The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Roger caught up with Jessica in the courtyard on her way to chemistry lab—he could spot her blond hair and pink backpack from a mile away, but he hadn’t needed to go looking for her since they started dating. Today it was like she was avoiding him. “Hey beautiful,” he said, running up behind her. “Where’ve you been?”

“Fuck off,” she said.

“What’s wrong? What’d I do?”

She spun on him. “You’re an asshole, that’s what you did. I don’t want to see you anymore. Get away from me.” She turned and walked away.

He watched her for a moment, his jaw hanging open, before giving chase.

“Is this ‘cause I didn’t call you last night?,” he asked, pacing her. “I told you I had to hang out with my folks.”

“It’s not because you didn’t call me,” she said, not breaking stride or looking at him. “I don’t care who you call or don’t call. We’re through. Leave me alone.”

“Hey,” he grabbed her arm in frustration, stopping her. “What’s going on?!”

She yanked free. “Don’t touch me!,” she spat. “God, you’re such an asshole. I hate you.”

“Just tell me. What is it? Tell me something.”

She calmed for a moment, studying his face. Her eyes passed over Roger’s square jaw, flicked up to his wavy hair. “I don’t know,” she said evenly. “It’s ...” she trailed off.

“What?” He adopted a reassuring tone. “What is it Jess?”

“You’re an asshole and a bully!” she snapped. “I hate you. Stay the fuck away from me.”

And she stormed off.

“I swear,” Amy said later, “we all thought you and Roger would get married before graduation.”

“I don’t know what I ever saw in him,” said Jessica. They were in the parking lot, the sky was overcast and the asphalt was wet with recent rain. They walked around a puddle. “He’s such an asshole.”

“What brought this on now? Did you... you know, meet someone else?”

Jessica shook her head. “Not really. It’s weird...” She touched her forehead. “It’s like a switch flipped inside me. I spent hours lying in bed last night trying to make myself feel the same way about him, the way I used to—remembering the good times. Our first date ...,” she squinted, frowned. “It didn’t work. I just hate him.”

Amy nodded sympathetically. “You know, Chad Livingston just broke up with his girlfriend—that Brittany bitch.”

“He’s a science major, right?”

“Yeah. Cute, too.”

Jessica nodded absently. “Yeah.” She hoisted her backpack higher on her shoulders. “What about Billy?”

“Bill Canton? From American Lit?”

“Noooo,” said Jessica. “Eeew. I mean Billy. Your brother. Is he seeing anyone?”

Amy laughed. “Yeah, he’s beating them off with a stick. But if you want, I’ll tell him you think he’s hot and give him your number.” She giggled.

“I’m serious. He was so...”—sexy? hot as hell?—“cute when he brought that science project into your room yesterday. And when it didn’t do anything, he seemed to take it so well. Roger always got so frustrated when something he tried didn’t work out. He’s such a stupid asshole.”

“Yeah, Billy is glorious in defeat,” said Amy. “Comes with years of experience.” They reached their cars, and Amy popped her trunk and shrugged off her day pack. “You want to go out tonight? I’ll call Laura. We can all get drunk and toast your freedom.”

Jessica shook her head. “No, really, I’m fine,” she said. “I just want to get my head in some books.”

“Then come over tonight and we’ll study again,” said Amy. “You can ask my little brother on a date,” she laughed.

“Okay,” said Jessica. “Sounds good.”

“Roger? Are you okay?,” Kelly asked.

Roger looked stunned when he met his younger sister at the car after class, shuffling like a zombie that had lost the will to be dead. “Yeah,” he said. “She dumped me,” he added randomly.

“Who? Jessica?”

“It came out of nowhere. She just told me she hated me and never wanted to see me again.”

“Ohhh, Roger,” Kelly touched his arm. “You’ve had fights before. I’m sure this’ll blow over.”

“I’m not so sure,” he said listlessly. “She really—she really didn’t seem to want me any more.”

“You two have been together forever. Nothing that serious could happen overnight.”

It was an odd reversal—Kelly comforting Roger. When she was young she’d mock anything like genuine emotion that he was foolish enough to display in the house—“Rogeerr’s got a girrrrll friend.” But when she grew up a little and discovered boys, it was her older brother who coached her through her first heartbreaks. “He wasn’t good enough for you,” he’d say, supportively. “He’s a fag, everyone knows it.”

Now Kelly was the one who broke all the hearts: she’d blossomed tall and curvy, with long, red hair the rich hue of a dying fire, a full, sensual mouth and green eyes. She had all the high ground in the dating wars, and she could offer a little support to her brother.

She sensed it was too early to start calling Roger’s ex an unworthy bitch; they might still get back together. She said as much. “I’m sure she’ll come crawling back, bro.”

But there was something very final in his posture and tone. His defeat seemed so total. Kelly began to wonder what really happened.

Billy lounged on his bed, his head buried in a 1973 issue of the Journal of Scientific Psychiatry. He liked what he was reading: if the early experiments in clinical hypnosis were a valid yardstick, he could count on his memory suppression suggestions to remain in place indefinitely.

