The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Josh managed to get through the next day at school despite the lingering soreness from when his dad had laced into him. Fortunately, he didn’t have any exams that day; he was able to spend a lot of the time going over his notes for civics and science.

Thinking about science, though, reminded him of Lorelei. There was no “scientific” explanation for her coming to life out of a cartoon—that is, unless he wanted to accept that he was cracking up. If she was real, it was magic, pure and simple. Or—he grinned despite himself, remembering what they’d done together—maybe not so pure.

And maybe not so simple, either. Josh remembered the strange books he’d seen in old man Massey’s library. Was it possible the old nutjob had somehow . . . created Lorelei? And if he had, what had happened later? Thinking of how powerful Lorelei’s influence over him had become in just a few days, he wondered if Massey had lost control somehow.

The teenager shivered. Had Lorelei been responsible for Massey going over the edge? And if so, what did that mean for him?

He’d definitely have to get rid of that copy of Dream Girls, he decided. He sighed. Lorelei was so beautiful, and sex with her was better than he’d ever imagined sex could be. But he was already in deep trouble because of her. He didn’t want to get in any deeper.

No, he had to get rid of the magazine right away. If he waited, it might be too late.

When he came home that afternoon, both of his parents were waiting for him. Ed Carpenter was standing on the porch, arms folded, as his son walked up from the curb; Sally Carpenter stood behind him, half-hidden behind her husband’s muscular bulk.

Uh-oh, Josh thought.

“Inside,” Mr. Carpenter ordered. “We’ve got some talking to do.”

Josh obeyed glumly. He went in, and his parents followed. Mr. Carpenter grasped Josh’s shoulder painfully with one meaty paw and steered the boy into the living room. “Sit,” he barked.

Josh sat.

His parents sat too, and Mr. Carpenter spoke again, giving Josh no chance to say anything. “Your mother and I have talked it over”—that, Josh knew, meant his dad had issued a proclamation—“and we’ve decided you need to find out what it means to be a real man.”

Josh cringed. He was afraid he knew what was coming up next.

He was right. Ed Carpenter continued, “I called Camp MacArthur this morning. You’re to report there for six weeks starting July first.” He snarled, “If that can’t knock the foolishness out of you, nothing can!”

Josh gulped. Camp MacArthur was a youth boot camp his father had threatened him with every summer since he was eleven. Every year, his parents had fought over it, and every year, his mother had talked Dad out of it. He’d almost been safe: next year he’d have been eighteen, and too old.

Evidently last night’s little episode had tipped the balance. This time, there’d be no escaping it. Already he could see himself in the camp’s fake-military khakis.

Josh played the only card he had. “But Dad,” he said, “I was supposed to work this summer, to save up money for a car! I told you!”

“A car?” Mr. Carpenter laughed harshly. “Your mother and I saw some of what you’ve been spending your money on, last night. It didn’t look like a car to me!”

Josh hung his head. What could he say?

“Go to your room,” his father ordered. “You’re to stay there till it’s time for dinner. And no television tonight, young man, and no going online; you haven’t earned it.”

Josh slunk off.

The no-TV directive wasn’t that much of a punishment. The no-Web part was more of one, but it wasn’t that bad. He had plenty to read.

That reminded him of the magazine hidden in his bedside drawer. He’d meant to get rid of it. Now was his chance.

He pulled his uncanny treasure from its hiding place and tossed it toward the wastebasket on the other side of the bed. Unfortunately, he missed; the Dream Girls fluttered toward the floor, its pages flapping open like unfurling wings. It landed softly, face up.

“Now, is that any way to treat me?” Lorelei’s voice scolded.

“Please,” Josh begged. “Go away. You’re ruining my life!” He carefully didn’t look in the sexy babe’s direction.

“You don’t mean that,” purred Lorelei.

“Yes, I do!” Josh’s voice cracked. “Please. I don’t even know if you’re real or not—but please, go away!”

“You don’t really want me to,” the blonde insisted. A feminine hand stole to Josh’s crotch, and he gasped, instantly, helplessly erect. Involuntarily, he looked at his teasing tormentor—and was lost.

“There, now,” Lorelei said as Josh’s eyes met hers. “It’s ever so much better when people look at each other when they talk.” Her fingers continued to caress Josh’s crotch.

The teenager whimpered. He had to get rid of her, but she was so beautiful, her eyes were so beautiful, and her hand knew just what to do, he was going to come, he couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop, couldn’t—!

