The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Chester Thomas walked silently along the winding path down from the Student Union toward the Duckell Science Center, an H-shaped complex of buildings which had once housed labs and classrooms for a half-dozen separate scientific disciplines.

Not anymore. Fairview University had gone bankrupt last year following a major campus scandal. The details were a little vague (Chester smiled at the way he’d just unconsciously echoed a line from Casablanca, which he’d seen on TV last night), but drugs were supposed to be involved—although a weird rumor had gone around involving some kind of brainwashing cult. Whatever had really happened, there’d been a huge uproar, a big raid involving Homeland Security and everything, and then everybody had clammed up. He hadn’t been involved—he’d already been enrolled at nearby Barton Community College when whatever-it-was had gone down—but he’d heard things.

Summer vacation was ending. He’d be going back to Barton in a few days. Usually, in weather like this, he went swimming; it was the one athletic activity he really enjoyed. Today, though, he’d decided to hike over and explore the Fairview campus on foot.

It was weird. The place stood empty, a ghost town in the middle of a thriving community. He’d had to sneak past a patrol of rent-a-cops just to get onto the grounds, and he kept a careful eye out for uniforms as he moved along. That was part of the deal, to get in, look around, and get back out on his own rather than being escorted out by security guys.

The campus was already showing signs of neglect. The once neatly manicured lawns were growing wild. Some of the grass was still lush and green; in less favored spots, though, it had gone brown with no one to keep it watered properly. Weeds had begun to invade, as well. As Chester approached the science complex, he could see that several windows were boarded over.

He walked up the big cement steps leading to Duckell’s upper level. He tried one door after another, moving along what would be the left-hand bar of the H formed by the buildings, then along the cross-bar, a narrow structure one had to pass through to get to the back side of the complex, and finally back along the opposite side toward the stairway. All the doors were locked.

I could just break in, he observed. But no. He was no vandal. Besides, that would make noise, and might draw the guards. The whole point was to avoid that.

Time to move on, he decided. He descended the stairs.

He tried the lower-level doors. To his surprise, one of them opened, its lock apparently broken. He went inside.

Boy, this is weird, he thought. It felt like exploring an ancient temple, something out of Indiana Jones. He half expected to suddenly see a giant stone ball rolling toward him. But of course, he didn’t. He could hardly see anything, actually, once he got farther in, away from the windows. The electricity had long since been turned off.

Playing along with his explorer fantasy, he prowled through the corridors, heading for the back exit. Finally, he arrived.

It was locked. He couldn’t get out that way. Well, that didn’t matter: he could just retrace his steps and leave the way he’d come in.

Except . . . ! Chester grinned. That way was boring. Why not keep the game going a little longer by finding another way out? And he already had an idea.

It took him a couple of minutes to locate the men’s room he’d spotted on his way. As he’d hoped, its door was open. It looked as if nobody had bothered to lock it. Evidently the guys who had locked up the outside doors hadn’t bothered with the bathrooms.

“Now,” he muttered, “if only—!”

The window was located above the radiator along the outside wall. Fortunately, the radiator was the hot air type, enclosed in a flat-topped vented metal box, rather than naked coils, so standing on it was easy. When Chester did so, the window was easily reachable.

Just as he’d hoped, it was unlocked. Pushing it all the way open, he pulled himself up on the sill and wormed through.

Suddenly he lost his balance and fell, landing in a bush growing just beneath the window. Thrashing about and swearing, he freed himself from the clinging branches, collapsing onto the ground. He lay there a few moments, catching his breath.

Something under the bush caught his eye. Curious, he reached carefully and closed his hand on a small object. By the feel of it, his prize was a disk of some sort attached to a chain.

Chester stood up and examined his discovery more closely.

That was a mistake.

His find proved to be a pendant, a cheap-looking necklace with a gem attached by way of an equally unimpressive metal mount. The jewel looked as if it were made up of dozens of separate little bits of crystal—surely not diamond, to go by the rest of the trinket’s construction—carefully put together to form a single object. The early afternoon light glistened from it in a pattern which seemed to capture his eye as the pendant swayed loosely in his grip. It was beautiful.

