The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

His real name was Oliver Franklin, but on stage he used his middle name, Xavier, then tacked on “The Great” for effect. Not that that actually got any more butts in the seats, but it could be backed up if there was ever a challenge from the Truth in Advertizing Committee (not that they ever challenged the stage names of hypnotists). For, you see, Xavier (he hated his first name) was a powerful telepath with empathy and mental domination mixed in. He could control people, but he was helpless if, say, a robot came to kick his ass. He worried about that sometimes, having read well his elder brother’s comic book collection after said brother moved out, but it never happened.

Xavier had been called to a high school in Kansas to do a show. The show’s sponsor, a highly affluent citizen, would supposedly pay for his expenses and Xavier himself would get a handsome fee for entertaining the youngsters while the teachers graded the stacked-up assignments that students had been piling on them since the advent of the Homework Hotline, with which parents could call and ask about assignments for the entire month. After the show, students would no longer be allowed to turn in assignments before the due date, but they needed this time to grade the already enormous deluge of papers. Xavier gladly agreed to the job.

When he arrived at the school, he didn’t find the welcome he was looking for. Instead, he discovered that the sponsor had replaced him with a local magician who would work for less. Feeling betrayed, rejected and very angry, Xavier vowed revenge. He spent two days concocting what he thought was a viable plan of attack. Perhaps he could get the desired effect by the same means as the Pied Piper, only with a little more success.

Katherine Nelson, called “Kat” by all but the highest and most anal-retentive of officials, sat in front of her computer, fully immersed in a chatroom called “Goth.net”. It seemed strange to her that there were no other Goths in the chatroom tonight. Surely they weren’t all engaged in cybersex in one of the “attics?” A quiet voice in the back of her head told her that she shouldn’t be in chatrooms from the school computer, but her mom wouldn’t allow the Internet into her home, so she was stuck. Someone logged on. The user name was “MindsBane.”

“Looking for Gothic male for carnal relationship.” she typed.

“We tread similar dark paths.” MindsBane replied. “What RUN2?”

“Lithium.” Kat typed.

“Fascinating.” MindsBane replied. “Care 2 try something better?”

“Sounds great. Where RU?” Kat typed.

“Dont worry. I’ll come 2U.” It was then that Kat saw, through the library window, an RV’s door open. A male figure clad in black emerged and walked to the library. His face was hidden by his hood, but what she saw looked nice. He disappeared from her view for a while, but then entered the library from the north door. He gestured her to come with him. Kat logged out of the chatroom and shut down the computer, making sure to clear the disk cache and history lists before she flipped the power switch. He had her wrap her legs around his waist, then he covered her with his cloak. Being smuggled out of school was strangely thrilling, as though they were daring authorities to try to stop their clandestine escape. The man crossed the parking lot and entered the RV, then opened his cloak to let her out. It wasn’t long before she felt something like fingers in her mind, looking through her memories, probing her thoughts, reading her emotions. The only explanation she could think of was telepathy. It had probably been a hard adjustment at first, she realized. The man removed the black cloak, and revealed jet black hair and deep, dark eyes, neither of which looked unnatural, although Kat had been dying her hair and eyebrows since seventh grade.

“You said you wanted to show me something better than Lithium.” Kat reminded him.

“And so I shall.” the man said, then he reached his mental fingers into her mind again. She closed her eyes, and let pleasure wash over her as he secretly began to rearrange her mental processes. Suddenly nothing mattered except pleasing him. He was the be-all and end-all of her existence. She also felt a need to submit, to be commanded, to obey. Her body began to respond to this need by becoming sexually aroused. When she opened her eyes, she was naked, standing in the kitchen. She was cutting up bits of meat and beating them into submission with a mallot. She breaded the bits of meat and then tossed them into the frying pan, where the grease was already hot. Even though she’d never cooked before, she easily prepared steak fingers for the man who had brought her here. She brought a finished plateful to him, as he sat on the folded-out hide-a-bed, wearing no more than her. Her vagina was dripping wet, her nipples hard and peaked. Submissively she set the plate before her Master.

“Good girl.” he said, and at the sound of that, Kat had an orgasm. “Does my pussycat like to serve her Master?”

“Yes, Master.” Kat replied, ending the last syllable with a seductive purr. She’d never felt this way, so soft, so feminine, so submissive. She liked it. He patted the bed next to him, and she sat down next to him.