Josh rocked on his feet as pleasure shot through him and his muscles clenched and shuddered, ejaculating a hot wetness into his pants. His eyes stayed locked on Lorelei’s, except for a single instant at the peak of climax when they squeezed shut in animal reflex. Then it was over, and he stood there trying to catch his breath.

“You see?” His picture princess spoke gently. “You don’t want to get rid of me, sweetie. You need this, don’t you? And who else could ever do for you what I can?”

“Nobody,” Josh admitted weakly. “Oh, God. You’re right. I can’t get rid of you, I just can’t.” He sat down on his bed and buried his head in his hands.

After a moment, he felt the mattress sag under more weight as Lorelei sat beside him. Slender arms snaked around him, and a silky voice murmured in his ear. “What’s wrong, lover? Tell your Lorelei all about it.”

Josh did. When he was done, he added, “If only people could see you! I’d still be in trouble, but,” he managed a shaky grin, “not like this.” And that, he thought, was true enough; his father might even secretly be proud of him for snagging a girlfriend as gorgeous as this, rather than furious as his “pervert” of a son.

“Oh, lover,” sighed Lorelei, “I can’t do that.” She smiled. “Well, I could—but they’d only see me, and maybe hear me. I’d be like a ghost. Would that help things any?”

Josh thought about it, and shuddered. A ghostly Lorelei would freak out his parents even more, and turn their lives into a tabloid circus. But—“If that’s true, how come you’re so real to me?” He reached over to stroke the soft bare flesh of Lorelei’s shoulder, struggling not to let his hand, or his mind, wander.

Lorelei turned away, reached down and picked up the Dream Girls from where it lay on the floor. “Because you’re the one who found me. You’re the first one to read me since Isaac went away.” She laughed softly. “Think of it as like letting a genie out of the bottle.”

Josh blinked. He’d needed a moment to realize “Isaac” was old man Massey. He’d never known the guy’s first name before; he’d almost never seen Massey outside his house, let alone talked to him. But remembering the old man reminded him of why he’d wanted to get rid of Lorelei.

“Massey—Isaac—got carted off to the funny farm,” he informed her. “I don’t want that to happen to me.” Lorelei was looking at him again, her cool green eyes on his; he tried half-heartedly to break the gaze, but couldn’t. “And it will, if I keep you.”

“Don’t be silly, Josh sweetie,” was the answer. “Of course you’re keeping me. That’s all settled, and I don’t want you to give it another thought.” She reached up to ruffle his hair. “But don’t worry, honey. I want to keep you, too. Massey was a wrinkly old geezer; you’re cute! Your Lorelei will fix things. Trust Lorelei.”

“Uh,” Josh mumbled. “Tuh—trust. Lorelei.” He was growing hard again. It was hard to concentrate. It was much easier just to listen, and agree. “Trust Lorelei. Yes.”

“Now you’re on the right track, baby,” the blonde said. Her hand strayed again as it had before, and Josh went rigid, wheezing. He forgot all about Isaac Massey.

Lorelei cupped his chin with her free hand, the nails sinking lightly into the flesh of his face. “So your father wants to make a real man out of you, does he? Well, let’s see if I can’t help a little, sugar.” She gathered him in.

Josh’s next awareness was of straddling his fantasy lover’s magnificent body, plunging into her, plunging, again and again, while fireworks exploded in his head. Just as he was about to climax, though, Lorelei spoke a single word: “Stop.”

He stopped. Suddenly he couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t come. He was trapped just short of the explosive release his body craved. He could still feel, though, and Lorelei’s cunning hands roving over his body sent sensations through him like nothing he’d ever imagined. It was heaven, and it was torture.

Lorelei read the look in his wide, staring eyes, and smiled a cat’s smile. “You’re mine,” she announced. “Body and soul, you belong to me. I control all that you think and feel, all that you see and hear, everything you are. Repeat my words, and believe them.”

Josh obeyed. His mouth uttered the words Lorelei had instructed him to repeat, and when he was done, his mind accepted them.

“Good boy, lover,” the beautiful babe beneath him said. “Now you may come.”

And he did, pouring himself into her. He didn’t care about anything else.

For a while, anyway. Presently, he swam back to reality. He found himself lying on his bed, face down, naked except for his socks. He felt wonderfully relaxed and warm. It was an effort to move.

Finally, though, he forced himself to sit up and look around. His clothes lay scattered everywhere. There was a slowly drying damp spot on his bed, and Lorelei was gone again. It was as if she’d never been there. Even the magazine was back on the floor. He remembered seeing Lorelei pick it up and put it on the table beside his bed, still open; now it lay on the floor, closed.

