The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

At that point, I thought that was it. Life seemed to be normal. Better then normal really. Chelsea and I were seeing each other, and with my moms makeover of me and Chelsea’s helpful advice and encouragement, I was dressing better and people were beginning to take notice. My status as “bottom of the social hierarchy” had been absolved quite quickly and now I was “Chelsea’s Boyfriend” and “Vest Guy”. I had even got to DJ a party and so a few people were calling my DJ Kay. I had another gig lined up really soon. This was far better then any status I had ever held before such as “Nobody” or “Kid That Kurt Beats The Shit Out Of.”

I still was technically best friends with Quentin, and I tried to hang out, but ever since I had told him not to let the power go to his head he had become more distant. Subtly and slowly he had been working to improve his standing in life with a generous use of his powers. I would often hear him, in his high pitched voice influencing people into doing things for him.

“Kyle!” Chelsea said walking up to me and kissing me on the lips.

“Hey babe.” I said, “How are you?”

“Fantastic.” She said, “Did you hear about your friend Quentin?”

“No! What’s he up to now?” I asked curiously.

“He’s dating Trisha Masters.” Chelsea said, “They’re kind of the most awkward couple ever.”

Trisha Masters was the bitchy second in command of the cheerleading squad. She played nice with Peyton, but everyone but Peyton knew that Trisha had it out for her and coveted the captain spot. Trisha dating Quentin was an obvious move for power on both Trisha and Quentin’s parts. It looked like Quentin was still planning on Peyton’s downfall and it looked like he had convinced Trisha to do help him, one way or another.

“What’s wrong?” Chelsea asked looking at me with concern and breaking me from my thoughts, “It’s about Quentin isn’t it?”

I had told Chelsea everything about Quentin and she hadn’t believed me at first. But she was objective enough to allow me to prove it and so I cited her randomly talking to me in the first place in the lunch room as an example. She still hadn’t believed me. This was the proof I needed.

“Why do you think the two of them are dating?”

“I don’t know.” Chelsea said, “It doesn’t make much sense to me.”

I looked at her, and she replied, “You think it’s Quentin’s so called mind control voice don’t you?”

“Ok think about it.” I said, “is Quentin an attractive guy?”

Chelsea frowned, “No, not really.”

“Is Trisha hot? Let me answer that...yes yes she is. Right there it already doesn’t make sense. But further, Trisha is not a “I’m looking for a guy with personality” type of girl.”

“That’s true.” Chelsea said, “She’s only dated dumb jocks with abs in the past.”

“Yeah. This is clearly a political move right? That’s the only possible explanation.”

“You mean?”

“The MC for Prom.” I said.

At prom for most schools the most desired spot for a girl is that of Prom Queen. Guys kinda want to be Prom King too, but girls kill for Prom Queen. Our school was no different. However every year the Senior class would select someone to be the MC for the evening. It was often a really popular guy, but that was not why I thought Quentin wanted the job.

“Think about it Chels.” I said, “If I’m telling the truth and Quentin does have as you put ‘trippy mind control’ powers, then he could use them right there! He has a chance to talk to our entire class uninterrupted. It’s the perfect opportunity for him.”

“Ok, if he does have these ‘powers’ that you say he does then it is the perfect opportunity, I’ll admit it.”

“Right! Thank you!”

“And it would explain Trisha and him getting together, working out some sort of deal to get her something, or if he really has these powers, maybe he just made her do it.”

“That’s a possibility too.” I said, “but knowing Quentin, if he can get his way through intellect and political maneuvering, he’ll do it. He’d choose that first over just forcing somebody. He’s not a bad guy.”

“You say that yet you think he’s going to try to brainwash the entire senior class at prom?”

“So he’s got flaws...” I said with a shrug.

That conversation, specifically the statement “He’ll (Quentin) choose that (use of political maneuvering and intellect) first over forcing somebody” got me thinking. That statement I had made was not something new to me. I had known Quentin for all practical purposes forever and I knew that’s how he was. In our childhood Quentin was the equivalent of Tom Sawyer, and I to lesser equivalent was Huck Finn. Quentin could have perhaps forced some of our childhood friends to do things, at the time he was the biggest of us all and he was a year older then some of our playmates, but he chose to use tactful manipulation instead. It made him a good leader in many ways as he was able to get our little troop together as a cohesive unit, thus allowing us to bask in the glorious victory of childish games of teamwork.

