would happen when he did. He tried to pull back from the connection, but could feel all along his nerves that he was still connected and still in control. Standing there staring at her was beginning to feel stupid.

“Come with me,” he said aloud.

Bethany dutifully followed Frank to his modest house and waited on the stoop while he unlocked the door. He looked up and down the block for neighbors, but saw no one. He closed the door behind them.

“Would you like to sit?” he asked nervously.

“Yes,” she said in a toneless voice, but made no move to sit.

Frank took her by her shoulders and guided her to the sofa. “Sit here,” he said, and she did.

He tried again to pull back from the connection. He could feel, however, that it was as strong as ever. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He noted that Bethany took a breath, too, just a heartbeat after him.

His mind raced. He could hardly believe the words that came from his own lips:

“Do you live alone, Bethany?”

“Yes.”

“Is anyone expecting you, expecting you to call tonight?”

“No.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. He’d made up his mind.

“Your breasts. Show me your beautiful breasts.”

Her right hand had already resumed the unbuttoning of her cardigan; her body had begun acting on his mental imagery before he’d even gotten the words out. The garment slipped from her smooth shoulders and she immediately shed her filmy, insubstantial bra.

“You...” His voice cracked. “You want me to touch them.”

Frank knelt in front of her and cupped her breasts in his trembling hands. He leaned in to kiss her.

And the front door opened. Sherry called, “Hi, hon. Terry was feeling sick, so we postponed....”

Sherry looked every bit as frozen as Bethany as she took in the tableau of the young woman sitting on her sofa, naked to the waist, Frank kneeling before her. Frank jumped up as though Bethany’s breasts had electrocuted him.

“I, uh, I can explain.” Which, of course, he couldn’t.

“You see, I. uh, hooked my nervous system into hers, and I can’t let go and she had to get off the bus with me and I still couldn’t let go so she followed me home. She had to follow me; I, uh, think she can’t be more than about ten feet from me, you see...”

“Frank!”

“... so I, uh, brought her, uh, I thought you wouldn’t...”

“Frank! Shut up!”

Frank closed his mouth so hard his teeth clacked. He looked fearfully at his wife.

Sherry looked at Bethany, who stared placidly ahead, unmindful.

“What’s wrong with her?” Sherry demanded. “Did you drug her or something?”

“I, uh, hypnotized her, um, sort of telepathically.”

“You what!”

It was just a fantasy I had; I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this. She rides the same bus every day, and I had been focusing on her, trying to ... oh, this is coming out all wrong! I never expected it to work!”

“Never expected it to work?” Sherry’s voice went up half an octave. “Never expected it to work! You weren’t supposed to TRY to make it work, you son of a bitch!”

Sherry stepped towards Frank, her face red, eyes filling with furious tears. He stepped back as she advanced, fearful of her wrath. He took another step back and Bethany popped up from the sofa, tugged to standing by her connection to Frank.

Sherry whirled on her. “You! Sit down! And put some clothes on!”

Bethany, unfazed, stood before her. Sherry waved her hand in front of her eyes. No reaction. She shook her by the shoulders. Her pert young breasts swayed pleasantly. Sherry turned back to Frank, her fury unabated.

Crying as she screamed at him, she flailed with her fists. She was hitting him hard, harder than he would have imagined. He shrank back under her onslaught, and Bethany dutifully followed. Sherry connected a couple of times, including a classy right hook to the side of his head. Frank saw stars, but he couldn’t raise his hands against her. She was hysterical, almost out of her mind with rage, which pained Frank terribly. In desperation, he caught her wrists, visualized his nervous system, just as he had before, and overlaid it onto Sherry.

She looked as though she’d been poleaxed, staring vacantly ahead, all the wind gone out of her sails. Frank let her hands down slowly, saying, “If you’d only let me explain....”

“Explain what?” Bethany asked absently.

Frank looked at her, shocked. She was awake, and trying to orient herself to her surroundings.

