The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Zombies sure are dull, Aunt Ruby.”

“Well, they’re not deep thinkers, that’s for sure! Hah! How did your date do, honey?”

Sarah sighed and looked around her aunt’s small trailer home. A peculiar mix of Middle America kitsch and Carribean voodoo paraphernalia filled every conceivable nook and cranny. On the wall next to her aunt’s head as she sat in her favorite recliner was a framed needlepoint banner proclaiming, “We’ll get along fine as long as you realize that I’m right!” The word “fine” was obscured by a dried chicken foot hanging from a corner of the frame.

Aunt Ruby herself, a weathered-looking black woman with dancing eyes, her long white hair swept up in a bun, sat knitting something that was destined to be either a pair of booties or a voodoo doll. Not knowing anyone nearby with a newborn or pregnant—though Aunt Ruby had ways of finding out these things that other people did not—Sarah was a little afraid to ask.

She sighed again. “It was OK, I guess. I gave him the potion, like you said, and after a while he got really quiet, and then he did whatever I told him to after that. It was just like you said, but it was... I don’t know. Not very exciting, after a while. I’d tell him to hold the door for me and he would and I’d tell him to follow me and he would and I’d tell him to kiss my feet and he would and I’d tell him to apologize for all the mean things he said to me and he’d say ‘I’m sorry for all the mean things I said to you’ but it was like there was nobody home, it wasn’t a real apology, it was just words.”

“Well, there was nobody home, child, he was a zombie.”

“But I wanted him to apologize! I wanted him to be sorry for what he said. But he wouldn’t... I mean, he would do anything I said, but it wasn’t him, it wasn’t real.

And then in school today he was real spacey... he hardly looked at me, I don’t think he remembered last night at all.”

“He shouldn’t remember it, but it sounds like he’ll recover soon enough. And just as well, if you’re bored with him already!”

“Well, I’m still mad at him for the things he said. But what’s the point of making him a zombie, if he won’t remember it? I can’t make him sorry like that!”

“Well, now... there’s ways and ways of making a man sorry. But a zombie’s only good for a couple of things, it’s true. But sometimes those can be plenty enough! Hah!”

“He didn’t seem to be much good for anything to me. Except drooling. And he does enough of that when he’s not a zombie.”

“Oh, now, didn’t you say this was a fine strapping young man? Captain of the football team? Strong shoulders, broad chest, legs like tree trunks, bottom chiseled from stone... I could find a use for a boy like that, honey!”

“Aunt Ruby!” Sarah chided, blushing and turning away.

“Shoot, girl, I thought that was what you wanted the potion for. Hah! I knew your mama wouldn’t approve, but I figured you were old enough to know your own mind. Besides, I knew you couldn’t get into too much trouble, since zombies never get too excited about anything. Ha, hah! Thought that was what you’d be coming to see me about next, I even set up a potion for it.” The older woman gestured to a sealed mason jar on an end table next to her. The jar was filled with a murky brown liquid.

Despite herself, Sarah was curious. “What does it do?”

“It makes a man excited, girl! There’s enough in here to make even a zombie stand to attention.” She gestured lewdly with a knitting needle in her lap.

Sarah blushed. “Oh.” But she still couldn’t take her eyes off the jar.

“But, you know, you’re right, being with a zombie’s not much different from spending the night with your own hand. Except he’s probably handsomer.”

“Aunt Ruby!”

“What? I’m just saying you’re smart about that. It’s no substitute for a boy who likes you. Still, if you’re really mad at the boy, it could be fun.”

“But he wouldn’t... he wouldn’t remember...” said Sarah slowly.

“Not a blessed thing,” said Aunt Ruby, winking.

Sarah stared at the jar some more.

“Hey, Steve,” Sarah called to the football team captain as he walked home after practice. Dusk was falling and she stood in the glow of a streetlamp that had just come on, her short body stretched out against the lamppole as if to borrow its slender height for her own.

“What?” he jumped, looking around. “Oh, it’s you, T—Sarah. What do you want?”

He usually called her “Trailer-trash.” Or “Slut.” Maybe he had learned something. He was eyeing her with more vague wariness than disdain.

“About our date,” Sarah began, then paused.

“Our what?” he stared at her.

