The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I spend all of sixth period class contemplating tweaks to our cheer routines, so I have no idea what was said by our boring-ass History teacher. I catch my typical post-class target, Isaac Wright—King of the Nerds—on the way out. “I wasn’t paying attention in class, nerd. What’d I miss?”

“Well, Brooklyn… we got an online assignment —“

I hate how my name sounds coming out of his mouth—all nasally and such. It’s like… your mouth must be this cool to make things sound good coming out of it.

“Which you’ll do for me, won’t you?” I ask, but it isn’t really a question, it’s an order.

“It’s tracked through the web, so they’d know the IP address used. I mean, if you want, I could come to your house and up to your room and do it there for you.”

“The only thing you’re ever doing in my room is Nuh-thing. Nothing. You get that?” I laugh at my joke at his expense. For such a smarty pants, he looks confused. How can he not understand that I’m not about to let some lowlife lame-oid into my house, even if it is to save myself from a bit of homework. My rep may appear infallible, but that’s through four years of careful high school decision making. This nerd is totally the kind of guy just dying to get into my room and maybe steal a pair of my panties while I’m not looking, so that he can tour them to his dweeb friends and appear like some kind of hero. I can’t have that. I know he hoped for that. I know he hedged his bets that my disgust at the idea of cracking a book would overwhelm my senses, but I’m just whelmed. I’ll do the homework and keep my GPA high enough to continue to run the cheerleading squad. “What’s the online assignment, dork?”

“It’s not that hard. There are a couple of hoops to jump through to get started… just a couple of easily answered questions and then, it’s just reading a story and deciding how it goes.” Isaac explains and I’m so bored midway through I actually yawn. “I wrote down the link—”

He shows me his notebook. I guess he’s too poor to afford a phone or a tablet. I rip the page with the web address out. “You’ll remember it,” I say, shoving his notebook back into his chest, “Right?”

I don’t know why he’s smiling. He just got a grade-A talking down to, but the nerd is smiling. Must be more damaged mentally than I thought. I’m surprised all of the papers he wrote for me got such good grades. I make a mental note to find a new homework creation source just in case he’s about to break.

After school, at practice, I have to really crank up the bitch machine to keep my squad in line. Can’t show weakness. They’ve learned a lot from me and if they smell blood in the water, they’ll be sharks—just like the school mascot.

At home, I shower off the day, pull my hair up, and put on some comfy around the house clothes—sweatpants and a sweatshirt—before sitting down at my laptop. I find the crumpled piece of notebook paper and carefully type in the web address. Don’t want to go to the wrong website and then not have the homework count.

I have to slap the side of my laptop when the screen does funky things, causing me to feel like that time I went out with Brittany on her father’s boat and the water was extra choppy.

The website asks for my name. Finally, getting somewhere. It also asks if I’m over eighteen. I didn’t think every other student in Senior History was, but I am, so I click “yes.” I also click “yes” when it asks if I understand how a choose your own adventure story works. Seems pretty straightforward. I wonder what kind of mental case clicks “no” there.

I scroll through page after page of story. And none of them appeal to me. On what seems to be the last page, though, I find my story—All Hail Her Highness.

You don’t like being called the Mad Queen, but if it’s a Mad Queen your subjects seem so intent on having, you’ll give them a Mad Queen… and then some.

You have ways to drive this point home.

Brooklyn, do you—

Send the army out to slaughter some of your more vocal detractors

Summon your archmage and see what some magic can do to their numbers

Something about sending out an army sends shivers down my spine. The good kind of shivers. I do so like the idea of people obeying me.

I select—Send the army out to slaughter some of your more vocal detractors.

I shudder thinking of the torment in store for Middleton High tomorrow. That nerd will face such wrath that he will wet his pants. The cheerleaders won’t even think of ever crossing me for fear of repercussion. If they thought I ruled the school before, they are all in for a rude awakening. From now on, I rule with an iron fist.

Your army is successful in their slaughter. However, it does nothing to quell the masses. It just pushes them underground and away from your scrutiny. You can’t help but to think that a direct assault may not have been the cleverest path.

Brooklyn, do you—

Go undercover with the masses to learn their secrets

Consult your magic mirror for advice

Magic seems impersonal. If I had information, I could make it personal. I feel like Queen Me would want to get hands-on with her situation.

I select—Go undercover with the masses to learn their secrets.

