The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Josh Carpenter found the magazine the weekend before finals.

The Massey place had been deserted for years, ever since old man Massey had been carted off. Josh remembered the day vividly: he’d been ten, and the sight of three cop cars converging on the Massey home at the end of their street and officers piling out with guns drawn had made a big impression. Afterward, his parents had ordered him to stay away from the aging house. “It’s not safe,” they had warned. “Who knows what might happen to you?”

Naturally, that had only made him want to go there even more. But Josh had been a good boy, and despite his curiosity he had obeyed orders for a long time. Finally, though, he hadn’t been able to stand it.

He had no trouble getting in. The cops had padlocked the place, but all it took was a rock through a window to get around that. Josh felt a little guilty about the damage, but after all, it wasn’t as if anybody lived there anymore.

It was spooky inside. According to the story, Mrs. Massey had called the cops claiming her husband had gone crazy and was trying to kill her, and when they’d arrived, they’d found him menacing her with a huge kitchen knife. Whether that was true or not, the living room still bore obvious signs of a struggle: the couch was overturned, as were a couple of chairs. One of the chairs was smashed, The carpet was humped up, maybe from when the couch went over. And—Josh looked closely—yes, it looked like there was at least one bullet hole in the wall.

“Wow,” he whispered. It was like something out of a movie, made extra creepy by the fact that the power had long since been cut, so that the place was dark except where sunlight filtered through the unwashed windows between the smelly, half-drawn curtains.

Josh wandered through the silent, shadowed rooms of the Massey house. Everything was just as it had been left seven years ago. Mrs. Massey had packed some clothing and moved out that same night; she hadn’t even tried to come back for any of the furniture. Josh had heard she’d moved out west somewhere. Mr. Massey was up in Shady Acres sanitarium now, and probably would never come out.

Massey’s library was full of old, musty books. Some of them were really strange, with titles in foreign languages like De Vermis Mysteriis, Cultes des Goules and so on. One big old volume lay on a low table in the center of the room. Its thick leather cover bore the legend De Animatio Imagi. The immense tome was flanked by two half-melted candles in silver candlesticks.

Josh shivered. He decided he didn’t want to hang around in this house after all. Whatever old Massey had been up to in here, he wanted no part of it. He left the library, shaking his head.

When he returned to the living room, he noticed something sticking out from under the carpet just where it disappeared under the upended couch. He bent down and strained with one hand to lift the settee just a little, enough to let him slide the mystery object out with his other hand. Then he straightened up and looked at it.

His mouth fell open and a disbelieving laugh puffed out. It was a girlie mag, something called Dream Girls. He even recognized the cover model: she was still active, and had appeared on a cable show just a couple of months ago. He’d never have guessed an old fart like Massey had it in him.

Well, he thought, I might just as well get something out of this. He rolled up the magazine and tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans.

That was that. He climbed back out the window and took off. He wouldn’t be coming back. Once was enough.

When he got home, Josh pulled the old magazine out of his pocket and flipped through it rapidly. He grinned: some of the pictorials looked pretty good, especially the one whose model graced the cover. And there was one particularly lifelike cartoon that just about made him blow his wad right then and there.

But he had some other business. He had to study. He usually did well in school, but not because he was any great brain. He had to work at it. And with finals coming up, he had to work extra hard. At seventeen, he was looking down the barrel of senior year—and that meant college applications. If he were going to have any hope of winning the scholarships he’d need to go to any of the schools he was interested in, he’d have to pretty much ace his final exams this year and keep his grades up in the fall.

He stashed his prize in the pullout drawer attached to his bed and slid the drawer shut. No sense leaving it out where Dad—or worse, Mom—might see it. Then he turned his attention to his books.

He’d been studying for almost two hours when he heard the voice.

Read me, it whispered. Read me. . . .

He looked around. Where the hell was it coming from?

Read me, it came again. Read me. . . .

It was coming from the drawer, he realized. The drawer where the issue of Dream Girls was hidden.

He got up, went over and pulled out the glossy periodical. Holding it in his hands, he waited.

Nothing.

After several minutes, feeling foolish, Josh started to put the magazine away. But as he bent over to lay it back in the drawer, he heard the voice again, gently urging, Read me. . . .

Now how the hell, Josh wondered, did they do that? It had to be some kind of trick, some gimmick built into the pages, or the cover.

He flipped open the magazine and riffled through the pages. He stopped when he came to the sexy illustration he’d found before. He couldn’t help it. Looking at the babe in that picture gave him such a hard-on he was dizzy. He sat down on the bed, staring at the picture.