Beautiful. . . .

Chester’s next awareness was of himself standing slack-jawed, arms dangling loosely. After a moment, he realized he wasn’t holding the pendant anymore. Glancing down, he saw it had fallen face-down on the ground from his limp hand. He had a vague feeling that time had passed, and a quick glance at his watch confirmed that something like twenty minutes had gone by unnoticed.

Very carefully, he bent down and picked up the pendant. Without looking directly at it, he put it into his shirt pocket.

Chester’s mind raced. All he’d done was take one look at that gem, and pow, he’d been out like a light. He’d seen his share of TV shows and movies where a pendant like this one, or a watch or something, had been used to hypnotize people, but he’d never seen it in real life. Certainly he’d never experienced it in real life! And he’d never heard of real-life hypnosis working so fast!

He thought back to the rumors he’d heard. It looked as if those stories of a mind-controlling cult had at least some truth to them. He didn’t know whether he’d have obeyed suggestions while he’d been under just now, or, if he would have, what the limits might have been. But—he grinned—he meant to find out!

Just not on himself. The grin widened.

It disappeared a moment later. I have to get out of here, Chester thought. Sneaking onto the guarded campus was risky enough in the first place. If I got caught now, however, who knows what might happen?

Brushing himself off, he hurried away.

Chester found it hard to sleep that night.

He’d made a clean getaway from Fairview and returned home without trouble. There’d been a little accident in his room when he took the pendant out of his pocket to put it away; he’d lost half an hour that time. It was a good thing his parents hadn’t picked just then to pop in on him. But the incident had underscored how powerful the thing was.

He had no idea where it had come from, but he was beginning to understand why there had been that huge raid. Something like this could be dangerous in the wrong hands. If it worked as well as it seemed, you could use it to rob banks, steal government secrets, control important people.

Not that he’d do anything like that, of course. That would be wrong.

Still, even if you left out the hypno-heists and stuff, that left plenty of opportunities for a guy like him. There were things he could do that wouldn’t really hurt anybody, but that’d do plenty of good for him. Not using an opportunity like this, when he’d literally fallen into it—that would be wrong, too.

Chester had never been wildly popular. Oh, he’d gotten along okay, but there’d been no place for him in the high school social world, no place except with the small number of other misfits, male and female. And it hadn’t changed in college. His parents had promised that there, he’d find “more people like you, dear”—by which they’d meant bright, studious, introverted—well, he might as well admit it—nerds. But once he’d arrived, he’d found the same old array of social cliques.

It hadn’t helped that his mom and dad had insisted on his attending Barton instead of any of the several prestigious universities which had offered him scholarships. “But, dear,” his mother had pleaded, “you’re too young to live on your own. Barton’s a perfectly good school—your father and I met there, you know”—of course he knew, she’d told him the story a million times—“and if you go there, you can live right here with us.” Luckily, Dad had interceded at that point, prodding Mom into agreeing to let him stay on campus if he’d come home on weekends and holidays. Even so, the hovering parental presence had been inhibiting.

Chester was honest enough with himself to admit that even if it hadn’t been, he still wouldn’t have qualified for Big Man on Campus. A shade over six feet tall, he weighed in at a scrawny one hundred fifty pounds. He wore thick round-lensed glasses over watery green eyes far too nearsighted for contact lenses, and his thick shock of dull blond hair just wouldn’t stay combed. Add in his bookishness, his inability to dance—painfully demonstrated at numerous school functions he’d been forced to attend where, inevitably, some well-meaning soul would drag him out onto the dance floor—and the fact that way too many of his classmates knew him from high school, and the picture was complete. It was not the portrait of a prom king.

What he needed was an edge. And now—Chester smiled, thinking of the pendant tucked away in his bedside drawer—maybe he had one.

