The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Men’s Dorm, Southern Wisconsin University, Tuesday

Paul felt stupid.

Really, really stupid.

Another five minutes and he’d be back to trying to figure out what kind of weird sick game Nicole was playing with him, his brainwashed pawn theories thrown into the trash can along with the stupid broken-ass Mystery Phone he’d wasted so much time tinkering with. “The fucking irony,” he muttered to himself, glaring down at the device. “I thought that I could use you to hook up with a hot girl. I guess I should have been more fucking specific, huh?”

He couldn’t stay in this school. He couldn’t avoid Nicole for another three straight semesters, and even if he could, how much fun would that be? No, the best solution was to start applying to other schools and then transferring. Central Michigan had a good astronomy program, didn’t it? Maybe that wasn’t even the right major, anyway? Maybe his parents were right about college not being a good fit for him, after all. Maybe-

Three knocks on the door. One, two, three. Then silence.

“Shit. Oh, shit. No no no, you are fucking kidding me.”

Paul’s stomach paid a visit to his throat, and he had to place both hands on his bed to steady himself. It took a few agonizing seconds for everything to settle again. It could be Erik, but he knew better. What was waiting for him on the other side of that door was more than just an annoyance; it was also something that couldn’t be ignored. He knew that Nicole would stand there patiently for as long as it took. The very concept of patience, and its opposite, would be the furthest things from her mind.

Then again, Nicole clearly wasn’t fucking around. She was genuinely in trouble, and by summoning her again, he’d just made it even worse. He thought of his grandmother, wagging a crooked finger at his toddler face and lecturing him. “You break it, Paulie, you bought it!”

“You break it, you buy it,” he told himself, forcing his legs and arms into action. He opened the door to find his gorgeous brown-haired beauty staring right through him again.

At least this time she was dressed for the weather.

“I hear, and obey,” she said, right on cue.

“You do. Come into the room, Nicole.”

“I hear, and obey.”

Paul listened for Erik, but thankfully there was no noise from down the hall. Finally, things were not totally and completely fucked up. Nope, everything’s swell, the brainwashed girl came right to your door like you wanted. Totally normal day.

But was she brainwashed? There was one way to find out for certain. He retrieved his own, normal, totally-not-used-for-mind-control cell phone from the desk and swiped to the camera app before putting it back down on its edge.

“Nicole, I’m going to record this.”

She said nothing. Her brown eyes bored two soft holes into the cinderblock wall.

He adjusted the phone to get the best view. “Nicole, I want you to take off all of your clothes.”

“I hear, and obey.” She took off her jacket, revealing a purple top that nicely showed off her great tits. Off came her shoes, her socks, her jeans, and the purple top. She unhooked her bra and slid out of her panties, then resumed her passive study of the cinderblocks. The chill in the room hardened her nipples and raised goosebumps on her arms. If she was acting, she was damn good.

“Nicole, tell me the most embarrassing, ridiculous secret about yourself that you’ve never told anyone.”

“I hear, and obey. When I was sixteen I had a crush on Tommy Benhurst and I wanted to impress him, so I climbed a water tower and spray-painted ‘I love Tommy Benhurst’ in big letters, but I was in such a hurry I rushed it, plus I ran out of paint, and it ended up looking like ‘I love Tom, Ben’ and everyone wondered who Ben was. I never told anyone.” Her eyes never left the wall. She’d recited her entire story in a flat, emotionless tone.

Okay, one more test. The big one. “Nicole, suck my dick. Now.”

“I hear, and obey.”

She turned, sinking to her knees, and reached for Paul’s zipper. His jeans were second-hand and the zipper had an annoying habit of getting stuck about halfway up or down. Sure enough, and to his slight horror, it chose this moment to jam again. The brunette studied it for a moment, then shrugged and slid her hands up Paul’s thighs to his waist. She had much better luck with his belt buckle, and the offending pants were soon pooled around his feet.

“Obey,” she whispered, steadying herself on her knees and taking his cock into her warm, soft hand. He hadn’t expected to get excited, but the sight of Nicole’s toned, naked body brought all of the weekend’s feelings roaring back, and he had a decent erection. Any doubts about the extent of his control over her quickly vanished as Nicole gently stroked and kissed his member, swelling it to fullness.

