The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

We let Chelsea go back to class, and Mr. Fitzhugh return to his office. Quentin made sure none of them remembered a thing. In my heart of hearts, it had been a real turn on, the power that I vicariously had through Quentin. Making Chelsea dance like that. And that desire, Quentin used against me, though ironically, it in some ways led to his downfall. It was going to be my birthday soon, the big 18 years. Of course my parents gave me gifts, but the biggest gift I got was from Quentin, with all sorts of bows and strings attached.

“Alright Quentin.” I said, “What’s our first step?”

“Well, if you want this to truly be an epic story of revenge we have two main targets, Kurt and Peyton.” he said.

“True, true.”

“And it wouldn’t be enough to just get some petty revenge like slashing their tires or something, we need something better then that, more creative, more masterful.” He continued. He was really getting into this whole idea.

“Go on, go on.”

“So what matters most to these people? Kurt for example?” He said.

“Uh, probably his football status.” I said.

“Wrong! Oh wait, yeah, you’re right, it’s football. And how do we bring him down?”

“Uh, we make him quit?” I said.

“No come on! There’s no poetic justice in that. We need something craftier, better, more sinister.”

“What about Peyton?” I asked.

“Her I don’t know yet, but for the sake of it, what matters most to her?”

“Her popularity and reputation.” I said, “That’s easy.”

“Right, well I’ll think of a way for her later, but right now, I just got a plan for Kurt.”

We watched the game with tons of anticipation. It was just the start, and our team had just kicked the ball off to the other team. They had returned it to the 20 and the offense had just set up. The opposing quarterback handed the ball off to the halfback. The center and guard opened a hole and the back found it, running right into Kurt. But to the astonishment of the crowd and Kurt himself, the small back, who couldn’t have been taller then 5′ 7″ and weigh more then 180 lbs, took the 6′ 4″ 250 lb Kurt right off his feet and ran into the secondary where he was tackled for a gain of 8. Kurt shook his head, the coach yelled at him to shake it off and get into the game, and the next play came in. Similar play, this time to the left instead of the right. This time Kurt was ready and he rushed forward, but the back again, was able to knock him clean off his feet, easily throwing him to the side.

If anyone had been close to Kurt, they would’ve heard him say, “that was courtesy of Quentin bitch.” When a teammate helped him up, he looked directly at us in the crowd with anger in his eyes.

As the game progressed, Kurt kept getting decked and by the second quarter, the coach had taken him out of the game in which he took off his helmet and spiked it into the ground. Quentin grinned, Kurt’s public humiliation complete.

You see we were very subtle about what we did. Quentin had made Kurt, whenever he was going to play football, play the absolute worst he possibly could. Not consciously of course. But every time he was decked, or he screwed up in some way, he would know that it was somehow because he had messed with Quentin and been a bully in general. He would never associate it with Quentin’s abilities, or ever wish to exact revenge on us because Kurt “convinced himself” that it would be futile. It took him down a peg, and eventually we did restore his ability to play football a few days later. He never bothered us after that, and in some ways, became a far more pleasant person. That in itself was relatively harmless compared what Quentin did later on and I in part was responsible for as well. That brings us to the time around my birthday, where things began to turn for the worst.

I sat down for lunch, and amazingly, someone else other then Quentin sat down too.

“Hi, are you new around here?” a feminine voice asked.

I looked up to see that none other then Chelsea Burkett was sitting across from me with a smile on her face, looking right at me. I did a double-take, making sure there was no one behind me. She laughed.

“I’m talking to you.” She said with a toss of her hair.

“Uh hey.” I said, nervously, “I’m Kyle. I’ve been going here since freshmen year.”

“Really?” She asked, surprise on her face, “I weird that I never saw you around before.”

“Yeah.” I said, my hands becoming sweaty.

She looked at me with a cute little frown on her face, “I’m making you nervous huh?”

“Ugh, no, you’re fine, you’re not-”

She laughed again, “Don’t worry you’re cute when you’re nervous.”

“Really?” I said, my heart bursting and then resealing and bursting again.