“You remember—you and me, behind the mall?” That was where she’d gotten him to drink the potion, telling him it was a beer. She didn’t expect he’d remember taking her out to dinner, since that wasn’t part of his original plan for the evening, she was sure. Unless someone had seen them together and asked him about it.

“Oh, heh, right.” He tried to leer, but it came out halfhearted, as if he couldn’t quite remember how. “Tonight, right? At um...”

He didn’t remember meeting her at all? Stupid jock. But this would work out for her. “Eight o’clock,” she supplied. “I’ll be waiting.”

Sarah turned her back on him and walked away, trying to move slowly and mysteriously, and not scamper. Gotta get home and sneak Uncle John’s beer-bottling kit out of storage again, and bottle some more of the zombie potion, and that new potion from Aunt Ruby too, and sneak into Mom’s bedroom for some other supplies...

Her mother had another late shift, and wouldn’t be home ‘till after midnight. Maybe she could bring Steve home...

At 8:00, he arrived, and she was waiting.

“Hey,” she said, leaning against the wall, watching him walk up to her.

“Hey,” he said, sidling up slowly, looking her up and down and obviously trying to summon enough disdain to hide his nervousness.

Before she’d dressed sexy because it was what he’d expect, and she wanted to keep him from getting suspicious until he’d drunk his “beer.” She’d hooked him with some line about finding out if she was really the slut he always said, and he fell for it immediately—the asshole had a girlfriend, but he didn’t even think twice about cheating on her for an easy lay. Anyway Sarah figured as long as he was thinking he was about to get some, he wouldn’t be paying too much attention to what was in the bottle.

Tonight, she’d dressed even sexier because he was going to get some, and the thought made her giggle as she pawed through her mother’s wardrobe for clothes to borrow. If he wasn’t gonna be able to remember it, she’d make sure that was as much of a loss as possible.

So the legs his eyes were slowly travelling up were lovingly accented by a pair of garterless white lace stockings, and supported by Sarah’s best pair of short, black, high-heeled shoes. She leaned casually against the wall with one knee up, showing off a flash of bare thigh where the stockings ended just below the hem of a tight denim mini-skirt that almost failed to cover what was underneath. Above, Sarah wore a thin red spaghetti-strap top that bared her belly and her back and made it obvious what her nipples poking up through the soft cloth had already announced, she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Sarah let him stare for a moment, then knelt to the battered bookbag at her feet and pulled out the first bottle she’d prepared for him. Levering off the cap, she placed it in his hand, then grabbed her own bottle as she stood, holding his attention with her eyes. “Have a beer.”

“Uh, thanks.”

Smiling, mentally urging him to drink up, Sarah fumbled a bit with the cap on her own bottle while she kept her eyes on Steve.

He seemed at a loss. ‘Go on.” She took a swig from her bottle as soon as the cap came off. Steve followed suit. Perfect.

She took another sip, while Steve downed several healthy swallows as a welcome alternative to talking. Last time he’d gone through the bottle pretty quickly. “I’ll bet you chug whole kegs at your football parties, huh?”

He smiled, a little less nervously. “We polished off two kegs at the last party. People get pretty thirsty, dancing. And making out.”

Now he was staring again. She raised her bottle to her lips and he followed suit, downing another big swig. Almost done.

“Well, we’ve got enough for a little party here, just between us,” Sarah said, nodding to the backpack. She licked a drop from the mouth of her bottle, starting to really enjoy teasing him. “Let’s see...”

She knelt down next to the backpack again, as if to look inside and count the beer. She made sure to bend forward chest-first, feeling the tiny shirt slide down a bit on her nipples.

Steve was silent. Sarah turned her head sideways and peered up at him through her bangs. He was staring openmouthed at the exposed top of her chest. “Drink up, stud,” she reminded him, smiling.

He hastily brought the bottle to his lips again and noisily drained it dry.

“That’s better. See, there’s more where that came from.” She opened the bag to show the remaining bottles. “Oh, shit.”

“What’s wrong uh?” asked Steve. Already his speech was sounding slurred.

“Nothing. Here, you finish mine,” Sarah answered, quickly pressing her bottle into his hand. “I’ll get another.” She reached into the bag, and pulled out the only real beer she’d packed. The real beer she hadn’t just been drinking.

How much did I just drink? How much would it take to affect me? Will it even do anything to me? It’s not like I can get hard. Sarah’s mind raced.

