The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

That summer, Troy worked in the mortgage loan department at First Bank and Trust. He threw himself into his work, partly because he found it genuinely satisfying, but also to escape the tedium of his non-work life. Justin had told Troy to find a new apartment after Troy had again furiously accused Justin of undermining him. He had pushed and bullied and threatened, but Justin had remained robotically calm and resolute. In the end he relented, knowing that Justin had him over a barrel: if he pushed too hard, his secret could be blown. He found a good apartment that was affordable on his bank wages, but he lived there alone. It was then that the reality had sunk in: Having spent the whole previous year fixating on Kayla, Troy no longer had any friends.

The walk through campus the first Monday of classes was a lonely one. Troy’s eyes roamed halfheartedly over the legs of miniskirted freshman girls, arrogantly returned the glares of Zeta sisters in their letter sweatshirts, searched listlessly for familiar, friendly faces and found none. At least he had the consolation, as a senior, of finally having a finance-heavy courseload. One finance course in the morning on Monday and another in the afternoon helped to occupy his mind; in between, though, was the purgatory of Intermediate Financial Accounting, and he had nothing to look forward to afterward but an empty apartment.

Tuesday he had to be on campus at 9 AM for Financing Entrepreneurial Ventures with Professor Flanders, whom he had again at 3 PM for a management class. For the four and a half hours in between, he had to make his own fun. He spent the hours in the pub-styled dining hall in the student union, flipping aimlessly through his textbooks and hardly tasting his lunch. Around 2:30, he got tired of sitting around and emerged into the bright sunshine of the quad. As his eyes adjusted, he saw a woman running toward him. Before his mind could register what he was seeing, she hurled herself at him, threw her arms around him, and plastered his face with kisses.

It was Kayla, but a different-looking Kayla. Her hair was no longer platinum blond but golden blond with subtle highlights, and it was shorter. She was dressed for the summer weather in a white blouse and belted khaki shorts that showed off her trim legs. She positively bubbled with energy. “Oh, Troy!” she gushed in between kisses. “I’m so glad to see you. I’ve missed you so much.”

“Kayla! You look . . . ”

“You like it?” she said, swishing her hair back and forth. “I felt like I needed a new look. I was tired of looking like a stereotypical sorority girl. Speaking of which, I left the Zetas. I just had the sense that I didn’t need them anymore.”

“Huh. Maybe that’s why they’re all giving me the stinkeye.”

“Well, I don’t think they were ever too keen on you. But you don’t need to worry about what they think. I don’t.” She touched his face. “It is really good to see you, Troy. I’m sorry we parted on such awful terms. I feel like we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” She grinned slyly. “If you know what I mean.”

Troy grinned back. “I’ve got to say, it hasn’t been the same around here without you.”

“It’s never going to be, loverboy. I’ve got all sorts of things in mind for us. Come on, you lunk, give me a real hug.” She embraced him tightly.

“Anyway, I’m glad I ran into you now,” she went on. “I’m on my way to class over in Rosenthal Hall. Room 214.”

“Managing the Enterprise with Flanders?” Troy said. “That’s what I’ve got!”

“You don’t say! Well, Troy Davis, it looks like we’re going to be spending quite a bit of time together.” She hugged his arm as they walked to class.

“By the way,” she said, “I got tired of ‘Kayla’ over the summer. The more I heard it, the more I thought it sounded ditzy. Call me Kay.”

They left class with their arms around each other’s waists. “I got an apartment off campus,” Kay said. “Let’s head over there. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

The apartment was three blocks off campus, down Ayer Avenue. It was a one-bedroom on the second floor of a vintage brick building. The furniture was straight out of Ikea, but the apartment was clean and well-maintained, with hardwood floors.

“Wait right there,” Kay said, gesturing to the couch. Troy sat as Kay disappeared down the hallway. A moment later she returned, having donned a platinum baby-doll wig, unbuttoned her blouse halfway down, and changed out of her shorts into a schoolgirl skirt. “Like, hi,” she squeaked.

Troy couldn’t repress his grin. “And who are you?” he asked.

“My name’s Kay-la,” she said, exaggerating the second syllable. “What’s yours?”

