The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Please cum,” read the small blue card that I received in the mail that morning, “to Trish’s semi-annual lingerie and sex party. Beer, cheezies and atmosphere supplied. Friday, April 21st, 11:00 p.m.” This was printed in old-typewriter font overtop a photo of a wholesome, apron-wearing, hugely-smiling June Cleaver 1950’s type woman. Classic Trish. “Hey, Monique,” Trish had written in her swoopy handwriting beneath, “life of the party, you’d better be there with some hotties for moi.”

I grinned mischievously, standing outside my house by the mailbox in my kimono and Grandma-knitted slippers. I had been waiting for this.

Before I go any further, I think I have some explaining to do. See, I have this strange, well, talent I guess you could call it. I can’t draw or sing or anything, so everyone’s got to have some sort of ability, I suppose. I first noticed it when I was over at my friend Sara Leman’s house, in grade two. We were sitting on Sara’s bed (on her new ‘Jem and the Holograms’ bedspread, which I coveted), and I was just petting her cat, Joey, and talking to him softly. After I stopped he just lay there, his purring slowed down like a worn-out tape, his tongue hanging out one side of his mouth, looking kind of tripped-out. Sara totally freaked out and started screaming, “Joey! Joey!” He didn’t come to until I whisper-shouted “Joey!” into his little kitty ear.

Just to see if it was a one-time thing, I tried it out on my hamster, Cindy, when I got home. She was busy running wildly in her exercise wheel, and I started talking very deeply and slowly to her—“you are getting sleepy,” that sort of thing, whatever I had heard on Saturday morning cartoons. She began to run slower and slower, until she stopped and clunked her tiny hamster chin over the side of the wheel, her nose still twitching madly. I left her there for a second, then said sharply: “Cindy!” She opened her eyes, paused for a second, and resumed running as though nothing ever happened. These little experiments went on for a while: the chickens at my aunt’s house, the horses near my house, the neighbour’s dogs. Same result, every time.

Soon I attempted people. One Sunday afternoon my brother Sam was asleep in a lawn chair on the front porch, an Incredible Hulk comic open on his chest. In my now almost-perfected deep, well-modulated trance voice, I said: “You will pick your nose and eat it, and you will love every minute of it.” Not too sophisticated, but I was an eight-year-old tomboy, give me a break. I tapped his knee lightly, and immediately Sam semi-opened his eyes and jammed his index finger into his nose with great aplomb, digging out sizeable boogers and lavishly licking them off his hand, making small “yum” and “umm” sounds all the while. I was rolling around on the floor when my Mum came out to tell us our Zoodles were ready.

“Oh my God, Sam! Sam?” No response from Sam, who was fully focused on the snot at hand. My mother noticed the stoned look on his eleven-year-old face. “Monique, sweetie, what’s the matter with Sam?” Mum ran inside to get my father while, I, meanwhile, snapped old Sammy-boy out of it. He sat there, staring horrified at his gooey hand. I never told my Mum what happened and Sam was shuffled off to Dr. Horowitz, Freudian psychologist and my father’s golfing buddy, the very next day.

As I got older I naturally began to use my powers in kinkier and far more exciting ways, especially during puberty. But enough of that. A prom night mass-hypnotism involving seventeen penises and a jar of Cheeze Whiz aside, the story to follow is my most stellar moment yet. So read on, cowpokes.

My arm jewelry for Trish’s sex party that evening were my two toys de jour: Carl, a tall, slim, black-haired straight boy that I picked up at a gay bar, and Lyssa, a Rubenesque goddess-type that I had met at a sex toy party last month. I had taken their costumes into my own hands that night and dressed them both as 1920’s French whores, complete with ripped pink negligees, feather boas, fake beauty marks, and seamed pantyhose. They looked ravishing. I, on the other hand, had vetoed my original Mae West dress in favour of my classic Catholic schoolgirl costume (kinda cliched, I know, but I like it), my long brown hair in braids ending in plaid-ribboned bows to match my short plaid skirt.

The party started out pretty typically. About thirty people were there in all, a few more girls than boys. I slopped a huge one on Trish when we first walked in, and over her shoulder I noticed a string of Christmas lights around the window, each light encased in a small pink plastic penis, kind of like those red chili pepper light covers. Then I made out with this guy Jason, the quarterback from my high school football team who always ignored me back then but now seemed to think I was okay, in the bathtub for a while. Trish’s bathtub is so great: it’s one of those old ones with the claws.

When everyone was out in the living room again, massaging each other and laying around in various stages of undress, I decided it was time to make my move. After browsing Trish’s record collection for a few minutes, I put on the Beach Boys’ “Pet Sounds” LP (quite appropriate for the activities to follow, I thought). I stood up, feeling very tall and imposing, now wearing only my crotchless red panties, my white knee socks, and my shoes.