That’s right, the voice came again. Read me. Look at me. Keep looking at me. You know you want to. You know you need to. It’s all right, just keep looking. . . . The gorgeous girl in the picture seemed to be looking directly at him, her eyes focused on his and a sultry smile on her face.

“Oh, God,” whispered the boy. “You’re so beautiful.” He moaned. “I’d do anything for you, if only you were real.”

“Anything?” The voice seemed louder now, clearer, and eager. Josh thrilled to its throaty sound. Jesus, she seemed so real! If only—!

“Anything,” Josh promised. “I’d do anything.”

And then the impossible happened. The reclining figure on the page stretched sinuously, arching its back as it extended exquisite fishnet-clad legs. It winked at him—and vanished!

Josh yelped. The magazine fell from his hands, landing face-down, still open. “What the hell—?”

A hand fell lightly on his shoulder, and he twisted violently around toward it. What he saw made him gasp in disbelief.

Standing there, life-size and solid as anything, was the girl from the picture. Rich pale-blonde hair cascaded down her back. Her flawless face bore an open-mouthed, laughing smile accentuated by the mirth in her green eyes. Her incredible figure looked even better in three dimensions than it had in two, tapering from a lush, heavy bosom to a tiny waist before swelling outward again gracefully above long legs. All she was wearing were the fishnet stockings and white spike heels she’d had on in the illustration.

“Who are you?” Josh couldn’t believe what was happening. It couldn’t be real! He reached out instinctively, expecting to see his hand pass through the apparition in front of him.

It didn’t. His palm stopped against the warm, smoothly-muscled flesh of his dream girl’s stomach. He took it back and stared at it.

But only for a moment. Then the bountiful blonde sat next to him, took his hand in hers and pressed it against her taut stomach again before guiding it up to rest over her breast. “You see?” she murmured. “I’m here. I’m real. And I’m yours.”

Josh’s head was spinning. The woman seemed to exude some unfamiliar but wonderful perfume which entered his nostrils and went straight to his dick. His free hand came up to caress the blonde vision’s other breast. “But, but,” he stammered, struggling for words, “who are you? I don’t even know what to call you!”

“Yes you do,” the blonde told him. “What’s the sexiest name you can think of?”

Josh thought, and grinned. “How about Lorelei?” He’d seen the old Marilyn Monroe movie Gentlemen Prefer Blondes the previous weekend on TV, and the gorgeous gold-digger Lorelei Lee played by the legendary actress had really turned him on—especially the courtroom strip scene.

“Why, thank you,” cooed the blonde bombshell beside him on his bed. “Thank you ever so! Lorelei—that’s just who I am, all right!” Her voice sounded just like Marilyn’s in that movie sequence, sultry and breathy at the same time.

Josh fought to think. It was so hard—he was so hard! All he wanted was to take her, right there—and he could sense that she’d let him. “But,” he gasped, “who are you? Where did you come from?”

Lorelei laughed, a warm sound that curled down from Josh’s ears to caress his whole body. “You know where I came from,” she told him, reaching over to run the fingers of one hand lightly through his hair. With the other hand, she waved at the discarded magazine. “In there. You let me out when you read me.”

“Tha-that’s impossible,” Josh panted. “Imposs—mmphum, mmm!” His words were cut off as Lorelei pulled his head forward, pressing his face to her cleavage. He sighed and relaxed, burrowing deeper. ”Mnnhhmmmm. . . .“

Lorelei murmured, “Nothing is impossible, lover. Nothing except fighting me. You don’t want to fight me, you can’t fight me, you’ll do anything for me, just as you promised you would. You’ll do anything for me, believe anything I say, yes, and I’ll make you feel so good, anything, you’ll do anything, it feels so good. . . .“ Her wonderful voice went on and on in that vein. After a while, the words no longer registered consciously; they just sank into his mind, one after another.

Josh’s next memory was of himself naked on his bed, bucking and pumping beneath his beautiful blonde fantasy girl as she rode astride him, her mane of white-gold hair flying wildly about her. The bedsprings squeaked frantically beneath them as they writhed together until—

“Josh?” His mother’s voice pierced his closed door. “Are you all right? What are you doing in there?”

