The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Marty was tired and very sore but utterly content. He’d impregnated a hundred women, produced his own city for to raise quantum philosophy-bred children, and Darmak, contented that Marty was now well on his way to achieving the alien’s goals of mass fertilization, had finally shut up long enough for Marty to think.

He’d chosen to do so by skipping English. Instead, he’d decided to spend third period sunbathing naked beneath a lotus tree in the common area, and brought Clara as well. Clara was madly in love with him as of breakfast this morning, and proving it by sucking his dick. For a high school junior, she was amazingly good at it; even Marty’s wasted and overused privates responded to her masterful tongue. She did this amazing thing, gyrating her tongue AS she moved slowly up and down, so that it almost felt as if he was being sucked twice at once. It took quite some time for him to come, seeing as he’d had to fertilize a hundred women less than an hour ago, but when he did it was well worth the wait. Clara greedily guzzled his semen, rising to kiss him only after she’d licked his shrinking member clean. Although shrinking was a relative term, because since he’d altered his body this morning, his cock when flaccid was almost as long as it had once been when erect!

After Clara ended her heavenly kiss, her face an inch from his, her body positioned so that her tits just barely scraped his chest, she stared rapt into his eyes. “I love you, Marty. Do you love me?”

“After that, how could I not?” he responded.

She rolled her eyes and reached over to spank him. He grabbed her hands, though, which left her hanging over his crotch again. She stretched out her tongue, but he was far too exhausted to let her pleasure him again. Instead, Marty was content merely to lay in the sun as she gave him a full body massage. It was surprisingly comfortable and extremely liberating to lay naked in the sun. Marty was glad his new city was near the beach; he’d be sure to do this every day.

“And just what are you two doing, young man?” interrupted Marty’s peaceful break. He opened his eyes, glancing up to see Mr. Keeler, the vice-principle.

Marty automatically assumed that Keeler was referring to why the two students were naked in the center of campus, and begun to answer until Darmak gently reminded him that Marty had used quantum philosophy to alter reality back when he went to get Clara out of class. Nothing either of them did could be considered odd or peculiar. As Marty remembered, he also realized that Mr. Keeler’s voice was not peeved, merely inquisitive. Marty chuckled. He was getting a naked massage in the middle of campus and the only authority figure around wanted to make polite conversation.

“Just getting a massage, Mr. Keeler. You should try this sometime.”

Mr. Keeler chuckled and deferred. “No, no. The missus doesn’t go in for that sort of thing, and she would have my head if I even suggested it.”

“That’s a shame, Mr. K.” Coming to the quick conclusion that Mr. Keeler was not nearly as big a jerk as he’d thought back when the inferior in the relationship, Marty generously twisted reality to make Mrs. Keeler slightly more open to suggestion. “But do suggest it to her, and most anything else you can think of. I’ve recently learned that women are a lot more open than I’d previously suspected.”

“Well, perhaps I shall. Thanks for the tip, Mr. O’Conner.” With that, Keeler rose, wiping the freshly-cut grass from his pleated trousers, and moved on, leaving Marty and Clara alone again.

“Bit lower,” Marty told Clara, and she happily obliged. “Too low, love. I don’t think I’m going to be up to that for a little while.”

Clara pouted, but apologized and moved her silky hands back up.

Five minutes later, just as the faintest hint of sleep began to overcome him, Marty’s peace was interrupted as he head a shout from across campus.

Harold DeMastagio ran past him, limping, his clothes in tatters and his body covered with lipstick and scratches.

Marty blocked the fleeing boy. “Harold? What’s wrong?”

“You gotta help me, man. Derrick Wasnie pushed me into the girl’s locker room! But instead of screaming and shouting, they were masturbating and naked and they began ripping off my clothes...Which was cool, except EVERY GIRL in there was trying to get their hands on me and before I knew it they were all fighting over me and on me and practically tearing me apart trying to get at me! I know this sounds insane, but it’s true!”