“Brock,” said Troy smarmily. “Brock Hardstone.”

Kay guffawed, but she quickly got back in character. “Brock Hardstone,” she said, drawing out the name. “What a manly name you have, Brock. Have we met before?”

“Mmmm. Don’t think so.”

“Can you help me, Brock? I just got into town a few days ago, and I don’t know my way around. I keep getting all mixed up and finding myself in strange places. I’m worried that a strange man might try to take advantage of me. You wouldn’t do that, would you, Brock?”

“You bet your ass I would,” said Troy, closing the distance between them in three strides and sliding his hands up under her skirt. Her ass was bare.

Kay gasped. “Oh, Troy. I mean, Brock!” she cried. “What are you doing? You’re making—ohhhhh.“ Troy had just slipped two fingers between her legs and stroked her pussy lips, which were already slippery. “Ohhh,” she said throatily, losing the bimbo squeak. “Oh, my. It’s been a while.” She reached down to Troy’s waist and unbuckled his belt, then unzipped his fly and reached inside. “Oh, I’ve missed you, Troy. I’ve missed this.“ She put her hands on his chest and pushed him back gently. “Sit on the couch,” she said.

Troy did as she told him. She climbed up onto his lap and straddled him, taking his rigid cock and jacking it a few times before she aimed it at her center and sank down onto it. “Mmmm, mmmm,” she moaned as she rocked her pelvis back and forth, sliding on and off of him. She reached up and began undoing the buttons of her blouse. “This feels so good, Troy, you have no idea,” she murmured. “It’s not easy being a nymphomaniac when your man isn’t around.” She parted the fabric to reveal her breasts, resting in a lacy white bra. “I probably could have found someone to take care of me. I thought about it. But I didn’t, Troy. I saved myself for you.” He felt her inner muscles squeeze him tightly, then release, then squeeze again. “For you, Troy. Because I’m a horny, sex-crazed slut who wants it all the time. But I don’t want it from anyone but you.” She began to fuck against him faster, wrapping her hands around the back of his neck. He slid his hands up from her waist, felt for the clasp of her bra, and unhooked it. “Mmmmm, yeah,” she sighed. “Set me free.” She raised her arms and let him slide off her blouse and bra. There they were, those tits he couldn’t stop dreaming about, round and firm and full, coming to two straining pink points. He buried his face in them, squeezing them, licking and sucking the swollen nipples. She pressed her tits into his face, pistoning up and down on his cock and squeezing her inner muscles around him, whispering encouragements. “Mmmmm. Kayla loves your cock inside her,” she said, reacquiring her breathy, high-pitched bimbo voice. “Kayla loves to feel you filling her up with your hot, hard cock. Kayla hopes you’re going to fill her up with something else. Are you? Are you going to fill me up? Are you going to come in me? Are you going to shoot your hot come up inside me? Make me yours. Fuck me. Come in me. Make me . . . ahhh . . . ahhhh . . . unnnnhhhh . . . Oh, Troy . . . unnnhhhh . . . unnnnnngggghhh!“ Her stomach muscles clenched, her pussy gripped, her body shook, and Troy felt a column of come fountain up from his balls, through his shaft, and into her center, then another, and another. As she came down from her orgasm, Kay squeezed Troy with her thighs, embraced him with her arms, probed his mouth with her tongue, crushed her tits into his chest. When she came up for air, she rested her head on his shoulder and leaned against him, his cock still buried inside her. He felt hot tears on his shoulder.

“I’m back,” she whispered. “I’m back.”

Troy and Kay went to dinner at the Elmwood Pub. Kay asked about Troy’s summer, and he told her about his experiences in the mortgage department, glossing over the miserable boredom of the rest of his summer. She listened attentively, seeming sincerely fascinated by every detail. She herself had started off at the beginning of the summer doing telephone fund-raising for a public-interest advocacy group, but thanks to her hard work, positive attitude, and marketing insights, she’d been promoted after just five weeks to assisting on a direct-mail campaign.

As they finished their meals, Kay sobered. “Okay,” she sighed. “Time for the grown-up talk.” She took Troy’s hands across the table. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about us, and about what you did to me. I looked online and found out all about the VM-Stim. Honestly, I have no idea how you thought it would be okay to use something like that to brainwash another person and use them the way you did.