However at this point in time I had come to the realization of our prior meeting, the morning after my first date with Chelsea where I had rejected his offer to help him exact his revenge. He had been using Chelsea to soften me up for his proposal. He had seemed pretty smug when he made his offer, he seemed certain I’d accept, and I was pretty much ready to. I was way to excited after that night. Quentin was Tom Sawyer, and I Huck Finn, and just like those infamous two, Quentin was not afraid to manipulate his more innocent friend. I had no proof, no real concrete evidence, only a hunch, but with the thought in my mind, it was impossible to get rid of it. The more I thought about it, the more I agonized over the fact that Chelsea’s and I’s relationship was built entirely on a false foundation.

I couldn’t get it out of my head. I deeply contemplated this during my free period which I spent sitting on the soccer field bleachers, my thoughts only briefly interrupted by a soccer ball to the head which someone apologized for. The next time I saw him, I confronted him, although the ball had kinda hit me funny and squished my left ear so I wasn’t hearing at 100%.

“Quentin, did you mess with Chelsea ever?”

“Dude, don’t you remember? I told you about making her notice you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know that, but did you do anything else?”

“Dude, chill out, Chelsea’s totally into you, and for good reason.” Quentin said.

“That’s not what I mean!” throwing up my hands in exasperation.

“Then what do you mean then?” Quentin said crossing his arms and looking at me with annoyance.

“Look, Quentin, we’ve been friends forever. You’re my best friend. So I’ll be straight with you. You’re manipulative.”

“No shit Sherlock.”

“So, because your manipulative, I had this thought, and now I’ve convinced myself, for better or for worse that you made Chelsea like me so that I’d be in a good mood to accept your proposal to take down Peyton.”

“Dude. That’s low.” Quentin said.

“So you didn’t do anything?”

“Well...”

“You did! I can’t believe it! You did didn’t you?!”

“Well just a little nudging here and there-”

“That’s not what I wanted Quentin! Why would you do that? Wait! Don’t answer that question I know! It’s because your a fucking douche that’s why!”

“Wait calm down.” Quentin said.

I noticeably calmed down. But I could feel a part of me fighting it. I calmed down, but in some way, I was able to fight it off, and came back, angrier then ever.

“You used it on me!? You used your goddamn power on me! That’s it. This friendship is over! Goodbye Quentin!”

And I stormed away, Quentin calling out after me, and finally saying,

“Alright fine! I’m a fucking douche huh? Well let’s see how you’re pretty little life goes from now on! You’ll see!”

Life quickly spiraled downward after that. School became a hostile place. Quentin had commandeered control of the football team and they now stalked the halls as his personal bodyguards and enforcers. I was subject to beatings whenever I walked around. The staff was powerless to do anything, they were under Quentin’s spell and even besides that the US legal system (my single, “poke fun at the government” joke for this story) what could they really do?

Quentin had turned against me and the school had followed his voice. There was only one consolation in the fact that I had discovered Quentin’s weakness, well sort of. After being hit in the head with a soccer ball, I had a very brief interlude of deafness in one of my ears. Then Quentin attempted to get me to calm down by using his powers but it was only partially effective. Most people swooned at his voice nowadays, but me, I could stay alive with music playing in my ears, or earplugs, etc. I now constantly wore one earplug in my left ear to counteract anything Quentin said just in case. He had avoided me ever since our fight, keeping his distance and sending his cronies from afar.

Chelsea believed me now about Quentin, about mind control, everything. I had told her everything I new, even about Quentin influencing her to go out with me. She had taken it pretty well considering and she was perhaps the only one on my side. I had instructed Chelsea to do this too and she had remained relatively unscathed. The others were not so lucky. Quentin had made Trisha his queen so to speak. She wore the nicest, most provocative clothing and followed him around, like a viper and his fangs. Peyton’s fate was far worse as she was forced to whore herself to anyone who would take her. At one point, she even tried for me.

“You’re Kyle right? Oh what do I care! I need release!” Peyton said, groping herself wildly in front of him. She was dressed to kill with a mini skirt and tube top, the highest of high heels and presumably no panties.

“Peyton. I can’t I’m dating Chelsea.”

“Oh I know, and you guys are so sweet together, but I need release please! I’m begging you!” She pleaded, then proceeded to turn around and bend over, commando status confirmed.

“Quentin made you do this?”

“Oh god! You’re the only person I’m allowed to talk about this with! Yes! He made me this way! I need sex every two hours from someone, anyone, and I need it or I go crazy! I just have to confirm if they have any STD’s first, then I do them. And then, at night, I go to Quentin’s house and he uses me and calls me a slut! Says it’s my rightful title. It’s terrible! It gets really painful if I don’t do it every two hours and I don’t even feel pleasure from it!” She said crying, “Please take me.”

“I can’t Peyton.”