“Nothing, Mom,” Josh gasped. “Nothing! I’m fine!” Dear God, he thought, if she comes in here now, I’m dead meat! He hurled himself frantically over the side of his bed and scrabbled for his pants, which lay in a heap on the floor, and for the girlie magazine from which Lorelei had miraculously emerged, which lay open, face down, next to where his trousers had fallen. As he straightened up, the magazine flipped closed.

“All right, dear,” he heard, followed by receding footsteps. He sighed in relief.

And then it registered.

“Lorelei?” he called. “Lorelei?”

No answer—and as he looked around, she was nowhere in sight.

Good grief, he thought shakily. Did I just . . . imagine all that? If so, it was the most vivid daydream he’d ever had.

But of course it had to be a dream! Gorgeous naked sex kittens didn’t just pop out of illustrated cartoons, no matter how realistically they were drawn!

But it had been so real!

Cautiously, Josh opened the magazine again and made his way to Lorelei’s picture. Yes, there she was, right back on the page where he’d first seen her. A dream girl, yes—but just a dream, a vision in ink. Not flesh and blood, voice and scent. Shaking, the boy moved toward his wastebasket to throw away the prize he’d retrieved from the Massey house.

He couldn’t do it.

He stowed the Dream Girls back where he’d had it. His hands were shaking as he slid the bedside drawer closed.

He picked at his food at supper that night. His mother noticed, and asked in a worried voice, “Are you sure you’re all right, dear?”

“Yes,” he lied. “I’m fine. I’m just a little worried about finals, that’s all.” His mom would buy that.

She did. “All right, honey. Just make sure you get plenty of sleep, and I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

Sleep, however, didn’t come easily. And when it finally did, it was anything but restful. He dreamed of Lorelei, moving against him as her seductive voice murmured, “You’ll do anything for me, won’t you, darling? You’ll let me tell you what to do, what to think, and I’ll make you feel so good. . . .” When he woke for the final time, about five the next morning, he realized he’d come in his sleep. He felt like a zombie when he finally forced himself to get up.

He managed to get through the school day, including his final exam in English. When it was finally over, though, he was exhausted. As soon as he got home he went straight to his room, flopped on the unmade bed and fell asleep.

A little while later, he woke with a faint whisper in his ears. Read me, it pleaded; Read me. . . .

“No,” Josh mumbled. The voice sounded as if it were coming from his bedside drawer, where his salvaged issue of Dream Girls rested in secret. But it couldn’t be; that had to have been a dream.

Yes, the voice urged. Read me. Come on. I’m waiting. Read me. . . .

Josh fled the room. He didn’t come back until after supper.

He heard no more phantom urgings that evening, and managed to sleep peacefully that night. He felt much better the next day, which was just as well; he had two finals, in world history and Algebra II. He went through his classes almost normally. During seventh-period study hall, he came to a decision.

I’ve got to get rid of that thing, he told himself. I don’t care how sexy Lorelei is, or any of the live girls in the pictorials, either—that magazine’s messing with my head. It didn’t occur to him that he’d thought of the blonde cartoon bombshell by the name he’d given her, as if she were real.

He hurried home after the final bell and took the Dream Girls issue out of its hiding place. He headed for the wastebasket. . . .

Read me, the familiar ghostly whisper came. You know you want to.

“N-no,” stammered Josh. His hands were shaking again.

Yes, the voice insisted.

“No,” Josh repeated weakly. “I’m getting rid of you.”

One last look? the voice coaxed. Before you throw me away, one last look? What could it hurt? Read me. You know you want to. Just sit down and read me, that’s a good boy. . . .

The next thing Josh knew, he was sitting on his bed, turning the pages of the magazine. He couldn’t seem to stop himself. At last he arrived at Lorelei’s page.

She uncoiled sinuously, smiled, and vanished off the cushions she’d been reclining on in the cartoon. Josh suddenly felt a presence next to him.

A hand fell on his shoulder. A sexy voice breathed into his ear, “Oh, thank you, lover! Thank you ever so!”

“L-Lorelei?” Even as he squeaked her name, the faint musky scent of her reached his nostrils.

“Who else would it be, silly boy?” The blonde’s tone was teasing. The hand on his shoulder wandered up his neck, its nails scraping the skin and making the little hairs there stand up. Josh shivered.

“You’ve been a naughty boy, you know,” Lorelei admonished. She shook a finger at him. “I know you heard me before, but you didn’t read me then.” She leaned closer and breathed into his ear, “You ignored your Lorelei. Lorelei doesn’t like to be ignored. Naughty, naughty.“

Josh gulped. “S-s-sorry,” he stammered.