Heather hadn’t liked giving blow jobs, and until this moment, Paul hadn’t really enjoyed getting them. But when Nicole took his entire cock into her mouth in one smooth, practiced motion, it dawned on him that he was getting the first real blow job of his life. The brunette pressed her lips and began to suck, gently, as her tongue ran the length of his shaft. He found himself reaching for something, anything to hold on to, something to brace against before oh my GOD he toppled over. Nicole’s hair was the logical choice, but it felt weird to reach for her; the awkward first-timer directing the expert. Instead, his fumbling fingers found the edge of his desk chair, and settled for that.

Nicole, apparently oblivious to everything above his waist, directed her attention to his balls instead, holding his glistening member up with one hand as she fondled him with the other, kissing and licking each testicle as Paul groaned. She guided him into her mouth again and tapped the top of her head with her left hand.

Lost in ecstasy, Paul stared at her head for a few long seconds before getting the message. He let go of the chair and curled his fingers around Nicole’s hair, tentatively at first, then more confidently as he got used to the back and forth motion of her head. She began to work faster, little moans escaping from her lips.

“Ni-cole…” he gasped. “S… swallow every… every d-drop.”

“Mmmm hmmm, mmmm ummm mmmhmm,” she responded, never breaking from her task. Paul came, gloriously so, and Nicole dutifully followed his command to swallow. She released his cock and leaned back until her ass rested on her heels. Her lips and chin glistened with his cum.

They both remained in place like that for a few minutes, Nicole not moving an inch, Paul gradually recovering from the best blow job he’d ever received. “Jesus, Nicole. If you’re really doing this as a joke, you should drop out of English Lit and become a Theater major.”

“I hear, and obey.”

“Wait wait wait! No! No theater! Listen, you love English Lit and you want to be an English Lit major. Okay?”

“I hear, and obey.”

Okay, she’s totally hypnotized. Probably. Something. Now how do I turn robo-slave back into a normal girl? Paul tried to remember just what had happened on Friday night.

“Nicole, listen to me…”

Later

“I’m a what, now?”

“I think someone hypnotized you.”

“And made me into a mindless sex slave.”

“Well… apparently.”

“So I’m someone else’s mindless sex slave and yet I’m here with you, lying in your bed, thinking about how much I want to fuck you again, thinking about how incredible you are and how lucky I am right now. That sound like a mindless sex slave to you? I mean, whoever this guy is, he’s really fucking terrible at making sex slaves. Just throwing that out there.”

She smiled at Paul in that way that only she could. He felt himself getting hard again.

“Well…”

“You’re so sweet. But don’t put me on a pedestal and definitely don’t put yourself at the base of it! I’m not a supermodel, you’re not a gnome, we’re just two people who met at exactly the right time in exactly the right place and just clicked like magic, that’s all. You don’t need mind control to get girls. Just you being you is enough.”

Okay, Heather. But as much as Paul wanted Nicole to be right, for Heather Crosby to be right, for everyone to be right…

“See? I see the wheels turning in that head of yours, Paul. You’re cute, you take care of yourself, you’re not a dumb jock or a weird nerd, you play my body like a violin, and you…” she paused. “Well, your decor sucks. But nobody’s perfect.”

He took her hand. She was under the sheets, still naked, and he was sitting on top of them, clothed except for his jeans, which were still piled on the floor. She gave the tiniest gasp as his fingers touched hers. “All I’m saying is that whenever I tap this phone, you end up at my door saying ‘I hear and obey,’ and then you, well, obey. Everything I say. And then I wake you up.”

“Mmmm… I have to admit, that actually turns me on. Losing control of my mind and just… obeying you without question. Yes. Yes master. I will fuck you master. I will go to Ikea and buy you real furniture, master.” Paul could feel her pulse quicken. “Anything for you, master.”

“I’m serious.”

“I am, too. You’re twenty years old and you have milk crates for shelves.”

“No! Nicole! ” He sucked in his breath and let it out slowly, unwilling to let himself have an actual shouting argument with the hot naked girl in his bed. “I’m worried. Something’s going on. Didn’t you have class this afternoon?”

“I, um…”

“See? Isn’t that weird?”

