The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I hurry through the blustery weather, hoping to catch a break and—for once—arrive at Professor Talgarth’s class on time. The clock in the church tower chimes, and I mutter a naughty word; I’m already late.

It is the fourth week of the new semester, and already it feels like December. My word! I chide myself for not bringing my sweater. Too late now.

The campus grounds are nearly deserted, as all the other girls are now in class. I rush up the stairs of Smithers Hall, hoping I don’t drop my books. From the windows, I can see a few other girls in their uniforms, watching me and laughing. I blush and hurry faster.

We girls at Wendell Hallow Academy are never supposed to be tardy. Hallow was founded in 1832, and according to our distinguished faculty, not a single one of our graduates has been anything less than a sophisticated, well-refined lady. We come from the wealthiest families in the Northeast, with some girls coming from as far away as Washington DC. We graduate and are well-positioned to become the wives of future congressmen, business leaders, and cultural figures. Our star graduate is Mabel Chambers, who is now Mrs. Arthur Chambers, the publisher of several renowned newspapers, and a prominent Manhattan socialite.

My saddle shoes clack as I rush down the main corridor and into Room 107 for Introductory Psychology. My classmates giggle as I hurry to my desk, and worse, Professor Talgarth turns from the chalkboard when he hears my noisy entrance. I freeze, expecting a reprimand.

The professor eyes me and his gaze unquestionably drops down to my chest. I have one of the largest busts at Wendell Hallow. I blush and hug my books tightly.

“Take your seat, Miss Gardner,” Professor Talgarth says absently, and it seems that I have escaped punishment.

I sigh with relief and sit down. Lavender Greene, sitting to my right, gives me look which says, Oh Sally, can’t you ever be on time?

“Very well, now, ladies,” Professor Talgarth says, resuming his writing. “Today we discuss Chapter Three of our text. Who can summarize the primary discoveries of Dr. Sigmund Freud?”

Girls raise their hands all around me.

I watch Professor Talgarth closely. He is in his mid-forties, too old to be considered husband material, but still an attractive man nonetheless. With a confident demeanor, he is tall and stocky, with a barrel chest under that tweed suit. His hair is salt-and-pepper in color, and always messy. Curiously, his moustache is black. I particularly fancy his piercing blue eyes, which make him look very attractive indeed.

For a second, I catch myself wondering what Professor Talgarth looks like naked. “Land sakes, Sally!” I think quickly. “Such smutty impulses! What would Mother say?”

Little is known about Professor Talgarth among the student body. He is obviously British. We do know that he served in the war, and although we’re not sure if he was in the British Army or Royal Navy. After Germany surrendered, came to America to start a new life. Apparently he had a psychology practice in New York City for a time. Why he came to Wendell Hallow Academy, I can’t fathom.

Professor Talgarth calls on Betty Stone, my best friend. Betty is the star reporter of our student newspaper, and possibly the smartest girl on campus.

“Dr. Freud is best known for the theories of the ego, the superego, and the id,” Betty recites.

“Directly from our textbook,” Professor Talgarth nods. “Very good. Who can tell me what those three components are?”

A discussion of this Dr. Freud’s super-smart theories follows. I make notes, and the occasional doodle. Psychology interests me... but today my mind is elsewhere.

I’m thinking about a boy. Last weekend, Betty, Joan, Lavender, and I were in town to kill some time. While crossing Waverly Square, I spotted a group of boys from Grangewood, the military academy down Route 357. The tallest of them in particular caught my fancy. His friends called him Johnny.

Oh, Johnny… So very, very cute.

Unfortunately, he spotted me staring at him. I went beet red and scurried in the opposite direction.

“Now,” Professor Talgarth says, setting down his chalk, “who can tell me how Dr. Freud began his studies?”

More hands go up. “Didn’t he use hypnosis to analyze his subjects’ minds?” Suzie Mathers asks.

Professor Talgarth nods in approval. “Yes, he did. In those days, it was felt that hypnosis was the best way to access a patient’s inner thoughts and feelings. Now, who can tell me why Dr. Freud eventually abandoned the use of hypnotism?”

No-one responds. I am surprised that even Lavender, usually the class know-it-all, doesn’t try to answer this one.