“Yeah.” She said with a grin, “I’m Chelsea.”

She extended her hand across the table, and I quickly wiped my slightly sweaty right hand on my jeans and shook her hand.

She began to dig into her food. Mine remained untouched.

“I gotta ask.” I said quietly.

She looked up, eyes slightly wider then normal, I took that as I needed to speak up and I did.

“I gotta ask.” I said in a normal voice, the loudest I’d ever talked with a girl besides my mother, (normal speaking volume) “Why are you sitting with me? I mean you didn’t know I existed before.”

She thought about her answer for a second and then said, “You looked kinda lonely over here I guess.”

“Did you talk to my friend Quentin perhaps?”

“Oh yeah! Really quickly in the hall. I don’t really remember what we talked about.” Chelsea said.

I didn’t want to push my luck so I just let all of my suspicions out the window. Quentin was involved in this somehow, and I was on to him, if only slightly. But this was far too good of an opportunity to pass up. I mustered up all my courage and said.

“Well uh, Chelsea.” I said, “We just met, so uh, tell me about you.”

“Ok.” She said with a small smile, “Well let’s see I play soccer, I’m sort of the captain, I’m a senior, I’m 17 and I drive a Ford Fusion. My favorite class here is English class. I don’t know. What about you?”

“Uh, I’m a nerd. I like Calc class. Me and Quentin play extremely nerdy games you’d probably turn your nose up at. I’m 18, my birthday today actually. I’ve never played any sports. I’m a senior.”

“Your birthday’s today huh?”

“Yeah.” I said.

“Well Happy Birthday!” She said.

“Thanks.”

“Have you gotten into any colleges yet?”

“Just the State school.” I said.

“Tech?”

“No, the other one.”

“Oh wow! Me too!”

“Hey that’s great!” I said, genuinely excited.

That marked the beginning of a much lengthier conversation that lasted all of lunch. At the end, taking my luck to the very limit, I asked her for her number we exchanged contact information. We texted during class to continue our conversation and further still after school. With the last class of the day, Quentin sat down next to me as I rapidly texted away.

“Texting Chelsea?” He asked with a knowing twinkle in his eye.

“How’d you know?” I asked, for the briefest moment then remembered, “You did this didn’t you?”

“Do what?” Quentin asked.

“Made Chelsea talk to me.”

“Yeah man of course! But don’t worry. I didn’t do nearly as much as you think I did.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dude, the only thing I did was tell her to notice you and talk to you. I swear.”

“No way.” I said.

“I’m serious dude.”

“I don’t believe you. There’s no way she actually liked me enough to talk to me.”

“Hey dude, believe it or not, but that’s what I did. Consider it a gift for helping me out with Kurt.”

“Dude, no worries about that, I was glad to see him fall.”

My phone buzzed with another text message and I continued texting Chelsea. We were talking about how dumb the guys at our school were. She said she had never dated anybody because all the guys wanted a one night stand and/or sex and she wasn’t into that. She wanted something more real. As I might have said before, she was basically perfect. Then the big question came. I wrote.

So hey, it’s my birthday, and it’s Friday, so would you like to maybe go see a movie or something with me?

I waited precious seconds for her reply. Agonizing, deliberating. Beating myself up mentally. I became extremely depressed. Furious with myself. Extremely pessimistic, then optimistic, then pessimistic, all within the confines of about two minutes. I had a big water bottle on my desk and took a large gulp to calm my nerves just as my phone buzzed.

Pick me up at my house, 7pm. 1773 West Elm Street :).

I fell out of my chair and at the same time swallowed my water which went down my windpipe and I began to cough and hack. I made quite the spectacle out of myself but finally managed to get back into my desk. The teacher rolled her eyes and went back to her lecture and I texted as casually as I could.