After the usual ordeal of trucking his stuff over to Barton and registering for classes, Chester had settled comfortably into his dorm room. He’d been lucky last year, winning the lottery for one of the coveted few singles allotted to freshmen, and under Barton’s residence rules, he’d had first call on the same room this year. The place was nothing special, but there was space enough for his things, including his computer and TV. And, of course, he had privacy.

That was going to be even more important this year, he thought.

Rummaging in the center drawer of the wooden desk positioned between his closet and the foot of his bed, he brought out the pendant he’d found at Fairview. He held it up at eye level and twirled the gem on its chain, inspecting it thoughtfully. It glittered in the light from the overhead fixtures.

Chester didn’t go under. Some careful testing with his discovery had shown that simply dulling the flashes from the gem with tinted lenses, like sunglasses, was enough to protect him. He’d bought several pairs of cheap clip-ons he could wear over his regular glasses; he had a set on now.

He wondered if the inventor had designed it that way on purpose, or if he’d had to experiment the way Chester had. Of course, nobody smart enough to come up with something like this should have been dumb enough to let anyone else lay hands on it in the first place—but then again, as Chester had found out, it was all too easy to put yourself out.

Not for the first time, he wondered what had really happened at Fairview. He wished he dared try talking to some of the students who’d been there when it all went down. He didn’t, though. It might draw attention. A low profile, that was the ticket if he were going to take advantage of his find—a low profile.

And he didn’t really even know yet if the pendant would do everything he thought it would. All he knew for sure was that it could zone people out; he hadn’t had the chance to see if it would make them obey commands. That, he would have to find out.

Chester grinned. He was looking forward to it.

Kristie Blake tossed her head, the motion flipping a wayward lock of henna-red hair off her forehead.

“Hmph!” she snorted. “And here I thought I’d be getting away from him by going here!” The “him” in question sat two places to her left near the front of the lecture hall: Chester Thomas, his beanpole frame hunched slightly forward as he listened to the professor.

She hadn’t really wanted to go to college at all, but her parents had just been so unreasonable about it! Her ideas about going to secretarial school, or maybe beauty school—she hadn’t really made up her mind—had been rejected out of hand. “You’re going to college, young lady, and that’s that!” her father had pronounced.

With her grades, that had meant Barton. She hadn’t had a prayer of getting in anyplace fancy. Besides, Barton was free if you lived in the area. At least she’d talked the parentals into letting her live on campus.

“And plus,” she muttered, “I at least thought creepy Chester’d be going to Harvard or like that. How come he’s here, anyway?” She could always ask him, she supposed—but no. That’d just give him ideas.

The prof was droning on about something or other. Kristie sighed. She supposed she really ought to at least try to pay attention.

Chester smiled. He’d been looking for Kristie during registration, and had carefully arranged to get assigned to one of the same classes she was in, even the same session. Last year he hadn’t made the effort; what would have been the point?

But this year . . . !

Chester reached under his jacket, brushing his hand against the inside pocket to feel the reassuring bulge of the pendant hidden there.

In high school, Kristie had been his fantasy girl. Gorgeous, red-headed, with big boobs and great legs, she’d been a walking wet dream to a frustrated teenage boy. Unfortunately, she’d only had eyes for Hank Aldridge, their school’s star football player. Hank wasn’t at Barton—he’d gotten a football scholarship from one of the better colleges Chester had let himself be badgered out of choosing—but Kristie’d had no trouble finding guys to take his place. Her current squeeze was some basketball player whose name Chester couldn’t remember off the top of his head. Any way you looked at it, though, he had no time for a skinny nerd like him.

That was about to change.

Class was finally over. Heaving a sigh of relief, Kristie got up and made for the aisle, totally focused on getting out. Her escape was slowed by the stream of other students in front of her. Kristie was annoyed; why couldn’t they just hurry up already? She had things to do!

At last she was at the door, and out. She glanced to her left, where a huge mirrored surface supported plaques bearing the names of alumni who’d donated to Barton. Why they’d bothered, Kristie had no idea; once she graduated, that’d be the last they ever heard from her! And besides, didn’t the state or somebody pay for things anyway? Kristie didn’t know, and didn’t care.

