The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“So . . . one bed huh?” I said, flatly.

The two of us just looked at it, hoping the problem would go away or a solution would assert itself. My new roommate Rose had already unpacked, set up her computer, her desk, and filled her small cubby of a closet with neatly hung clothes. There was just one mattress in the room, twin sized, and smooshed up against the wall corner.

“It’s got to be a mistake.” Rose replied, both of us dismayed. She had already made the bed with her sheets, wrapped up a comforter beneath them, and what looked like a homemade blanket spread over it.

It was move-in day and so far everything was still a little chaotic. First there was our appointment window. All new students were given a time when we were supposed to arrive and unload everything. Parking permits were valid only for ten minutes at a time and already there was a line of impatient cars ready to replace us. Mom and Dad hurried to unpack the car and just get all my possessions inside the building. We said our tearful goodbyes in a rush.

“I’m Anne.” I dropped a sleeping bag and a sack of laundry on the floor, went to shake my new roommates hand and say hi. I say ‘new’ roommate but really she was my first. I’d never lived away from home before. Everything about college was fresh and exciting.

“Hey, I’m Rose.” She said, shaking my hand quickly. “Sorry it’s so messy in here.”

I looked around. The room was basically spotless. Brand new. Not a scuff on the floor, a smudge on the walls, or a speck of dust on anything.

“Coulda fooled me.” I joked.

“Hah, yeah sorry. I guess I’m a bit tidy . . .”

We exchanged a few more words. ‘Where’s the bathroom? Is this your crockpot? Omg I love your posters!’ Everything had a slight tilt of forced gaiety. Things I spotted that I liked of Rose’s were awesome and worthy of mentioning. Things I did not, like the way her bathroom cosmetics spilled over the whole countertop, were not remarked upon. Today was the ‘determinedly getting along’ phase of our journey as new roommates.

And so it went that the two of us collectively ignored the problem of our one bed until finally it became inescapable. Me filling the drawers of our shared wardrobe with pants and skirts and socks, setting up my desk on the other side of the internet router. Different powerstrips, her’s an apple mine a PC. Both of us ignoring the single bed.

“So should we call the RA?” I asked.

“Yeah probably.” Rose replied, a little less concerned than I was. Her pillows and her blankets all ready to go. There was no question where she was sleeping tonight.

“Do you have their number?”

“No, I’ll look it up.”

“Thanks.” I was already flipping through my phone, adding new contact numbers from orientation.

All things considered, bed situation aside, I was feeling pretty good! Rose seemed pretty chill. She had all these cool movie posters and her hair dyed with streaks of blue. She wore it cut like a boy too—spiky and short. She played good music loud, stuff I’d never heard of- but it made for a really nice soundtrack as I unloaded all my stuff.

The dorm was small. An on-campus apartment with a very cramped shared living space barely large enough for a folding table, an attached kitchenette, a short narrow corridor no wider than a crawlspace which connected the living room with the bedroom and the bathroom adjacent. In total the whole place was only slightly larger than my room back back home, but it shone with the light of freedom. Of independence. This would be the ground zero of my adult life and Anne couldn’t be happier.

Of course there was still the problem of the single bed, but that was an oversight.

“Oh I think I found it.” Called Rose from her computer. “Do you want me to call them?”

“No, just gimme the number.”

Rose began reading out the digits from the other room as I continued exploring. Flicking switches. That one was the garbage disposal. That one turned on the bulbs above the stove. This one operated the outlet by the door. We would have to remember to tape that one to the ‘ON’ position.

“You get all that?” Rose shouted again.

“Yeah.” I came back to the bedroom, just finishing off the contact info.

“So do you have any plans tonight?” Rose asked, not entirely innocently.

“I don’t know. I’m hoping this can be solved pretty quickly.” I dialed the number. It rang. “Worst case scenario I’ll just sleep on the couch I guess.” Rose just nodded.

CLICK “Hello?” Came a voice on the other end.