It must have fallen off while we were screwing, Josh guessed. Or—a horrible alternative occurred to him—did I just pick it up, look at Lorelei’s picture, and get so totally lost in fantasizing about her that I dropped it, and forgot I’d picked it up in the first place? If that were true, he really was going crazy.

He was afraid to find out. But he had to! Gingerly, like a man handling an unexploded bomb, he picked up the magazine and opened it, leafing quickly to Lorelei’s page.

And his efforts were rewarded. Lorelei’s image winked at him, swung itself to a sitting position, and vanished. A moment later, there she was, live-sized and three-dimensional, standing in front of him.

“What,” he managed to croak, “you can only appear when this magazine is open?”

Lorelei nodded. “That’s right, lover. If it closes, I can’t stay out—although when it’s open, I can go back in if I want.” And the next second, sure enough, there she was, back in the inked picture on the page.

The cartoon-Lorelei winked at him again, and then was gone.

“But I don’t want to go back,” a very real, thrilling voice said into his hear. “There’s nothing to do in there; I just lounge on those pillows all the time in that same pose, waiting for someone to read me.” She sighed. “About all I can do is call to people to come read me, the way I did with you.”

She reached over and took the issue of Dream Girls from Josh. She set it down carefully, open and face up, on his bedside table.

Josh stood looking at her, open-mouthed. Questions whirled through his mind. If she was somehow “alive” in that picture, but couldn’t move unless someone looked at her, how did she eat? Hell, how did she breathe? For the first time he really appreciated that Lorelei, however much she might look like an ideal woman, wasn’t human.

His dream girl read his thoughts in his eyes. “This really bothers you, doesn’t it?” she observed.

“I, I, I,” stammered the boy. He didn’t want to hurt his golden goddess, but he couldn’t lie to her. “Y-yeah. It does.”

Lorelei framed his face with her hands, gently massaging it as she looked into his eyes and spoke. “It won’t bother you any more. I’m your magical mistress, your seductive siren, your Lorelei. I’m a wonderful gift. It doesn’t matter where I’m from, or how I got here; it only matters that you belong to me, and I make you feel so good.”

Lorelei took her hands away from Josh’s face. His arms came up and pulled her to him, and their lips came together. And again for a while nothing else mattered.

At last Josh stirred. The two of them were lying nude on the bed, with the boy’s face resting on one of Lorelei’s ample breasts. Her arm was around his neck, holding him there lightly.

“Lorelei?” Josh’s voice was dreamy. As he spoke, his eyes stayed closed.

“Yes, Josh?”

“Is there,” the teenager faltered, “is there any way you could be real? I mean, really real, so you wouldn’t be tied to that magazine anymore, and everybody could see you just like I can?”

An opaque look came into the gorgeous girl’s eyes. “Shh,” she answered, pressing an index finger against Josh’s lips. “Just rest, lover. Rest here with your Lorelei. We’ll talk about that later. Rest.”

And Josh rested. He relaxed, turning his face so that his lips rested against Lorelei’s breast, and drifted.

He came back to himself at the sound of footsteps approaching in the hall. In desperate haste, he shot up and grabbed for his clothes. He was halfway dressed before he realized the footsteps had passed by his room, toward the bathroom at the end of the hall. A few moments later, sounds from that direction confirmed that whoever it was (it had sounded lie his mother) was using the toilet.

Sighing in relief, Josh looked around. Lorelei was still there, for a change. She was lying on her side on the bed, head propped up on one folded arm, watching him with amusement in her eyes.

“We’ll really have to do something about this, you know,” she told him. “How can you become a ‘real man’ if you’re afraid of your mother?”

Josh turned red. “Easy for you to talk,” he answered. “She can’t see you. She can’t do anything to you. That’s the whole problem, remember?” He tried not to look at her directly; if he did, he knew, she could turn him to putty.

Lorelei cleared her throat. “About that, lover,” she said, “there is something you can do.”

“There is?” Josh tried, not altogether successfully, not to let that come out in a squeak. “What is it?”

Lorelei scooted over to sit on the edge of the bed and patted a spot next to her. “Sit down,” she commanded.

Josh sat.

“Now listen to me,” the beauty instructed him. “And stop avoiding my eyes; Josh honey. That’s just rude, you know.”

Josh assumed a listening attitude. Despite himself, he found he was looking into Lorelei’s eyes.

“You know about Massey’s books, I’m sure,” the blonde began. Josh nodded. “Well, the old man was a . . . call it a magician, of sorts. A conjurer.”

“I didn’t know that,” Josh murmured.