What she did care about was that her reflection showed that her hair was out of place again. She muttered something unladylike and set to work patting it into proper order. Damn, she thought, I’ve definitely got to get better hair products.

Something tall moved into place behind her reflection. Startled, she spun around.

“Chester!” she exclaimed. Yes, it was him. He’d come up behind her without a sound; either that, or she’d been so engrossed in her primping that she just hadn’t heard. No, it had to be him.

Kristie looked around. Everybody else was gone; the two of them were alone outside the lecture hall. Chester looked extra creepy; he’d put on a pair of those clip-on dark lenses over his regular glasses.

Chester looked around too, then raised one hand. He was holding something. Kristie saw, something that dangled and swayed. Some kind of pendant. Kristie looked automatically at the gem at the end of the chain. It looked almost like a diamond; it caught the light in rippling, shifting patterns her eyes couldn’t help trying to follow. It was beautiful.

“Beau-ti-ful. . .” The word slipped from Kristie’s lips in a soft whisper. Her eyes kept tracking the gentle motion of the pendant in Chester’s hand.

Chester spoke. “Yes, it’s beautiful, isn’t it, Kristie? You like jewelry, don’t you?” He knew the answer. Kristie was always flaunting some expensive trinket or other, like the pearl necklace she had on now that disappeared into her generous cleavage—! He blinked. Mustn’t get distracted.

“Yes,” Kristie confessed, still in that soft, dazed voice. “Like . . . jew’lry. Pretty. Sparkly.”

Chester nodded. “That’s why you like this pendant, isn’t it?” he responded. “That’s why you can’t take your eyes off it, why you can’t look away, why you can’t think of anything but the pretty sparkly pendant and my voice talking about the pretty sparkly pendant, isn’t it? I’m right, aren’t I. Say, ‘Yes, Chester,’ Kristie, say, ‘Yes, Chester’ if I’m right.”

“Yes, Chester,” Kristie murmured.

“You need to keep looking at the pretty sparkly pendant, Kristie, need to keep looking wherever it goes,” Chester said. He began moving the ornament around in wide, lazy circles; Kristie’s head turned as if attached. Finally he stopped, going back to the slow swinging motion he’d used before. “But your eyes are getting tired, aren’t they, Kristie? So tired. So heavy. You want to keep looking at the pendant, the pretty, sparkly pendant, you need to keep looking at the pretty, sparkly pendant, but your eyes are so tired, you can’t keep them open, can you, they’re closing all by themselves, yes. . . .”

Kristie’s eyes closed and her head drooped slightly. She stood there silently, head lowered, hands at her sides.

Chester grinned gleefully. It really worked! Sure, he could see Kristie pretending to play along with being “hypnotized”—but not this long. She had the attention span of a gnat, normally, and besides, she hated him. And besides that, he knew the pendant worked on him for real.

Chester looked around furtively. It was time to wrap this up, before someone came along and spotted them. He pocketed the pendant.

“Kristie, look at me,” he commanded. The redhead’s face came up and her eyes opened in a wide, innocent gaze which moved from side to side as if still tracking the motion of the sparkling ornament.

“In a moment,” Chester continued, “I’m going to snap my fingers, Kristie, I’m going to snap my fingers, and when I snap my fingers, you will come awake, Kristie.”

“Yes,” Kristie agreed softly. “When you snap your fingers . . . I will come awake.”

“That’s right, Kristie,” the skinny blond youth went on. “You’ll wake up. But when you wake up, you won’t remember me showing you the pretty shiny pendant, or anything that happened after I showed it to you. In fact, as soon as I leave, you won’t remember you even saw me here.”

“Won’t remember.” Kristie nodded slowly, eyes still going back and forth, back and forth.

