The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Puck could tell Oberon was mad. It was all over his face, from the red-hot glare from his eyes to the deep frown that seemed to stretch his face down like that of a horse. Of course, it was also very clearly shown in the tone of his voice as he summoned the trickster to his feet.

“Robin Goodfellow, sometimes known as the Trickster Puck, I have had enough of your pranks and tricks and bending of rules to suit your own desires, and last night, when you attempted to bribe me into letting you stay another decade in the Earth Realm by stealing the Scepter of the Timelord from the Axis of Time and presenting it to me as a gift, you pounded the final nail into your coffin.” Oberon declared. Puck gulped. “I decree that you shall be removed from the life of leisure you have been leading thusfar and you shall learn a useful trade. I therefore send thee, Puck, to study archery and arrowmaking under Cupid. Henceforth, you are his apprentice. Understand?”

“I understand, Your Majesty.” Puck replied, sadly. It wouldn’t help him at all to point out that the life of a trickster is not at all leisurely. It took a great deal of brainpower to think up, on the spur of the moment, ways to interpret decrees and requests and wishes in order to teach people a lesson or get a good laugh. Matching various pranks to the numerous personalities that inhabited the Earth Realm took great skill, as did avoiding contact with Cold Iron in a Realm that was full of the stuff. Pondering these things among others took up a lot of his time, and he went through lots of asperin from long hours spent with his brain in overdrive. His IQ was well above average for a human, and he put all of it to his advantage when tricking. How could Oberon call his life a life of leisure? Did he not think of anything other than back-breaking labor or magic-draining magecrafting as work? What about more intellectual pursuits? Then again, considering the kinds of command decisions Oberon had been making of late, it was wondered whether Avalon’s Monarch was even sane, and while sanity itself had never been proven to have any survival value, having a crazy slave-driver in power was definitely not beneficial to anyone, most especially the tricksters. As the coach drove him to the dwelling of Cupid and his Cherubs, Puck wondered why he hadn’t heard from his friends Loki, Anansi, Coyote and Raven. He was escorted by Odin and the Weird Sisters into Cupid’s home. The Sisters were identical identical triplets who usually took on the form of old hags when appearing before mortals, and they were all exactly alike except for the color of their hair. In the lead was Luna, whose hair was silver, just like Puck’s. On his right was Seline, with hair as black as the night, and on the left was Phoebe, whose hair was gold like the feathers of a phoenix. Odin, whose band of Elven egomaniacs had fooled the Norse into thinking them gods, took up the rear. If there had been enough roving bands of mortals, it was likely everyone except Puck would have pretended divinity. Puck didn’t want the responsibility of being worshipped by stupid mortals. He had enough on his shoulders as a mere trickster. As soon as they entered the forge, Puck felt like he was going to throw up. Eight Cherubs were busily cleaning the soot off of pink walls. Hearts were everywhere, done in every medium, and always pink. He could tell he was going to learn to hate that color during his apprenticeship.

“Cupid.” Luna said. She never raised her voice, but was always heard unless she didn’t want to be. The pink-skinned, winged thing that dared call itself one of the Folk flew toward the entourage. “Here is your new apprentice, Robin Goodfellow.”

“Ah, very well. Any special instructions from Oberon?”

“Yes.” said Seline.

“His Majesty has decreed that you are to work him as hard as possible.” continued Phoebe. “He is to be made as proficient in the craft as any seven Cherubs.”

“So he has to learn all of the facets, I suppose? No specialization?” Cupid asked.

“Correct.” the Sisters said in unison. Odin and the Weird Sisters departed, leaving Puck to his fate.

“Alright, Robin, right this way.” Cupid said. “And before you even open your trap, no I will NOT call you Puck. We don’t use nicknames here.”

“Damn.” Puck muttered.

“Watch your language, ex-trickster.” Cupid snarled. “We do not use expletives in this business. If you stub your toe, you can let out a yelp, but you can’t yell any of the words listed under ‘Forbidden Verbalizations’ in your employee handbook.” A typewritten publication as thick as a novel appeared in Puck’s hands. “You are to follow the handbook to the letter. The main reason it’s so thick is to eliminate loopholes.” Puck checked the section on “forbidden verbalizations” in the handbook, and he saw written in that pamphlet a sizeable chunk of his vocabulary, as well as every possible replacement for them. He looked at the pink being in dismay.

“I can’t even say ‘fiddlesticks?’” Puck demanded. A bar of soap instantly appeared in Cupid’s hand and he began to wash Puck’s mouth out with it.