The professor chuckles. “Well, of course, Dr. Freud treated a lot of female patients. Repeated use of hypnotism on ladies, of course, frees up their emotional inners and makes them wild and unstable. Too many of Dr. Freud’s lady patients fell in love with him and publicly professed love for him on many occasions.” Professor Talgarth shakes his head, still smiling. “But of course the female mind is a very fragile thing. This is why we only teach Introductory Psychology here at Wendell Hallow.”

I have the distinct feeling that my classmates, myself, and my whole gender have just been insulted.

“However,” Professor Talgarth continues, “a little hypnotism will not do any damage. And it occurred to me that using hypnotism in today’s lecture would be an excellent way to begin our unit on Dr. Freud.”

We all freeze. Did Professor Talgarth just say… we would do hypnotism in class?

“May I have a volunteer, please?” the professor asks, drawing a single chair to the front of the room.

No-one dares move. The classroom is as silent as a tomb.

“Oh come, now, ladies,” Professor Talgarth exclaims. “One mere hypnosis session is nothing to be afraid of! No-one here is going to profess love to me!” He chuckles at his own little joke.

Still, no-one comes forward.

The professor’s smile fades. “Very well. Who has most recently displeased me? Hmm…”

I lower my head as much as I dare and stare into my notes. “Please please please don’t pick me,” I think desperately.

“Miss Gardner,” I hear Professor Talgarth say, “will you come up here, please?”

I close my eyes in horror. “Oh no,” I think.

I feel all faces in the class turn towards me.

“Come, come, Miss Gardner,” the professor says impatiently. “No time like the present.”

Feeling my cheeks burn, I rise and reluctantly come to the front of the room. After another glance at my bust, Professor Talgarth gestures to the chair, and I sit. I would rather go over Niagara Falls in a pie plate right now.

All the girls are staring at me, some in delight, some looking at me as if they fear they will never see me again. I catch Betty’s, than Lavender’s eyes. My friends are positively terror-stricken.

“Very well then,” Professor Talgarth chimes, oblivious to the drama, “I will place Miss Gardner here into a deep hypnotic trance. Once she is under, we will use her to demonstrate the primary symptoms of hypnosis. Are there any questions?”

There are none. I wish someone in the building would sound the fire alarm.

“Very well, then.” Professor Talgarth sits in a second chair, opposite me. He plucks a fountain pen from his jacket pocket and holds it up before me.

“Now Miss Gardner,” he says, “watch the tip of the pen closely. Do not take your eyes off it.”

He begins to move the pen back and forth in front of me. I follow the pen’s motion with my eyes; otherwise, I sit perfectly still.

“Excellent,” Professor Talgarth comments. “Focus all your concentration on my pen. Follow my voice. You will find your body relaxing… relaxing… relaxing…”

I continue to watch the pen. Nothing is happening. I can hear the tick of the clock; is each tick growing louder? A girl shifts her weight in her seat, and the chair noisily scrapes on the linoleum. This is hypnotism?

Professor Talgarth continues talking. His sentences have started running into one another, a steady flow of silken words. I find that English accent so appealing.

“Focus on the pen,” he reminds me. “Allow your breathing to grow longer and deeper. Concentrate on my voice. Allow yourself to feel relaxed… so relaxed… Notice that your eyelids are already beginning to feel relaxed, heavy.”

Really? Are my eyelids feeling heavy?

I blink once and realize, maybe, they might be getting heavier. How can eyelids get heavy, anyway? It doesn’t make much sense.

My hands, folded in my lap, are tingling slightly. Is that normal?

“Concentrating on my voice, Miss Gardner, do nothing but concentrate on my voice. In a moment, I will begin counting down from twenty to one. Each number I speak doubles your relaxation and sends you into a deep hypnotic sleep. Each number makes your body and mind relax even more deeply than before. You won’t be able to resist this powerful relaxation. Ready?”

I want to say, No! I’m not ready! I don’t want to be hypnotized! But my mouth doesn’t seem to work.

“Twenty,” Professor Talgarth says.

Immediately my whole body sags into relaxation. I am stunned by the effect of that one word. I feel my arms and legs disengage and my jaw become slightly unhinged. My eyelids close, and it is a slight struggle to open them again. Professor Talgarth continues to tell me things, but I am so distracted by my plight that I hardly register any of it.