“Open your mouth, pussycat.” he said, and she obeyed. One of those hot steak fingers came into her mouth, and she chewed and swallowed. It seemed strange that she, who had always been a hard-core vegetarian, was now eating steak fingers from the hands of a man she hadn’t known more than ten minutes at most. He alternated between giving a steak finger to her and eating one himself, and when the entire plate was gone except for one, the odd finger out, he broke the last one in half and they ate their pieces simultaneously. He set the plate up on the windowsill, and then he turned his full attention to her. He began with a caress to her cheek, then gradually migrated down her body, running his fingers over the swell of her breasts, down her belly, and then the palm of his hand took posession of the hot wetness between her legs. He probed a finger into her cunt. Not a virgin, but she was definitely tight.

“It may surprise you to learn, pussycat, that I’m only twenty years old.” he told her. “Even though I’ve been working as a stage hypnotist for five years.” Kat didn’t look surprised, but then again, he had programmed her to accept everything he told her without question. “I was something of a child prodigy after my powers emerged. I graduated high school at fourteen, mostly because my telepathy was so strong that I could absorb facts from all the teachers’ minds. I tried a job in computers, but it wasn’t my cup of tea. I couldn’t use my powers in that field, because computers didn’t have minds like humans did. I registered a stage name and got a job assisting a stage magician, but eventually I became the star attraction, gaining control over people’s minds and such. Sometimes, if money was tight and I didn’t make enough at the box office, I’d make the entire audience empty their wallets and purses onto the stage. The job paid the bills, sure enough, and the audience’s “donations” couldn’t be taken by the IRS because they weren’t on any of the books. I hoarded all the money I didn’t use, and that’s the only thing that’s saved my fiscal butt on several occasions. A few days ago, your high school called me up and told me that they’d pay me to do a show for the school, but when I got here, they had replaced me with somebody cheaper.”

“Oh, how awful!” Kat replied. No wonder he seemed so sad.

“Yes, but you, and others, will help me take my revenge.”

“Of course, Master.” Kat said. “I’ll do anything you want.” Xavier smiled, then began to work his finger around in Kat’s cunt. She moaned in the pleasure of it. In and out his finger went, bringing her closer and closer to climax, but never bringing her over the edge. He nibbled her nipples, licked her breasts, and Kat surrendered to the feelings. For hours, he held her at the brink of orgasm, and she begged and pleaded with him to let her come. Finally he inserted his penis, and that sent her over the edge. She came, and he thrust in her well-lubricated love tunnel until she had another seven orgasms. He made her hold in the last one until he was ready, then they came simultaneously. Spent, they fell asleep, Master atop slave, and Kat was happy. She had never had better sex in her life.

Candace grunted under the weight of the other cheerleaders above her. Why couldn’t she be the top of the pyramid? Why couldn’t she at least be on one of the middle rows? Why did SHE have to be down here with a fatass bitch on either side, and one fashion-impaired Amazon bitch on the other end who liked to fight guys for fun and profit? The ten-person pyramid was giving her a backache. Her arms and legs were shaking. Someone up above had gained some weight. Her arms buckled. The pyramid toppled. Everyone fell on her. The coach blew that thrice-damned whistle several times, yelling for the girls to get up. Candace didn’t move.

“Get up!” the coach demanded. Candace’s arms felt like ground beef, her legs felt like fried calamari, and Candace herself felt like shit. She only half-listened to the coach as she yelled a lecture, the noise occasionally causing some of the fluffy, spray-on insulation to fall from the gym’s ceiling. Hands from the other cheerleaders checked her for broken bones. Candace was hungry. She wished she hadn’t skipped lunch.

(It would probably be best if you got away.) a voice said in her mind.

Who’s there? candace asked.