“Not many people would have,” Lorelei assured him. “It’s not something he’d have wanted people to know.” She shook her head, tossing her glorious golden mane of hair. “Never mind. The point is, he found a way to bring images—pictures—to life, by means of a ritual. That’s how the old goat made me.”

Josh nodded.

“But there’s a catch,” continued Lorelei. “To bring such a conjure completely to life, to make it truly free of the image it once was, its summoner has to make a sacrifice.”

“A . . . sacrifice?” asked Josh, his voice small. He gulped.

“That’s right,” the blonde agreed. “He must sacrifice the life of the person he loves the most in all the world.” She laughed, a nasty sound this time. “Isaac Massey didn’t love too many people. The only one who qualified was his wife.”

A terrible light dawned.

“He was trying to—to sacrifice her,“ realized Josh. “For you.”

“Of course, sweetie,” Lorelei confirmed. “If he’d done it, I’d have escaped that silly illustration forever years ago. But,” she pouted sexily, “he didn’t. They took him away, and when they did, it was back to that cartoon couch for me. For seven years!“

She stroked Josh’s face lightly and breathed, “Until you came and rescued me.” She batted her eyes, and Josh’s knees wobbled. “My hero.”

Josh gulped again.

“Bur maybe it’s better this way,” the luscious vixen went on. “Isaac was old, dried up. He wouldn’t have lasted long—and anyway, he was an ugly, bad-tempered old crust.” She giggled. “You’re much better looking, and ever so much more fun! And if you free me, we can be together for a long, long time. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Josh?”

The boy moaned. “Oh, God, yes. Oh, please.” He shivered, his eyes starting to clench shut as he built toward another climax.

“No,” Lorelei instructed, “don’t do that. Don’t close your eyes, Josh. Keep them open, and keep looking into my eyes, as I explain what you need to do.”

“Yes. . . .” Josh obeyed. His eyes widened and stayed fixed on Lorelei’s. He felt his fantasy woman’s green gaze drawing him in, and it was wonderful. He didn’t have to worry, to think, to do anything but look into those eyes and listen while Lorelei explained everything.

“Who’s the person you love most in all the world?” his goddess asked. She laughed again and added, “Besides me.”

Josh answered without hesitation. “My mother.”

Lorelei nodded. “Yes, I thought so.” She paused to stroke Josh’s face some more; his mouth was hanging open loosely now. He was falling, falling, into her eyes. “Then she’s the one you must sacrifice, Josh. You understand? She’s the one you must sacrifice if you want me to be yours forever.”

“No, I-I—!” For just a moment, Josh tried to fight free. “I can’t!”

“Naughty boy!” Lorelei rebuked him. “I thought you understood. Remember, everything is possible now, except—?”

The boy’s resistance dissolved as his programmed answer came out. “Saying no to Lorelei.”

“That’s right, sweetie, I knew you remembered.” Josh’s dream girl smiled. “Now, what is it you must do, in order to have me forever?”

“I must kill my mother,” Josh whispered. “I must!“

“I’m so glad we understand each other, darling. I so want to be really yours, forever and ever.”

“Forever and ever,” Josh whispered. “Please. Yes. Forever and ever.”

“Yes,” said his beautiful magic mistress. “Forever and ever. Now come to your Lorelei.” She drew him to her.

Josh never remembered getting undressed again, but somehow, the next thing he knew, there he was, naked and pinned beneath his pinup princess’s yielding flesh, his hips imprisoned between her thighs, her hands pressing his shoulders down as she rocked, riding him. He barely noticed his voice babbling, over and over, “Forever and ever . . . forever and ever . . . forever and ever. . . .”

When he came at last, it was shattering. Only Lorelei’s hand, shifted to cover his mouth at the last moment, muffled his scream of release so that his parents didn’t hear. Then he relaxed, his muscles melting. He sighed happily.

Eyes closed, he felt Lorelei dismount him. Then she bent over his limp form, her hair dangling down to brush against his face, tickling his nose. She whispered, “Rest now, Josh sweetie. Sleep a while. And when you wake up, you know what to do.”

Josh slept.

His eyes opened at the sound of more footsteps in the hallway. These were heavier, his father’s. He flung himself into a sitting position and hurriedly threw clothes on, in his haste not bothering with underwear.

He was barely in time; he didn’t even have time to put his shoes back on. Mr. Carpenter opened the bedroom door and stuck his head in, a suspicious look on his face. When he saw Josh sitting on his bed, neither he nor it any more disheveled than might be expected with a high-school-age boy, he announced, “Dinner’s on in five minutes.”

Giving his son’s stockinged feet a disapproving glance, the elder Carpenter commanded, “Get some shoes on before you come down.”