“Maybe I was just thinking about yesterday and about how you were going to pretend to be sick so that we could spend the day together,” she protested, drawing the bedsheets up to her chin. She closed her eyes and let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Or, it’s weird. It’s been a weird week.”

“Yeah, same here.”

“It is not mind control, Paul.”

“Maybe hypnosis, then? You yourself said that you’ve been having trouble remembering things lately. Like you’ve been in a fog for the past week. If someone else is controlling you, they could be interested in more than sex. Like you go check your bank account one day and there’s nothing in it. Your room is cleared out, your car is gone. I want to find out what’s going on and stop it.”

She inched herself backwards until she was in a sitting position, kicking the sheets away from her. “C’mere,” she commanded. “Scootch over here and sit next to me for a second.”

Paul did as he was told.

“If someone is going to hypnotize me into giving them my Civic,” she whispered, “they can have it and pay the eight hundred bucks for the brakes it needs.”

Her lips pressed against his skin. He reached out and found her breasts, caressing them, feeling her nipples grow hard. “I’m so unbelievably wet right now,” she panted, pulling off his shirt. By now Paul’s cock had forgotten all about the blow job and was fully, painfully ready to go again.

He kissed her neck, felt her hair brush his face. It smelled of lavender and sweat. His kisses became deeper and longer, and he worked his way down her chest and between her breasts, taking time to caress and kiss each. Recalling a scene from a movie otherwise forgotten, he blew soft puffs of air over her nipples. They were as erect and hard as he was, and she placed her hands against his temples.

“That’s… exactly what I… mmmm. More, please,” she teased. She held Paul’s head between her hands like a basketball, only for him to slide free, making his way further south until he was kissing her belly button as she happily squirmed beneath him. He placed his hands against the inside of her thighs and she obliged, spreading her legs for him. Her hips rose and fell in low waves as his lips found hers. She was as wet as she claimed. The smell was intoxicating, and he dove in.

He glanced up to find that that she’d closed her eyes, her face completely relaxed, a very satisfied smile that appeared and disappeared as she bit her lower lip and released it, again and again. Her hands were busy playing with her breasts, squeezing them in time with the rise and fall of her hips and the motion of her mouth. Smiling, he returned to kissing and licking and sucking her until, with a soft groan, her thighs clamped his head and squeezed it as she came.

“F-fuck,” she gasped. She tapped a hand against her stomach. “Get up… up here, it’s your turn.”

Paul was already amazed that riding Nicole’s orgasm hadn’t set off his own. He was hornier and harder than he’d ever been in his entire life. Just moving seemed certain to make him come all over her, on her stomach, on her tits. Now it was his turn to suck in his lower lip and hold on. Her hand found his cock and guided it inside her. He lifted her ass as her legs collapsed around him, drawing him in, encouraging him to pump her as hard as he could, harder than he thought possible. Then he stopped thinking altogether, the clenching and the sliding and the low grunts they were both making filling the entirety of his existence. It was all he’d ever been, and all he’d ever be. He shouted something as he came, a string of semi-intelligible words that neither of them could remember afterwords, until he finally collapsed, completely spent, into her willing and welcoming embrace.

Several lifetimes passed before Paul’s breathing finally returned to something approaching normal. “I think…” he said, trying to capture enough air to continue. “I think I love you.”

“Mutual. Your neighbors might not think so, um, highly of… whew! Goddamn Paul, where have you been hiding my whole life?”

He escaped her arms and rolled onto his back, one arm dangling over the edge of the narrow mattress. He studied the ceiling. He was distantly aware that he hadn’t responded to Nicole, but the combination of getting an amazing blow job and some truly mind-blowing sex, all in the same day, served to overwhelm his higher brain functions, and he settled for trying to catch his breath.

“Hey,” she said, after a few minutes. “You know what’s funny?”

His brain finally remembered how to make words. “What’s funny?”

“That’s the first time you said it. ‘I love you.’ Just now. I’m glad.” She found his hand and squeezed it. “I love you, too.”

Somewhere in Middle America, Tuesday afternoon

HEY SHITHEAD

All caps, designed to grab Paul’s attention. It worked. He scowled and tapped back a curt message to Bob.

what

You coming to study group or what

Paul’s watch confirmed what he already suspected. He was supposed to be in a study pod on the other side of campus, not sitting here at a desk on the second floor of Goodland Library. Midterms were coming up soon, and Bob needed all the prep help he could muster.