Marty hit his head. “FUCK! I forgot to take the pheromones out!” His shortcut to getting into the girl’s locker room as easily as possible had backfired! Using quantum philosophy, he’d filled the room with pheromones, driving the girls in there wild, including Coach Malabastar. Only after he’d finished impregnating them had they become unaffected and turned into his devoted servants, but in hindsight he realized that at no point had he actually taken the pheromones AWAY! Which meant that the next class to go into there had been driven into a mad sexual frenzy, and wouldn’t be able to think of anything else other than sex until he’d impregnated them!

Harold didn’t question Marty, having, along with the rest of the school, been twisted to feel nothing abnormal about anything Marty or Clara did. He did, however, realize that Marty could do something about it.

“Dude, you’ve got to fix it! It’s carnage in there!”

Marty checked his watch. Class had been in session for almost fifteen minutes. He asked Darmak what that meant with the exponentially multiplying pheromones he’d sent into there.

“Well, if they started from scratch, than these ladies are 983040 times as horny as they’ve ever been in their lives. But if, as I suspect, those pheromones have remained doubling every minute, well, it’s been over two hours since you first initiated them. The effects would be incalculable.”

“Fuck,” Marty repeated, and turned to Clara. “Clara, stay put. I guess I’ll be back in an hour,” he said, resigning himself to another mass-impregnation. “Okay?”

He turned, and saw to his surprise that Clara was frozen. He looked at Harold, and saw that he was too. Before he could begin to wonder what was happening, a voice interrupted him, existing both inside and outside his head. “And just what are you two doing, young man?”

He looked about for Mr. Keeler, but could find no one. “That’s because I’m not Keeler,” the voice said. “I’m your author. My name’s Ralph.”

Marty started to inquire, but Ralph was apparently in no mood to talk. Instantly, Marty believed Ralph, that he was his author and that Marty was part of a story he was writing. However, he found that this did not shock or surprise him, seemed as natural as believing he came from the womb, or from evolution, or from God’s hand formed of clay. “Good,” Ralph said, and got on with business. “You know, normally I let you characters of mine just flow, do your own thing, and don’t interfere too much. But I’ve recently learned that’s a really bad idea, especially with you guys capable of altering reality.

“So I came here to check up on you. And what do I find? No, you’re not plotting my downfall, but you’re doing something even worse: acting like a stupid stereotypical mc story! I mean, merciful crack babies, let’s examine what you’ve done so far!

“First, you learn you have this power. Then you secude a girl or two, Clara, then Julia. Then decide to go out to get your own harem and, oh my god, you have Julia collect your beautiful girls and go buy sexy clothing. THEN you go and fuck the entire second period girl’s locker room and a teacher. Jesus fuck, what next, Marty? Were you planning on turning your sister into your own personal slave? Oh, no, wait, YOU ALREADY DID THAT TOO! Not a sexual slave, thank god, but as it is, you’ve already taken anything interesting and original in Darmak or quantum philosophy or the quantum transmogrifier or anything else I’ve created here and turned them into cheap plot devices! You’re so unoriginal that Jung could use you as evidence for a MC archetype!”

Marty waited while Ralph caught his breath. Finally, staring up, because that seemed as good a place to direct conversation to the disembodied voice as any, he asked, “What’s an archetype?”

Ralph sighed, “It’s a cliche. A stereotype. Marty, you started out cool here, ultimately power with a conscience, coming to grips with alien life and ultimate power and such. You’ve become hackneyed and formulaic. I might as well have given you a copy of the Master PC Program and had Darmak contact someone else. Or even have Darmak do it himself, since everyone seems so convinced that I have some sort of alien fixation, WHICH I DON’T!” Marty didn’t think Ralph was shouting that last part at him so much as his readers, which was fair enough, because he wasn’t.

Eventually, Ralph continued, “So I froze time so I could have this heart to heart with you, Marty. I realize that to you this all seems new and interesting, but as far as MC stories go, you’ve become conventional. People are going to stop reading you, if they haven’t already, which mean’s I’m going to stop writing you. You do understand the implications of that, don’t you, Marty?”