“Hey, I know you, you ride my bus. But how did I...” She looked down at her half-naked body and let out a shriek of surprise and embarrassment. She looked around for her sweater and quickly wrapped it around her.

“But how did I get here?” she asked with growing panic. “And what’s wrong with her?”

“It was all a mistake,” Frank said, trying to be as gentle and nonthreatening as possible. “I, um, was, uh, fantasizing about you on the bus and I...”

Bethany looked fearful, pulling her sweater tighter, wrapping her arms defensively around herself.

“I, uh, hypnotized you telepathically. Or something. You know,” he smiled ruefully, “took control of your body. I linked into your nervous system. But I couldn’t end it. So you had to come with me.”

Her eyes were round with fear. “And, and is that what you’ve done to that woman?”

“Oh, my wife! Yes, she was quite upset when she came home and found you here, and I was just trying to calm her down. That’s when you popped out of the trance or whatever. I think maybe it only works on one person at a time.”

“Well, I think maybe it’s time for me to leave.” Bethany turned, scooped up her bra, and headed for the front door.

“Wait, not yet! We have to sort this out!” Frank quickly visualized his nervous system again and overlaid it onto Bethany, who stopped dead in her tracks.

Sherry took a couple of roundhouse swings at where Frank used to be. She wheeled, found him, and started in on him again. When he grabbed her wrists, she started kicking him. Hard. Frank thought desperately. He needed time.

“Bethany! Go back to the sofa and sit down.”

“Leave that girl alone, you bastard!” Sherry kicked him again, her foot just missing his balls.

Frank overlaid Sherry again and she went limp. Bethany screamed and started to rise from the sofa, disoriented at having last been, as far as she knew, at the front door.

She headed for the door again, and Frank brought her down again, noting to himself that he was getting pretty good at this. Sherry, meanwhile, had leaped onto his back, had a forearm across his throat, and was pulling tight with the other arm, cursing him and crying all the while.

He felt his way along Bethany’s nervous system. He visualized it, gathering it into his mind, and overlaid hers onto Sherry’s.

It worked. Sherry was entranced, as before, but through Bethany, and the link with Bethany was intact. Sherry became a dead weight on his back. The connection felt weird to Frank, as though he were a kite with a heavy tail. He sighed in relief, and both women sighed with him.

He spoke to Bethany. “Go back to the sofa and sit down.”

She did so, and Frank was surprised to see his wife follow, in a slightly exaggerated pantomime of Bethany’s movement. He caught his breath as both women, docile, sat there before him, staring sightlessly into the distance. Bethany’s cardigan was open; and his eyes were drawn once again to her lovely breasts.

No time for that now, he admonished himself. He had to undo all this—and find a way to disconnect all the connections. As he thought, though, his eyes drifted longingly to Bethany, guiltily to Sherry, and back again.

You’re only going to get one chance at this, he told himself.

“Bethany, remove your sweater. You want me to touch your breasts, they yearn for my touch.”

As Bethany shed her cardigan again, her nipples grew agreeably hard. Frank moved in, with nervous sidelong glances at Sherry, who continued to stare straight ahead, her face blank. As he caressed Bethany, she gasped with pleasure—and so did Sherry.

Frank quickly realized that their psychic connection was transmitting everything that Bethany experienced to Sherry. Experimentally, he thought hard, Bethany, I’m burying my face between your legs. Sherry moaned just as Bethany did. But more intriguing, he felt an echo of what they were feeling in his own body.

Fascinated now, he wondered if the feelings went in both directions. He thought, Sherry, flicking my tongue on your right nipple. Bethany’s right nipple grew hard.

Eros ran rampant through him as he regarded the woman he loved and the woman he lusted after, side by side.

“Stand up.”

They both rose together.

“Remove your clothes.”

Bethany had a two-item head start, but Sherry wasn’t far behind. Frank looked at them greedily. Bethany was at least ten years younger, but he felt a certain cockeyed pride at how well Sherry held up by comparison. Conscious now of little other than the throbbing in his pants, he thought of nothing more than immersing himself in them. He unbuckled his belt and unzipped. He stood before Bethany. “Kiss me deeply. Like you’ve never wanted anything more.”