“Hi! My name’s Anne—”

“Please hold. We are experiencing a high volume of calls right now. If you are a new student and would like to speak to . . .” The robotic voice began guiding me through what was beginning to sound like a many branching call tree.

“Cool background.” I said motioning with my nose towards her screen.

“Oh thanks. It’s from Paths of Glory.” It was a black n’ white close up of a man’s face with as expression that read, ‘can you believe this shit?’ which was exactly how I was feeling as I methodically pressed 1 for english and 2 for new students and then 1 again for student housing . . .

“Guess I’ll call later . . .” I hung up after the second time being put on hold, unsure I had pressed the right button somewhere down the line. I tried the switch next to my desk, it turned out to be the lamp.

“So what are you into?” Rose asked, noticing my own background was still the factory default.

“Oh you know . . .” I tried to think of something cool. Something calculated to impress. The most saleable thing about me. I tried another switch while thinking, this one turned on just a single pink bulb in the corner of the room.

“Girls.”

“What?” Rose said, a little surprised.

“I mean—” GIRLS? What the fuck was wrong with me?! “I mean that- I umm—”

What was I thinking????? Girls. What the fuck even is that. Girls. Oh yeah, what am I about? Let’s see uhhhh girls. Yeah that’s right I’m into girls. What the actual fuck Anne.

“I mean—” I was having a bit of an out of body experience. I could feel myself stammering. I could hear myself, like a distant observer, processing just how silly and awkward I was being. Oh yeah, I really like girls. I’m all about girls. Girly things. Dresses, bras, you know girls?

I shook my head to clear it. I blinked my eyes, it was like there was sand in them.

Rose was looking at me like I was fucking crazy. A worried expression on her face and both hands tucked between her thighs. Nervously rubbing them together.

“Sorry, I mean- I don’t like girls bleh! I don’t- I don’t know why . . .” Why had I said girls? It didn’t make any sense. “I’m not gay. I’m not a lesbian—”

It suddenly occurred to me that Rose had a tongue ring. I could see two tenacious little bumps on her chest heaving up and down with every breath. That her punky hair, dark clothes, and belly button piercing might have some extra meaning.

“Ha . . . okay . . .” Rose was looking at me very strangely.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that . . . It’s just that I- I meant to say . . .” But what had I meant to say? I was talking about? Everything was telling Anne to just cut her losses and leave. Just walk slowly out of the room and do something else. Anything else. She’d already made enough of a fool of herself.

“It’s just that I . . .” It was like someone had turned up the thermostat a hundred degrees. Anne’s throat was dry. Her clothes were sticky. She would have killed for a glass of water. The pink bulb flared like it were drawing all the energy from the room.

Anne hadn’t noticed it before, but Rose had really lovely skin. Flawlessly smooth luminescent skin and a slim, boyish, androgynous body. How the dark curvature of her shirt seemed to emphasize her boobs. As if they were supposed to be eye catching. Two tightly bound bundles of loveable squeezable boobies. How her whole body was thin and lithe and elegant. How cute it was when she bit her lower lip.

God what was wrong with me?! I’d never thought like that before. I’d never just ogled my friends.

“Are you feeling okay?” Rose asked, feeling a little dizzy herself.

“Yeah I’m- I’m gunna . . .” Anne backed away. In her mind’s eye she could see Rose peeling off of her top. She’d never felt that way about another girl before, not with any of her friends from home.

And they were pretty hot too. We used to hang out all the time in my friend’s hot tub and I’d never once thought about sidling up to one of them and pulling off their bra with my teeth. Never ever imagined them falling silent, placing their hands on my body, practicing kissing. Feeling each other’s boobs. Fingering eachother in a steamy soapy mess-

Rose hadn’t said anything in a while. She seemed half-drunk. Staring at her computer screen, hands in her lap.

“I’m going to . . . go—” It wasn’t clear if she were listening. Anne stumbled out of the room into the tiny hallway, making a B-line for the bathroom. Pink bulbs followed along the wall like christmas lights.

