The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

For a crumbling old arena that hadn’t been updated much since the ‘60s, the Horizon was lively, bustling with the Illinois state finals in basketball. But Doneeka Reese was bored out of her mind, especially when watching teams that were clearly outmatched, as the ball went in and out of bounds for no reason she could determine and whistles stopped play so often that the games dragged on without end. The only saving grace, and the only reason she was there, was the abundance of chiseled guys in their sleeveless jerseys and shorts. The images of six-pack abs revealed as the boys lifted their jerseys to wipe sweat off their foreheads would help her get herself off that night, and she could ponder the sharp definition of biceps and calves all day.

Pretty girls in barely-there shorts and handkerchief-sized shirts walked past her, some glaring at her audacity in taking one of the prime seats, others looking at her in feigned pity for what they thought lay beneath her baggy sweatshirt and loose jeans. She ignored the unkind comments about her timing being off, or the looks of scorn she got for her plain features. None of them knew what she was hiding under that sweatshirt, and none of them were worth the time and effort she’d need to demonstrate. If Dre hadn’t insisted...

But Dre insisted, though maybe that was because Dreya Andrews was a baller herself. For most, she was the big-breasted icon of the Chicago Lanterns, now thirty-seven and as much a surrogate coach as a bench player, keeping her teammates on an even keel while Virginia Garvey coached the team and everyone pretended to not know that they’d been an item for as long as they’d known each other. Doneeka knew the deeper meaning of that; all it took for Dre to get into the game was a meaningful tug near the top of her jersey, and one of the assistants would have to catch Virginia before she swooned.

To Doneeka, though, Dre was the woman who’d saved her life, who’d recognized her for the controller she was born to be, who’d helped her figure out why her father had taken a coast-to-coast trucking job when she hit puberty and why her mother was so protective that she could barely get out of the house, who’d found bras and shirts to hold or reveal her wildly out-of-proportion breasts. They’d met at an anti-drug assembly at Doneeka’s school two years before. One look at Dre’s cleavage, and she was helping her out after school, allowing Dre to mentor her and keep her from letting the power go to her head. Without Dre’s influence, she knew she would never have made class president, or honor roll her crucial junior year, or gotten into Northwestern with a partial scholarship.

“Hey, K-Cup, brew me some coffee!” a familiar, brassy voice shouted.

Doneeka looked away from the court and grinned at the woman in the teal and silver of the Lanterns, flipping her a friendly bird at the old nickname. “What’s up, Dre?”

“Scouting. So are you, right? Did you do your little experimental homework?” Dre teased with a naughty grin.

“Yes, mom,” Doneeka replied, rolling her eyes. “The cheerleaders being marked sex objects thing is crap, by the way. Two of ‘em, it was their first time doing anyone, and the third was so clumsy she almost fell off the bed.”

“Might be crap here, but be glad this ain’t Texas. And you know what I mean. Did you enjoy having sex with girls?” Dre demanded, pulling her jacket tighter and making Doneeka blink as the outline of her bosom began to become clearer.

“No!” Doneeka snapped, her tone more vicious than she had wanted it to be. She knew why she had to take the lez test, but it still wasn’t her speed, even if she was impressed at how her breasts’ allure could lull even the wanna-be Christian housewife into falling asleep into her cleavage. “Sorry. Look, a tongue’s a tongue, but I’d rather have dick.”

“Well, you can’t help the way you’re born,” Dre teased. “So start scouting these boys. And take it seriously.”

“I will, I will,” Doneeka promised, not wanting a public replay of the scene where Dre had stripped down to a silver bra and practically commanded her to find a boyfriend before she enrolled at Northwestern. She knew why she had to do it—so that she could find the right guy, take him, keep him, and avoid being one of the predators that filled urban legends and were the stuff of horror movies. She’d seen the nightmare when she’d visited Rosemont for Model UN: all the girls peasant subjects to their class president and her homemade outfits, all the boys helplessly carrying their books and trailing along like faithful dogs. It was a scene out of Cheerleader Melissa, and Doneeka still remembered crying all the way to the Lanterns’ practice facility and begging Dre to help her pay for a double mastectomy so she could never break anyone like that.

