The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I’m not like you. Let’s get that clear right from the start.

I always had a good life, and then it got much better, and finally it got even better than that. If you think I’m telling you this out of some misguided sense of guilt, you’re wrong. I’m not looking for your sympathy. What I want is your envy. I want you to know just how good I have it, and I want you to wish you were me. Don’t worry: you will. I’ll make sure of that.

To start with, I was an only child. Hey, once my parents had me, why would they even want to try again? Instead of spreading the love around and thinning it out, they made sure I got all the attention and affection I needed. There isn’t anything they wouldn’t do for me. I tell you, my folks totally adore me and they think the sun shines out of my ass.

Big deal, you say, lots of parents have exaggerated opinions of their kids. That’s true...and I think it must be some kind of evolutionary survival mechanism. The human race wouldn’t have lasted this long without something to keep parents from smothering their pathetic little wretches in the crib.

But it was exactly the same for me at my old school. Go ahead, visit there and ask around. My teachers wil tell you I was the finest specimen of young manhood ever to grace their noisy hallways. More than a few of them had crushes on me...and not just the female ones either. Even the principal treated me like I was his favorite nephew: the guy’s face lit up whenever I sauntered into his office to ask some favor or another. Usually the favor involved getting one of the older girls time off from her classes so she could “tutor” me. Never any problem with that, of course. The faculty knew I was a gifted student and they were more than happy to see me realize my full potential, broaden my horizons, what have you...and there was never any shortage of volunteers among the student bodies to spend a bit more time with the fair haired boy. When I lost interest in one, they also did immediately afterward, and it was on to the next. How could life get any better, you ask?

The problem was that before long, I was feeling like the candy factory worker encouraged to eat free samples. My fellow students just weren’t doing it for me anymore. It got so bad I even thought I might be sick of girls, and tried being special chums with some of the guys instead. Went right for the best looking guys on the football team, of course, and some of those jocks were deeply confused and troubled by their feelings for me...but actually, I think a couple of them found out they weren’t as interested in cheerleaders as they were supposed to be. Didn’t do anything for me, though, and I realized it wasn’t my tastes that were in question.

If there had been a few more attractive teachers...but I guess the hot chicks weren’t getting education degrees. So by the time I was seventeen, I wasn’t spending any time at all in the classroom. Of course it didn’t affect my grades, and the faculty was more than happy to allow me plenty of free time to pursue extracurricular activities. Which was spent with a number of lonely housewives who didn’t require much encouragement to give me the benefit of their life experience.

Maybe I got sloppy. In fact, I know I did. That was how I ended up with two angry husbands and a buddy of theirs intent on reshaping my skull.

There I am, minding my own business, eating a deluxe burger with fries at Ye Olde Style Grill—not its real name, of course—when Larry, Moe, and Curly show up. Not their real names, of course.

Larry was an appliance delivery driver, Moe was an installer for the same company...and from what I could make out of their inarticulate caveman gruntings, both of their hot little trailer-trash wives had enjoyed the pleasure of my company. Curly just made me laugh: apparently he was a coworker of theirs who had no personal quarrel with me, but had come along simply for the pleasure of cracking someone’s head open.

I didn’t feel like adding these Neanderthals to my fan club. I never needed big goons...and if I did, I’d want something a bit cooler looking, like a rap star’s entourage. So when they dragged their knuckles off the floor and Larry started shouting for me to step outside and get what was coming to me, I did something else.

All of a sudden, Moe got fed up with Larry always speaking for both of them, and told him so. That really pissed Larry off, and he told Moe to shut up. Moe said “You’ve been asking for someone to take you down a peg for a long time,” and took a swing at Larry. Curly, meanwhile, suddenly had a very bad case of the frights. He went to the farthest corner of the room and started whining, “C’mon guys, stop it, please stop it!” The slightest hint of violence suddenly made him want to wet himself, and Larry and Moe were well on their way to more than a hint of grievous bodily mayhem. I settled back to watch the fun.

That’s when things got interesting. Suddenly, another big guy burst into the diner. The place had been empty just a few minutes before: I like eating alone, and all the other customers in Ye Old Style Rat House had decided they wanted to leave just after I got there. Now, with me and these four big guys, it was practically crowded again. The newcomer was six foot whatever and looked like a bodybuilder, with perfectly sculpted muscles. Hey, I might not swing that way, but I have a refined aesthetic sense. He had hair so black the highlights were almost blue, and it was slicked back and shiny. He moved purposefully towards Larry and Moe, a lot quicker than you expect a guy that large to move.

“Please, my friends, stop making a scene, won’t you?” His voice was very polite, and he spoke with slightly too precise textbook English. I thought there was a hint of a foreign accent.