(I am called Xavier the Great, and I can help you.) the voice said. Suddenly, Candace found strength she didn’t know she had. She managed to get to her feet and, wobbling the entire way, leave the gym. As soon as she was out, she was scooped into the arms of a young man, who carried her weakened body away. She didn’t know she’d fallen asleep until she woke up, feeling very stiff. A hand lifted her head, and warm liquid flowed into her mouth. She drank thirstily. Slowly, but steadily, she began to feel better. After maybe an hour, she felt more human than wood, so she tried out her limbs. Well, they weren’t back to normal, but she felt good enough to try to stand up. She hadn’t noticed the light blanket until it slipped from her shoulder. She glanced around, but found no one. Most of her clothes lay in a pile in the corner, but the panties remained on her hips. This, at least, made her feel that her benefactor, whether real or imagined, was at least trustworthy enough not to try to rape her while she slept. Strangely, she found she really didn’t want to re-don the cheerleading outfit. She found a white shirt and some drawstring pants in the closet. She had to roll them up so she wouldn’t end up walking the excess length off, but she got them on. The shirt was a short-sleeve, button-up shirt with no collar. She put her own shoes and socks on, and as she looked at herself in the mirror, she felt very sexy. She’d never dared wear sexy clothes before, except for her cheerleader outfit, which she’d never dared wear in front of her Fundamentalist mother. For her mother, she’d worn the wind pants and jacket that the cheerleaders wore on cold days, and was eternally grateful that all of the games went on while her mother was at work, and her mother only took Sundays off. Even better, her mother thought that television and things of that nature were evil, and so would never have anyone record the game for her. Candace was very much the rebel, who wanted a normal life, away from her everybody’s-going-to-hell-unless-they-suffer-through-their-whole-damn-life mother. She was going to have that crazy woman committed as soon as she could do so without being put in foster care.

“Now there’s an idea.” someone said. The front door came open, and Candace froze. The dark-haired man who had rescued her from falling facefirst on the floor stood there, smiling. Kat Nelson was behind him, and she was smiling too. That in itself was weird. What in the name of all that was holy could make a Goth smile? “I’m Xavier. Welcome to my humble abode.”

“Why’s Kat Nelson following you around like a puppy?” Candace asked.

“For the same reason you’ll soon be doing it, Candy.”

“My name is Candace.” Xavier smiled mischieviously, and then Candace felt the gentle caress of fingers in her mind.

Daphne Willis glared at the intruder...wait, that was Kat Nelson. Why was she showing up for class ten minutes late and grinning like an idiot? Even stranger, she wasn’t wearing her usual dreary black outfit with black nail polish and black lipstick. She wasn’t wearing any makeup whatsoever, and she was wearing a white T-shirt, blue jeans and blue sneakers. No bra. The look on her face said she was either high or severely oversexed, or maybe both. She walked in, tossed her books down to the side of her desk, and sat down. The teacher had the person at the front of the row pass back a tardy sheet for her, and she signed it with a vibrating pen (as if her handwriting wasn’t bad enough), then passed it back. The teacher then handed her a test paper. Once she was on the task, her concentration seemed unlimited, as though she were in a trance of some kind. She was through in ten minutes. She took the paper right up to the teacher and laid it down on her desk.

“You even showed your work!” the teacher said, impressed. It took longer for the teacher to grade it than it had taken for Kat to do it. She called Kat up to her desk.

“You’ve never seen fit to show your work, you’ve never studied a day in your life as far as I know, and I’ve never seen you concentrate so hard on ANYTHING as I saw you concentrate on this test, so I’m going to ask you one question: who are you and what have you done with Katherine Nelson?”

“I’m Kat Nelson, Miz Pye, and I don’t appreciate being called an imposter.” Kat said, then stormed back to her seat. Daphne stared. How had this young Goth turned superbrain overnight? Her experience with the different cliques below hers had never indicated that anything like that was possible. In any event, maybe her newfound intelligence would prompt her to get some fashion sense. At least, that was Daphne’s hope.

(Must you always be so concerned with appearances that you forget about what’s inside?) a strange voice asked. (But then, you’ve been trapped in the world of fashion all your life, from crapping in designer diapers to writing to Calvin Klein to come out with a line of designer tampons so you can be “in style” even in your CROTCH!)

How rude! Daphne thought.

(If you think THAT’S rude, check this out) the voice said. Suddenly, Daphne was reliving old conversations from the point of view of the people she’d been talking to, and feeling the hurts she had inflicted.

“Oh! Get out of my way you stupid little shit!” “Hey, nice dress! I used to have one just like it...last year! Hahaha!” “Ugh, can you believe her? Her butt is just so big! It’s just like...out there, I mean...ugh! Gross! Those guys only talk to her because she looks like a total slut, ok, and her breasts—you can, like, totally see the crinkles from the wadded-up toilet paper she has in that bra!” “Don’t you know pink was out three months ago? Get a credit card you sub-poverty line bitch!” “What’s the matter, can’t shave your legs because you need the stubble to hold up your tube socks?” For the remainder of the class the abuse continued. The bell rang, and the images stopped. She gathered her things and handed her half-finished, tear-stained paper to the teacher, then left. She went into the office and filched some notebook paper, then wrote out notes of apology to each of the people she’d hurt. Half of them she didn’t know, but the voice that had sent the visions to her supplied the names. She sealed them with tape and asked the office aides to deliver them. After that, she sought out Kat.