He grew hard with the memory. Ordering Jessica to get dressed, her eyes staring at him with naked adoration as she complied, slipping her panties over her still-wet pussy, pulling on her jeans. He’d thought of stopping her, jumping her again—really, letting her jump him. But by then the device in the red wagon had begun emitting a disconcerting acrid smell. He didn’t know how much longer he had.

When Jessica was dressed, he’d positioned her back on the bed and called over Amy. The two girls had sat on the edge of Amy’s mattress, staring up into his eyes as he gave his final instructions: Amy would no longer want to kiss him. They were both going to fall asleep, and when they awoke from their nap, they would remember nothing of what transpired. “You’ll recall clearly that I turned on my experiment, and it didn’t work, and I shrugged and left the room with it,” he’d ordered.

Jessica and Amy nodded in unison.

“Sleep now.” They fell back on the tousled sheets, arms touching lightly. Within seconds their breathing was deep and slow.

He’d turned off the device, and the blue light faded from the room. Then he’d pulled off the tinted goggles and watched the girls slumber for a long moment before towing the little red wagon out of the room. Squeak, squeak, squeak...

Billy had left for the movies then, and when he got back Jessica was gone. Amy was in the kitchen. “I can’t believe it,” she’d said, slicing a sandwich. “You actually cleaned your room. There’s some peanut butter and jelly in the fridge if you want to make yourself something to eat.” She headed for the stairs.

“Amy?” he’d asked.

“Yeah?”

“How was the studying?”

“None of your business,” she wrinkled her nose and walked up the stairs.

He awakened the next morning with his head full of questions. How would Jessica reconcile the false memory he planted with the plain reality of her tangled hair and the semen between her legs? Most importantly, would the suggestions he planted still control her, even if she could no longer remember them?

The journal assured him he was on safe ground on both counts—posthypnotic subjects found ways of rationalizing inconsistencies, and they don’t have to remember suggestions to be governed by them. The state he imposed on Jessica and Amy was far stronger than hypnosis. He should be fine.

“Hey!” A female voice startled him from his reverie. He jumped and dropped the magazine.

It was Jessica watching him from the doorway, biting her lower lip thoughtfully. She must have come into the house with Amy. “How’s it going?,” she asked.

“Um, g-good,” he said, his heart racing from the shock. “How about you?”

She smiled—those dimples again. She was dressed differently now, in a skirt and a pink sweater set. Maybe a little more makeup too. She glanced around the room, which was spotless, except for the bundle of electronics sitting inertly in the wagon in the corner. Jessica pointed at it. “I’m sorry your light show didn’t work,” she said without mockery.

“That’s alright,” Billy shrugged. “You know, back to the drawing board.”

“Whatchya reading?” She walked in boldly and snatched up the journal from his floor.

“Wait!” He grabbed at it, but she pulled it out of reach behind her back. He stepped past her to try and snatch it and she backed away against the wall. “Give me that!,” he said. Her eyebrows arched coquettishly and a half-smile crossed her lips.

Something was wrong. Why was she screwing with him? The suggestions must not have stuck. Is it possible, he thought, that she even suspected something?

He stepped into her and reached around her back, but she transferred the magazine to the other hand with a girlish laugh. He reached around her with his other arm. He was nearly embracing her; her hair tickled the side of his cheek softly.

He heard the journal rustle to the floor. She’d dropped it.

He realized then how close she was. He could smell her perfume stronger than yesterday, and she was wearing lipstick. Her hair was down. She was a inch from his face.

“You know,” she said softly. “I think you’re really cute, Billy.”

“Umm, me too,” he said lamely.

She brought her head in closer, almost touching his lips with hers. “I’ve been thinking a lot about you,” she said, looking into his eyes. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.”

“What do you think?,” he said. “I mean, what do you think about me?”

She kissed him—just a little peck on his lips, like she was tasting him. He felt the tackiness of her lipstick. Then she pressed her mouth against his, invaded it with her tongue.

They made out for what seemed hours before she pulled away, breathing heavily. She dabbed her lower lip with her thumb. “Why didn’t I ever notice you before?,” she said distantly.

“I don’t know.”

A scared, exposed look clouded her features. She swallowed. Then she was in his arms again, kissing him deeply. She moaned and pulled her body hard against his.

“Jess? Are you still in there?” Amy was knocking on the bathroom door down the hall.

Billy broke off from Jessica to slam his door closed and twist the lock—it was an old lock, hard enough to open from the inside, impossible from the hall. Jessica began unbuttoning her sweater.

They made love, fucked long and hard. He took his time were her body, exploring its mysteries and eccentricities: lingering over the tattoo on her ass; rolling her over to kiss her flat stomach; teasing her nipples with his tongue. He couldn’t make her orgasm on command this time, but he lasted longer, and she came violently.

Her lovemaking was so enthusiastic and energized, that for a moment, Billy almost felt sorry for Roger Johansson. Roger would never know how she’d fought for him the day before, clinging to her love even as Billy slipped his will into her mind like a dagger, over and over. Now that love was gone without a trace.

“God,” she panted afterwards, lying in his arms for what, to her, was the first time, “you make me so horny.” She nuzzled his ear, then whispered, “I think I’m falling in love with you, Billy. I know it’s silly, we hardly know each other. But I can’t help the way I feel.”

When she closed her eyes, Billy stretched out with his free hand, snagged the medical journal and stuffed it under the bed.