C u at 7 then :)

I couldn’t thank Quentin enough for the opportunity he had given me, but that didn’t remove the fact that I had absolutely no skills when it came to going on dates, not to mention experience. So when I went home and told my mom that I had a date, she was all over it. My parents had never really been there for me. Ever since my dad found out that I was a nerd, not a sports star like he had been back in college, he had pretty much disowned me. My mother was a rich socialite who accompanied my father to all his business meetings. She was posh, snobby, and unpleasant. She had come from a poor Korean immigrant family, and had married my father as quickly as she could.

“Finally.” She said, “Finally you’re making something of yourself.”

We spent the day going shopping, going to a salon to get my haircut and I got red highlights in my hair. We bought new clothes, and she ceremonially threw all my clothes into the garbage and bought me a whole new wardrobe. One thing my mom did know how to do, besides be a real good gold digger wife, was shop. With my revamped wardrobe. She set out some clothes for me, a white collard dress shirt which she instructed for me to leave one button undone, a black vest with subtle shiny pinstripes, and a nice pair of black jeans and a stylish belt. Then she mussed up my hair with some hair wax we had bought and sprayed it with some hairspray. Finally, she doused me with a cologne that actually smelled pretty good. Then she had me look in the mirror.

“Wow Mom. I look good.” I said.

“Of course you do dear. I made sure of it.”

I checked myself out a little, “Man. I didn’t know I had it in me.”

“I didn’t know you had it in you to get a date with a girl like Chelsea Burkett. But we’ve all been surprised today haven’t we?”

“You can say that again.” I said.

“And your father called, he says you can use the Challenger, but if you wreck it he’s never letting you out of the house.”

“Tell him I love him too.” I said.

In a way, it was the most my parents had ever showed their love for me. Did they really love me? Probably not that much, but whatever love they did have they expressed at that moment, perhaps only to improve their familial image, but regardless it helped a lot.

I pulled up to Chelsea’s house in my dad’s 1970 Dodge Challenger convertible, a beautiful car I might add, and got out and knocked on the door in my dress shirt vest combo. The cologne smell had died down over the time it took to get their, but my mother assured me that was exactly the effect she had been going for. Chelsea opened the door wearing a flowy white tank top and nice jeans. She eyed me appreciatively.

“You clean up nicely.”

“Thanks.” I said and managed to stammer out, “You look amazing.”

“Aww thanks.” She said.

I opened the door of the car for her, but she stopped and appreciated the Challenger first.

“This isn’t your car is it?”

“It’s my dad’s” I said sheepishly.

“Well your dad has great taste in cars.”

She sashayed her way into the car and I closed the door behind her. I got in and started the car.

“Nice cologne.” She said sniffing the air.

“Thanks. Well-Thanks.” I said.

I sat there for a second and then realized she had never told me where we were going, “Where to?” I asked.

“Right.” She said, smoothing her hair back, “You decide.”

I cursed my luck. I had no idea about what to do or where to go. But I knew I had to do something, so I just started to drive.

“Where are we going?” She said.

I racked my brain for where to go, but I had no idea. The only thing that came to mind was a vague memory of some smooth guy simply saying the phrase, “you’ll see”.

“You’ll see.” I said.

She raised an eyebrow, obviously intrigued. I switched on the radio to my favorite station that didn’t blast senseless pop music all the time. The Smiths came on the radio. He couldn’t believe his luck. He knew she was a big Smiths fan.

“I love the Smiths.” Chelsea said.

“Me too.” I said.

I quickly texted my mom for good date ideas going on tonight. She responded that I was on my own for that one. I was growing desperate. The Smiths were the only thing saving me from a terrible date.

I switched from the radio to one of my mixtapes which had some of the tracks I had mixed as a DJ on it.

“Hey what’s this?” She asked, “I never heard this before.”

“It’s actually stuff I mixed.” I said.

“Your a DJ?”

“Well uh yeah I guess.” I said shyly.

“That’s awesome!” She said.

We were hitting it off. My excitement was only outmatched by my fear of not having a real plan.

Salvation came when a field emerged on the right side of the highway with a big white sheet which was just beginning to play Back To the Future. I took the exit. Hopefully she was a Jamie Lee Fox fan. I rolled back the convertible overhead covering thing and we leaned back the back seats. I bought popcorn and soda from a little stand by the movie, and with the helpful suggestion of a kind knowledgable old lady bought a chocolate bar for Chelsea as well. She thanked me for the food.