“But Kristie, this evening, you’ll come over to my dorm room. You’ll leave your place for a walk, and you’ll walk over to my dorm room without thinking about it.” He told the hypnotized girl his dorm and room number. " When you get there, you’ll knock three times so I know it’s you, and wait for me to open the door. Do you understand, Kristie? Repeat my instructions if you understand and will do as I’ve asked.”

“I . . . understand,” Kristie murmured. She repeated Chester’s commands in a dreamy voice.

“That’s good, Kristie, that’s very good,” replied Chester.

He snapped his fingers.

Kristie blinked.

Chester Thomas was standing in front of her. What was he doing here? “Bye, Kristie,” he said, giving her an odd little smile. “See you tonight.”

“What do you mean by—!” Kristie’s voice rose as she spoke. What was the skinny creep talking about? See you tonight? Only in your dreams, eww!

Chester turned, ignoring her, and walked out of sight around a corner.

What was I just thinking? Kristie asked herself. Oh, well, I guess it couldn’t’ve been important.

She walked away.

That evening after supper, Kristie felt oddly restless. She’d come back to the suite she shared with two other girls and tried to get a little studying in before America’s Next Supermodel came on, but her attention kept wandering. It was almost as if there were something she’d forgotten to do, something important.

She decided to go for a walk to clear her head. She had no particular place to go, so after leaving her dorm she simply let herself wander, enjoying the warm early fall evening while paying no real attention to where she was headed. It came as a shock to realize she’d somehow ended up in Howard Dormitory. She didn’t know anyone here, did she?

She was standing in front of Room 3-H, according to the small placard screwed into the door. She reached out and knocked three times.

Why did I do that? she wondered. She was struggling to decide whether to run off or see who answered when the door opened.

Chester Thomas stood there. As his eyes settled on her, he said, “Kristie! What a surprise!” Despite his words, he didn’t sound surprised at all.

“Chester?” Kristie was stunned. “This is your place?” Why in the world had she ended up here?

“Yes, it is.” Chester nodded. He brought up his hand. It was holding something, something which swung freely in his grasp and glinted with reflected light. Kristie’s eyes swung to it and locked on, following its motion, back and forth, back and forth.

“Back and forth,” she heard herself mumble. “Back . . . and forth.”

Chester stepped back, still gently swinging the pendant. Still watching the swing of the glittering gem, Kristie stepped forward, passing through the doorway. It didn’t matter that she’d entered Chester’s room. All that mattered was the swinging pendant, the pretty sparkly pendant whose motion and brilliance now filled her vision, filled her mind.

Chester watched Kristie carefully. After a minute or so, he slowed the pendant’s swing with his free hand, then stilled it altogether and put the jewel away. Kristie didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes kept tracking back and forth, back and forth, as if she still saw the gem moving, back and forth, back and forth, before her. He sat down in the big swivel chair next to the desk positioned along one wall of the room.

“Kristie,” he addressed her, “close your eyes.” The redhead’s eyes closed and Chester continued, “Your eyes are closed, Kristie, but you can still see the pretty shiny pendant, can’t you, Kristie? You can still see the pretty, shiny pendant, even with your eyes closed.”

“Yes,” whispered Kristie. “Pretty. Shiny.”

“Now Kristie,” said Chester, “while you can see the pretty shiny pendant, you can hear only my voice. You can hear only my voice, and you can do only what my voice tells you to do, you can think only what my voice tells you to think.”

Kristie nodded, very slowly. “Hear . . . only your voice. Do . . . only what it tells me. Think . . . only what it tells me.”

“That’s right, Kristie,” Chester droned on. “You can do only what my voice tells you to do. You can think only what my voice tells you to think. And it’s all right, Kristie, it’s all right, because when you see the pretty shiny pendant you’re asleep, even when your eyes are open you’re asleep, and anything you do doesn’t matter, anything you think doesn’t matter, because you’re asleep and it’s just a dream, Kristie, you’re asleep and it’s just a dream, and when you wake up, you don’t have to remember anything you don’t want to remember, you don’t have to remember anything at all.”