She bawled but nodded that she understood and stood back up, I walked over and gave her a hug, “It’ll be alright, I’ll stop him somehow.”

She looked at me and whimpered, “I hope so. I really do.”

I held her for a bit and then she said, “One more thing, Quentin told me to tell you and I quote ‘you could’ve helped and maybe it wouldn’t have come to this’.”

I took a deep breath.

“Don’t believe him Kyle.” Peyton said, “Don’t let it get to your head. I believe in you.”

Just then some hopeless freshman kid walked by and Peyton practically pounced on him.

“Poor guy.” I said.

“But it’s true, he wanted me to help, I could’ve stopped him from making you-” I said.

We were laying on Chelsea’s bed in her house, her behind me. We had done this on occasion, merely as a way to relax. Chelsea’s parents were out somewhere and we had the house to ourselves.

“But you didn’t help.” Chelsea said cutting me off, “and that is why you’re a good guy.”

“But Peyton-”

“In a very twisted way Peyton’s actually learned her lesson.” Chelsea said, “She’ll never be a bitch again. Psychological trauma aside, she’s somewhat better off.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say.” I said.

“I know, but it’s partially true.” Chelsea said.

“I guess.”

“And besides, you chose to not help Quentin,” Chelsea said stroking my hair. “because you know what you would do was wrong.”

“But Quentin forced you to like me.” I said, “I almost feel wrong about dating you.”

“He might have made me like you.” Chelsea said, “But I’m really glad he did.”

“That’s just the trippy mind control talking.” I sighed.

“Ok yeah, Quentin forced me to talk to you, accept your date, but he didn’t force me to still like you did he? His only goal was to soften you up for his proposal. I like you a lot Kyle, you’re sweet and compassionate, your gentlemanly, you’re smart, and in my opinion pretty damn sexy. If you had been some pervert, you could have turned me into a Peyton. Quentin wanted your approval, he still wants it really, and he would’ve made me do whatever you wanted to get you on his side. You could’ve made me whatever you wanted, but instead you chose me.”

I turned over and gave her a kiss, “You’re the best, what else could I choose?”

She kissed him back, “Nobody, you were a total nerd.”

“Hey!” I said.

We laughed and smacked her with one of the stuffed animals on her bed.

“So what do we do then?” I asked, “How do we stop Quentin?”

“I’m not sure.” Chelsea said, “He’s got the voice.”

I gear suddenly started turning in my head, “Wait.”

“What?”

“Wait...wait! wait!!” I cried, “He’s got the voice, but we can too!”

“What are you talking about?”

“If I can’t hear his voice very well, then I don’t get controlled right?”

“Right.”

“So that means his power is all auditory right?”

“Right.”

“Which means we can record his voice! I bet it’ll have the same effect!”

“You’re a genius.” She said with a wide grin.

Whenever I saw Quentin within the next few days, I turned on the recording function of my phone to record his conversations which almost always involved him using his power. Then I would rush home, since none of the teachers now cared where I was ever. Now all they did was let us watch movies and let us do whatever we wanted. At home I would use my sound equipment to mix the recordings I had. I had grabbed some voice synthesizer software and had it almost right to emulating Quentin’s voice. I had also mixed up a song with Quentin’s voice power in it so I could influence someone quite easily.

Chelsea was a constant for me, always checking up on me, making sure I was ok. She would hold me and comfort me, encourage me, and we would kiss a lot. We hadn’t had sex yet, but that was totally fine with me, I knew we would get there eventually, so there was no rush. Plus I was extremely intimidated as I had never ever done it before. I kept her updated on the progress of the voice synthesizer and the song. She was excited that the song was done and excited that I was close to being done with the voice synthesizer, but I told her I had hit a wall with the synthesizer and it was going to take some time.

But then things got worse. Quentin stopped me in the hall on a Monday morning, the week of Prom flanked by Kurt, and another football jock standing guard and said,

“How’s it going buddy?”

“Uh great.” I said.

“Look at you. So smug with your pretty girlfriend.”

“Look Quentin I don’t want any trouble.”

“Oh but you already have it. You see I have a problem that I’d like you to help me with.”

I looked at him, this was not going to be good.

“You see, Peyton here,” he said as Kurt moved to the side to reveal Peyton, who was wearing the sluttiest version of a schoolgirl uniform I had ever seen, and was desperately fingering herself, “Needs your help.”

“I’m not cheating on my girlfriend.”

“Oh ho! Loyalty! Something that you seem to have forgotten about when it comes to me.” Quentin said with mock hurt.

“You’re insane.” I said.

“Gentleman, if you’ll please escort Peyton and Kyle ahead of me.”

