The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Same as always, Johnny carefully wiped down his own fiddle and bow before stowing them away. Only then did he bend down to pick up the gleaming golden gift the Devil had left behind.

He wasn’t surprised to find it warm to the touch; what did surprise him was how light it was: he’d expected it to weigh at least twenty pounds, but it actually felt only a tad heavier than his wooden one. Even the golden bow, with its shiny yellow hairs, sat comfortably in his hand, feeling much lighter than it ought.

He set about properly rosining it up—and almost dropped the block of rosin; the bow was throwing off little electric sparks! He quickly finished the job, and then nestled the magic fiddle between his shoulder and chin. It settled there as if it’d been built for him personally; heck, he decided, maybe it had. He used his middle finger to pluck the thickest golden string; a perfect G twanged, sending a tingle running through his body. He slowly drew the bow across the thinner A string; an impossibly rich and pure tone sounded, flowing both around and through him....

Before he’d even thought about it, he found himself playing a short tune. The golden bow danced easily across the spun-gold strings; his every idea was instantly transformed into music. And the music thrilled him; his body, his heart, seemed to be vibrating right along with it.

Vibrating, and pulsing. Johnny had been playing the fiddle since he was only six; there wasn’t much else for young’ns to do in the mountain towns of northern Georgia. He loved practicing—always had—but this was the first time that the sound of his own music had, ahem, affected him like that.

Affected him? Turned him on, pure and simple. His growing erection was tenting the front of his worn overalls, as his mind called up a picture of his girlfriend, Bobbie Sue. Long blonde hair, eyes the deep blue of a mountain lake in the summertime, and full bouncy breasts under her heavy cotton farm shirts: a true Georgia peach in every sense of the word. They’d pretty much grown up together; her pa had used to work for his, and their mommas still played bridge together nearly every Tuesday afternoon.

Two years ago, when they’d both hit high school, things had started getting serious. And now, at 17, all Johnny wanted was to become a bit wiser in the ways of the world. Nothing too serious, mind you; they were both Promise Keepers, sworn to stay virgins till marriage. But so far, Bobbie Sue still wouldn’t permit much more than some heavy kissing, and light petting.

That didn’t stop his imagination, however. As he played, he pictured pretty little Bobbie Sue in front of him, smiling right at him in all her ripe and innocent glory. Almost on its own, the music went from light and flirty to slow and hungry, as he thought about what it might be like if she were to show up right about now, and start to dance to the music from his new toy. Dance, and maybe start to remove her clothes—which could lead to, well, other things....

Lost in his erotic daydream, Johnny didn’t notice the soft snap of dry twigs behind the woodshed. It wasn’t till he heard a soft feminine “ooh” behind him, that he discovered he had an audience.

He spun around, the strings jangling as the bow cut off in mid-tune. Behind him was none other than Bobbie Sue herself, standing demurely with her hands clasped behind her. She looked almost exactly the way he’d been picturing her: new jeans, worn boots, cotton shirt tied into a halter in the late summer sun. Her eyes were kind of dreamy, and she was smiling.

“That was so beautiful, Johnny. Could I please hear some more?”

“B-bobbie? What’re you doing here?” he stammered. It was almost unreal; he’d just spent most of the day staring down the Devil Himself; he had his shiny new toy to show for that. But let his girlfriend pop up while he’s thinking ungentlemanly thoughts—and about her, no less—and it throws him for a loop. Maybe he was just embarrassed that she was apt to see his big bulge, and rightly figure out where it was that his mind shouldn’t’ve been.

He needn’t have worried; as soon as she saw the golden fiddle, her eyes went wide. “Oh! It’s so lovely! Is that real gold? It cain’t be! Where’d y’all get it?”

“Someone up and gave it t’me.”

“That can’t be right. Ain’t nobody ‘round here’s got that kind’a money.” She put her face right up to it; for a moment Johnny was lost in her scent, soap and sweat mixed with a touch of perfume. His head swam.

“I bet y’all found it,” Bobbie Sue continued, acting like she wasn’t even aware of the effect she was having on his already raging sex drive. “But I don’t care. Jes’ play somethin’, Johnny. Anythin’. Please?”

He couldn’t resist the invitation, or those pleading blue eyes. At least, that’s what he told himself, as he tucked the fiddle back under his chin. Bobbie Sue took a step back, swaying slightly, keeping time with the soft melody.

Almost unnoticeably, the little ditty began to pick up speed. And as it did, a strange and wonderful thing started to happen. Bobbie Sue stopped swaying and began to dance.

At first, all she did was tap her feet, getting warmed up. Then, she started to turn and slide, like she was country line dancing. Her body kept perfect time to the music; it was as if she was anticipating the song—or, just maybe, like the song was leading her...!

If Johnny thought the day couldn’t get any weirder, he was dead wrong. As the melody kept speeding up, bit by bit, his girlfriend began running her hands over her face and chest, and plucking at the knot in her halter-tied shirt. He tried to stop, tried to tell her to stop; but the only thing the golden fiddle would let him do was keep playing, faster and faster.