“I love this movie.” Chelsea said.

My heart melted, “Me too!” I practically yelled.

The movie played, and by the time Marty McFly had traveled been hit by a car, Chelsea was leaning into me and I had my arm around her.

As Marty McFly skateboarded around the town, my eyes were drawn to Chelsea’s face, perfectly illuminated by the flickering of the drive in movie. She looked up at me, and I had the very first kiss of my life.

The next day, Quentin came over. I was still on an emotional high from the previous night.

“How’d your date go?” Quentin asked.

“Oh it was amazing!” I exclaimed.

Quentin politely sat through my rant, as I described every single waking detail of my date and then stabbed into the conversation at the opportune time.

“Sounds great dude.” He said, “Now are you ready to walk through the gauntlets of death?”

“Huh?” I asked.

“Dude, we never finished our game, you were about to walk into the The Room of Slaughter, the Dungeon of Depravity, and The Atrium of Bewilderment!”

“Oh right!” My expression become more serious, “I Axel Stormsword, am ready!”

“First the Room of Slaughter, you enter a room with hundreds of enemies facing you, what do you do?”

“What’s the room like?”

“The room is the entranceway to another room, and then, you suspect to another. Then there is the spiral staircase that leads to the top of the tower.”

“I cast an Earthshatter spell.”

“The earth begins to move, the foundations of the tower are shaking!” Quentin narrated.

“And then I fire a concussive blast spell at the ceiling.”

“The ground shaking, you fire the spell at the ceiling, the ceiling begins to collapse.”

“I cast a Barrier spell.”

“You’re shielded from the falling debris while your foes are mauled by it. You’re enemy defeated, you proceed to the next room.” Quentin said, looking impressed, “You enter the next room, the Dungeon of Depravity, and pass through quite easily. There are hundreds of screaming, dying people in there, but your focus on Princess Merillen drives you forward and you press on.”

He broke character, “Sorry I knew you’d use that to your excuse and just go through.”

“You know me too well.” I said.

“Finally you reach the Atrium of Bewilderment. An old wisened man comes up to speak to you and says, ‘see the flames before you, the only way to pass this test is for your will to be indomitable. The only way forward is to shed all earthly things and be as you are. Only then can you pass through the flame.”

I thought about this for a second, then said, “I take off all of my armor and weapons and throw them over the flames, then I pass through.”

“You pass through totally unscathed.”

“I put my stuff back on.” I say.

“The same man comes to you.”

“You have passed the test, proceed up the tower where the Warlock awaits.”

“Nice touch with the flames.” I said.

“Thanks!” Quentin said, “Oh! I have some good news too!”

“Really?” I asked, “What is it?”

“I’ve figured out what I’m going to do with Peyton.”

“What?”

“I’m going to need your help.”

“Alright sure. What do you need?”

“We’re going to dismantle the cheerleaders, one by one. Ruining their social lives and then finally, when the squad is in shambles, Peyton will go too.”

“Woah, dude. Calm down. Your going to ruin the entire cheerleading squad? I thought this was about Peyton.”

“It is! But don’t you see? Peyton’s greatest love is the squad, taking them out will ruin her!”

“You can’t mess with the entire squad! I was ok with Kurt being taken down a peg, but this is going too far. There are like 20 some girls on the squad. That’s 20 people’s lives you’re ruining for no reason.”

“Are you kidding me?! Now that you have a girlfriend you’ve gone soft?!” Quentin exclaimed.

“No! I just think you’re going too far. This is concerning for me as a friend.”

“Well thank you for your concern, but I don’t need it.” Quentin said in a pouting tone.

“Look. Quentin.” I said and looked him straight in the eye. “I can’t stop you. There’s no way I can stop you. But I’m telling you, begging you as a friend, to not let this power go to your head. This could be really dangerous if you abuse it!”

“I know.” He said, “I know.”

He abused it.