Steve was quickly recovering the glassy stare she remembered from their previous date. So he’d definitely just drunk the zombie potion. Which meant the one he was finishing now—and the remaining bottle in her bag, there was that much of it—was the potion meant to... make his cock stick up straight and hard for her. Staring at the muscles rippling in Steve’s arm under the t-shirt as he raised his bottle, Sarah thought about what that would look like, feel like, growing between his legs...

She licked her lips. Maybe they’d better get home quickly.

“Chug that one, Steve,” she said, her voice catching oddly on the words. He obediently lifted the bottle high.

She zipped up her bag and pitched the empties into a dumpster. “Walk me home.” He could finish off the last bottle once they got there. Steve obediently followed after her.

Her heel caught on a crack in the asphalt, and she stumbled. “Dammit. Here, take my arm, you’re my date—help me out.” He reached to grab her arm. “No, hold your elbow out, offer it to me, like this.” She showed him, and he complied. “Now walk me home.”

Sarah slipped her arm through his and leaned on him for support. Through his very muscular arm. She ran her other hand along the length of his forearm, feeling the hairs tickle her fingers, feeling the hard bulge of muscle underneath. Was that what his cock would feel like? Warm and yielding, but firm underneath, long and thick and hard from working out...

No, he probably didn’t work out his cock. Sarah stifled a giggle.

“Left here,” she directed him, and he turned. Good boy.

What if he did work out his cock? Sarah snuggled in closer against his arm, breathing in the warm, slightly sweaty scent of his body and building the scene in her mind. He could do... cock lifts! She giggled again, imagining Steve grunting, hefting a weight tied on the end of his stiff rod, lifting it over and over with powerful thrusts of his hips, brow furrowed in concentration, sweat glistening off his naked thighs...

Hm, maybe she’d make him do that. She rubbed her cheek against the naked part of his upper arm. Wow, that felt good. She wondered how well zombies kiss...

“Steve. Steve, kiss me.” He stopped and turned to her, and she nearly climbed his body to get to his lips. His mouth was big and clumsy and wet, and she revelled in it. She licked the tops of his teeth, sucked on his upper lip, whispered “Pick me up,” and that was much better, now she could wrap her legs around his torso and lick (“Keep kissing me”), his kisses were awkward and passionless but just the feel of his lips against her face, his flesh under her tongue, his body squeezed between her thighs, was enough to make up...

Screw going home. “Take me over there, into the woods,” she pointed, directing him to an unused stand of trees by the roadside. It went back pretty far, a patch of land between housing developments, nobody would come by and they could lie down...

Leaning in close to his body as Steve negotiated the brambles, she felt her nipples brushing against his chest through their two shirts. She bounced up and down against him a bit, to keep the sensation going.

Steve’s head bounced off a low branch with a clunk, and he kept walking. I like ‘em big and stupid! Sarah thought. I like ‘em big and.. real dumb!

The woods opened out a bit. Better. And there was a big log. “Stop,” she told him, her lips brushing against his ear, “Sit down on that log.”

Clumsy wasn’t always a good thing—at least while he was still carrying her—“Ow! No, don’t bang my legs on—OW!” but with a bit of twisting she got situated in his lap with him seated on the fallen treetrunk. All hers.

“Here, take this off,” she ordered him, tugging his shirt out of his waistband impatiently. “Better. Oh... much better. Now take mine off.”

He did have a nice chest. Flat where she was curvy, but broad and strong... muscly, like his arms. She smelled sweat and hair and dirt and leaves. And smooth... but with a patch of little hairs in the middle, tiny thick curly hairs, like the ones between her legs, but smaller. They tickled against her palms as she touched him, felt him, prodded and grabbed. Licked. He tasted salty. Bit. Ha, she could leave him covered in bites, and he wouldn’t even know how he’d gotten them. She could leave a hickey on his cock!

His cock...

He wasn’t very good with knots. “Here, I’ll take my shirt off, then, you just watch.” She reached around behind her back and untied the bow, started to slip the shirt off.

He was staring at her, blank, glassy-eyed. It was kinda creepy. “Don’t look at me like that!” He looked away.

“Um, pose for me, show me your muscles or something.” He stared at her. “You know, show off your biceps.”

He obligingly flexed his arm.

“That’s better. Now I say, ‘Ooh, baby, what big muscles you have. I love a guy with big muscles, it gets me all... excited. I just wanna throw my clothes off!’”