Information is the key to everything and securing it is worth anything. I remember, just last week, sleeping with Brodie, the boyfriend of my assistant cheer captain, just to get the inside scoop on any potential aspirations that I might need to squash. Now, having done that, I have leverage on him as well. Two birds, one bone.

You dress down, securing clothes from some of your servants that fit you well enough and secret yourself from the castle.

You find yourself in a tavern and find a seat next to a man who could be the everyman, in that he’s dingy and dirty and generally someone you’d never think to ever speak to in your royal life.

“What do you think is wrong with Queen Brooklyn?” You ask.

The man replies, “Nothing is wrong with Queen Brooklyn. She’s strong and beautiful. We can’t help that our lot is not the same as hers. We could do with more wheat, more milk, something of that lot. An act of kindness would go a long way. It’s not expected, or necessary, but it would do us all some good.”

Brooklyn, do you—

Reveal yourself to him

Return to the castle and plan to give the people more wheat

Return to the castle and plan to give the people more milk

Revealing would ruin her doing this again, if she wanted. If I have to pick between wheat and milk, though —

I select—Return to the castle and plan to give the people more milk.

I shift in my sweatshirt feeling my untethered breasts rub against it and leak into it. I wear it at night because it won’t get ruined by the leaking and my expensive maternity bra needs washing. Puberty was kind to me in the breast development department but the blessing was also a curse. My breasts were exceedingly large and heavy for a young teen because they were full of milk. I learned to drain them every morning, so that I could get through the schooldays, but by night, they’d be full again. Cheering for night games demanded a second draining, which can be exceedingly hard to keep on the down low from the rest of the squad.

You return to the castle and issue the order for more milk for the peasants.

While those in your command make preparations, you bask in this new feeling growing inside. A positive feeling which you’re unaccustomed to. Something like pride, but with no guilt. You want to embrace this feeling.

Brooklyn, do you—

Revel in it alone

Do another benevolent act to try to increase it

I love making a good feeling grow.

I select—Do another benevolent act to try to increase it.

I’m going to need to find an end to this story. I’m sure the requests are piling up as I read.

When I discovered that I got off on making people “happy,” it became a bit of an obsession. The more happy endings they get, the more I get—cooperative completion. They cum, I cum. Some of it via webcam. Broadcasting the daily milking has been incredibly rewarding. Some of it in person. The hand jobs. The blow jobs. The tit jobs. The many sexual positions. All of it unique and interesting.

Opening milk reserves to the people felt so good, you open the grain reserves as well. The tone of the capital city, the whole country, changes. Your treasurer tells you that in doing these things, if you keep doing these things — you’ll deplete the country’s wealth in a matter of months.

Brooklyn, do you—

Stem the amount of food you’re giving your people

Marry yourself to foreign royalty to bolster your reserves

Have your archmage ensorcell the populace to maintain this feeling

I don’t need a man, not even some foreign royalty man, to keep people happy if magic is an option. Besides, I want to see what the magic does.

I select—Have your archmage ensorcell the populace to maintain this feeling.

I fight to finish this story through my constant horniness. That nigh unquenchable thirst alone would be quite a burden, but the fact that it’s contagious doesn’t help. Seems like anyone in my vicinity gets as horny as I am at any given moment. Cheer practices seem to always start with cheer orgies. Only once it’s out of my system can we actually practice. I have to cut practices short when the feeling starts to return about an hour later. I take a bathroom hall pass at least five times a school day and often set off a bathroom-wide masturbation session if anyone else is in there when I get there. Or a darkened room, closet, or under the bleachers fuck fest if I can’t get away quick enough. I’d say it’s a curse, but the sex is great. Like, really great. Oh man. I hope my mom and brother aren’t home right now with how horny I’m getting… Mom’s a screamer. I’ll know soon enough.

You summon your archmage and explain your plight. They present you with two options. The populace could be uncommonly happy and dumb or they could altogether forget their situation.

Brooklyn, do you—

Have them cast an “ignorance is bliss” spell

Have them cast the “spell of forgetfulness”

There is nothing wrong with happiness. I wholeheartedly embrace it. And ignorance? Not knowing doesn’t seem like all that bad a fate for a ruler to wish upon her kingdom. What could go wrong with not knowing?

I select—Have them cast an “ignorance is bliss” spell.

Brooklyn click buttons.

Nothing happens.

Girls come over tonight.

We webcam.

We dress up like cheer girls and fuck.

Don’t know where we get cheer clothes, just always have.

Love to lick and suck and fuck.

Good life.

Happy life.