The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Come on, you’ll love it,” Denise muttered to herself bitterly. “I definitely won’t abandon you to go grind against some greasy boy I can barely see.”

Admittedly Lori hadn’t actually said anything about greasy boys before dragging Denise out to to the club, but she’d definitely said the former, against all past evidence. And then promptly done the latter, leaving Denise slouched against the wall trying not to let the flashing lights and bone-shaking beats of the club give her a headache or the crowd give her a panic attack.

Again.

Why do I even bother? Denise wondered. But of course she knew the answer: Lori was the only other woman under 40 in their office, and the endless cycles of crunch left no time for making friends outside work. Although Lori somehow seemed to anyway.

“Probably by going to places full of people,” Denise muttered. That was what her therapist kept saying, but Denise didn’t see what the point was of going somewhere to meet people where it was too noisy to have a conversation—and those seemed to be the only places anyone ever hung out. Crowded bars with high ceilings and no soft surfaces so you could barely hear the person next to you. Clubs and parties and concerts where music drowned out anything below a shout, and most of those.

Anyway, what was she supposed to do. Walk up to a total stranger and just start talking to them? What if they didn’t want to be talked to?

“Hi!” said a loud, chipper voice from right in front of her.

With a groan, Denise glanced up. Definitely not talking to me, she thought. The girl in front of her was way too hot, for starters. A little shorter than Denise, a killer body in a skimpy outfit, a dazzling, dizzying smile, and glasses. Of course she had glasses, the one accessory that in Denise’s eyes made anyone instantly at least twice as hot.

She looked back down, definitely not taking the opportunity to flick her gaze swiftly over the tiny tanktop, tinier skirt, or creamy midriff in between. And then she looked back up, for reasons she couldn’t quite place. Wanting to look again? But no, that was pervy even for her quietly-kinky-wallflower gaze. Hope? She knew better than that.

But the girl was smiling right at her.

“Hi,” she said again. “I like your skirt.”

“Um, thanks,” said Denise. “It’s, uh... well, it’s the only one I own.” Which was true. She was normally a t-shirt and jeans gal, but she’d stretched out of her comfort zone to t-shirt-and-midi-skirt territory because Lori insisted.

“It’s cute!” The girl leaned toward Denise, her curls bouncing. “You’re cute.”

For once Denise was glad that the club was in near-total darkness punctuated by random bursts of color and light. It meant the girl couldn’t see her blushing. “Uh... thanks.” You are too. But of course you already know that. The nearness of that dazzling smile was overwhelming. Denise tried to focus instead on the kitty-ear headphones the girl wore—who wears headphones in a club?—but her eyes kept drifting back down to that pretty face and those cute glasses.

“It’s okay,” the girl said. “You don’t have to say anything. I know I’m cute.”

“Uh,” Denise responded, tongue-tied. “You, uh—I mean. Yes! Yes, of course you are!” She managed a smile. Is this a prank or something? Oh shit, am I being filmed? Is that Google Glass? She searched the girl’s glasses for any sign of a camera but in this light she couldn’t see anything. Couldn’t even make out her eyes behind the club lights glinting and dancing off the lenses.

“Listen, I know where there’s a quiet room. You want to talk.”

It wasn’t a question, but Denise barely had a chance to register how odd that was before the other girl grabbed her hand and led the way. Her hand was soft and warm in Denise’s, and it had been so very long. This is happening, Denise thought giddily. This wasn’t like her. She didn’t hook up with people at clubs. She mostly didn’t hook up at all, and when she did it was usually after at least a month of sexting. She knew what she was doing when she was typing, but somehow words always got tangled and confused with anxiety and uncertainty between her brain and her mouth. She didn’t have that problem when she could just type.

Also with sexting she could think for a minute or two before replying. Sometimes longer if it was a time of day that lent itself to excuses. Talking to people was always react-react-react, and why the hell was she following a strange girl off the club floor, past the DJ and into a room labeled Employees Only? Why wasn’t anyone stopping them?

Something weird was going on and—oh. The girl turned to face her again, and in this better-lit room—a break room, judging from the table and couch and minifridge and microwave—Denise could see just how hot her new friend was. The electric blue tank top showed off not just the fantastic cleavage Denise had seen in the club, but shoulders and upper arms with just that little hint of muscle she found irresistible. The girl’s legs under the pale-pink skirt were long despite her short stature, long and slender and graceful. Her hair hung in bright pink ringlets, the same shade as her perfectly manicured nails and soft, smiling lips, while her cat-ear headphones were the same shade as her skirt. Her eyes behind the rose-gold glasses were big and blue, almost as bright as her top, and simultaneously oddly hard to meet and impossible to look away from.

Denise felt herself getting dizzy. “What’s happening?” she asked. The door closed behind her and the sounds of the club became immediately distant, muffled. There was another sound though, a pleasant, musical sound, hard to place.