“Nineteen.”

Again I drop deeper into relaxation. My eyes shut and I can barely open them again. My left arm feels like a wet noodle and slides off my lap.

“Eighteen.”

My eyes close, and this time I can’t force them open again. My lids simply ignore my will and do not obey me. My head feels heavy and I feel it begin to dip forward. My neck doesn’t seem to have the strength to keep it upright.

At the same time, I realize that my whole body feels warm and… slightly inflated? Like I am becoming a balloon. It makes no sense.

“Seventeen.”

My head turns to brick and I can’t stop it from sinking down into my chest. I feel my ponytail spill over my shoulder.

More interesting, my arms and legs seem to be growing fatter and longer. I imagine that they are five miles long and growing more relaxed with every breath I make. I have the sensation of drifting in some sort of slow-moving but powerful current, like a river taking my mind out to sea.

Professor Talgarth counts a few more numbers, and I am helpless as each number does indeed cause my body to relax even more than before. I didn’t think it was possible for a person to relax this much. It is as if my muscles are dissolving into liquid right off my skeleton.

And Its right about now that I realize my thoughts are disjointed. I can hear the clock and Professor Talgarth’s voice, but they both sound worlds away. The professor is telling me things, telling me to do or to think things, but I can’t tell which. I know he is still counting, and with every number he speaks, I lose more control over my thoughts and body.

Soon, I don’t care about that control. Professor Talgarth’s voice flows through my head, and I am following along. I have no sense of how long I have been sitting.

And then: “Miss Gardner is now in a deep hypnotic trance,” I hear Professor Talgarth explain to the class. “She is extremely susceptible to my suggestions while in this state, and she will think, do, or believe whatever I tell her.”

I listen, still fascinated by his voice but unconcerned about anything. He might as well be describing some other hypnotized girl. Not me.

Professor Talgarth explains that my hands are feeling lighter than air, as if helium balloons have been tied to my wrists. I smile inside, remembering a time my father took me to the circus and bought me a red balloon. I can see it in my imagination. As I remember, I think I feel my own hands rise straight up into the air.

I hear my classmates gasp.

“You see?” Professor Talgarth says. “I tell Miss Gardner that her hands are rising into the air, and the suggestion convinces her that they are. Miss Gardner, your hands will rise higher and higher.”

The red balloon in my memory soars up, up, up. I’m vaguely aware of my hands climbing in the air… but I might be imagining that.

“And now we see hypnotism’s most interesting symptom,” Professor Talgarth intones. “Notice that with a forceful suggestion, I can override Miss Gardner’s will and she will comply with my instructions.”

To me, he says: “Miss Gardner, in a moment I will awaken you. You will discover your arms are floating in the air, and no matter how hard you try, you cannot lower them down. Your arms are now in my control and they will not descend until I command them to.”

I listen absently, not really concerned. I’m not sure this hypnotism is working on me, anyway.

Professor Talgarth counts from one to five, and suddenly I find myself blinking in my chair. The sunlight streaming into the classroom seems mighty bright.

I want to rub my eyes… but my hands don’t appear at my face. What is happening?

I look at the other girls, who are agape at me. Why are they so awestruck? Did the hypnotism not work?

“As you can see,” Professor Talgarth relates, “Miss Gardner is helpless to move her own arms. The hypnosis has placed them under my control.”

What is he talking about? I look up and am stunned to see both my arms are extended straight up. My fingertips are lazily pointing to the ceiling.

“Go ahead, Miss Gardner,” says Professor Talgarth. “Try to lower your arms. Try.”

I’ll show him. I think about folding my hands in my lap, exactly how I was taught as a little girl.

My arms don’t budge. I know they are attached to my body, but I have no control over them.

“Go on, then,” Professor Talgarth coaxes. “Here, I’ll give you incentive.”

His long fingers reach out and brush my torso, right alongside my right breast. He’s tickling me! I giggle and squirm—I can’t help it—but I still can’t pull my arms down to protect myself.

The other girls stare, gobsmacked.