That hottub shit never happened! NEVER! I’d only once ever seen them naked. We never shaved our legs together in the shower or took pictures of each other naked. We never hung out in the living room trying out vibrators and eating pussy in a lusty haze, my friend’s mom occasionally wandering in, letting us suckle on her huge perfect breasts. I had no idea how to make them all cum with my mouth or knew what girl pussy tasted like. Couldn’t smell its tang in my nostrils, couldn’t stop thinking about how fun it was to make out with all your friends while you finger each other in a heap on the floor—our naked bodies gliding together. Feeling the heat of their wet thighs on my face.

I barely got on the toilet seat with my shorts around my ankles before my fingers hit their mark. Oh god I was so fucking wet. So mushy and soft and ready to go. My clit boiled between my fingers. I bit into my shirt to keep from screaming.

I tried to think of boys. To think about anything, anything at all that wasn’t slippery and feminine. Guys from school. The really tall cool boy with the handsome smile that sat next to me all last year in math class. He immediately traded his desk with the new girl, a ginger headed girl, with braces and freckles and shining blue eyes.

Who always needed help with her classwork and would scoot her desk closer to mine until they were practically touching. How we would laugh about everything together. How under the tree at lunch we kissed for the first time and she confessed to me she had never masturbated before so I was the aggressor. I was the one showing her the moves. Slipping my hand down her pants. Feeling her wetness. Pulling her body close to mine, cadling her head in crotch as I came in her eager mouth again and again—screaming because she was so fucking good and her tongue felt like fire!

Anne’s legs spasmed and kicked. She had never cum harder in her whole life. A mouthful of soggy shirt, sitting on the toilet, one leg braced against the shower door, the other kicking and twitching as the most stinging sweet orgasm of her life rushed through her like molten jolly ranchers. Like a flood of hot sugar water. Anne could scarcely breath. She was a bundle of live wires and sparking cables down there. Holding them together produced frightening new sensations.

The pink bathroom lamp twinkled above.

NO! NOOOO! It didn’t happen like that! Nothing happened like that! Anne fought against it.

The hot gym teacher caught us. Anne’s fingers redoubled their efforts. The caring, sensitive, muscle-bound 24 year old hunk found us naked, fucking. He was so fucking hot, and would always compliment me with his mature manly voice of his—and immediately had to go after taking us to see the principal.

Who was this stern, uncompromisingly beautiful woman rocking a badass corset and nothing else. She demanded to know everything we were doing. Made us show her on her desk how I pulled the silly little gingerslut by the hair up into my pussy and how she had taken her first tentative licks towards slurping at my clit like a thirsty dike.

Anne had never been fucked by a woman with a strapon before and what a magical frightening experience! How calm and confident the principal was with sexual techniques that made our heads spin and our hearts wild! Her fingers were delicate, piercing, carefully manicured pincers that knew exactly how to prod us into cumming, grasping each other in our arms, wailing as she drove us from one terrifying climax to the next-

“Urghhk—” Anne caught herself before she had just started screaming in real life. Fingering herself like crazy on the toilet maybe 10 feet away from her new roommate. A person she had met maybe an hour ago. Her super hot goth roommate with the tongue piercing and the awesome hair and the tight body that made Anne insane to cradle and explore.

Reluctantly she stood and pulled up her shorts. Yanked down her shirt. Looking at herself in the mirror there were clear bite marks where she had been suckling at the cloth. Anne still felt mushy and swollen, her panties turned to wet rags. Her whole crotch tingled like mad, like that feeling when your arm’s asleep—skin blistering with sensation. She managed to waddle back down the hallway to her room.

To her phone. She had to call somebody. Hello, 9-1-1? I think I really want to fuck girls now. Hello?

The dispatcher on the other end of the line no doubt seductively reapplying cherry red lipstick. Her high-heels kicked up onto the desk and a skin-tight little police miniskirt. A young woman on the line reporting extreme scary new feelings for other women! She’d have to send a whole platoon of her best female officers.