“You may say nothing in anger, understand?”

“No wonder you’re a psychotic bunch.” Puck muttered. “I thought Cherubs were all about love and understanding and stuff like that.”

“We are. We have to set an example for the world by not expressing the dark emotions. You will begin your apprenticeship as the water-boy.”

“Goody goody gumdrops.” Puck muttered.

“Right words, wrong attitude.” Cupid said. “Say it again, with feeling.” Puck was already starting to hate this pink freak.

After having his mouth washed out many times by the pink freak whose name he refused to say or even think, Puck decided enough was enough. The next day, he showed up with a smile plastered on his face, and he channelled his rage into his work. He didn’t kiss ass like Cupid wanted, but he didn’t break any of the rules for conduct. Inside, however, he remained rebellious, and that night, when Cupid and the Cherubs were asleep, he kenned glass Christmas ornaments and laid them around their beds. In the morning when they woke up and their bare feet broke the ornaments and sliced their feet to ribbons, which required that they visit the healer immediately, Cupid immediately suspected him, but he found Puck already hard at work at his assigned task, his feet wrapped in bandages, with darkening blood on the soles of his feet. It was none of Cupid’s business that the blood had come from a rat. He never found the corpse because Puck had fed it to a cat. And that wasn’t even the worst of his secret pranks.

After months of hard work, bottling up emotions, and rebelling only in secret, Puck had finally earned the right to learn how to craft arrows. Basically they were made just like one would normally make a silver-tipped arrow, except that a chant was uttered throughout the process to give it the power to instill the proper feelings in its targets; in the case of Cupid and his Cherubs, the feeling was always love. However, using chants to instill emotional power into arrows could lend itself to certain abuses. Cupid could quite easily invent a chant for a hate-arrow, a rage-arrow, a fear-arrow, or whatever. The only problem was, Cupid’s chant came by habit. Puck, however, was not in the habit of chanting anything. He could change the chant, vary the arrows, and make them more interesting. As these things filtered through Puck’s weary mind, and gradually began to come together into one single idea for ultimate mischief, his face assumed the first genuine smile of his entire apprenticeship. Perhaps there was some potential for fun in this business after all.

Puck was tired again. He was always tired these days. It was hard crafting his illegal arrows and hiding them in the Earth Realm where Cupid had no jurisdiction and could not search. Only his obsessive need to get that pink bastard back kept him going. He smiled until his face hurt. He avoided injury, and kept silent when he had his inevitable accidents, and slowly, steadily, became more and more proficient at the jobs of the Cherubs, until he could outdo them even when under the heaviest fatigue. Patiently he learned “dosages,” or how many arrows to hit someone with for the amount of affection warranted by the situation, he learned HOW to shoot the arrows, where to shoot to get what affect, et cetera, ad nauseam. Finally, after almost five years, he was allowed to walk the tables and officially become a Journeyman. Now that he was allowed to leave Avalon for the Earth Realm, he intended to pay that pink bastard back for all the shitty things he’d done to him. The first order of business, however, was to get some rest. He was escorted to the Journeymen Departure Building where he was given two days to rest and build up his strength after the rigors of apprenticeship, then issued his pager, Charm of Invisibility, and as a special gift for having fulfilled his sentence, a particularly ornate quiver in which to keep his arrows. Once he was alone, he checked to see what kind of spells were on the quiver. He found only a Spell of Durability and a Spell of Portability, which meant that he could will the quiver to whatever size he wanted, so he could smuggle it into public places before going invisible, and also the Spell of Durability meant he could use it to defend himself against bullets and such, in case he was ever caught in a gang crossfire while on a job. Just to keep from arousing too much suspicion, he acted as though Cupid had broken him and made him just as psychotic as his Cherubs. Soon he would be free to settle his accounts.

The Weird Sisters didn’t really look bad when there wasn’t an illusion over them. They looked like they were about twenty, with long, delicate bodies, medium breasts, and wonderful hips. Beneath the misleadingly delicate appearance, however, was a powerful set of muscles that could fold a mortal like rice paper. Puck would have lusted after them if all Elves on Avalon except Titania weren’t the Children of Oberon, and therefore siblings. Still, though he wasn’t going to take them as his own, they were going to be sex slaves for someone. The Charm of Invisibility kept them from noticing him hiding in the trees, but if they ever looked directly at him while thinking about him, his cover would be blown. They had gathered around a hot spring and were stripping to bathe. Puck let them get into the spring and get relaxed. He pulled three White Arrows of Blind Obedience from his quiver, the only contraband-arrows, other than one Crimson Arrow of Rage, that he had brought with him, and held two in his teeth while he nocked and fired the first one at Phoebe. He pulled the second out of his mouth and fired it at Luna, then the third one he shot at Seline. They hit their targets as though pulled by magnetic force, and the Sisters’ bodies went limp, their faces blank, eyes glassy. He hopped out of the tree and deactivated the Charm.