“You’re thinking about Angelica, aren’t you? She got busted, you know. Parent figured out that their daughter doesn’t go from sixteen-year-old genius to seventeen-year-old special ed student who can’t tie her own shoelaces just from a bad batch of hamburgers. We’ve got our own cops and jails in the community. Maybe they won’t come down on her too bad, because of her youth. But maybe not. If there’s one thing you’re gonna have to learn about these-” Dre made a vague gesture in the direction of Doneeka’s chest—“it’s that they’re your ticket to a cruel, nasty world. That’s why I want you to get as far out of it as you can. Find a man and stick with him, and you’ll go a long way towards that.”

Doneeka gulped and looked for someone she could happily stare at for the rest of her life. She listened to the talk on the benches and watched the way the guys interacted with their teammates and other people around them; while she might be able to shape an asshole into someone resembling a decent human being, she’d rather have him start out as someone she could live with and come to love. The game finished, and the next two teams came out, and then she saw a fine-looking young man help the water boy arrange everything on the bench. Good looks and decency were enough for her to plan her attack.

But her heart sank as he approached the other team’s cheerleaders and started chatting one up. She could see the girl getting more and more turned on without a hand on her, until she squealed at a painfully high pitch and started running for the bathroom. The man laughed and took the court.

“Find the guy inducing the opponents’ girls hot?” Dre asked with an almost motherly smile.

“Yeah, but—he is, but—you want me to get away from controlling, not make a ‘you are in my power’ couple!” Doneeka spluttered.

“I dunno... he is attractive,” Dre teased.

“I’m telling Virginia you said that. In my bra,” Doneeka replied, jarring herself back into focus.

“And I’m telling you that it’s okay, just as long as you figure out what his intentions are. A controller to come home to... to share conquests with if you’re inclined that way... you know he won’t build a harem because you won’t let him, and you won’t build a harem because he won’t let you. It’s fun, especially in college.” Dre wrinkled her nose, as if remembering something, but shook her head with a small smile when Doneeka looked at her curiously. “Besides, he’s a vocal controller. You could learn something from him. You thought I had a way with words? You could be even better than I am with his help.”

“He doesn’t seem like the ethical type,” Doneeka cautioned.

“Seems like the fun-loving type. Let me see... 53 is Antoine Williams six-five, two-seventy-five, and he’s... oh, you’re fine. He’s committed to Iowa on a football scholarship,” Dre assured her. “Look, if he was the kind of guy you thought he was, he’d have followed that cheerleader into the bathroom and made her over into one of his cheerleaders.”

Doneeka pondered both Dre’s words and Antoine’s fine body. “I’m not going to Iowa. Just because my boobs can make someone’s brain go ta-ta for now doesn’t mean I’m going to give up what I’ve earned,” she said, turning around to glare over her shoulder at Dre. Dre had insisted on Iowa for a long time, and while a co-ed frat of controllers trying to learn ethics had been tempting, it wasn’t tempting enough to give up the academics of Northwestern.

“Fine by me. Gin’d have my head if I did talk you out of it. Long-distance relationships can be fun. You can have a little fun, but still have someone close to you going through the same struggles and keeping you from going overboard. Then, together...” Dre trailed off with a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows.

“We’d need a bigger bed,” Doneeka said with a grin. The more she thought about it, and the more Dre described it, the more she liked the idea of being part of a power couple. But another thought crossed her mind, and she shuddered. “But what if I pass out first? I don’t want to lose my head forever...”

“I’ll be nearby. Besides, it won’t happen. I’ve done too well with you. And with the other girls around here showing off what they think they’ve got, he won’t even notice you until you’re in that pretty teal tank top that sets off your... eyes. And by then, you’re not gonna have to worry about him having the brains to knock you out,” Dre said with a smile. She patted Doneeka on the back and added, “Just remember to focus on seeing him. Put the whole controller thing out of your head for a little bit and see who he is. You’ll be fine—at least you won’t be any worse than any other girl looking for Mr. Right.”

Doneeka laughed and started plotting through the rest of the game.