“Yes, sir,” Josh answered out of long habit. His father grunted and left, closing the door.

Josh bent over, inserted his feet in a pair of sneakers, and laced them up. As he did, he was thinking.

He’d never be able to kill Mom with Dad around. No matter how desperately he wanted Lorelei, he’d have to wait till morning, till after his father left for work. Dad usually took off around quarter to eight, a half hour before Josh left for school.

Thinking of that reminded Josh: his last final exams were today! And he hadn’t studied; he’d been much too preoccupied with his magical blonde babe.

That doesn’t matter, he told himself. Lorelei’s more important. School doesn’t matter next to her.

And with that settled, he went downstairs to dinner. He was whistling as he left his room.

Josh slept peacefully that night. Lorelei had disappeared again, and didn’t even come to him in his dreams. When he woke up, he was calm and confident. He looked forward eagerly to the day.

He ate breakfast quickly, then disappeared into his room. His parents thought nothing of it; Josh didn’t have to leave yet, after all. He waited until he heard the car pulling out of the drive before emerging. He found his mother in the kitchen, sitting at the table drinking a cup of coffee.

“Ready for school, dear?” she chirped.

“Yes, Mom,” he answered. He walked over to the counter and reached into the wooden drawer on the right. Slowly, casually, he pulled out the big, sharp carving knife inside. It would do the job just fine. As he took a firm grip on its black enameled handle, he knew what he must do. There was love for his Lorelei in his eyes as he moved away from the silverware drawer with the knife held behind his back.

Mrs. Carpenter looked up just as he brought the knife around in front of him. “Dear, what are you doing with that?”

Josh raised the knife. “What I’ve got to, Mom.”

His mother screamed then, and threw herself out of her chair and away from the lunatic who looked like her son. She ran into the hall, where the phone was mounted on the wall, and grabbed the cordless handset off its rest. Panicky fingers stabbed out 9-1-1 as she retreated into her husband’s den.

“Emergency Services,” a bland voice answered as she slammed the door and struggled, one-handed, to move Mr. Carpenter’s favorite upholstered chair over to block it. Hysterical with fear, she babbled out her name and address before adding, “My son’s gone crazy! He’s trying to kill me!”

The operator kept her on the phone, guiding her through a recitation of what had happened. “The police are on their way, Ma’am,” she heard. “Please stay calm. They should arrive at any moment.”

And they did, sirens blaring as two squad cars pulled up to the Carpenter house and uniformed officers piled out. Josh didn’t even notice; he was too intent on breaking into the den. He had to! His Lorelei needed him to!

It took four men to subdue the now quite wild-eyed teenager and bundle him into the wire-screened back seat of one of the cop cars. Mrs. Carpenter watched in shock as the police questioned him.

“So this Lorelei doll came to life out of a girlie magazine,” one of them said, “and told you to kill your mother?” He shook his head. “Son, what are you on?”

“No! No!“ Josh screamed. “I’m not on drugs, I swear! She’s real! Lorelei is real!” He choked back tears. “She loves me!”

The cop shook his head again. “Just when you think you’ve heard everything.” He turned to Josh’s mother. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We’ll need to do a drug screen and a psych evaluation. And you should call the boy’s father.”

Mrs. Carpenter nodded, grief-stricken. “Yes, of course,” she said dully.

Josh’s parents allowed the cops to search their son’s room. They watched in despair has the officers plowed through his belongings, hunting for drugs, drug paraphernalia, anything that might help explain what had happened to their boy. All they found was an old issue of a men’s magazine Ed Carpenter recognized as having ceased publication a couple of years ago.

One of the policemen stuck the magazine in his jacket. “Evidence,” he explained. Mr. Carpenter rolled his eyes, but on second thought decided it might be legitimate. Hadn’t Josh said this fantasy girl of his came out of a magazine?

He sighed. Evidence or not, what did it matter? It was only an old smut rag.

The cops left at last. Mr. and Mrs. Carpenter watched as the patrol cars drove away, then turned away from their front windows to face the rest of their lives.

Patrolman Don Campbell was busy for several hours with the paperwork on the Carpenter case. The kid had been taken to Mercy Hospital’s psych ward, still raving about his “Lorelei.” Campbell shuddered.

The sexy magazine he’d found in the Carpenter boy’s room—Dream Girls, that was it—was still in his pocket as he finally clocked out and headed home. The cover had looked very promising; when he got home, he meant to go through it in earnest.

He grinned and licked his lips. He could almost hear it calling to him now.

Read me. . . .