Marty nodded dumbly.

“Good. Well then, do you think you can do all right if I leave you on your own recognizance? You’re not going to be performing any more hackneyed hypnotricks?”

Marty shook his head.

“All right then. Remember,” Ralph commented, “I’m not saying that I want you to stop the erotic hypnosis. That’s the whole point of all this. Just be sure that you don’t fall into a pattern, okay? Remember what Darmak’s been saying: the limits here are your imagination. So don’t let yourself be so limited.”

Marty nodded. “But how do I know what’s patterned and what’s original?”

“Oh, that’s very simple,” Ralph said. “Keep doing the things you should do, not just the things you want to do. Creating Matriopolis was a good example, a place for your kids to grow and learn quantum-philosophy in peace. Go further.”

Ralph’s voice began to fade, “See, Marty, most of these guys who get the powers to control minds and alter reality, and most of the girls for that matter, turn out to be utter shits. If you want to be original, try listening to something other than your dick. Your brain, for example, or if you really want to be novel, your heart. Quantum philosophy is mankind’s hope for a better brighter tomorrow. Best then if you start today.” The disembodied voice had faded away almost completely. Time began to slowly, with increasing speed, blur back into normalcy. Just as time was catching up with Marty, just as a roaring rush of moving air began to pick up, noticeably loud only in comparison to its absence, a whispering trace of Ralph’s tone said, “Selah.”

Marty was jarred from his thoughts as Harold began to shake him. “Marty! Do something!”

“Okay,” Marty agreed. He moved away from Harold, and concentrated. Reality shifted as quantum philosophy took over, and he not only removed the pheromones from the locker room and wiped the memories of the girls there, but fixed up Harold and moved him on his way.

Then he went back to Clara by the tree. Clothes formed around him at his issue, and by the time he’d sat back down on the grass he was clad in neat black Armani and cool sunglasses. “Clara, would you like to get dressed?”

“I suppose it’s only fair,” she smiled. He skewed reality so that a light summer dress lay beside her. It fit her masterfully, especially without bra or panties, and she smiled as she saw him staring at her. He was surprisingly pleased to find that even though Clara was in love with him, she was not a differential doll, as the locker-room girls, or a sex-starved slut, as he’d made Julia. And whomever Julia pointed that brainwashing pen at.

“Shit,” he summed up, reviewing everything he’d done so far.

“Are you okay?” Clara asked.

“No,” he replied succinctly. Having been affected by his quantum philosophy, she couldn’t even realize that there was anything amiss, not because he’d made himself seem perfectly usual, as with others, but because with quantum philosophy she felt this reality was proper reality. Anything he altered everybody else felt to be the norm, no matter how unusual.

He rested his head on Clara’s lap, and she absently stroked his hair, lost in her own thoughts and emotions, he in his.

Finally, he said, “Clara, if you had one wish, what would it be?”

“To be here, like this, forever,” she replied.

He smiled, then said, “No, I mean like one wish for the world. If aliens came and said they’d fix the world the way you wanted it, what would you wish for first?” He smiled as he realized just how non-hypothetical that was, despite how very much so it sounded.

Clara thought. “I don’t know. I guess maybe like total nuclear disarmament would be cool, or getting rid of all that pollution. Or getting rid of, like, those Middle-East terrorists or something. And cancer. I’d get rid of cancer. My granddad died of cancer five years ago...All disease, actually.”

“All valid ideas,” Marty considered. He searched the lines of probability as Clara spoke, altering reality so that it matched Clara’s suggestions.

In the space of ten minutes, Marty O’Conner did more to effectively change the world for the better than anybody else ever had cumulatively since the earth began.