Kristie sighed happily. “Asleep,” she mumbled. “Just a dream. Don’t have to . . . remember.”

“That’s right, Kristie,” Chester guided her. “And because it’s just a dream, you can do anything, even things you’d never do when you’re awake, Kristie, you can do anything my voice tells you, you will do anything my voice tells you, because it’s only a dream and it doesn’t matter and you don’t even have to remember. You can do anything my voice tells you to do, and you will do anything my voice tells you to do.” He paused for a moment. “Now, Kristie, what will you do?”

“Anything . . . your voice tells me . . . to do.”

Chester paused again. Kristie was deep in trance now, carried there by the suggestions he’d given her once the pendant had put her under in the first place. It was time to see just how far he could take things. If she started to come out of it, he could always use the gem again.

“Now Kristie,” the young hypnotist addressed the gorgeous girl who was now totally under his power. “you trust me completely, don’t you. Of course you do. Say it, Kristie, say, ‘I trust you completely, Chester.’ Say it, and believe it, Kristie.”

The redhead obeyed, whispering, “I trust you completely, Chester.” She sighed.

“That’s good, Kristie. That’s very good. You trust me, and you’ll tell me anything, won’t you, Kristie, you’ll tell me things you’d never tell anyone else, because you trust me completely, and besides, it’s all just a dream.”

Kristie nodded. “Tell you . . . anything.”

Chester rubbed his hands together in glee. This was a dream, all right. A dream come true!

He moved on carefully. He knew enough about hypnosis to understand that you couldn’t make someone in trance do something they absolutely, positively wouldn’t do when awake. You had to work around their inhibitions—and if you wanted to really change them, you had to chip away at those restraints a bit at a time.

The key, he thought, was find out just what he had to work with.

“Kristie,” he asked slyly, “you like sex, don’t you?”

Kristie giggled. “Like sex.” Her head bobbed up and down vigorously.

“I bet you have all sorts of private fantasies,” Chester said. “All sorts of things that turn you on. I’m right, aren’t I, Kristie? Tell me; remember, you can tell me anything, even things you’d never tell anyone else, because you trust me and because this is all just a dream.”

Kristie giggled again. “All sorts of things. You’re right, Chester.”

“Tell me about them, Kristie,” Chester commanded. “Tell me everything. . . .”

Fifteen minutes later, a wide-eyed Chester Thomas finally interrupted Kristie’s babbling. “Wow,” he said, meaning it sincerely. “You’ve got a lot of ideas, Kristie. Have you ever done any of that stuff?”

“I’m a good girl,” Kristie protested weakly.

“Yes, I know, Kristie,” persisted Chester. What remained of Kristie’s inhibitions were obviously staging a last-ditch defense. That wouldn’t stop him, though. He pulled out the pendant and set it swinging gently again

“Ooooooo. . . .” Words deserted Kristie as the sparkling gem invaded her mind, sweeping aside her feeble subconscious resistance.

“Now, Kristie, tell me the truth,” Chester commanded.

And Kristie did. Chester’s eyes widened as the words spilled from the entranced girl. Kristie might say she was a good girl—she might even believe it—but if her parents knew half the stuff she’d done, never mind the stuff she hadn’t had the nerve to really do, they’d keep her locked up in her room till she was fifty. It was a testament to how deeply under she was that she was confessing it to him.

One game in particular sounded like fun. Chester spoke to Kristie in a low voice: “Kristie, you like to pretend you’re a stripper, don’t you? It gets you all hot to imagine guys getting off watching you dance and take off your clothes, doesn’t it?” He knew it did; she’d told him so. She liked to strip in front of the three-way mirror in her bedroom with sexy music playing and imagine herself dancing in a club.

“Yes, Chester,” Kristie admitted. Her arms came up, cradling her bosom, and Chester moaned softly at the sight. Kristie panted, “Gets me . . . all hot! “

It was getting Chester pretty hot, too. It was a struggle to focus on giving his hypnotized honey her next commands. “Unnhh,” he groaned, “Christie, you want to strip for real, don’t you, but you’re afraid of what your daddy would do to you if he caught you, isn’t that right?”