“Hey, Kat!” she called when she saw her in the hall. “Wait up!”

“OK.” Kat said. When Daphne got there, she resumed walking.

“Hey, Kat, how’d you finish that paper so fast?”

“The same way you got a glimpse of your true self.” Kat replied.

“I had no idea I hurt people so much.” Daphne said. She was starting to cry again. Kat put one hand on the popular girl’s shoulder.

“But now you won’t make the same mistake again, will you?”

“No.” Daphne replied. “Where did that voice come from?”

“Xavier the Great.” Kat replied. “Would you like to meet him?”

“Sure.” Daphne said. After seventh period, they met up in the courtyard and Kat led her to the parking lot, where there was an RV parked between the two crosswalks, but not blocking either, which means it had to be about 100 feet long. They approached, Xavier greeted them, and Daphne was quickly inducted into the rapidly-growing harem.

Daphne walked bowlegged down the hall, dressed in a blue outfit consisting of a T-shirt, blue jeans, sneakers and socks, with a cute little blue scrunchie.

“Daphne?” someone asked. She turned and found Jasmine Plaidy, one of the recipients of her notes. “I hardly recognized you without the trendy outfits.”

“I realize now that I’ve put far too much emphasis on appearances.” Daphne replied.

“I got your note. And I forgive you.” Jasmine said.

“Thanks.” Daphne said, smiling. Master had wanted one girl from each group, and Jasmine would make a fine addition to the harem, so she made every effort to get to know her future co-worker. Jasmine was the youngest of seven kids, and the only girl, so she grew up with more masculine tastes than Daphne had liked before being reprogrammed by her Master. What she had once called a “tomboy.” “Hey, Jasmine, would you like to meet a new friend of mine after school?”

“Is he that guy who parks the RV in front of the school every day?” Jasmine asked.

“Yes.” Daphne replied.

“Cool! I’d really like to meet him!”

“OK, meet me in the courtyard after seventh.” she said, stopping at her first period class.

(You’ve done well for me, Daphne.) Master said in her head.

Thank you, Master. Daphne replied.

(Yes, and it’s only first period. Now, if you’ll net that nice-looking foreign exchange student, I’d be most appreciative, my pet.) Daphne would obey, of course. That much, Xavier knew for a fact. After all, he himself had programmed her.

The exchange student, an Australian girl named Darci, was indeed as yummy as she had looked when viewed through his slave’s eyes. Jasmine proved a delicious challenge...her will was strong, but ultimately, she lost. Candi had netted a track-runner named Jocelyn, and a rich brat named Bibi. Kat had busily pursued a so-called “brain” named Susie and gotten her to come, and had also netted a bisexual named Nellie, Francis, a “weird” girl who was into Tarot cards and Star Trek, and a girl who went by the name Darlene half the time and Joan the other half (he’d had to enslave both of her personalities).

“Think we have enough?” Xavier asked Kat.

“I would be content to gather slaves for you for eternity, Master, as long as I can be serving you.”

“Don’t worry, pussycat, you’ll be serving me for the rest of your life—which will be pretty darn long under my control and protection.” Kat squealed in delight at that thought. He kissed Kat affectionately on her forehead. He had his harem line up, naked, and he gave each of them a kiss, then dressed them all white T-shirts, blue jeans, boots, and shades. That accomplished, he parked his RV one more time, then lay down on the hide-a-bed and extended his consciousness, asserting direct control over his slaves. They were currently nothing more than extensions of his will, and his power flowed through them, as did his vengeance.

Hours later, Xavier the Great was on a chartered flight home, with all his slaves accompanying him on the plane. He silently congratulated himself on being able to solve his problem without bloodshed. He chuckled as he recalled the emotions coming from the principal as he held a conversation with what he perceived as a hive mind—no wonder the Borg were such a frightening enemy. Kat sighed the soft, cooing sigh of the well-fucked as she slept naked in her Master’s arms. Xavier wondered whether he should have his slaves play some part in his act. He finally decided against it. He was in a selfish mood, and didn’t feel like sharing his prized posessions with other men.