As she headed down the hall to the locker rooms, Doneeka wondered if Dre really had an all-access pass as a Lanterns player, or if “all-access pass” was a polite way for her to say “I keep lowering the zipper on my jacket ‘til they can’t say no”. No matter what it was, it was still convenient. Doneeka took her space near Southside’s cheerleaders as they lined up for their post-game claiming. She’d done that trick enough at her school, and seen it done enough elsewhere, to know that Antoine had his way with everyone on the squad, letting them go when he was done. She got ready to take off her sweatshirt and assign the girls to the rest of the team to get them out of the way—then she noticed the large bag that sat at each cheerleader’s feet, neatly marked with the name and number of one of the Southside players. Generous, practical, and efficient—Doneeka felt herself getting a little warm at the idea of someone with brains and power.

Southside bounded down the hall after a well-fought win, and sure enough, the boys knew what Antoine was up to. “Oh, man, Kelly this time! Shit, you know how many times I one-hand-fucked her?” the little point guard asked Antoine.

“Fifty-eight times, plus seventy-five in the leg-squeezing threesomes with Ms. Allen,” Kelly teased back as if she had been his girlfriend since freshman year. Her lingering gazes on Antoine told Doneeka that normally Kelly would be teasing this boy with insults, not with her skirt, as she took his arm and went into the locker room with him. The team filed out with their assigned cheerleaders, and Antoine got ready to pick up his trophy from the opposing team.

Doneeka knew it was time for her to make her move. “Great game, Antoine,” she said in her best come-hither voice.

“Indeed! I thought it was a surprise to come off the bench as much as I did, as much as it was a surprise for you to come in your pants as much as you did. You must have been looking at me the whole time... me and not...” Antoine’s voice started to falter as Doneeka lifted up her sweatshirt and threw it off, revealing the low-cut teal tube top that complemented her jeans and let her K-cup size breasts be shown in all their glory. They bounced slightly when she tossed her sweatshirt into a corner, but she couldn’t find the words for a proper induction with Antoine’s deep and powerful voice bouncing in her brain. She was keenly aware of the heat between her legs, and how badly she needed to go deal with it, but she recognized that that was Antoine’s influence trying to get her out of the way.

Her awareness that he considered her a threat brought her back down to earth and allowed her to get into her groove, swaying back and forth so that her breasts rolled in a gentle rhythm, and she glowed inside when she saw Antoine following them with his eyes. “Going somewhere? I know you wouldn’t dream of giving up basketball for football, not when you have these basketballs right here, even bigger and bouncier than regulation size,” she whispered, leading him into one of the side offices and sitting down, pleased when his gaze never left her breasts as he sat down across from her. “Yeah, you’d love to get your hands on these basketballs, ones that make you want to do nothing but take them to the hole and score.”

It was a dirtier induction than she normally used, but she was on fire inside, yearning and needing and wanting and melting. It took everything she had just to be that coherent, and she could feel her thoughts disintegrating as he counterattacked.

“Yes, they are spectacular, and so are you. But sadly, you’re not me, and when you’re not me, it’s hard to think around me. So hard to think with those tits, so don’t think, just let your tits think for you,” Antoine said, but he could admit that he was weakening, getting hard faster than he ever had before, even as his head got heavier. Her breasts looked more and more inviting as a pillow with every moment, a safe soft place where he could rest and dream of the beauty before him.

“Mmmm, yes, so tired and heavy and sleepy, out cold when your head hits my pillows, completely... asleep...” The last word came out half-swallowed by a yawn as Doneeka’s eyes rolled up, her mind completely focused on the echoes of Antoine’s voice in her head, only wanting him, only seeing him, waiting for his next command—a command that would never come, as Antoine surrendered to Doneeka’s charms, his face buried in her cleavage and resting comfortably in it as he dreamed of her next move. Their bodies relaxed into each other, snuggling closer as each of them sought the next command.

After a short silence, Dre poked her head around the doorframe to check on her protégé and make sure no one needed to be smothered. Everything had worked out as she had hoped and anticipated. She snapped her fingers in front of Doneeka’s empty eyes, then dropped Antoine’s limp arm to his side. She knew that the double trance would only last a few minutes, and the argument of who fell to whose power would be one that made them partners and friends for life.

Still, it never hurt to help matters along. She shut the door and took off her jacket and t-shirt, revealing her low-cut silver bra. Moving carefully to avoid falling out, she propped Antoine and Doneeka upright and commanded Antoine to open his eyes. Before either of them could slip out of trance, she lifted her G-cups and set them into a familiar swaying pattern that had both Doneeka and Antoine following helplessly, burying the details of their first date in their minds before putting her shirt back on and letting them wake up on their own.