“Yeahhhh,” Christie sighed. “Wanna strip . . . for real. But Daddy’d . . . kill me.”

“Not if he didn’t find out, Kristie,” Chester pointed out. “If you stripped here, Kristie, right here, no one would ever have to know, because I’d never tell, Kristie, and anyway this is all a dream, and you can do anything in a dream.”

To Kristie’s mesmerized mind, Chester’s words seemed perfectly reasonable. “Yeahhhh,” she sighed again. “’S all . . . a dream. I can do anything . . . in a dream.” She began to sway, her arms rising, her hands tangling themselves in her rich red mane of hair.

“That’s right, Kristie,” Chester urged. “Go on, go for it. Make it real in your mind and go for it, you know you want to, go for it. Dance, Kristie, dance!”

And Kristie danced, lost in the fantasy. Around her, Chester’s small apartment shimmered into a smoky men’s club, the overhead fluorescents becoming spotlights focused on her and a thumping musical beat filling her mind. A phantom audience of eager men cheered her on as she arched her back, tilted her head backward and let one hand wander to the buttons of her blouse, popping them open one after another.

Very soon her shirt hung open. She wriggled out of it seductively and tossed it aside, then put hands on hips and shimmied out of her skirt, kicking it aside when it fell to her ankles.

“Nnnngh,“ groaned Chester. Suddenly, his pants felt very tight in the crotch. “Go for it, Kristie, go, go, uhhh, go!“

The bespelled beauty was happy to oblige, popping off her bra and letting it dangle from her outstretched hand before dropping it to the floor. Her tiny panties were next, leaving her clad only in sheer nylons and glossy white pumps as she pranced and writhed across the floor, driven by the music in her mind.

Chester couldn’t take it any more. He was going to explode! He had to have her!

“Kristie,” he gasped, “you’re so hot, aren’t you, yes, you’re so turned on right now, you don’t care about anything anymore except sex. You’ve got to have it, Kristie, got to have it right now!”

The girl shivered, a squeal of lust escaping her as Chester’s words hit home. Her eyes focused on him with a smoldering gaze, and she undulated over to stand over him, legs apart and hands cupping the soft flesh of her bosom, raising her breasts and pushing them forward. In waking life, Kristie new her tits got guys going, and in her trance that knowledge remained.

Chester’s eyes widened. Seeing his expression, Kristie smirked. In her normal state, she’d have been furious to see Chester Thomas staring at her rack. Now, however, all she knew was that a guy was gaping at her. And, deep in her stripper fantasy, she didn’t see anything wrong with that. Guys were supposed to stare at her.

And she was so damn horny!

She stepped forward and slid into Chester’s lap, oozing over him. One hand sought the buttons of his shirt, popping them open one by one as the other hand strayed lower down, rubbing rhythmically.

Chester groaned as he felt Kristie’s slender fingers unbuttoning his shirt and caressing his dick. His own hands went to his belt, undoing it, and then opened his pants.

“You like this, don’t you, sweetie,” Kristie murmured. She no longer remembered Chester’s name. She didn’t care. It wasn’t important. All that mattered was what their bodies did together—that, and the pretty shiny pendant still dancing in her mind.

Chester just barely had presence of mind enough to take the ornament out of his pocket and set it aside before wriggling out of his shirt with Kristie’s help. Then he popped out of the loafers he had on; then his pants and underwear were down around his ankles, mere inconvenient binding fabric to be gotten out of the way.

At last he entered Kristie. The contact and the motion sent fireworks of pleasure surging through him. He stopped thinking, and for a time, he and Kristie pumped and slithered against each other in mutual mindless bliss. When he came, he shrieked the redhead’s name; when her own orgasm took her moments later, she uttered a wordless animal cry.

When Chester regained awareness of the world around him, the action had shifted from the chair to his bed. He had no memory of the move. He was atop Kristie, whose powerful thighs pinioned him and urged him on to another climax.