“You’re going to need to do more than say you’re sorry, silly,” scolded Lorelei.

“What do you mean?”

Lorelei told him what she wanted. As she spoke, Josh felt himself turning bright red with embarrassment.

“But I-I can’t do that,” he stammered out when she was done. “Please. I can’t! It’s impossible!“

“Silly Josh,” the gorgeous girl answered, “don’t you remember? Nothing is impossible, except saying no to me. Isn’t that right, Josh honey?”

“Guh,” Josh blathered. “Uh.” Lorelei had sunk her hand in his hair and guided his head so that he was staring full-on into her unbelievable cleavage. He shuddered, on the verge of climax. His resistance melted like ice under a blowtorch. “Yuh . . . yes.”

“Repeat it for me, Josh honey,” instructed the blonde. “Nothing is impossible except saying no to Lorelei.”

Helpless, shivering with lust, Josh obeyed. “Nothing is impossible except . . . saying no to Lorelei.”

“That’s better,” came the response. “Now say, ‘I’ll do anything for Lorelei, just as I promised.’ Say it and believe it.”

Josh obeyed, mouthing the words. When he finished, he believed them. It was wonderful to believe those words, staring into Lorelei’s wonderful bare boobs.

“Good boy,” murmured Lorelei. “I’m so glad we understand each other.” She leaned closer; her heavy breasts brushed against josh’s face, and his mind went completely blank. As if he’d been drugged, he toppled onto the bed. Lorelei followed him down.

“What are you doing?” The shrill, all-too-familiar female voice jolted the teenager out of his ecstasy.

“Mom! No!” Josh sat up, suddenly aware that his pans were down around his ankles and he’d been bucking and spurting into his Lorelei’s tits.

“What’s the meaning of this?” The hackneyed question would have made him laugh if it hadn’t been directed at him. Birdlike eyes glittered at him from under graying hair tied back in a severe bun.

“I-I-I-I—!” Face flaming, Josh couldn’t begin to come up with a convincing answer. Mom hadn’t been any too thrilled with his regular dates up to now. How could he explain Lorelei? Even if they hadn’t been fucking their brains out right here in his bedroom?

Mrs. Carpenter went on, “I didn’t raise you to be a sex pervert! Abusing yourself right here in my house! My house!“ Tears leaked from her eyes as she turned to go. She got off one last shot: “Wait till your father gets home, young man! We’ll just see about this!”

Then she swept out into the hall, slamming the door behind her in injured fury.

Josh blinked. His mother hadn’t even seemed to notice the beautiful blonde babe here in the room with him! She’d sounded as if she thought she’d walked in on him jerking off or something! What was going on?

“She can’t see me,” an amused voice answered. Josh turned toward it; Lorelei was there. “Nobody can but you. Nobody else can see me, or hear me, or,” she smiled wickedly, ”anything, unless I let them. And I don’t want to. I’m yours, all yours. And you’re mine, isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Josh sighed, his thoughts of only a moment before washed away by a wave of devotion. “Oh, yes.”

Lorelei smiled. “Then you’ll do as I asked you to?” She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Pretty please?”

Pleasure shot through the high schooler. “Yes! Yes!“

“Then do it,” his dream girl commanded. “Do it now. Do what your Lorelei told you to do, and when you come back, I’ll reward you.”

Josh got up and dressed with a goofy smile on his face. Then he went to the closet drawer. For what his Lorelei wanted, the cash in his wallet wouldn’t be enough; he needed to dip into the money he’d been saving. It was supposed to go toward buying a car, but this was more important. Lorelei had commanded, and he must obey.

He left the house, making sure to avoid his mother on the way out. He didn’t have time to deal with her. He hopped the bus when it came by at the corner and let it carry him downtown.

The store he needed to visit was off Main Street. He’d known about it for a couple of years, but hadn’t dare do anything more than ogle the full-figured mannequins dressed in sexy lingerie which were posed seductively in the window. Now, though, he went in. A little bell jingled as he entered the shop.

A dark-skinned clerk looked up from behind the counter. “May I help you?” he said in a singsong Indian accent. Then his face froze as he caught a good look at Josh. “I’m sorry, you cannot come in here. You must be eighteen to buy here!”

Josh’s face fell, and his heart sank. “But I have to,” he pleaded. “You don’t understand! My—my girlfriend sent me here to buy,” he fumbled in his pocket and produced the list he’d prepared of the items Lorelei had instructed him to purchase, “this stuff. If I don’t . . . !” The teenager found himself desperately considering whether he’d be able to steal what he needed if they wouldn’t sell to him.