She checked her watch as she left. Still plenty of time to get home to Virginia and share the story with her—possibly with a bit of interactive participation.

Doneeka sat nervously in the restaurant booth in her finest little black dress, a sparkling black and gold shawl keeping her weapon under wraps for the moment. She knew Dre was behind this; she recognized the compulsion to follow a specific set of steps as Dre’s style, and hoped that Dre was in the next booth to cover the tab. She couldn’t afford the Pump Room, and she doubted that Antoine could either—and if he could, that he would.

“Miss Reese? Forgive me, I couldn’t remember your... face,” a familiar voice, though one lacking its knockout edge, said. Doneeka looked up from musing on the tablecloth and saw Antoine standing in front of her in a spotless black suit.

She smiled. “Now this is what I call a blind date,” she said.

He laughed and sat down across from her, showing no fear as he looked at her covered cleavage. But she could see his hand trembling a bit as he lifted his water glass, and she recognized the natural awkwardness of a high school boy going on a first date with a girl. She looked within herself for the same nervousness and found it, but buried deep under Dre’s coaching. Still, at least he felt something in return for her, so she relaxed and started making small talk—people they knew who knew people who knew them, nerves about the last round of testing, favorite subjects, outside interests.

As dinner wore on, the conversation moved to their respective powers, how they’d come into them, how they’d started using them, how their lives had changed because of them. “I used to avoid girls. It’s not that I don’t like them, but I couldn’t have a friend who was a girl, you know? As soon as I said the wrong thing, or the right thing in the wrong tone of voice, they would throw themselves at me, and it got crazy after a while. Sophomore year, I had a string of girls as partners in bio lab, and I got detention for writing notes in class. I couldn’t explain to the teacher that I was trying to keep them from crawling all over me.”

“You couldn’t talk to her?” Doneeka asked with a smile.

“He wouldn’t listen,” Antoine replied.

“I know how it is. I couldn’t... I know the plus sizes of every department store in Chicago like the back of my hand. I have to buy everything baggy if I want to talk to people like a person instead of having them have a chat with my boobs. And my folks...” Doneeka stopped and took a breath before telling him about her mother’s overprotectiveness and her father’s fear, of the advances people she’d known all her life had started making as soon as she hit puberty. Antoine listened patiently, wincing in the right places and making sympathetic noises in the right places.

“And all you can do is cover ‘em up, right?” he asked at one point.

She nodded. “You saw. And I have to really hide them to do something like this. I... I was at the end of my rope before I met Dre. I don’t know what I’d be without her, or how I would have dealt. I don’t think I could have dealt without her advice.”

“I was fortunate—my dad has the same knack, and when he found out I inherited his talent, he stayed home to mentor me. But it sounds like your mother would have rather had them removed.”

“Or put me in a burqua. Or something.”

Minutes became hours as they talked, both of them glad to find a sympathetic ear, both of them relieved that there were people like them out there who had the gifts and didn’t want to go completely power-mad with them, both of them happy to find their place in the world.

When the check came, Antoine scooped it up without hesitation, pulling out a sheaf of miscellaneous crumpled bills. “Fortunately for me, black is the new blonde. No, not like that! I just did a lot of talking on the L,” he said.

Doneeka giggled at the idea of someone who could shut down brains with a word panhandling on the train for a date. She reached across the table and laced her fingers with his, looking into his eyes with a warm smile on her face. He leaned closer, and she pecked him on the cheek, taking him completely by surprise.

They walked out of the restaurant arm in arm, neither of them seeing Dre and Virginia at a table in the corner, ready to pick up the slack if it had been necessary.

“So are you ever going to pull me aside and whisper sweet nothings in my ear?” Doneeka asked as they walked through Millennium Park on their third date. She hoped he would take her hint of a tight t-shirt with a small cleavage window that she’d sewn a zipper into as a sign that he could keep his own weapons at the ready, but he was too good at keeping his voice out of the ranges that would melt her brain. He wanted it to be a real relationship; so did Doneeka, but she could admit to herself and to him that there was as much of a charge in the first time, when she faded just as he collapsed.

“I, uh... I didn’t... canitakeyoutotheprom?” he blurted out.