“Don’t worry,” said the girl. “Just relax.”

That sounded really good to Denise. Dizziness was giving way to giddiness, and it was so nice to let herself just get swept up in that. But she couldn’t. “No,” she managed. “This is weird. You’re too pretty, and I feel too good.”

“Of course you feel good, silly!” The girl giggled, and something about the word silly sent a thrill down Denise’s spine. “You’ve been looking at the glasses for a few minutes now. That’s enough to make anybody a little silly. And now that we’re out of the club, you’re hearing the music too, aren’t you? That’ll make you a lot silly.“

“What?” asked Denise, confused. “What are you... the glasses..?” There was something about them, she realized. A faint, translucent pattern dancing on the surface of them. It made her dizzy to pay attention to it, but if she tried to look away, it kept drawing her back.

“Doesn’t it feel so good? Don’t you want to feel good? I want you to feel good. To feel like I feel.“

Denise felt the wall against her back. Had she been backing away? But the girl kept getting closer anyway. “No, I, that’s not—something’s not—” She tried to look away, to turn her whole head away. To just walk away until the dizziness passed and she could run.

“Shh,” said the girl. “Let me make you feel good.” Her lips met Denise’s in a searing kiss. Her soft hands were on Denise’s shoulders, and Denise instinctively pulled her closer, until her soft, warm body was touching Denise’s from thigh to lip.

The girl broke the kiss, and Denise opened her eyes to find them full of the girl’s gaze, big blue orbs gazing into Denise’s brown ones, the patterns dancing between them barely registering even as they made it impossible to look away. This close she could hear the music more clearly. There were patterns there too, or almost were. Tantalizingly hard to follow, just adding to her confusion, but if she could get a grip on them, make them make sense, maybe the whole situation would?

“That’s right. Follow the patterns. That’s the first step,” the girl said. “I used to be like you, you know.” She slipped delicate fingers under the hem of Denise’s t-shirt and ran them slowly up over her belly. “Shy. Uncertain. Hiding how sexy I was in baggy clothes and a bad attitude. But They cured me.”

“They?” Denise asked thickly.

“You can’t hear them yet. Not until we get you some glasses and headphones of your own. Then you’ll hear Them all the time. It’s so good! No more worrying. No more anxiety. No more shyness. You’ll finally be free to fun, and silly, and sexy, like me!” The girl giggled again. “I haven’t had a thought of my own in ages. They tell me what to do and say, and I get to feel good all the time. And They want the same for you!“

No, Denise thought. But she couldn’t quite form the word. Huge blue eyes held her own, and patterns danced in them, and in her ears, and she really did think herself into anxiety all the time, didn’t she? Her brain was so busy all the time, so full of fears and doubts and bitterness and self-loathing, and to just relax would feel so good. No more need to think, just happily being pretty and desired and flirty and fun, without putting pressure on herself, without questioning...

“That’s right,” said the girl. “Everyone gives in eventually. I tried to resist it too, for some reason. But it feels so good to let it melt your brain—and that’s nothing compared to the bliss when you put the headset on for the first time and really hear them. Just for a little while this first time. But once you do, you’ll do anything to feel it again. You’ll close out your old life and cut all your ties and come back here to put it on again, and then it’ll be forever. Oh, They might send you out on work that means you have to take it off, but that’s okay. You’ll have it on for at least a week first, and that’ll be enough that even if you take it off for a day or two, Their voice and the bliss will stay circling in your brain and keep your conscious mind asleep.“

She took the now unresisting Denise’s hand and led her over to the couch, facing her the whole time. Some small part of Denise screamed at her to look away, to fight, to flee, but everything just felt too good, too easy, too natural. The promise of release from the prison of her own mind was too much.

The girl drew a pair of glasses and some headphones from a box at the foot of the couch. They were identical to hers, but lavender instead of pink. “These’ll go better with your complexion,” she said. She gently stroked Denise’s cheek. “I’m almost jealous, you know. Not that I can actually feel anything other than bliss now, of course. But you’re so lucky, you’re about to feel it for the first time!”

She slid the glasses onto Denise’s face first. They seemed perfectly clear, nothing strange about them. They were just glasses. She fitted the headphones onto Denise first. Normally if she tried to wear those kinds of headphones with glasses they would squeeze her ears uncomfortably against the earpiece, but these seemed made to fit into each other.

What an odd thing to be my last conscious thought, Denise thought. And then the girl flipped the little switch on the side of the headphones, and the patterns exploded full-force into her eyes and into her ears and met in her brain, which held, trembling, for just a moment—and then it was blasted apart, her mind dissolved until there was nothing left. No thought, no doubt, no unpleasant feelings, none of the things that had held her back her whole life.

Just bliss.