The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

My cousin Brody is a bit of a perv.

More than a bit really—a total perv, all things considered. I even started to refer to him as “Grody Brody” to high school friends when he persisted to act the way he always acts, which is to say “pervy.”

He’s two years older than me and because of the closeness of our family, I’ve grown up thinking of him more as a brother than anything else. A perpetually horny brother, but I try to keep that as far out of mind as possible, because that train of thought only leads to uncomfortable shudders.

Regardless of my clearly stated feelings on the relationship between us, he’s still sent me swimsuit suggestions before each and every shared family vacation—all of which would be classified as “skimpy” at best—two-piece suits that barely cover anything.

I make sure to lock the door whenever I shower because I’m sure it’s him each time I hear someone try the knob. That could be one of my more paranoid assumptions, but I wouldn’t put it past him.

He always suggests I drop my collegiate studies to go off and become a model and he’s also very willing to help me take some of my starter pictures “for free.” I know for a fact that this would be another attempt on his part to get me to show a little skin. I’m not a prude or anything, I just tend to wear long pants and long shirts or sweaters. I’m just more comfortable that way. When I was the first in my grade school class to develop breasts, it seemed like the teasing would never stop. I started covering my body in full at all times and despite a wealth of years since then, I never stopped. I even wear full sweatpants and sweatshirt when working out. I’m uncomfortable with both the male and female gaze. I never wear makeup or style my hair in an effort to avoid attention.

In-person interactions between me and Brody consist mainly of him spouting off thinly-veiled innuendoes that always try to support his central theme of “we’re not really related and a hookup is neither immoral nor illegal.”

So, when I get his email, I just assume that it’s just going to be more of the same—pictures, suggestions, what have you.

I click the link for shits and giggles and to see what his latest attempts are, but then find myself at some web-based Choose Your Own Adventure page for a story called—and, believe me, I immediately groan as I read this—Kissing Cousins.

Before I can access the actual text, I have to confirm that I’m over 18, that I identify as female, and that my name is Mckenzie Boyd. With this level of detail required, I’m just happy he didn’t bring my middle name into it. Paisley—it was the little win my hippie mother had in the naming process. Being a hippie type, mom never pressured me into any girly things like makeup and appearance. My dad, for his nearly nonexistent part, preselected Mckenzie so that it would work if I were a boy or a girl.

My interest piqued by Brody’s all-new, all-different “literary” approach, I choose to answer these three simple questions posed.

When I successfully click off on the third, I feel woozy, like the world is spinning.

I imagine this is what “drunk” feels like, but I’ve never partaken, despite nearing the end of my senior year of college. To me, it always seemed like a good way to achieve a bad end. Brody likes to try and tempt me out of my “good girl” status. All of his attempts at this (and the wardrobe change and the makeup and the physical stuff) get utterly and completely shot down.

I start to read, because, you know, better the devil you know…

The expedition is trapped beyond the cave-in that you and Brody narrowly escaped. With no place to go but forward, you continue deeper into the structure, wondering what mysteries or wonders await you.

“Isn’t this exciting?” Brody asks. “Going someplace no one else has ever been?”

That’s why you signed on in the first place. The chance to make a new and elevated status for yourself by leading the expedition.

Each step further seems like a step downward and as you continue, you can’t help but notice that the temperature seems to be rising. It should be getting colder. This worries you.

Mckenzie, do you—

Suffer in silence and worry about passing out

Rearrange your clothes to be more comfortable

Passing out seems like a bad option. Who knows what story Brody would do to my unconscious body?

I select—Rearrange your clothes to be more comfortable.

Hmm. I feel one of my tank top’s spaghetti straps slide off my shoulder. Meh. I’m alone in my room, so no big deal. I’ve worn less in public. Personal comfort is a lot more important than covering up to try and fit societal mores. A body is just that—a body—nothing to be ashamed of.

“Nice!” You hear Brody say and you immediately assume he’s checking you out.

“What?!?” You angrily snap at him.

“The path…” he says, pointing, “…it’s illuminated up ahead.”

“Oh.” You feel a little embarrassed for assuming the worst from him. The knee-jerk reaction leaves a bad taste in your mouth. You don’t know how long you’re going to be trapped down here with him. You don’t want to add any more negativity than the life and death situation you’re already facing.

Mckenzie, do you—

Offer an apology right there

Decide to do something nice to make it up to him when you’re sure you’re safe.

Funny that this story would put me and him in a situation where I assume he’s doing something wrong, but not. I don’t want to feel like I owe him anything and it’s not like an apology would cost me anything.

I select—Offer an apology right there.

I’ve been all wrong about Brody. He’s a decent guy. Maybe it’s been me. I imagine that it’s hard to be around me when I’m parading around in next to nothing all of the time. He’s just a healthy young man with normal appetites. I can’t believe I ever called him “Grody Brody” and publicly at that. I feel so sick, so weighed-down with guilt. I’ll have to make a point to say I’m sorry for whatever harm I’ve done when I talk to him next. Maybe I’ll even let him take a couple pictures as an act of penance.

You discover a hidden chamber and, stepping inside, you find something that will put you on the public speaking circuit for decades—the famous Taboo Text. They say that anyone who reads it is forever changed.