Her blank stare became passion-lidded and she melted into his arms. His hands ran over her body and he thrilled to hear her little moans of pleasure. He heard matching sounds from his wife, and he opened an arm to include her in the embrace. Fingers found his shirt buttons, tugged at his underwear, removed his shoes and socks. The three sank to the floor together.

His hands were everywhere. So were theirs. Mouths, nipples, tongues, vaginas, and balls all danced madly together. The pleasures they were feeling came back to him via the overlay connection. It was intoxicating. He’d never fully appreciated how erotic a woman’s neck could be, or the incredible range of stimulation they derived from their nipples, from feathery licks to hard squeezes.

He realized that he had entered one of them, that she was riding him greedily. He opened his eyes and was vaguely gratified to find that it was Sherry. Bethany was swarming over both of them, her hands and mouth darting here and there, and receiving pleasure back, both from their touches and from the connection.

Sherry began to orgasm. Frank felt it building in her and it sent a brief stab of fear through him. He felt like a boy on the shore, watching a tidal wave hurtle relentlessly toward him. It hit Bethany, and her wave joined Sherry’s, sending the wave terrifyingly higher. As it swept over him, it triggered his own orgasm, which was like a lightning bolt hitting the top of their tsunami.

They lay entangled on the living room floor for a while, then Frank had to pee. He got up, and both women dutifully followed him to the bathroom. He had them stand outside the door while he went about his business and cleaned up a bit, then had each of them take a turn.

He brought them back to the living room and everyone got dressed. His urges gratified beyond his wildest dreams, Frank thought hard about the inconvenience of going through life with two women unable to be more than ten feet from him. There was still so much he didn’t know about what he had wrought. Simply pulling back didn’t work. He thought along the path from Bethany to Sherry, and could see Bethany’s nerve pathways, firmly under his control, overlaid onto Sherry’s. Experimentally, he traced them, gathered them up, and overlaid them back onto Bethany.

Sherry came awake with a start and took a moment to orient herself. Her anger at Frank was muted by the afterglow of strenuous lovemaking, of which she had no recollection. She looked at Bethany, seated alongside her, staring vacantly, and felt a weird, almost sisterly, connection. Her temper flared again, however, and she jumped up, eyes flashing.

Frank, anticipating, overlaid her quickly from Bethany and sat her back down. Time for another experiment. Was this really a form of hypnosis, and could he give instructions or suggestions that would persist beyond the psychic possession?

“Sherry, when I release you from this state, you won’t feel angry toward me. You’ll be interested in what happened and will listen with patience and understanding.” He felt a stab of guilt at manipulating her mind this way, but now that he knew how to end the overlay he needed to get things back to some semblance of normalcy. And if this didn’t work he didn’t know what he would do.

He lifted the overlay from Sherry and placed it back onto Bethany. Sherry’s eyes came back into focus and she said, more with amazement than anger, “What the hell has been going on here?”

Frank, blushing, explained everything, from his teenage fantasy to his surprising success with Bethany. Sherry listened, asked questions, and even intuited that some of their impassioned couplings were the result of his fantasy yearnings. Surprisingly, she didn’t mind.

Now the problem was what to do with Bethany, and they discussed it. They decided that a sudden attack of nausea would justify Bethany’s unscheduled stop. Frank, living so close to the bus stop, would be the good Samaritan, helping her. Sherry would drive her home. She’d remember nothing of the entrancement or their randy threesome on the living room floor.

After Sherry got home, she found Frank in the kitchen, cooking a belated dinner.

They sat and ate in their modest kitchen, discussing events of the day, neither of them mentioning Bethany or the events of the past couple of hours.

Sherry put her fork down. “Do that to me again. That overlay thing.”

Frank’s eyes grew wide. “What? Now? You want me to...?”