“But I’ve also realized some other things. That device breaks down fears and anxieties, and when we met, I was a slave to my fears and anxieties. They ruled my life. I was terrified of being abandoned, of being alone, of not being able to take care of myself. I didn’t think I was smart enough or capable enough, and so I didn’t even try. I thought I had to surround myself by people who would take care of me and give me someplace to belong—and even then, I never knew whether I could trust them to do that for me. The Zetas liked me. They thought I was funny. They knew I was loyal. And I figured that as long as I had them, I was all right; I didn’t need to trust anyone else. The reason I was such a bitch? I figured everyone looked down on me already. I wasn’t going to put myself in someone else’s hands just to get hurt.”

She rubbed Troy’s hands with her thumbs. “You thought you were making me your captive with that VM-Stim. I guess, in a way, you did. But you also set me free. I don’t worry about who’s mad at me or doesn’t like me, about how I’m going to meet everybody’s demands, about whether I’ve done something that’s going to make people turn their backs on me. I just don’t think about those things anymore. And I guess it must have been taking up an awful lot of my brain, because now it’s like I can use those parts of my brain for other things. I’m noticing things, learning things, realizing things. Everything is interesting to me now. I want to discover it all.” She took a sip of water. “And that’s where I need you to be a grown-up, Troy. I’m taking philosophy classes because it’s part of who I am now. These are things I want to understand. And I want you to understand that I still love you, and despite what I said a minute ago, I trust you. I understand why you feel like you need to control everything. You feel like people don’t see you, like they don’t respect you. You have all these expectations of yourself, and you feel like you have to meet them all by yourself, alone, and you’re always scared that someone is going to pull the rug out from under you, and you won’t be able to get back up. I won’t ever do that, Troy. I do see you. I respect you. And right now, you are the most important person in my life. I just want you to see and respect me, too. I need that from you.” Tears welled in her eyes.

Troy squirmed under Kay’s analysis of his psyche. At the party a year before, she’d struck at his weaknesses with uncanny accuracy in order to fend him off and take him down a peg. Now, as tenderly as she spoke to him, she was striking at his weaknesses again, and as little as he wanted to admit it, it hurt.

“Come on, Troy,” Kay said, reading his eyes. “I know you don’t like hearing this. I’m not asking you to bow down to me. Just see me. As a person, with free will.” She cupped her hand under his chin. “Who’s choosing you.”

The passage of time did nothing to ease Troy’s dissatisfaction. Kay’s immersion in her classes detracted from their time together. They still sat together in Managing the Enterprise, but Troy noticed a new twist to her studiousness: She still focused like a laser on Professor Flanders’ words, but from time to time she frowned or shook her head, and she sprinkled her notes with perplexing queries like “Other stakeholders—employees, community, environment?” and “What about loyalty??” When Troy talked to her about business-related subjects, she gave noncommittal answers and often changed the subject as soon as she got a chance, as if she thought she had to be careful about what she said. And one time she was so perturbed by something Professor Flanders said that she closed her notebook, got up from her desk, and walked out of class. When Troy caught up with her and asked what the deal was, all he could get out of her was, “Flanders and Tripp”—now her professor for Business Ethics—“need to have a conversation.”

Troy and Kay were a public couple now, as Kay no longer felt any pressure to hide her association with Troy. They went out on dates regularly, if infrequently, and they still had lots of energetic sex. But an uncomfortable realization crept into Troy’s mind: He was losing interest. Kay wasn’t the woman he’d hoped to make her into. Kay wasn’t Kayla. He couldn’t demand her loyalty. He couldn’t dominate her. The relationship was beyond his control.

In November, late one evening at his apartment, she told him she’d decided to change her major. “It’ll mean I have to spend at least another year here, maybe two,” she said, “but I just can’t see myself going into the kind of business they teach here. I don’t want to manipulate people for a living. I want to give the world what it already wants and needs.”

“Business does give people what they want and need,” Troy argued. “People want houses. They need office buildings. Business gets things built. It gets things done.”