Darmak studied the readouts of Marty’s work. He had a few suggestions to make to the lad, of course. Eliminating all the weapons, to begin with, instead of just stopping them from working. Though, Darmak considered, Marty’s way might actually be better. Guns could now be used for target practice and hunting but not for fighting. Considering how many weapons these humans made, and how they used things that could be weapons, everything from gunpowder to kitchen knifes to airplanes and automobiles, it might actually be best this way. And eliminating disease...Earth was certainly overpopulated, but Darmak’s own people had eliminated disease, so complaining about that would be hypocritical. Plus, Marty had come up with a fairly novel idea to cure overpopulation and to further Darmak’s cause as well: simply, he’d cut the birth rate down to a quarter of what it had been. In effect, as of 10:38 that morning, only 1/4 of Earth’s population would be able to have children, a number that would continue to decrease each generation. Only Marty’s children, those with quantum philosophy, would be able to procreate without this random statistic interfering, making them both more prolific and more sought-after. Additionally, since it would take Marty and his future children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren many years to spread out and spread their dominant genes, the constant source of normal, non-quantum philosophical humans would give a needed flux of additional genetic material to keep the O’Conner blood from getting too blue. Darmak wasn’t sure if Marty had planned all of this out or was simply lucky, but either way he wanted to congratulate the lad.

His thoughts were interrupted by Ralph. “Yo, Darmak,” Ralph said.

“Yo, Ralph. What’s up?” Darmak, having the powers of quantum-philosophy, able to recognize the basic nature of reality since he had been born, was not nearly as surprised as Marty had been to meet Ralph. Marty hadn’t explored reality enough to realize that it was a story; Darmak had known about Ralph since before he could form an intelligible sound out of either of his mouths. It was so basic to Darmak that he and his people rarely ever bothered to mention it, and it would become equally old hat to Marty soon enough.

Ralph knew this, since he’d just written it to be so. “I’ve had words with Marty, now I’m going to have words with you.”

“It’s an honor.”

“First, being a super-advanced alien, you really ought to know that it’s 60^N, not 60logN.”

“I know that,” Darmak replied. “It’s just that, by an unbelievable coincidence, my specie’s symbol for an exponent translates as log.”

Ralph would have slapped Darmak, but as a disembodied voice, he didn’t have a hand. “Very droll, Darmak. Don’t do it again. But that’s not the biggest issue here.

“Y’know, Marty isn’t to be blamed exclusively for this sorry excuse for a story-line. Let’s examine you, shall we? An alien appears for the purpose of helping mankind evolve and gives this power to only one person? Your race had been around since before Earth was more than molten rock, Darmak. You should know evolution well enough to know that for every species that succeeds, hundreds get weeded out. Why not try spreading quantum philosophy to others?”

“Actually, I was planning on it,” Darmak replied. “Marty was just the first test, to see if humanity was ready for quantum philosophy yet. You do know I tried this before, don’t you?”

“Yeah. As alien interference goes, I think most of humanity would’ve been happier if you’d just turned cows inside out.”

“Well, he was this quiet little art student hanging out in pubs in Germany. Da Vinci did pretty well with only a fraction of the power I gave Adolf. I was stoked to see that his was the first image broadcast on television into space. Besides, I stopped him before things got too far.”

Ralph sighed. “Yeah, gee, just World War II. I’m just glad you haven’t tried with anyone else before now.”

“Um,” Darmak disclosed, “I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of David Karesh?”

Ralph groaned and got back to the point. “Regardless, you’re not going to keep acting like a common plot device alien, are you?”

“Of course not,” Darmak replied, almost offended. “Not to be disrespectful, Ralph, but I have more senses than you do. I’ve scanned the future, and I have a fairly good idea of what’s going to happen.”

“Is that what you said about Hitler and Karesh?”

“Both those boys had a screw loose. My machines can’t predict psychoses. I have, however, figured out how to scan if someone will go nuts or not, and Marty won’t, so I’ve got a fairly good idea of how he’ll do.”

“Then he won’t keep acting like every other MC story?”

“Surely not!” Darmak confirmed, and proceeded to tell Ralph precisely what Marty WOULD do.

Ralph laughed. “Oh...Oh that’s good.”