“Okay, everyone,” I said authoritatively, “let’s try something entirely new.” In my mind I was rubbing my hands together diabolically but also excitedly, like a little kid waiting for an ice cream cone. And this was gonna be my best ice cream cone ever, baby. “I’ll need some volunteers to start out.”

Carl, Lyssa, Jason, this gorgeous girl Adrienne and Ivy and Kate, two other cute girls that I didn’t know all scooted forward on their bottoms and looked up at me expectantly. My powers only work when I’m talking to my ‘victims’ directly (not if someone’s just listening in on what I’m saying), so I got down on my haunches and looked at each of them with my big blue eyes.

My sexy, low hypno-voice began. “In a few short moments you will feel like a pack of wolves. It is the full moon, you will notice” I gestured to the window, “and the females are in heat. You’re also all very hungry. It’s a restless night in the cave for you all. Jason, you are the leader of the pack, and Adrienne, you’re his bitch.”

I heard a few snickers from the couch, but I ignored them. My pack of wolves were already getting that tell-tale half-closed eyes, perma-smile look on their faces.

“When I snap my fingers,” I continued, “you will start prowling around. Go about your wolfy business. God, you’re all so hot for each other on this full moon night.” With that, I snapped my fingers.

My darling little pack did just as they were told. Jason and Carl sniffed each other’s butts, sussing each other out, while Adrienne arched her back and shoved her ass insistently into Jason’s ‘snout.’ Ivy and Kate were rubbing themselves up against Carl’s torso, while Jason scampered over to Trish’s boyfriend and started humping his leg, throwing back his head and baying all the while. Adrienne made some little cooing noises and they all ran to her, ripping off her bra puppy-like with their teeth and all fighting for a chance to suckle at her large breasts.

Needless to say, the entire room (besides my wolves, of course), was dying with laughter. One girl in the corner was laughing so hard she couldn’t even make noise, just pointing in comical horror. I was still standing there, overseeing the events, feeling a strange mixture of amusement and extreme hornyness.

Fuck, this was too cool. I had to get more people involved.

“Time to eat,” I said. I ran to Trish’s fridge, threw open the deli drawer (thank goodness she’s not a vegetarian), and grabbed a package of raw beef chunks. Perfect. I ripped it open, blood pouring onto the tiled floor as I ran back to the living room.

“Treats for my wolf friends,” I said, waving the meat in front of their faces. I walked around the circle of non-enchanted people, saying, “Dinner time, wolfies, dinner time.”

They all ran to me, jumping up and swiping at it as I held the savoury meat up high.

“NO!!” I yelled, and they sat down sheepishly, mewling away. I threw one piece down at Lyssa’s feet (paws?), but as she dove for it I stepped on it firmly with the heel of my patent-leather Mary Jane, just grazing the tip of her finger. She jumped away, yiping and ki-yiing, Kate licking her face to comfort her. Jason pounced on the meat, every large muscle in his quarterback body flexed, hackles raised, bloody meat hanging out of his mouth. The sight of this was almost too much to bear. I rubbed my vadge-lips, enjoying the feel of the beef blood there.

While the pack was fighting over the other four pieces of meat that I threw down for them, I walked around the circle again, enticing more potential wolves.

Soon I had nearly everyone prowling around on all fours, many making little barking and baying sounds. It was quite a sight to behold, this erotic wonder that I had created: bathed in the silver rays of the moon and the rosy pink hue of the penis lights, the innocent choirboy voices of the Beach Boys cooing in the background, at my feet was a veritable gaggle of horny wolves. I covered my mouth in amused, unbelieving amazement as what I had just done sunk in.

Trish was being fucked madly, doggy-style of course, by a strapping young black boy, while Jason was clambering onto the boy’s back, trying to get in on the action. A bunch of girls in the corner were having their nipples playfully nipped and bitten at by two boys, and Ivy and Kate were playing tug-of-war with a striped sock in the middle of it all. Soon everyone was just screwing, and grunting, and sounding and looking entirely non-human. I couldn’t take my eyes off Adrienne. She was true wolf, with the piercing ice-blue eyes and the den mother walk, her perfect white plump ass pointing straight up to the ceiling every time she so luxuriously stretched.

Watching all of this was fun, but I wanted to join in, too. I got down on all fours, and looked into this sea of half-crazed, half-blissed animal eyes. The events are a bit hazy, but I think that by making eye contact with so many people that I had hypnotized, some of it came back to me. I felt a bit wonderfully woozy. One of the last things I remember was laying on the floor, some guy licking me, me lapping at some other guy’s dick, closing my eyes to the deliciously blinding rays of the giant white magical moon, streaming in through Trish’s apartment window.