“You will travel to the Earth Realm and find a lonely young man between the ages of sixteen and twenty. When you find him, you will wait until he is alone in his bedroom, then you will appear before him. You will offer yourselves to him as sexual slaves. You will make your arguements as convincing as possible. When he accepts, you will obey him and him alone, you will know him only as Master, you will make yourselves visible only to him, and you will let him know that your purpose in life is to make his life Heaven on Earth. Do you understand?”

“Yeeeess...” they said simultaneously, standing up and teleporting away. Puck chuckled to himself as he thought about how horny the young man would be when the three naked, mindless young women became his slaves. There were still other things to do. He tracked down Odin and waited until he was in front of a mirror, then he shot him with seven of the pink love-arrows. He immediately began kissing his reflection, then he dropped his pants and whacked off right there! Puck averted his eyes once the pants dropped, but he could hear the frantic sounds Odin was making.

As Puck was on his way to commit his third vengeful act, he came across Queen Titania, who had run out of the Palace crying.

“My Queen, what is the matter?” Puck asked.

“Oberon is in another of his rages.” she whimpered. “He’s threatened to have me beheaded if I ever show my will again!”

“My Lady, I can help. Remember I was apprenticed to Pinky and the Brainless; I have the ability to make him love you dearly.” Puck said, mentally adding among other things.

“I...I don’t know.” Titania said, turning her back. “What if he somehow has decreed himself immune? His word is law in Avalon...” Puck fired a Crimson Arrow of Rage into her back, and she snarled. He whispered into her ear.

“Oberon has dared threaten you, but he cannot ever defeat you. I happen to know that women are better warriors than men. Remember the Amazons? They were the greatest warrior-tribe ever to grace Greece. He will succumb to the power of the Arrows. You will become the true power behind the throne. Now go get him!” Puck said. Titania roared a battle-cry and charged for the Palace. “There goes one pissed bitch.” Puck muttered. “Glad that arrow only lasts until the grievance is resolved.” He teleported into the Royal Dressing Room.

“Puck!” Oberon snapped. “What are you doing here, vile insect?!”

“Your Majesty, I have completed my punishment, and have already hit upon a service I can do for the Realm of Avalon.”

“And that is?” Oberon asked. Just then, Titania burst into the room. Oberon turned to face her and they fought like cats, yelling and posing and hissing. Puck fired three arrows into Oberon’s back, and one into Titania’s heart. They immediately folded each other in an embrace. Puck disappeared before either of them remembered he was there.

Charlie Smith shuffled out of Mr. Nesmith’s classroom. He couldn’t stand to be so close to Sandy Lawrence and not be able to talk to her. He was glad his daily torture session was over. With his coat hiding his hand, he rearranged his penis in his pants so he was a little closer to comfortable. At least his crotch didn’t feel like his pants were eight sizes too small. What really hurt, however, was that he knew he would never ever get a girl. He wasn’t among the strong ones to whom girls went when they wanted to feel safe (or, he thought, if they wanted good sex), the smart ones to whom girls went when they needed help on their homework, the rich ones who were popular with the materially-inclined, or the cute ones who melted the hearts of the ladies. His face was the kind that followed the old cliché “out of sight, out of mind.” He had to get himself really angry just to have the strength to make a passing grade on the bench press in PE. He had neither the money nor the inclination to buy a ticket for the Starlight Dance. As for his grades, he was above average, but not an A-student. Just another face in the crowd, another moving particle in the hallway. The constant pain in his chest from constant solitude had become a dull ache that he barely noticed except when there wasn’t enough to occupy him. Charlie hadn’t even bothered to masturbate since High School started. Why bother wasting the energy? He had deleted all the porno websites from his bookmarks at home. He had seen what he was missing out on, what he would never have, and had decided to stop tormenting himself with it. He opened his locker and deposited his books. It was Friday. No homework, no tests to study for, no reason to carry all that shit around. Charlie didn’t look where he was going as he headed for the door. He bumped into Sandy and ended up on his keister. Her books and papers scattered all over the place.