She looked steadily back at him. “Yes, now. Make me do something—anything. I want to feel it coming.”

Frank began to protest, but her look of determination shut him up. “OK, here goes...”

He overlaid her effortlessly and watched her eyes go empty. He had her pick up the phone book and a bud vase and stand there as though she were the Statue of Liberty. Then he lifted the overlay and looked at her expectantly.

She took stock of the bud vase and phone book and set them down on the counter.

“Nope, nothing. One minute I’m at the dinner table, next thing I know I’m standing there with my arm in the air.”

Frank felt himself grow hard.

“OK, do it again. But this time tell me that I’ll remember.”

“Aww, Hon....”

“Do it, Frank!”

He overlaid her again, telling her she was a department store mannequin. He watched in mild wonder as she pouted her lips, tossed her head so her hair swirled over one shoulder, thrust a hip, pivoted a foot, gestured with a hand—and froze. He looked at her appreciatively, and throbbed a bit more. He cupped a familiar breast, pressed a kiss onto the back of her neck.

He sighed and stepped back. He told her to remember everything that had happened when she was like this, then lifted the overlay.

She assessed her sexy, but stressful pose and began to relax out of it. Then her eyes flew open wide and she gasped, hands to her mouth.

“Omigod, Frank, I remember! Not just now, but all of it! Ever since I came in and I was hitting you...”

He realized that he had made a rookie hypnotist’s mistake. He could read the expression on her face as she recalled the tightly coiled threesome in the living room.

“So the only reason that I haven’t killed you yet is because you told me to have a good attitude about this?”

He smiled ruefully. “I guess so... I went too far; I just wanted this to end. I just wanted everything to go back to normal.”

“Frank.” She spoke in a matter-of-fact way. “Nothing’s going to be the same again. Ever.”

“What do you mean? I promise I’ll never do it again. Never!”

She patted his arm and said seriously. “I believe you, Hon. But don’t you see? Our relationship’s out of balance now. It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that I can’t be married to a guy with super-powers. Even one super-power.”

Frank’s eyes brimmed with tears. One indulgence, one misstep, and he was going to lose the thing most precious to him.

She read his expression perfectly. “It’s not the end for us,” she said kindly. “We just have to put things back in balance.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not just power, Hon, it’s sex, too. Forget Bethany; she was just an innocent bystander who got swept up in our lovemaking. After what we experienced tonight—the connection—can you imagine never having that again?”

He shook his head and thought back to the tidal wave. She was right. “So what should I do?”

“Teach me how to do it.”

“What?! Hasn’t it caused enough problems already?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “After tonight, you owe me this. Show me how, Frank.”

He sighed and nodded his head in acquiescence.

“Remember how I started with her arm? Picture all the nerves in your arm, the way they branch out, all the way to your....”

She cut him off. “Not like that. Do it to me, and tell me that when I wake up, I’ll know how to do it, too. Let your mind teach mine.”

He looked at her in amazement. Smart woman.

“OK, here goes.”

A minute later, he lifted the overlay. She came back into focus and smiled. “Wow, that’s amazing! I’m so proud of you that you figured it out.”

She turned serious. “OK, let me see if I’ve got this now....”

The beneficiary of all of his trial and error, she gathered up the image of her nervous system and overlaid Frank.

He felt everything go insensate, as though he were wrapped in cotton batting. His consciousness went on hold. He was aware of her presence in there, directing the ebb and flow of every action, of thought itself.

He heard her words, and although they carried no particular meaning, he could feel them at work, deep inside his mind.

“You will not remember that you overlaid Bethany tonight. You will not remember that you know how to overlay anyone unless I tell you to remember. If I ever tell you to overlay me, you will direct me exactly as I tell you, no more, no less. If you ever rediscover how to overlay someone, you will not do it without my permission. You will remember that Bethany got sick on the bus, and you helped her here to recuperate....”

Sherry smiled. Things were coming back into balance. Life was about to get better. Much better.