Kurt gave Kyle a menacing look, and he sighed and followed them into a windowless classroom that served as detention. Inside he saw Chelsea bound and gagged to a chair. She looked ok, but extremely scared. Her clothes were intact, a blouse and skirt and no bruises were evident. Flanking her were two more football team members and a member of the wrestling squad.

“So.” Quentin said walking in. “You see Peyton needs your help.”

“Fuck you Quentin.” I said, fists balled up.

“Look Kyle, I don’t think I’ve made myself clear.” Quentin said, he pulled out his dick from his pants, “Put her on the floor.”

The two football players flipped the chair over, unceremoniously. Chelsea landed on her face and she whimpered. The chair provided a natural arch and made her skirt ride up to reveal her shapely ass. Quentin reached down and gave her ass a nice slap in which she cried out against.

“Stop!” I cried.

“Now we understand each other.” Quentin said.

“What do you want from me?” I seethed.

“Satisfy Peyton while Chelsea watches.”

“Fuck you.” I said.

Quentin moved behind Chelsea, whose face was pointed right at him, she looked at him, terror in her eyes.

“ALRIGHT!” I cried, “Come on Peyton let’s get this over with.”

Peyton nodded and walked over and whispered in his ear, “I’m so sorry. Don’t do this, it’s worse then you think.”

“I have to, for Chelsea.”

“Peyton!” Quentin commanded, “Bend over.”

“Yes Master.” She said, and she bent over right in front of me.

“Kyle you’re going to fuck her until you come and then do it again and again until your exhausted and you’re going to love it!”

I hesitated, just for a second, I still had my earplug in, Quentin didn’t know that, Chelsea was looking at me and mouthed, “don’t let him know.” I realized right then, that I had to make this convincing, that I had to act like I was completely under Quentin’s spell, or I’d reveal his weakness which he didn’t even know he had. Chelsea knew this too, and with that in mind, I plowed into Peyton. It was my first experience, and I didn’t last long. But I was up for more soon enough and I did her, over and over and over. She screamed like a wild animal, loving every minute of it. I gave it my all, and I had to admit that I was enjoying myself beyond reason, but at the same time I was cheating on Chelsea and practically raping Peyton, I felt terrible at the same time.

Finally, with a massive effort, I was spent, and I had to sit down on a nearby desk. Peyton hobbled over to a chair and sat down and promptly passed out on the desk.

“Impressive display old friend.” Quentin said, “I’m sure Chelsea enjoyed you going at it with such enthusiasm.”

I growled, and my hurt was stabbed with pain. He had hurt me bad, and he knew it.

“I’ll leave you three to catch up. I’m sure there will be interesting events transpiring. Oh and Kyle,”

He walked over and whispered in my right ear, the one without the earplug, “You’ll be bound by whatever Peyton says as soon as she wakes up. Wake her up after I leave.”

Then Quentin walked out, his posse of bodyguards following close behind. Whether I liked it or not, I walked over to Peyton and woke her up.

“Are ok Peyton?”

“You’re to take me as your slave and love me. You may never release me, no commands will override these commands ever.” She said, she started to cry, “but it was wonderful, and I’m sorry Master.”

I could feel a fundamental change going in my mind. Peyton was now my slave and I was forced to be her master, but it was more then that, now I loved her. Luckily, the way things had worked, Quentin hadn’t actually made me fall in love with Peyton, just love her. Luckily my body and/or mind had taken this to mean that I love her platonically, as a friend. But still it was a change. As before I had simply felt compassion for her state, now I really truly loved her.

“I’m sorry too.” I said and I held her for a second, until I remembered, “Chelsea!”

I rushed over, leaving Peyton behind, still crying it out, I un-gagged her and she coughed and gasped as I untied her hands. Then she too began to cry too and she rushed towards me in a massive hug. I slowly pulled her over to where Peyton was and we all had a good cry together. Finally, after about a half hour or so, we were able to hold back our tears long enough to discuss the events that had transpired.

“I’m so sorry Chelsea.” Peyton said, “I didn’t want-”

“Me neither.” I said.

“I know.” Chelsea said with a snivel, “none of us wanted that. You were forced against your wills.”

Then she gave Peyton a big slap across the face.

“I guess I still deserve that.” Peyton said.

She slapped me too, and it left a handprint on my face.

“Now I’m better.” Chelsea said.

“So what does this mean?” I asked, rubbing my face.

“Well before we go any further Master, I better tell you that Quentin was very specific about what the word ‘slave’ should mean to me.’ Peyton said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Slave to me means that I’m supposed to follow any orders you give me, unless you try to release me. But it also means having sex with you at least once a week. Oh and I have to call you Master when we’re not in public.”