The shirt landed somewhere. She leaned forward and pressed her now-freed breasts against his naked chest, which felt so good, wow. Her chest slid against his, slick with sweat, his hairs rough against her nipples, just the idea of his flesh on hers seeming incredible. She licked his neck, bit his ear, wanted to crawl inside him. She felt some part of his belt hard between her legs, and wanted him there, now. “Oh, get these pants off. Wait, I’d better do it—no, don’t stand up!”

He paused in half-crouch, but she still tumbled off his lap, hands still clinging desperately to his fly. It unzipped the rest of the way under the pressure, and she could feel the lump underneath, through the soft cotton of his underwear. She pulled herself up, quickly unbuckled his belt, and slid his jeans down a bit.

There. A big lump beneath the fabric of his boxers. She slid a hand under the waistband to feel it.

Squishy things. Sexy squishy things. Sexy, (squeeze) hairy squishy things. She wasn’t quite sure what she was feeling, but there was certainly no “rock-hard throbbing manhood” in there. Well—she squeezed again—maybe it throbbed. Hard to tell. But if this was a “woody” it was a real disappointment.

She wondered what it would be like to give him a blowjob. To put... whatever that was down there against her lips, maybe feel it stiffen and grow inside her mouth... but it wouldn’t, of course, he was a zombie and couldn’t get excited without help.

Time for the other potion. She pulled her hand out, crawled over to her discarded backpack and ripped it open, retrieving the last full bottle. She tossed it to him. It hit his belly and fell to the ground, while he stared dumbly at her. Damn.

“Pick it up, stupid!”

He bent to do so.

“Open it up and drink it, chug it all. Hurry!” She crawled back to his feet while he chugged, and pulled his underwear and jeans halfway down his thighs, exposing all of his equipment and a tight, firm ass.

She stared at the squishy things. He smelled even more strongly of sweat now; it made her feel earthy, excited and sinful. His penis twitched. What a weird thing it was. Like a big, fat worm. But for her, it was all for her, it was stiffening now to get ready for her. “Ribbed, for her pleasure?” she giggled. She didn’t see any ribs. But she wrapped her hand around it.

So soft. Starting to firm up in her hand, but the skin was so soft, so strange. She touched the head of it to her cheek, rubbed it gently against her face. It was weirdly exciting, intimate. This was a part of a boy you never saw, and here was his, just for her. She brushed her lips against the side of it, licked it. Salty. She licked it again. Like sweat. She put her whole mouth over it, closing her lips a ways down the shaft and gently reaching up with her tongue, inside her mouth, to touch it. It was still growing, stiffening, getting hard and ready to be...

Oh God. Inside her. Now. Oh, yes.

She slid her mouth off his cock, slurping it a bit like a lollypop—it seemed like the thing to do—and started tugging on her mini-skirt, trying to slide it up around her hips. “Lie down!” she ordered him.

He lay down in the underbrush. Good enough. His cock was pointing up along his belly now. Why didn’t it stick straight up? She’d always imagined it would. She clambered onto his chest, slipped—Oh GOD! that lump was his cock against her pussy, right there, that’s where she wanted it, she lifted herself up a bit to reach around and fumble with his bits. There, she grabbed it, it was plenty stiff and hard now, much better, slippery from her spit and her pussy. There. She lowered herself, slowly taking his shaft inside her. Wow, weird, but... inside her, yes! She stopped. It was stuck. She pushed harder... ow. OW!

Tears welled up in her eyes. She wanted this so badly and didn’t know how to make it work. She bounced at little. That felt pretty good... but OW! So strange, and...

Ow? Oh, fuck it, he was all the way inside her now and she was bouncing, riding, fucking him as he lay there.

“Fuck it. Fuck you. Ooh, I’m fucking you, you jerk and you don’t even know I am so—ohhhh... so... ohhhhhh... HOT! Ahh!”

She clenched. Every muscle. Threw back her head and—“AHH!"—but no more sound came out, she was too busy coming to yell.

Coming down, relaxing, took a few minutes. She stayed on top of him and enjoyed the feeling of his hard cock still filling her. Aunt Ruby had told her zombies couldn’t get her pregnant—something in the potion killed the sperm—and damned if she was going to let him come anyway, but it was just as well, she might not have stopped to care. Wow.

So that’s what zombies were good for.