“Uh-huh. Let me ask you something, Troy: Does business get homes built for people who can’t afford homes? I love that you think big, Troy, don’t get me wrong. I know you want to make your mark. And you can make your mark building shopping malls and convention centers. But you could also make your mark building affordable housing, couldn’t you? You wouldn’t make as much money, but you’d make your mark. You’d have people’s gratitude. You might even be a real hero to somebody. Can you imagine that?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Troy blurted. “What the fuck is wrong with making money? Money gives you freedom. Money gives you choices. Money gives you power. Money means you don’t have to worry about whether people believe in what you’re doing. All you have to do is do it. If you’ve got money, you call the shots. People respect money.”

“I know,” Kay said, “I know. But I wonder whether money respects people.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Money is money. It’s a thing. You earn it, you build it, you spend it. If you don’t have it, you fucking work for it. Get it done. Choose your own destiny. Don’t go looking for a fucking handout.”

Kay closed her eyes and sighed. “Is this the kind of conversation we’re going to have every time we disagree about an ethical question?”

“I’ll have whatever kind of fucking conversation I fucking want to have,” Troy grumbled.

Kay bit her lip, then reached into her purse and slowly brought out the VM-Stim. “You wish you had this right now, don’t you?” she said. “Every time we’ve fought before, you’ve zapped me with this thing. Oh, yeah, I know. I remember it all now. It was fuzzy, but it came back. You zap me, and then I feel closer to you, and you feel more in control. Is that what you want right now? To feel like you’re in control?” She held it out to him. “Go ahead, then. Zap me. See what happens. I’m kind of curious myself, actually. Because you think it gives you more control, but I think it makes me freer. I wonder if I’ll remember what you say to me if I know beforehand that you’re going to zap me. Here, take it. Try it.” She smiled wryly. “Or I could zap you. We could try that. You were willing to do it to me. Are you willing to have it done to you?”

Troy was stunned. Was Kay bluffing, or was she for real? One thing was certain: He wasn’t going to let her zap him. He couldn’t bring himself to submit to another person like that even for a minute, even if it were Kay. But what if he zapped her? If the VM-Stim didn’t influence her, he’d probably lose her. But then again, it was starting to look like he’d lost her already—and anyway, he wasn’t sure he wanted her the way she was. If it did influence her, he had a chance to get back what he’d lost.

He took the VM-Stim from Kay, turned it over in his hands, and slowly raised it up to her face. She took a deep breath, her eyes steely with resolve.

He pressed the button.

The light strobed.

Consciousness drained from Kay’s face. She stared straight ahead, breathing rhythmically. It wasn’t a deer-in-the-headlights stare, as in all the times before, but a calm, meditative stare, as if she’d gone astral.

“Kay,” said Troy. ”Kayla. Listen to me, Kayla. You need to submit to me. Totally. You don’t want anything except to please me. You don’t have any ambition. You don’t need any ambition. You’re Kayla. You’re a bimbo, a blond bimbo. Your brain doesn’t need to think about anything but sex. You belong to me and only me. You’ll do what I want and only what I want. You won’t—”

“Troy?” Kay’s voice seemed to come from someplace far away. “Are you talking to me, Troy? I think you are. I can’t make out the words, but I can feel what you’re doing. You’re trying to take away my free will. But free will is part of consciousness, Troy. The unconscious mind can influence consciousness, but it can’t take it away.”

Kay stood up and slowly began to unbutton her blouse. “Do you have any idea what this feels like, Troy? Do you want to know? It’s incredible. It must be what heroin feels like to a junkie, only it’s pure sex. Every cell in my body is singing.” She unhooked her bra and dropped it to the floor. “My boobs . . . if you knew what it was like to have boobs like these. They feel so full, full of life, full of love. They want to be touched. They sing for it.” She stroked the undersides of her breasts, up to her nipples, and shuddered when she touched them. “Is this what it feels like to have a hard-on, Troy? It’s like they’re reaching out to you, calling you to them.”

She lowered her hands to her waist, unbuckled her belt and unbuttoned her slacks. “My pussy . . . it’s flooded. It wants you inside me, wants to be filled, more than anything in the world. It wants you to slide your cock into me, to thrust and thrust and fill me with come, to start the life my body was made to carry. It’s primitive, Troy. It’s primal. It’s what we love so much about sex: connection and creation. Part of you goes into me, part of you comes out and becomes a part of me.” She dropped her panties and stepped out of them. “Come to me, Troy. Come into me. Be part of me.”