“Watch it, you little scrub!” Sandy snarled. She thought she heard somebody chuckle as a sharp pain flowered right in the middle of her chest. She looked down at the person she’d just called a “scrub” and was instantly filled with love...and guilt. How could she have been so heartless?

“Sorry.” Charlie said, trying to gather her stuff for her.

“No, I’m the one who should apologize.” Sandy said, kneeling down to help him. “I wasn’t thinking when I said that. I didn’t mean to call you a scrub.” Their hands touched, and Sandy blushed. They managed to get the whole mess back together. “Do you have a class this period?” she asked.

“No.” Charlie replied.

“Me neither. Do you live nearby?”

“It’s a half mile to my house, right down Post Oak.” Charlie replied.

“I live down Post Oak too. Let me drop my books in my locker and you can walk me home.” Sandy said. She opened her locker and tons of papers, books and binders fell out onto the floor. “D’oh, shoot!” Sandy exclaimed. “Just once I’d like to open my locker and NOT have my stuff fall out!”

“Can I help?” Charlie asked.

“Sure, go ahead.” Sandy said. Charlie emptied the locker, then put in all the books in a nice, neat row, then on top of those he put the binders, and he sorted the papers by subject and put the science ones into the binder marked “ScIeNcE” and the math ones into the binder marked “MATH (ugh!)". The other binders were full of junk, so he couldn’t tell where they went. He simply bound the papers by subject with some paper clips he’d been making a chain out of, then stacked them atop the binders. “Wow!” Sandy said, impressed with the extra space that seemed to have sprouted up in her locker at Charlie’s command. “That’s cool!” Charlie shrugged. To him, it wasn’t “cool.” Just efficient.

They walked side-by-side down the road. Another sharp pain sprouted in the middle of Sandy’s chest, then another and another. Geez, why hadn’t she noticed this majorly cute guy before? She remembered seeing him sitting behind her in Mr. Nesmith’s class, but stupid bitch that she was she hadn’t even bothered to say “hi.” Guiltily she remembered the times she had actually been mean to the poor guy who seemed to be very lonely. As these unpleasant incidents came into her mind, she quickly apologized for them. Why hadn’t some other girl scooped this hottie up? Another stab of pain shot through her chest and she found herself naming off his virtues to him. They finally arrived at her house, and she noticed, quite joyfully, that no one was home. She invited him in for something to drink, and he accepted, licking his lips. It was hot outside, but he had been wearing a coat because most of the teachers keep it so cold in their rooms that unless you’re bundled up for winter, you can’t hear the instructor for the chattering of your own teeth. She got down two glasses, and told him to pick out something cold from the ‘fridge. Although there were five cases of beer in there, he took out the pitcher of tea instead, and got some ice for the glasses. She talked to him for a while, trying to get him to smile, but he never did. Unseen, in the corner of the room, Puck nocked his Blue Arrow of Honesty, and when Sandy asked him why he never smiled, Puck shot the boy with the arrow, and he talked up a blue streak about the living Hell that was his dull existence. He drew a Grey Arrow of Submissiveness from his quiver and aimed it at the girl, waited for the right moment, and fired.

“Charlie, I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, but...” another Grey Arrow found its way into her flesh. “...Charlie I want to submit to you. I want you to tell me what to do. I want to serve you...” Another arrow hit her. “I will do whatever you want me to. Anything. Just name it. I will be your slave if it will make you happy. Your happiness is all that matters to me anymore.” Charlie looked at her, and he could see the sincerity in her eyes. As if to illustrate the point, she stood up and stripped for him. She got down to her knees before him, presenting herself for his inspection. Her nipples were hard and peaked, her cunt dripped hot woman-juices onto the floor. Slowly, tentatively, not sure even of his own senses, he reached out and touched her breasts, expecting at any moment to see a flashbulb go off. He pulled her to her feet, then had her lead him toward the bedroom. He inspected it for hidden photographers before he finally decided it was safe. He closed and locked the door, drew the shades, and turned toward the suddenly-submissive young nude standing before him. He ran his hands up and down her body, causing her to sigh happily. He pulled off his clothes and set her down on the bed, kissing her all over. The whole thing seemed like a dream. He never wanted it to end. He slowly, gently slid his throbbing penis into her virgin womanflesh. She moaned as the sensations began to flow through her. He kept up a slow pace, prolonging the joy as long as possible. She had her first orgasm halfway through his ministrations, then a second one almost a minute later. A third one rocked through her body, then a fourth and a fifth. As she was starting to gather herself for number six, he told her to hold it. She held it for as long as she could, until she felt she couldn’t hold it anymore, when he spurted his semen into her vagina, and the orgasm wrenched itself from her body, bringing out screams of ecstacy. Charlie and Sandy fell asleep in each other’s arms. Charlie sighed happily as he felt the pain in his heart fade away and finally disappear.