“Of course you can... if you can make me. Nothing to be ashamed of in making me go,” she said with a seductive grin, posing herself on the bridge and taking a deep breath.

He hesitated and shook the cobwebs out of his head to stop being distracted by her breasts. Looking right into her eyes, he said, “Well, then, there’s nothing to be ashamed of in listening to my voice and letting it fill your mind. Now, look—I have the prom tickets right here. Look again, my lovely, the prom tickets are now diamonds, diamonds that sparkle your eyes...”

Doneeka’s breath caught in her throat, her stomach turned over, and arousal throbbed between her legs. She happily tuned out everything but Antoine and his voice, letting go of her last shreds of fear and doubt, letting him guide and direct her until she was just another big-breasted trophy girlfriend being led around the park with a giddy grin on her face. She couldn’t remember any of the details, just the steadily heightening burn within her-

Until it was gone, and it was the next morning, and she was in her own bed, wondering if it had all been an elaborate fantasy and he’d played her like a fool. Then she saw the vase of red roses and the ticket for Southside’s prom in two weeks, resting on top of a DVD. She reached for her vibrator, expecting the DVD to be a sex tape that she could relive in all its glory—except that it wasn’t. Instead, the first thing that popped up was their faces on camera, panning back to reveal them at Navy Pier. The footage from the little handheld camera went in a dizzying whirl from the Ferris wheel to the walk along the lake to the White Sox game (and the foul ball he had snagged and stored in her cleavage). Looking at the images made the vague memories a little sharper, but they were still in a pleasant haze. There were a couple of pranks, and he’d have to be a very good boyfriend to get her to wear hot pants again, but his message was clear: he loved her, he cared about her, and he wanted her for the rest of their lives.

Then came the sex tape, and it was just as good the second time around as it had been the first time around. That didn’t surprise her, and she didn’t mind; they were both eighteen, and both horny, and both responsible. As it was, she knew she had a keeper, and she started calculating how to get him back, in the best of ways.

“You look lovely,” Antoine said, squeezing Doneeka’s hand.

“Oh, this old thing? I borrowed it from a friend,” Doneeka replied, her sweeping hand gesture taking in the heavily embroidered bodice. With its high neckline and long dragging skirt, the lavender gown was very conservative for a high school prom, but the cut flattered her body in places he hadn’t noticed before. He took her arm and escorted her into the hall, and from that moment it was a foregone conclusion that they’d be voted king and queen without a second thought, or even the taking of a first thought. Everyone melted at how romantic they were, and they were too into each other to notice.

At eleven-thirty or so, Doneeka excused herself and went to the bathroom. A folded piece of paper dropped out of one of the dagged sleeves of the gown, right at Antoine’s feet. He picked it up and read it. Meet me at the limo at midnight, it read.

The half hour seemed to drag, and he booked it out of there at eleven fifty-nine as if he’d turn into a pumpkin otherwise. The door to their rented limo was open, but the dome light was off. Then it flicked on to reveal Doneeka in a bright red dress with a plunging neckline and an impressive amount of built-in support. He stared at the expanse of cleavage revealed to him, trying to blink the reflections of the rows of sparkling rhinestones away, but it was so hard when she was swaying back and forth. The lights were dazzling, the breasts were spectacular, and he could feel himself getting hard.

“This is my prom dress, Antoine. Do you like it? Do you like how it sparkles, and how the sparkles dance across your eyes? Do you like how you can’t take your eyes off them, and how your eyes are drawn to my breasts, and how your head is drawn to my breasts, closer and closer...” Doneeka started, a triumphant grin spreading across her face. “Now you know why I wanted to wait. So many guys don’t know where they’ve been, but you... you know exactly where you belong, don’t you? Right here, right here with me, right where you can rest your heavy head on me and relax and let all your thoughts go. Awww... you look so tired. There. Let me take you home, sleepy boy, and let’s get you ready for bed.”

A little red light blinked over Doneeka’s head, and if Antoine had been less distracted by Doneeka’s breasts, he would have known what was coming. But all he could look at was the gentle rhythm of her motion. With a little moan, his eyes slammed shut, and he buried his head in Doneeka’s lush bosom, his hands starting to remove parts of the tuxedo.