I burst into the room. “Rose!”

The door was ajar and something inside buzzed like a beehive.

Rose was hunched over in her computer chair. Eyes locked on the screen where two impossibly blonde bimbos were locked in a horny, moaning 69. She had her headphones on and her eyes were a bloodshot hazy pink—her hands furiously pushing a sizable growling dildo inside herself as fast as she could.

A puddle of translucent fluid pooled around her, splattering all over the plastic carpet protector. She hadn’t noticed me yet. She was so feverishly invested in grinding that massive, quivering dildo into her body. She cranked at it with her fist. Hammering herself silly, splashing the floor in gouts. Muttering ‘pussy’ over and over to herself as the sluts came on screen. Outrageous horny sluts that looked like trophy wives and school girls and drunk bitches on vacation enjoying each other.

“Rose—” She didn’t hear me. I wanted to give her some privacy, to go out and re-enter more loudly this time. Her intoxicating scent filled the room, like leather and candy. Crisp sweet wine and sweat. Spitting up girl cum on the floor and writhing in her big comfy computer chair like a mental patient. Sexy lesbian whores moaning in her ears.

“Rose!” I repeated.

“FUCK! Jesus christ, don’t you knock?” She tried to pull up her pants but her hands were shaking. Her panties slung limply around her ankles, soaked and ruined. She had ripped off the headphones so quickly the plug came out and the whole room echoed with the sound of excited horny girls making each other cum.

For a moment we just looked one another, not really knowing what to say or do. The pink light glowing faintly.

“I was just—” Rose began, but there was no finishing that sentence. There was no plausible alternative having walked in on her masturbating in a frenzy, the quivering dildo still rumbling on the ground next to her. Her hands slick with juices. Her pussy a frothy mess. Anne fought the sudden overwhelming urge to clean it with her tongue, pulled in by a totally new form of gravity.

How had I not noticed how pretty she looked? Her lip gloss was bold and stylish and as she sat there, breathing heavily, pussy still dripping, nipping at her lower lip with her teeth—she was the most beautiful creature Anne had ever seen.

Rose swiveled her chair around, covering herself with her hand but unable to stop herself from touching there. And maybe there. Her pussy raging, scrubbing at her clit did nothing to sooth it. Across the room Anne was still just standing there in the doorway like a deer frozen in the headlights. Her eyes pleading with her to continue.

Rose had thought her new roommate was bookish and plain. A beefy, muscular country girl that looked like she played rugby—but standing in the doorway, cheeks burning red, her hair frizzy and distressed, her hard pointed nipples tenting her shirt—there was something crazy erotic about her. Where Rose’s stomach was flat and skinny, Anne’s was racked with thinly defined abdominals. She was taller than me. Probably had spent some time in her past lifting hay bales.

Rose wanted to know what it was like to lay beneath her. To have Anne’s thick full breasts arched above her where she could reach up and suckle them one at a time. She loved the meaty drumsticks of Anne’s legs. Loved the way she heard her squeak through the walls.

“I think we should . . .” Rose got up. She was panting, still blinking tears or sweat out of her eyes. She took a few unsteady steps forward, feeling drunk. Underwater.

“Do something . . .” I’d never kissed a girl before but it was everything I’d ever dreamed and more. Rose’s lips found mine. I found hers. My hands wanted to touch every part of her at once. Wanted to grip her ass, trace the lines of her back, work the clasp of her bra. I wanted to feel her hair, kiss her neck, rip those stupid panties right off her body and suck her clit until she screamed my name.

She’s so small! Thought Anne.

She’s so BIG! Thought Rose.

We fell to the floor, pulling each other’s clothes off.

“Have you ever done this before?” I asked.

“No.” She replied—kissing me. Touching me. Turning our bodies to 69. As her pussy lowered over my face, there was no hesitation, no performance anxiety, no feeling that this was wrong or what did it all mean? I loved her. I couldn’t wait to taste her. To hold her. To fuck her silly little brains out.

We never did make it over to the bed.