The clerk looked him over, and something changed in the swarthy face. “You’ve got it bad,” he observed. He looked around furtively and seemed to come to a decision.

“Look,” he said, “give me that list and I’ll get the things. Nobody is here to know; it will be just between us.” He held out his hand.

Gasping with relief, Josh handed over the paper. The clerk disappeared into the store’s shadowy interior. After a while he returned, bearing several large clear plastic bags.

“This is it,” he announced. Slapping the bags onto the checkout counter, he rang up the purchase. When Josh saw the total, he gasped—but fortunately he had enough money with him. It would have been humiliating to have gone through all this only to be balked at the last moment because he couldn’t pay.

Blushing furiously, Josh paid. He exited the store with his purchases in several large brown bags.

When he got home, he sneaked inside, avoiding his mother just as he had when going out. He lugged his expensive and embarrassing burden into his room and set it down.

“Good boy,” a throaty contralto voice said. Josh quivered like a petted puppy. “Now let’s see what you’ve brought me.”

Josh opened the bags he’d brought home from downtown and Lorelei went through their contents. “Yes, this will do,” she murmured; “yes, that too; yes. . . .” Finally she turned to Josh and announced, ”Very good, Josh sweetie. You brought your Lorelei just what she asked for.” She smiled. “You see, that wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

“I, I,” Josh stammered, “I guess not.”

“Of course it wasn’t,” replied his golden goddess. “I told you—there’s only one thing that’s impossible.” She cupped Josh’s chin in one palm, looked into his eyes and asked, “Do you remember what that one thing is?”

Josh couldn’t look away. Lorelei’s sea-green eyes seemed to swirl, pulling him in. He answered her dazedly, “Saying no to Lorelei.”

“That’s right. You can’t say no to me.” The bewitching blonde laughed softly. “And why would you want to? When you do as you’re told like a good boy, I can make you feel so good. And you’ll do anything to feel so good, won’t you, Josh honey.”

“Anything,” Josh gasped. ”Anything. Please, I’ll do anything. . . .“

“I’m glad we understand each other, Josh honey,” Lorelei cooed. “Now as a reward, you can watch me model what you bought.”

“Oh, thank you,” Josh breathed. “Thank you.”

And watch he did. Lorelei had ordered him to buy all sorts of things for her, things only a store like the little place off Main Street would have: fur boas, spiked pumps with six-inch heels, sexy nylons and several low-cut dresses so tight on her they might have been sprayed on. She danced and pranced for her entranced audience of one as she slipped into and out of a whole array of outfits.

She was wearing one of those, a short red number which left her massive melons almost exposed, when she bent over him and pressed her bosom against his face. His cock throbbed and his head pounded. Louder. Louder!

The bedroom door crashed open and Josh suddenly realized that his parents had been banging on it for several minutes. His father stood there, breathing heavily; he’d broken the lock to get in.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Mr. Carpenter yelled at his son, who suddenly noticed Lorelei was gone again. Unfortunately, the fetish clothing he’d bought for her hadn’t disappeared; in fact, Josh realized, he was still holding a quite uninhabited red dress, pressed against his face. The rest of the stuff was scattered on the bed and all over the floor.

“I, I can explain,” the boy stumbled.

Mr. Carpenter folded beefy arms, began tapping one foot on the floor, and said, “I’m waiting.”

Josh fell silent. What could he say? “Well, you see, I found this old porno magazine and it told me to read it, and when I did, this terrific babe came to life out of an illustration, and the clothes were for her, and she was just here but I’m the only one who can see her.” Picturing his dad’s reaction, he shuddered.

“Don’t waste your time,” the elder Carpenter. “Your mother told me all about what she saw earlier, and I know what we saw just now.” There was a determined look on his face as he unbuckled the heavy belt he was bearing and drew it out of the waist loops of his trousers.

An eternity later, an aching Josh got ready for bed. There’d been no sign of Lorelei, of course, as, under his father’s watchful eye, he’d picked up his room. The expensive sexy clothes for his dream woman had been confiscated; he’d only just barely managed to rescue the issue of Dream Girls with Lorelei’s picture in it and stash it away again without being caught with it.

He’d hoped she would come back once his parents had finally stalked off. She didn’t, though, and he decided it was probably just as well after all. He was too tired and too sore to have any fun with her.

At least, he told himself as he pulled the covers over his bruised body, things couldn’t possibly get worse.