Karl Jones hid behind the Dumpster, panting heavily, as twenty white-robed men marched into the alley, their pointy hats casting jagged shadows in the flickering light of their torches. His best friend, Jimmy Turner, squatted down against the wall, hugging Karl’s sister, Shanna. Why wouldn’t the KKK leave them alone? Karl felt a sharp pain in his chest. Karl hated the KKK, hated what they stood for. They were evil by the very nature of their organization. Another pain shot through him. He wanted to rip them limb from limb, to kill the demons that had haunted him since he left Harlem. Another stab of pain hit him, and all thoughts that maybe these people were human drained out of Karl’s mind. He glanced at his friend and his sister, and could see that they felt the same way. They rose up and charged, three against twenty. Another pain flowered in the middle of his back, and everything went red.

The next thing Karl knew, he was standing in the middle of a group of bodies. Jimmy was lying against the wall, the wound from a shotgun fired from point blank soaking the ground beneath him. His sister was standing among the corpses with him. Karl tasted blood in his mouth, and there was blood all over his clothes. Shanna was almost completely covered in the stuff. They heard sirens and took off running.

Officer Tyrice Webster knocked on the door of Apartment 31b, hating the way her chocolate-colored skin clashed with the paint on the door. A female voice asked who it was. Tyrice yelled the demand to open the door the way all cops did. “Open up! Police!” Inside, a parrot repeated the phrase. Janet Harcrow had been in trouble with the law enough times for a parrot to learn the phrase, true, but Tyrice had never expected to hear it repeated.

“Don’t come in here, I’m naked!” the parrot yelled.

“Shut up, Polly!” yelled the tenant as she undid the thumb lock but not the nightchain.

“The nightchain too, Ms. Harcrow.”

“Sorry, Officer.” Janet said, undoing the nightchain. Tyrice shoved herself in and glanced around.

“We recieved a complaint about you playing your music loud, Ms. Harcrow.” Tyrice said. She noticed that the entire east wall of the apartment was lined with speakers of every sort, a literal wall of sound. The parrot emitted a damn good immitation of Xena’s battle-cry. “Ms. Harcrow...” Tyrice began. She suddenly felt a stabbing pain in her crotch. The pain became a burning itch, an itch that demanded scratching. Ms. Harcrow seemed to feel it too, for she was looking at Tyrice with such lust in her eyes as the black cop had never seen. Janet closed the door and locked it, then undid her bra without taking her shirt off. Tyrice reverently unbuttoned the shirt, revealing the most gorgeous breasts she had ever seen. Janet kissed Tyrice passionately, and Tyrice returned the kiss. As Janet removed Tyrice’s uniform, Tyrice began to fondle and rub and massage those gorgeous breasts, bringing pleased moans from their owner. Finally she couldn’t stand it. She got the other woman’s pants off and began to roll the clit between her fingers. Janet moaned and copied the action.

“Uh-oh.” the parrot said. The women ignored the bird. All they wanted was each other. That was all that mattered. They went from fingering and rolling to a passionate 69. Each of them lapped up hot, sweet come when it spurted out into their faces. They panted with exertion as they calmed down, their bodies dripping with sweat, their faces still dripping with come. They licked each other clean, then helped each other dress.

“You still need to do something about the noise, Janet.” Tyrice said, kissing the other woman warmly. “I’ll be back tomorrow to...check in on you.”

Puck licked his lips happily as the best chocolate he’d ever eaten settled into his stomach. As the waitress came with his check, he realized he didn’t have any money. He quickly stuffed his hand into his pocket and kenned some money. He handed it to her, then noticed the loneliness and harsh life showing on her. When she wasn’t looking, he made himself invisible, moved around to the other side of her, and shot her in the heart with one of the pink arrows, then shot a well-to-do, yet lonely businessman with another one, and got them to look at each other. A typically Pinkfreak-like matchup, but one that would help both of them. Just for good measure, he shot the businessman three more times with pinks, then once with a grey. He didn’t stick around to watch the results, however. There was more fun to be had than watching people get embroiled in weird sex, although that certainly was kinda fun. He still needed to check in on the Weird Sisters to see how they were doing, but also, he wanted to experiment. There were new arrows to make, and Puck had the skill to make them.