Bobbie Sue’s face was flushed, and her breathing matched the pace of the violin. With a pull and a wriggle, she finally shook the halter’s knot free, showing off a daring amount of cleavage, the tan marks making it obvious where her bikini top should’ve been. Turning away from Johnny, she let the heavy plaid cotton slip down her arms and onto the grass, exposing her smooth and tanned bare back.

She rolled her hips at him, reminding him that there was still more to see. Then, laying each hand on its opposite shoulder, she spun around and danced at him, completely topless. Her demurely crossed arms were trying to hold back her more-than-ample bosom; it was obvious that they’d only be able to succeed for so long.

Once again, Johnny tried to fight the fiddle, either by opening his mouth or stopping the music; and again, all he could manage was to play even faster. That seemed to be the cue that Bobbie Sue had been waiting for; she finally dropped her arms, making his eyes go wide. Her globes were even prettier than he’d imagined: white, plump, and bouncy, capped with perfect pink tips about the size of half-dollars.

His erection, which had never really gone down anyway, was now jammed against the front of his denim overalls, demanding to be let loose. Only the thin cotton of his boxer shorts was protecting him from rubbing painfully up against the coarse fabric. But he couldn’t stop playing, not even just to drop them and relieve the strain; the golden fiddle wouldn’t even give him back his hands long enough for that.

His fingers were fairly flying now, producing the most amazingly arousing melody, as Bobbie Sue popped the buttons on the front of her jeans, one by one. With practiced grace, she untucked her jean cuffs, and slipped off her jeans right over her boots. Johnny stared, transfixed; his harsh panting could barely be heard over the captivating music. His girlfriend, who before today had barely let him touch her breasts—much less look at them—was standing before him nearly naked, save for a pair of cowhide boots and, and—

What in tarnation; was that a thong? And hellfire-red, no less! He hadn’t even known she owned any; he would’ve sworn that all she ever wore were good-girl cotton panties....

Distracted by her near-nakedness and his own surging hormones, he was lost ... and somehow, the fiddle knew it. It stepped up the pace yet again—and so did she. Dancing her way behind him, she reached over Johnny’s shoulder and popped the catch of his overalls; a second later, she did the same to the other side. The heavy denim outfit dropped to his waist, exposing his smooth muscles all the way down to the waistband of his boxer shorts. She gave it a few quick tugs of encouragement, and the overalls finally cleared his rigid pole, sliding down his legs and onto the soft grass.

Still behind him, Bobbie Sue grabbed his ass right through his boxers—and squeezed, making his erection jump and dance. Then, without warning, she yanked his shorts down hard, almost ripping them in the process. Without missing a beat, or a note, Johnny stepped out of the puddle of his clothes. The smaller part of his mind was still trying to fight the fiddle’s control; but the rest of him was completely unconcerned about being found out—even though he was now wearing less than his girlfriend.

Or maybe not. Because when Bobbie Sue spun back around so he could see her again, she’d somehow managed to slip out of her thong, exposing herself as a natural blonde. As if that’d been some sort of signal, Johnny found the music slowing itself back down. This time, the melody was slow and sensuous, using only the deeper G and D strings, and lots of what his music teacher had called ‘vibrato.’

In fact, Johnny noticed that every time he rocked his fingers, it seemed to cause a reaction deep within Bobbie Sue; it was like she was feeling the vibrations as well. As soon as he figured that out, he pretty much started playing every note that way. And Bobbie Sue responded immediately, her upper chest flushing deep red and her nipples popping straight out, having turned a noticeably darker shade of pink.

This time, the music didn’t speed up; it didn’t need to. Instead, Johnny found himself making longer and slower strokes, sometimes pressing hard, sometimes barely touching the golden strings. He imagined that the bow was a magic arm, rubbing itself all over the instrument of Bobbie Sue’s exposed and willing body.

Her gasps came harder, mixed with grunts and soft moans. She was as helpless as he was, now; all of his will was directed to bringing her up to the top, and down the other side. He tried bouncing the bow off the strings with a light touch; she groaned. He began plucking at the strings, pizzicato; her moans became louder. And when he vibrated the bow itself, she arched backward, her fingers clamping onto her own nipples as she shrieked; he could actually see her spasms, her own juices matted against her thick yellow pubic hair.

Her climax ended with a happy sigh, and she threw herself to her knees, scrabbling eagerly forward to engulf his rampant manhood. As soon as her lips met his shaft, his hands began an equally happy tune, even while he released a long sigh of relief; his erection had been standing straight out, almost purple from being ignored.

But, over the rapidly building waves of pleasure, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder how and where Bobbie Sue would’ve learned how to swallow him like that. Not from him, of course; and certainly not from any other man. After all, they’d both been saving themselves.

Saving themselves....