Kay’s patter had put Troy in a sexual trance. He stood up, undressed, and walked over to Kay. “It’s hard for me to think of anything right now except what my body is telling me,” she said. “Help me to the bed.”

Troy did.

“You know what my body is telling me now?” asked Kay. “It’s telling me to get down on my hands and knees and present myself to you. It wants me to fuck like an animal, with you taking me from behind. I can’t say no. I have to do what it wants.” She assumed the position. “I’m so ready for you, Troy. Can you see it? Can you smell it? I must be made of pheromones right now. I feel like I’m filling the air with them, trying to draw you to me. To my pussy.”

Troy kneeled on the bed behind Kay and aimed his cock at her pussy lips. “Uhhh-ahh!” she gasped as he parted them. “Yes. That’s what my body wants. That’s what my pussy wants. Push in there. Be a part of me. Be one with me.”

Troy pushed in, withdrew, pushed in, withdrew. Kay’s pussy was dripping. “This is what I was made for, Troy,” she panted. “All the fears, all the doubts, they just get in the way of this. This is what we were meant to be. This is what they want.” She thrust her buttocks against him faster. “Don’t hold back. Fuck me. Fuck me till you come.”

Troy gripped her hips and pounded into Kay’s pussy. Her monologue degenerated into incoherent, ecstatic moans. Her channel tightened around Troy’s furiously hard and erect member. The friction, the sounds, and maybe a pheromone or two caused the come to rise in his cock, to charge him for his orgasm. He held it for a few more thrusts, then let it flow deep inside Kay’s center. She detected his change in tempo and began to quake; her moans peaked, and she came with a scream that seemed to come not just from the deepest point inside her but from 10 million years in the past.

When he woke up in the morning, she was gone. She didn’t show up to their class, either. He thought he saw her once afterward on campus, in March, but he lost her in the crowd.

He did, however, receive a letter the following May:

Dear Troy,

I’m sorry I walked out on you the way I did. I knew in my heart that you couldn’t be happy with me unless I was dependent on you, and as much as I felt for you, I realized that the last obstacle to my happiness was the idea that I had to rely on someone else to live. I’m free of that now. You freed me, actually, our last night together. So for that, thank you.

I’m leaving Centerville, and I hope you’re not finding this out from me first, but I’m going with Justin Penn. He’s been accepted into the graduate history program at Princeton, and I’m transferring there to finish my degree in philosophy. He’s a good man, Troy. He has convictions, and he lives by them. I never have to ask myself whether I can trust him; I just know. You always seemed threatened by him, and I never understood why, but now I think I do: you thought he was trying to change you. Well, he was, and maybe he shouldn’t have tried, but please don’t hold that against him. I wish you could have seen the kind of man he is and learned to respect him. The two of you together probably could have transformed the world.

Speaking of respect, I still admire you for your confidence and your vision. I have no doubt that you’ll achieve everything you want to achieve. You’re made that way. You won’t ever let anything stand in your path. I hope the path you choose is one that leads you to make things better for other people. I still see the potential in you to be a hero, an inspiration, a selfless giant. Never worry about whether people respect you, and they will. Never worry whether you have enough, and you’ll always have enough. Never worry about showing your weakness, and you’ll always have strength to spare.

Someday, I hope, you’ll meet a woman who you can love without having to possess her. Remember, Troy, that all people are free and equal in dignity and rights. Remember that you can use your strength to give as well as to take. And remember, as I think you may have read once before somewhere, the brain is the most powerful sexual organ!

All my love,

Kay

Troy crushed the letter in his fist and sat, brooding, for the next hour. Then he placed it on the coffee table and smoothed it back out. He left it lying there as he walked into the bedroom and lay down on the bed. He opened the nightstand drawer and took out the VM-Stim, which he hadn’t held since Kay left it behind that night. He turned it over in his hands, examining it. He eyed the trash can in the corner of the room. Then he took the device, aimed it at his own face, and pressed the button.

His consciousness broke into a thousand shards of light.