Sorry, something came up.

…

He couldn’t be in two places at once. He could either help out Bob, or help out Nicole. An easy choice.

Catch up tomorrow at lunch?

k

It wasn’t okay, and Paul knew it. Bob’s parents forced him to take the most difficult courses possible. Anything lower than a C grade would see them helicoptering in to lecture him and take away his gaming rig, so studying for the next test forever formed the center of his universe. Paul was normally happy to help—he could use better grades himself—but he was determined to get to the bottom of this Nicole business.

“Hey, Paul?”

He looked up. Ainsley, cute behind her oversized glasses, usually sat next to him in Expository Writing. She looked him over and scanned the titles of the books scattered across the desk. She frowned enough for Paul to notice.

“I usually have this table reserved for my Jane Austen discussion group? They won’t be here for, like, another hour. But I wanted to let you know before you get too spread out.”

“Oh. Oh! Thanks, Ainsley.” He began to slide the scattered texts into something resembling a pile. “I’ll be ready to clear out when you’re ready.”

She looked over the books again. “Whatcha studying for?”

The books had titles like The MK-Ultra Conspiracy: Finally Revealed! and Hypnosis for the Body and the Soul. He blushed. “Just a side project for class. Extra credit.”

“Mmm. That’s cool. You gonna learn how to hypnotize people?”

More blushing. No Ains, I already have one mind-controlled slave, she’s more than enough for me! “No, this is for that Science in Media class. I’m supposed to write about how conspiracies form and how to defend the science that disproves them.” He lifted the top title from the pile and held it up, pretending to ponder its importance. “I’m pretty sure that the lizard people can’t really control our minds through our smartphones.”

“Ha! At least not yet.”

“At least not yet! Anyway, it’s for extra credit. If I get it done, it gets done. You should take the class, Ains. A lot of creative writing majors take it.”

Her earlier frown was gone now, replaced with something closer to amusement, or perhaps pity. Internally, Paul breathed a sigh of relief. The sooner Ainsley was on her way, the sooner he could find out whether the lizard people really could control minds through smartphones. “I’ll clear out in a bit, I just didn’t want to check out all of these books. I’d probably end up on a watchlist for weirdos somewhere.”

She laughed. “Thanks for the warning. If I see you come at me swinging a gigantic pocket watch and telling me I’m getting sleepy, I’m just gonna shut my eyes and run away. Anyway, probably about four thirty? Thanks.”

Then she was gone, leaving Paul alone with his collection of tinfoil tomes.

Sighing, he flipped The MK-Ultra Conspiracy: Finally Revealed! and began to read.

Somewhere in Middle America, just after five

A bright October sun greeted Paul’s tired eyes as he left the library, forcing him to squint for most of the walk home. The research—if it could even be called that—had been no help at all. Most of the books were decades old and catered to a Cold War, post-Vietnam War audience. The conspiracies within their pages were inevitably vast, spanning decades and continents, and tended to pull in as many famous names as their authors could fever-dream up. Those being controlled were either the rich and powerful, or every single person on Earth, tinfoil aficionados excepted. A case involving just one person being mind-controlled to have amazing sex with a random guy on her campus was far too small-time to merit their attention.

And then Ainsley had returned to place a foul cherry on top of the whole nasty sundae, introducing Paul to her Jane Austen study group as “this guy that’s learning how to hypnotize people.” Maybe she hadn’t intended to make him feel self-conscious about it, but nonetheless, Paul had taken all of the books he’d pulled off the shelves clear across the library and down a floor, dumping them in a return cart far away from anyone’s prying eyes. Then he stalked out into the autumn afternoon and the realization that he was no closer to solving the mystery than before.

“I should have helped out Bob,” he grumbled.

He continued skulking across campus until he found himself on the far side of the quad, not far from where Nicole had sprung her sudden amnesiac surprise on him. He found himself replaying it in his head. The look of total confusion. The fear that crept into her eyes as they talked. The backing away, each one of her steps more quick than the last, until she was on the other side of the quad and rushing into Mitchell Hall.