Finally, spent, he collapsed atop the gorgeous girl. He lay there drowsily for a little while, until she stirred beneath him and murmured a confused-sounding, “What . . . ? Where . . . !”

Chester’s eyes popped open in alarm. Was Kristie coming out of it? If she did, and found herself here, the two of them naked and her with no memory of how any of it had happened, she’d freak out! If she managed to run out before he could stop her, he was dead meat! It’d be God’s own miracle if she didn’t charge him with rape.

A quick lunge toward the table at the foot of his bed brought him into grabbing range of the pendant. Snatching it, he swung it around in front of him, averting his eyes until it was safely facing away from him. If he put himself under and Kristie woke up—! He shuddered.

“Ch-Chester?” Kristie was definitely regaining awareness. “I don’t under . . .”

Her eyes fell on the gem gently swaying at the end of its chain. “I don’t under . . . I don’t under . . . don’t under . . . under . . . !”

Chester sighed in relief. “That’s right, Kristie. Under. Look at the pretty pendant and let yourself go under again, let yourself sink back into the wonderful dream inside the pretty sparkles of the pretty sparkly pendant, under, deeper under, so deep, yes. . . .”

Kristie, lying on her back beneath Chester, her elbows propping her slightly above the yielding surface of the bed, stared at the moving jewel. Her head followed it, back and forth, back and forth, as awareness faded from her eyes. In a little-girl whisper, she mouthed, “Under . . . deeper . . . under . . . !”

Satisfied that the danger was past, Chester carefully set the pendant aside again. Then he turned back to Kristie.

She was totally in his power right now, he knew. If he wanted, he could have her leave here now in nothing but the nylons and heels she still had on and flash the whole campus on her way home, totally unaware she wasn’t fully dressed. He could do just about anything with her, in fact.

But—he sighed—he’d better be practical. Anything too, ahem, creative might raise questions. Besides, he didn’t really want to hurt Kristie. That would be wrong. At last he came to a decision.

He addressed the girl sprawled beneath him, giving her the simple instructions he’d decided on. “In a moment, Kristie, I’m going to snap my fingers”—yes, it was corny, he thought, but there was no harm in sticking with the classics—“and when I do, you’re going to get dressed and go home. When you get there, you’ll go right to bed and sleep peacefully until morning. Repeat my instructions, Kristie, if you understand them and will do as I say.”

Kristie echoed Chester’s words, her head nodding gently from side to side as she spoke. All she saw was the pretty sparkly pendant, moving back and forth.

“Good girl, Kristie.” Chester smiled. “Now, when you wake up in the morning, Kristie, you’ll remember only what you feel comfortable remembering about what happened tonight. You’ll remember only what you’re comfortable remembering, and you’ll remember it only as a dream.”

Kristie nodded. “Remember only . . . what I feel comfortable remembering. Remember it . . . as a dream.”

“That’s right, Kristie,” said Chester. He paused. “Now, there’s just a little bit more, Kristie. Listen carefully now. . . .” He gave one more simple suggestion.

Then he snapped his fingers.

Kristie slid out from under Chester, ignoring him as if he weren’t there, and calmly put her clothes back on. Then, without a word, she walked out of Chester’s room and left his dormitory.

The young hypnotist whistled softly to himself as he looked through his front window. Kristie looked perfectly normal as she moved away; no casual observer would guess she was acting under post-hypnotic compulsion. She herself wouldn’t suspect a thing when she woke up tomorrow.

Still naked, he set about tidying up his room. The two of them had tossed things around a bit in their frenzy. When he was satisfied that things were more or less back in order, he dumped his clothes in the laundry hamper and got into his pajamas. He climbed into bed and turned out the lights.

No, he thought as he drifted toward slumber, he didn’t want to hurt Kristie, no matter how she’d treated him in the past. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have lots more fun with her. Not to take full advantage of the possibilities—now, that would be just wrong.

He fell asleep smiling.