When he woke up, he saw the same setup he had done for Doneeka when he had taken her. The video was a little naughtier, and there were three nights she would never remember for the cowboy costume, but that was to be expected; even when he tried to control her, she was more experimental in bed than he was. He grinned and called her when he was done, and they talked for hours before he had to get his tux back on and meet her at her apartment to go to her prom. And though she covered most of the neckline with a silvery shawl, she had no qualms about wearing her red dress to her own school.

The last couple of months before Antoine had to leave for Iowa were heavenly, but overshadowed by what Doneeka knew was coming. He was going to break up with her, and she knew why. Sex was currency in the world they lived in, and he was too much of a gentleman to sleep around on her, and too bound by the rules of the game not to follow the rules set by Spiral I and the football culture. But she’d learned that sex meant nothing more than physical pleasure unless there was already something more behind it. She’d had more boys than she knew what to do with, and she knew Antoine had had twice as many girls. That was fine. That was part of her plan, because she wouldn’t leave him, and she wouldn’t let him give her up when there was no need to.

He made the suggestion. She replied, “Antoine Williams, either you love me or you are breaking up with me. You can’t do both. And since I know for damn sure you love me, you’re not breaking up with me.”

“But... but—I’d be cheating on you!” he protested, almost making her drop her top in public to get his attention.

“Only if you use anything other than that voice of yours!” she snapped. “Look, I know what I am, and I know what you are. And you know what? After a lot of support and confidence, most of which I got from you—and not that kind of support—I’m proud to be the way I am, and I know you are too. And I love you! And I know you love me too! I don’t care where your dick is, I care where your heart is!”

“But you-”

“Besides, who says I’m going to wear a bedsheet to class? We’re in the same conference... you don’t want it getting out that you’re getting out-played by a girl, do you?” she teased.

“They’d beg you to transfer there if you did,” he said, forcing the words out before he pulled her tight against him. He understood what she meant, and the compromise she was making to let them play the game and still be together. He was trying to do the thing he’d been told was moral and ethical and right for the woman he loved so that he could prove himself to Spiral I, and she wouldn’t let him do it—more, she was making a game out of the casual sex. From anyone else, it would be perverted, or insincere, but Doneeka knew where he was coming from and where she was coming from. “You take good care of these, all right?” he said, cupping one of her breasts. “Don’t let any Wildcats claw them too badly, okay?”

“And you better not flunk English,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes as she understood what he was also saying.

Spring semester, senior year...

“Hi, honey. I’d like you to meet Franz. I’d say he’s a quarterback, but then you’d pound him into the ground, and, well, tonight that’s my job. Say hi to my boyfriend, Franz,” Doneeka said to the camera, wearing nothing but a black bra and matching lace thong as she showed off her latest prize.

“Hi, Doneeka’s boyfriend,” Franz recited, no tone in his voice as he stroked himself.

“Now, Franz, not another word, not even a moan. Just let me fuck you in silence while you watch my tits, while you let them put you out and asleep as you hit the pillow... there.” Franz went under as Doneeka removed her bra and laid her entranced toy on the bed to mount him. The only sound came from Doneeka, as it had in every one of these tapes. She would hear no man’s voice in her bed but Antoine’s.

And Antoine was more than happy to return the favor. He finished dolling up the blonde treat he’d picked up in the cafeteria before turning the camera on in nothing but his tight and well-packed shorts.

“Hey, honey. This is Rachel. Say hi to my girlfriend, Rachel,” he said into the camera.

All Rachel could do was pull down her jeans and panties at the same time as she gasped out a hello with Antoine’s hand palming her mound. But as she reached for her top, he whispered in her ear, and she moaned and swooned onto the bed, no longer thinking of anything but how badly she needed to be fucked. He left her shirt and bra on, as he did for all these recordings. He didn’t need another woman’s breasts when he had Doneeka’s waiting for him.

As Rachel came, he cleaned her up and put her to bed, then turned Doneeka’s romp back on, waiting for her to ambush the camera with her bare breasts so he could stroke himself to release. There was a loving smile on his face as he uploaded the video and sent it to Doneeka—with, of course, an induction of his own at the end so she could have her fun too.

125-124? I’ll have to get a threesome next time. That’s how you cheat, isn’t it? he wrote in the e-mail, and he knew she would see his wicked grin in her mind when she read it. He reached for her picture, the one from his prom, kissed it gently, and went to bed to dream of her.