He sagged into a bench. The amnesia was real. The fear was real. So was the mindless Nicole that shortly followed, courtesy of a couple of taps on the phone that controlled her. If the author of Programmed to Kill: CIA Assassins Among Us was actually right, and not just a nutcase, that probably meant that Indifferent Nicole was the default sleeper personality that surfaced when she needed to go about her day and blend in, unaware of all of the programmed commands she carried in her head. That included being unaware of the ‘commands’ that Paul had inadvertently given her.

“Shit.”

At no point had he ordered Nicole to ‘forget everything,’ or ‘go back to being your normal self,’ or anything of the sort. She was still Girlfriend Nicole after she finished fucking him, after they went out on a date, after they spend the night together. It wasn’t a command that wore off with time. That meant that someone else must have given her an order to forget, and put Indifferent Nicole back in charge.

And if ‘They’ were doing that, what other orders were ‘They’ feeding her? What else had they made her do between Sunday afternoon and Monday morning? What else were they planning to make her do? And, for fuck’s sake, why? Controlling the mind of one girl on one college campus in the middle of bumfuck America didn’t seem like much of a diabolical conspiracy or much of a scientific experiment.

Maybe it was a rogue hypnotist, instead? The college had a large Psych Department. Some students were probably learning how to hypnotize people as part of their regular class experience. Maybe one of them found the same books Paul had found, and decided to do a little practice on their study-buddy Nicole? Sure, hypnosis wasn’t supposed to work that way, but what if it did?

What if it did?

“If I see you come at me swinging a gigantic pocket watch and telling me I’m getting sleepy…”

Ainsley’s offhand comment gave him an idea. Maybe a great one, even. Throwing his backpack over his shoulder, he headed back the way he came, towards the Student Center and the city bus stop in front of it.

Meanwhile

“I mean yeah, sure, he’s good in bed. But I can’t actually date him, Jenny! I’m way out of his league and we both know it!” The girl tossed her gym clothes into a locker. “You wouldn’t, right?”

“Fuck him, or date him?” Jenny was in the middle of putting her hair into a ponytail, and only half-listening to her friend’s story.

“Date him!”

“You don’t have to marry the guy, Becky. Just be fuck-buddies for now and, you know, who gives a fuck what other people think?” She slipped out of her gym shorts and reached for her jeans. “It’s not like you’re going to run for President someday or anything.”

Becky began pulling her long auburn hair into a ponytail as well. She glared at Jenny. “So no, is what you’re saying.”

“I didn’t say that. I said ‘fuck him for now and decide about dating later.’ What’s your hurry? It’s not 1950. Date who you fucking want, Becky, or don’t. Anyone who gives you shit about it can cram it. You’re the boss of your own shit, right?”

“Yeah, well, I just need to wake up as Jenny Scislowski and start seeing Colin and all my troubles will go away.” Becky gave Jenny a playful shove. “Nice bracelet, by the way. Kinda fits you. Shiny and loud and judgmental and shit.” She opened her locker again, and missed seeing the blonde’s smile slip into a blank stare.

“Yes… my bracelet. I found it at the mall. It was on sale.” Jenny blinked once, and smiled. “I’ve got a plan. You ready?”

“Jen, nooooo, you always have plans.” The redhead let her towel fall to the floor, catching it with her right foot and sending it flying towards her friend. “Here, catch.”

Jenny dodged the towel and Becky’s pleas with equal, practiced expertise. “No, this plan is good! First, we’re gonna go get you a new outfit.”

“Are you gonna buy me this outfit?”

“You need something for Homecoming anyway, right? You’re just planning ahead, that’s all.”

“Fine, fine, then what are you gonna do to me?”

“Then we’re going to go and…”

Pretty… spinning… faster…

Becky was pretty. Jenny eyed her nice curves, her full breasts, her wavy red hair. Pretty, pretty Becky.

Bring her. Bring her to them. She’s perfect. You’ll obey your orders. You must obey. Serve and obey the Kzzrk Empire.

“Hey.” She was being poked. Hard. “Hey, don’t zone out on me. Where are you kidnapping me to, and why should I agree to this?”

Jenny smiled, her white teeth dazzling. “Trust me, you’re going to love this plan.”