While Bobbie Sue kept humming away, the obvious finally occurred to him: the damned golden fiddle really was damned! The Devil hadn’t given him a gift; He’d left him a temptation—one into which he’d stupidly gone and allowed himself to fall. And as long as he kept playing, it would lead him further down the garden path, away from heavenly redemption and straight into sin.

But what could he do? He couldn’t just stop making music; he’d already tried that, without any luck. There had to be another way. And he’d better figure it out soon, or else he and Bobbie Sue would soon be fornicating, and maybe even sodomizing, and then the Lord knows what else.

What else?

Lord.

The Lord knows....

Of course.

Inspiration struck him, like a bolt from the blue—and just as suddenly, Bobbie Sue plunged her lips down to the base of his shaft, sucking like a vacuum and flicking her tongue, while using one finger to gently rub that extra-sensitive spot right behind his scrotum. She seemed almost desperate; it was like she knew what he was fixing to do, and was trying to distract him before it was too late. But Johnny had figured it out—and even as his sap rose up, he was mustering all of his spiritual strength.

The moment his climax hit, he poured all of his will—not into stopping the music, but into turning it. He almost faltered; the sating of his lusts as his seed boiled over was a near-fatal distraction. But he had no choice; this was his one and only chance to save himself, and to save Bobbie Sue as well.

So he played.

“Amazing Grace.”

As soon as the second note came out, Bobbie Sue’s mouth flew off of his still-spurting member; covering her ears, she scrambled away, her face distorted with horror. “No! Stop it, Johnny! You cain’t!” But even as she said those words, his manhood stopped twitching, and playing the hymn became a lot easier.

For the first time since Johnny had taken up the Devil’s gift, he finally felt like he’d taken back the upper hand. Just like he knew for sure that it wasn’t really his girlfriend who was cowering on the ground before him—at least, not of her own free will. Old Scratch must’ve gotten to her somehow; he mentally kicked himself for not realizing it sooner. How could he have let himself become so addled with lust? The pure and chaste Bobbie Sue he knew and loved would never have acted the slut like this, nor been caught without proper unmentionables: a red hot thong and no bra, indeed!

No matter; however the agent of Satan had managed to trick its way inside his girlfriend, it sure as salvation wasn’t going to be there much longer. His faith renewed, he attacked the golden strings with gusto, watching them smoke and spark, as the Devil’s machine was made to sing the Lord’s pure music.

Standing up, the imposter within Bobbie Sue’s body cupped her hands beneath her breasts, lifting and presenting them to him, while spreading her legs and thrusting her hips forward to expose her womanliness in all its glorious nudity—all in one final frantic attempt to break his resolve before it was too late. “Y’all don’t know what yer doing, Johnny! Jes’ stop playing that song, afore it’s too late! I can be yers, just the way y’all’ve always wanted; please don’t send me away! Please! Stop it! Stop it nowwwwwwww...!”

And with that, Johnny found his singing voice. “I was blind; but now, I see!” Then he called out, “Get thee behind me, Satan!”—and watched, with satisfaction more than surprise, as a roiling cloud of smoke and soot rose upward from somewhere within Bobbie Sue’s naked body, for a moment blotting out even the sun; and leaving her unconscious and collapsed upon the ground, like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. Just as he started to gag from the stench of foul brimstone, the shade plummeted straight down into the ground, bone-chilling laughter echoing in its wake—presumably winging its way back to the deepest bowels of Hades.

And even while he hurriedly dressed himself, and then Bobbie Sue (restoring her modesty as best he could before she awoke—but without any undergarments; that red thong was nowhere to be found), Johnny made himself a solemn vow: to hide the golden fiddle away from greedy eyes, including his own; and to do right by his girlfriend, just as soon as he was able.

The King of Liars reclined on His obsidian throne, chuckling. A qualified success, He decided: when He couldn’t break the boy with Pride, He’d taken another approach. After all, young Johnny had rather foolishly invited him to “C’mon back,” had he not?

The man-child just hadn’t been expecting Him to return a scant half hour later, residing within the body of the girl-woman for whom he Lusted, hmm? Possessing her had taken mere moments, and no real effort: He’d simply appeared before her in the guise of an impossibly perfect woman, and usurped her will during that instant of black Envy.

But that is one of the risks you assume, He thought, if you are so foolish as to rub a fiddle of gold against your soul. You wind up with a dark spot, one that festers and grows if you just leave it be. If your faith is strong and your heart is pure, it may heal over, given time—though never without leaving a scar.

But the pure sweet music of that golden instrument would be hard to resist; He’d designed it that way. Someday—not soon, but someday, when young Johnny’s memories of the day’s tribulations have been allowed to mellow and fade—the boy might well succumb to Gluttony, and dare the golden fiddle once again. Or possibly another, too Slothful for honest work and seduced by base Greed, could be tempted to seize it for himself; perhaps even being driven by Wrath to kill....

In the end, and no matter how long it might take, He would have garnered yet another soul—of this He was confident. And well should He know; after all, temptation was His specialty.