Larry and Moe didn’t pay any attention to him. At this point they loathed one another utterly and were simultaneously trying to strangle each with bare hands. I really wanted to see how that would work out. I mean, they couldn’t actually both kill each other, could they? One would start to pass out first, loosen his grip, and the other would win. It should be a competitive sport.

And then, the body builder started to shimmer, just like there was heat radiating off of him, and the next thing I knew, he was all shiny. Like he was wearing a suit of perfectly form-fitting armor. Like he was covered in chrome plating head to toe. Like he was a walking metal statue. Effortlessly, he pushed them apart, and held each of them at arm’s length with a single chrome-plated hand.

Well, said I to myself, this is different.

And then I said something else to myself. I said, “Victor, don’t you think it’s time for these gentlemen to calm down?” Except that I didn’t say it. It popped into my head like I was thinking it, but the words were in someone else’s voice. And he was thinking inside my head. It was the absolute scariest thing which has ever happened in my entire life.

I whirled around and, yes, there was someone else in the diner. An old man in a wheelchair. And he said, so calmly that ice cream wouldn’t melt in his mouth, “Victor, if you will?” Yup, same voice. And I’d never seen him before...and I definitely hadn’t given him my name.

Okay, fine, sure. Whatever this was about, it was bound to be more interesting than watching the cavemen cause their own extinction. In the next moment, Larry and Moe and Curly were all as peaceful as lambs. “Why don’t you fellows step outside for a breath of fresh air?” I asked agreeably. They agreed and filed out meekly.

I turned back to face the old guy again. He said, “Their minds were clouded, Victor, doubtless by your own influence on them. I could see that they came here intent on harming you because of your special ability. You acted to defend yourself, using that same ability. But you could have lessened their anger instead, and left without causing harm to anyone. Why did you choose the opposite tactic?” Apparently the cripple didn’t believe in idle chitchat.

“I was angry,” I replied.

He took it like he’d just tasted something sour. I could see the expression came to him naturally. “Victor, those of us who are born with special gifts not possessed by the majority often encounter fear and mistrust. But we ourselves must...” And it went on like that for the next ten minutes. I don’t know how I stayed awake. Except there was a walking giant bowling trophy and an old crippled guy who could read my mind standing right in front of me; I suppose that piqued my interest a bit.

To boil it down, the old guy in the wheelchair was the headmaster of a private school, an academy where people with special powers like mine learned to master them and get along in life. Well, you know me, I’m all about getting along in life. I said yes on the spot.

Two days later we had arrived at the school, and in his private study, the headmaster laid down the law as it applied to me.

“Victor, my conversation with your parents was most enlightening...and most troubling as well. You may not realize it, but you’ve had this ability to control the moods and emotions of those around you since infancy. If you’ve acted irresponsibly, and I fear you have, I’m inclined to forgive it on the grounds that you’ve never been required to curb your impulses for immediate gratification. Emotionally, you have never progressed beyond the stage of an infant who gets whatever he wants.”

I was about to make him grovel and apologize for talking such trash about me...but then I stopped myself. He was right. Besides, what if it didn’t work? He had already projected his thoughts into my mind. What if his brain had too much power and could resist me? What if he decided to teach me a lesson and put me out of operation? So I swallowed it all, put on my best humble face, and said, “What can I do, sir?”

Either he’d been reading my mind or hadn’t needed to, because I got the feeling he’d been braced for an attack. Now he relaxed. “Victor, I don’t believe you’re malicious, merely consumed by adolescent impulses. Your training will require the participation of my entire staff, and unfortunately not all of them are present at the moment. There is a great deal going on which requires my attention. For the next few days, I would like you to settle in here, and I will summon you again when the time has come to proceed.”

“Okay, sir,” I said mildly.

“And Victor,” he was saying inside my mind, “you must promise without reservation not to use your powers on your fellow students, your teachers here, or anyone else—gifted or otherwise—unless it is under our guidance and instruction. Your previous behavior will not be tolerated.”

“I understand,” I said, completely truthfully.

“Do you give me your word?”

“Yes sir,” I said, slightly less truthfully.

He spoke with his voice again. Or maybe not just with his voice, because there was no one else in the room, but he talked as if there were. “You may come in now.”

The door opened, and in walked a goddess. She was easily the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. A tall brown-skinned woman with an amazing figure of the sort you’ve only ever seen in centerfolds, exotically tilted eyes, full lips, crowned with a snowy cascade of hair. She made Tyra Banks look like a bag lady. All of a sudden, my new school was looking incredibly interesting.

The headmaster introduced us, but I didn’t get a lot of it. Then the goddess was saying, “Pleased to meet you, Victor. Come with me and we’ll find you a place to sleep.” I could think of several clever retorts to each of these statements...but none of them came out. For once, I was speechless.

I wanted to make sure she liked me. I really, really wanted to make sure of that.