Mckenzie, do you—

Immediately put the text in your pouch

Crack open the book to see what’s inside

Who’s afraid of a book? Other than the ignorant…

I select—Crack open the book to see what’s inside.

The vibrating butt plug makes me fidget in my seat a bit. I put it in not knowing how long this story would be. I’m going to need to finish this soon so I can properly work my front half and get that daily orgasm I crave. Trying new and exciting toys has always been a fascination of mine. Having crossed vibrating butt plug off my list, I think nipple clamps are next.

Brody slaps my hand down as I go to open the book. “What do you think you’re doing? You’ve heard the stories.”

“Calm down, Brody. They’re just stories. All probably designed to keep women in their ‘proper place.’”

“Look, humor me. Since you’ve opened the book, you’re susceptible. I read a text that said the dew on the walls of this room is curative. Maybe you could spread some of that on your face and hair to balance everything out. Just in case.”

You shrug. You’ve never heard anything of that sort, but just because you haven’t, doesn’t mean he hasn’t.

Mckenzie, do you—

Put the dew on your face and in your hair

Ignore Brody’s advice

I laugh. Sounds like a lovely spa treatment. Why not?

I select—Put the dew on your face and in your hair.

The only thing I don’t like about masturbating is that I have to fix my hair and makeup immediately after. I don’t care if I’m going to be stuck in a room all day with no visitors—I must always look my best. Properly done hair, dark red lipstick, blush, eyeliner, eyeshadow… It’s my deepest fear that someone should catch me when I don’t look my absolute best. That’s why I got the full laser hair removal treatment, crotch down. I’m a virgin and all, but I never know who might catch a glimpse of any part of my body.

You do feel one hundred percent better with the dew on your face and in your hair. Leave it to Brody to find a solution. You go to put the Taboo Text in your sack, but Brody stops you.

“Is that wise?”

“What now. Brody?”

“That text is sacred. To remove it for any reason would be sacrilegious.”

You came here for discovery and notoriety. If you leave the text here, the discovery alone might raise your status, but not nearly enough if you were to present this book to the world.

Mckenzie, do you—

Leave the text

Take the text with you

I feel like there’s always warnings in place that are rarely heeded. You wouldn’t catch Indiana Jones just leaving a sacred text behind. I’ll just be ready to run in case a giant boulder is prepped to chase us.

I select—Take the text with you.

I do what I want when I want and I don’t care what anyone has to say about it. If I want to take two guys to a movie and start to jerk them off even before the trailers are done, it’s my prerogative to do so. If I decide to tongue-fuck my sister Olivia’s pussy the next time I see her, that’s what I’m going to do. Rules don’t apply to me. Whatever I want, whatever benefits me, that’s what’s going to happen—rules be damned.

“Oh crap!” Brody exclaims, falling to the dirt floor.

“What happened?” You ask, bending down towards him.

Brody pulls his right arm forward and shows the wound that tore both fabric and skin. “These temples notoriously coated all the sharp edges in poison. I don’t have much time left. Tell my mom and dad I love them…”

Brody seems to faint.

The poison must be fast-acting.

Mckenzie, do you—

Suck out the poison

Let Brody die

Let him die? What a horrible choice. What kind of story is this where just letting someone die is an option? Besides, what’s wrong with a little sucking between cousins?

I select—Suck out the poison.

I feel the need to suck off Brody swell within me. I don’t care that he’s my cousin. I don’t care if he’s not interested even. I’ll do whatever it takes to make him want my perfect mouth around his dick and my hair bouncing along with my head as I desperately try to make him cum. I grab my nearest dildo and push it back into my throat. It’s a poor substitute, but it’s a fantastic appetizer for when I get the real thing.

“Thank you. You saved my life. You—“ Brody’s face goes pale white mid-gratitude. He points to your arm and you see that somehow, you’ve also been scratched by one of the temple’s sharp edges.

Mckenzie, do you—

Let Brody suck out the poison

Opt to die

What kind of dumb fucking choice is this?

I select—Let Brody suck out the poison

As much as I want to take Brody’s hard cock into my mouth, I want his lips and tongue working on my pussy even more. The fact that he’s not already there is an irritation. I don’t like being irritated.

In the distance, you hear the rest of your team clear the cave-in. You can feel the air change like there’s suddenly a lot more of it to breathe. Book in your sack, you make your way back towards the entrance to the temple, ready to face the world.

Mckenzie, do you—

Exit first

Let Brody exit first

Exit together, arm in arm

When will this story be done? I have needs going unfulfilled. The dildo and butt plug just aren’t cutting it. Once I can finally get Brody to cum in my mouth and tongue my achingly wet cunt to completion, I’ll happily kick him to the curb. I just need to finish this story first. I don’t care what option gets me there, so I choose one randomly.

I select—Exit together, arm in arm.

Story finished, I grab my phone to call Brody to get him over here.

I don’t want to spend another minute without him…

Without him in my mouth.

Without him in my ass.

Without him in my pussy.

There is no one else in this world for me. Brody is who I want—today, tomorrow, and always. I don’t care what anyone has to say about it. I guess it’s like he always said, “we’re not really related and a hookup is neither immoral nor illegal.”

Not that I care either way…