Chelsea raised her hand to slap Peyton again, but I held her back, “She’s not joking.”

“I swear I’m not joking.” Peyton said, “If I don’t have sex with you Master, I will literally start convulsing on the floor. Here.”

She pulled out her phone and showed us a video, “This was to convince you if you didn’t believe me.”

On the screen I saw Peyton half naked, her boobs spilling out of her pulled down top, curled up in a ball. Quentin’s voice could be heard.

“Are you going to give in?” Quentin’s voice asked smugly.

“Get away from me!” Peyton yelled.

“Alright, that’s it then here we go!”

“No wait!” Peyton cried, but it was too late, Quentin snapped his fingers on screen and then Peyton began to writhe in silent screams of pain. Peyton stopped the video.

“That’s what happens to me.” She said desperately, pleading with her eyes, looking directly at Chelsea, “Please! Don’t make me go through that again!”

Peyton was tearing up again. I was at a loss. I couldn’t ask Chelsea to let me have sex with another girl, but I couldn’t just let Peyton sit there and convulse on the ground. Quentin was really hitting me where it hurts and was using my own compassion against me. He truly was turning evil.

“It’ll be ok.” Chelsea said putting her arm around Peyton and consoling her.

“Can we go to your house Master?” Peyton asked.

I agreed and we hopped in my car and drove to my house.

“I don’t know what to say.” I said after pulling in, “both options...”

We got out of the car and I unlocked the door. My parents weren’t home from work yet, their cars still not in the driveway.

“I know Kyle.” Chelsea said as we walked through the door, “so I can help you out, you can have sex with Peyton.”

Peyton looked at Chelsea, “What?”

I turned around and looked at her questioningly.

“On one condition.” Chelsea said, “That I can join in too.”

I was shocked, the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.

“I guess that would work.” I said tentatively, “If your ok with that.”

“Well we can’t let Peyton suffer like this because I’d be jealous. But I will get jealous.”

“And it wouldn’t be right, I’d feel like I was cheating on you.” I said.

“You won’t be if I’m there with you.” Chelsea said with a hint of a smile.

“I’ve always been kinda...curious.” Peyton said.

Peyton leaned in and gave Chelsea a quick kiss. Then Chelsea kissed Peyton, and then they began to make out in earnest right in the foyer of the hallway that connected the kitchen and living room.

“Looks like Quentin’s plans are foiled.” I said. “And damn that’s hot.”

The two girls looked at each other and then turned to me and closed the door. They pushed me onto a couch and kissed me while removing his t-shirt. Chelsea continued to make out with me while I could feel Peyton moving down my chest with kisses while unfastening my belt. She pulled down my pants and boxers in one fell swoop and then took my dick into her hands and began to stroke it to attention. The little trooper rose to attention and then Peyton began to kiss it then suck it. I groaned.

“Hey make some room sister.” Chelsea said, “He’s my boyfriend after all.”

Both girls giggled and they both proceeded to lick up and down my shaft in unison. I groaned even louder but I was still somewhat spent from doing Peyton earlier so I was able to hold it together.

“Ugh. This is amazing.” I barely managed to get out.

“You don’t get to be captain of the cheerleading squad without a little know how Master.” Peyton said.

“And I’ve dated plenty of guys before you Kyle. Or should I call you Master too?”

My dick gave a little reflex at Chelsea’s words. I was too much in a daze to actually respond.

“I think Master likes it.” Peyton said.

“Well Master,” Chelsea said with a grin, why don’t you take me first? Though I guess since your my Master, your the boss.”

I stammered my speech, but I was able to stand up and turn Chelsea around so her ass was sticking out at me and her leg was propped up against the backboard of the couch, providing a very nice view and an easy entrance, then, like riding a bike that I had never learned to ride, I slid in and began pumping in and out like an animal. Chelsea moaned.

“Oh god.” She cried, “Mmm.”

She moaned and bit her lip as I pushed back and forth, I increased my pace, driven by some wild fervor.

“Oh God Kyle! Uh! Kyle! Uh!”

“Mmm do her Master.”

I came really hard, but I wasn’t done. Chelsea was exhausted, so Peyton revived my dick back to life and then promptly pushed me onto the couch.

“Let me do all the work Master.”

She then climbed on top of me and began to bounce up and down. I moaned again, living in pure ecstasy. She rode and rode, and I moaned and moaned, her breasts bouncing up and down her hair framing her face.

“Oh Master!”

I came again. We lay there, the three of us, completely spent, completely satisfied.

“We’re doing this again as soon as I recover.” Chelsea said.

“Hell yeah.” I said.