Professor Talgarth grins and leans closer, tickling me harder. I see him clearly stare at my breast, just out of his reach. I squirm to the far side of my chair, still unable to lower my arms.

Then the professor shakes his head a little and withdraws his hand. “Look at me,” he commands.

I do so.

“Sleep!” he tells me.

My vision goes to black as I tumble back into that incredible relaxation. My senses fade immediately and my thoughts feel foggy. Amazingly, my arms remain sticking straight up.

Professor Talgarth tells me that my arms are free, and they lower themselves back down. I go deeper into his influence.

Now the professor is giving me more instruction and putting thoughts in my head. He is telling me I will forget everything and believe that the hypnotism never happened. I hear him clearly but do not listen.

And then he is counting again, and suddenly… I am awake.

I shake my head. My thoughts are confused. I…

I remember now. Professor Talgarth asked me to come up to the front of the class to be hypnotized… but I can’t be hypnotized. Not me. What a silly man, to waste his time on me like this.

“You may go back to your seat, Miss Gardner,” the professor says, dismissing me.

I return to my desk, wondering why the other girls are watching my face so closely.

“And now, we demonstrate the concept of a post-hypnotic suggestion,” says Professor Talgarth, seemingly to everyone but me. “Upon hearing or seeing their trigger signal, the subject has no choice but to obey the suggestion.”

I sit, wondering what the professor is talking about. He tugs on his earlobe.

In an instant, I leap to my feet and bellow, “I LOVE BEING HYPNOTIZED!”

The other girls break out into gales of laughter. I look about me, wondering what is so funny. I sit down.

“You’ll note,” Professor Talgarth remarks, “that Miss Gardner is completely unaware why she obeys this compulsion. Observe…”

He tugs his ear again, and-

“I LOVE BEING HYPNOTIZED!”

The class guffaws louder, and I realize I am standing. Wasn’t I just sitting down? Confused, I sit again.

The professor lectures on about Freud and hypnosis, but I am having a hard time concentrating. Girls keep making sideways glances at me, and I don’t like it.

“Of course,” Professor Talgarth says conversationally, “Miss Gardner is a female, and a female is much more susceptible to hypnotic suggestion than a male. And, yes, that will be on your exam, ladies. I should also point out—”

The dismissal bell rings. We shut our study journals and gather our books. Professor Talgarth still has to dismiss us.

“Ah. Well, remember, next time: Chapter Four,” he says firmly. “Dismissed.”

We rise as one, beginning to file out of the classroom.

“Oh, Miss Gardner?” Professor Talgarth calls. I hesitate, then approach my teacher. Betty catches my eye with a concerned expression, but we don’t have the chance to exchange words.

And then Professor Talgarth and I are alone in the classroom. “I almost forgot,” he says. “I have to de-hypnotize you.”

“I’m sorry, professor?” I ask, wondering what in the world he is talking about.

Professor Talgarth cranes his neck towards the doorway to make sure we are alone. Then he approaches me. First, he takes my books from my arms, and then he places his hands on my upper arms. In this weird embrace, we gaze at each other.

“Sleep…!” he tells me.

My eyes shut immediately, and I remember nothing more.

I am exiting Smithers Hall shortly afterwards, my thoughts still slightly jumbled. Professor Talgarth wanted to say something to me after class… but what was it? For some reason, I can’t remember.

I am surprised when most of the class is waiting for me outside. My classmates swarm around me, pelting me with nonsense questions:

“What was it like? Did you feel compelled to do his bidding?”

“Are you in a trance now?”

“Could you resist him? Did you not want to?”

Betty waves her arms, shoo’ing the other girls aside. “Let her have some air!” she snaps. She and Lavender take me by the arms and propel me back to the dorms.

Once there, my friends sit me down and inspect me carefully. According to them, Professor Talgarth put me in a hypnotic trance before the whole class and then made me do a host of silly things. I listen to them, amused, but I just can’t believe a word of what they’re saying. I don’t remember any such thing.

“But he hypnotized you to forget!” wails Lavender.

Betty, the student reporter, eyes me with suspicion. She is chewing one fingernail; that means she is thinking hard.

“Something here is amiss,” she insists.

I laugh off my overprotective friends, and they reluctantly drop the subject.