The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Early every morning, Heather did five minutes of stretches to warm her muscles up and keep herself limber—this Friday morning was no different. What was different, perhaps, was her choice of clothing. Or rather, the lack of it. As she stood in front of her bedroom mirror doing her routine, Heather was completely naked.

Tim, lying in his sister’s bed, gazed admiringly at her physique, lazily stroking his penis as he did so. He was naked, too. As Heather interlocked her fingers and raised her arms up, Tim admired her powerful shoulders, the muscles of her back. When she leaned forward, his eyes turned to her shapely buttocks. When she reached with her hands to touch her toes, he got a lovely look at the dark pink button of her anus.

Heather did a few neck stretches and some shoulder stretches, flexing the graceful muscles of her arms. Then, as she placed one knee on the floor to perform kneeling quad stretches, her vagina came into full view. Almost unconsciously, Tim licked his lips at the sight. Only the cleft of her outer lips was visible, but he could see a gleam of moisture gathering in his sister’s crotch.

After a few quad stretches, Heather stood back up and performed calf and hamstring stretches. Tim knew she was nearing what would normally be the end of her morning routine, and lay back on the bed in anticipation, his penis stiff and perpendicular to his body.

Finishing her stretches, Heather now moved to the bed. Without saying a word, she climbed on top of Tim. Grasping his penis with one hand, and stretching her pussy lips open with the fingers of the other, she slowly moved her hips downwards, and Tim could feel the head of his penis at his sister’s entrance. Slowly and deliciously, Heather took Tim’s erection inside herself.

She gave a small grunt of pleasure. Of course, as far as she was concerned, this was just another part of her morning exercises—Tim had made sure to add that suggestion last night. He gripped her hips with his hands, Heather began to move up and down on his cock. Tim leered a her, admiring how her modest breasts shook slightly whenever she moved. Heather’s eyes were closed, focused on her own pleasure. Finding a comfortable rhythm, she fucked him for the next fifteen minutes or so until they both climaxed.

Afterwards, Heather rested on top of him, and Tim put his arms over her back, cuddling for a few moments, feeling the combination of love juice and semen run down his crotch as his penis slowly softened inside his sister’s pussy.

As brother and sister lay in a forbidden embrace, there was a sudden knock at the door. Mom opened the door to Heather’s bedroom and looked at her son and daughter. She was wearing a towel over her head, her hair still wet from the shower, and a pink bathrobe. She didn’t recoil in shock or horror at the sight of her two children embracing in the afterglow of sex, as she no doubt normally would have. As far as she was concerned, this was a normal morning at the West household. Just as Tim had programmed her to believe.

“The bathroom’s free now, you two. I’m going downstairs to make breakfast,” Mom said, and walked off.

“What time is it?” Heather asked, looking at the clock on the nightstand. “Oh crap, we’ve gotta hurry or we’ll be late for school!” She climbed off Tim and, as she stood up, grabbed a tissue from a nearby tissue box and wiped the surface of her pussy clean of arousal fluid and some of the semen dripping from her crotch, then sped off to the bathroom.

Tim stretched his arms and lay back on the bed, fully satisfied. This was the life. Both of the women in the household were completely subservient to him. As far as they were concerned, this was the way things would be from now on—and the idea that there was something wrong or inappropriate about their relationship with Tim would never even enter their heads. They’d know it was something to be kept secret outside of the house, of course, and Tim had made sure to include suggestions last night that would have them behaving normally whenever they were in public or with other people, but inside the home, they would treat Tim as their rightful master.

Tim surveyed his sister’s bedroom, where he’d slept last night. He frowned slightly when he saw the pictures of BTS, Harry Styles, and Timothée Chalamet that Heather had taped around the walls of her room. He’d have to command her to get rid of those, he thought—he was the only guy she should be thinking of, fantasizing about.

After a few minutes, he went into the shower. Heather was just getting out and drying herself, and Tim couldn’t help but take a moment to gaze at her. His sister, who just a week ago had thought he was a complete loser, was now his slave—and completely enamored of him. It was odd, he thought, that before last week he’d never really thought of her in a sexual way—she was just his annoying little sister. Now, though, he could openly admire her athletic body, the curve of her back, her tan skin and lovely face, without fearing that she was going to call him out for being a pervert.

“Is there something on my face?” Heather said. “You’re staring…”

“Huh?” Tim said, his reverie broken. “No, no…I was just thinking, uhm, you should definitely go to track practice today. We can’t have your friends getting suspicious.”

“Yeah…the regional is in a couple of weeks…I wonder how we’ll do…,” Heather mused, drying herself with a towel.

Tim stepped into the shower and began to clean himself up from the morning’s exertions. As he lathered up the soap, he thought of Heather’s friends in the track and field club. They’d be perfect additions to his harem, he contemplated.

About fifteen minutes later, Tim walked into the kitchen to a lovely sight. Heather was wearing her school uniform and already at the table, drinking grapefruit juice. Mom was at the counter, wearing nothing but an apron, as Tim had suggested. He admired her naked back, her flaring waist and generous buttocks. Heather didn’t even react at Mom’s nudity—as far as the two women were concerned, being naked when at home was completely normal and expected (the only reason Heather was dressed was because she was going to school). The curtains had been lowered throughout the entire household, to make sure no nosey neighbors noticed the change in the family’s attire.

“I made scrambled eggs and whole-wheat toast—hurry up and eat, you two, or you’re going to be late,” Mom said, placing the plates in front of her children.

“Thanks, Mom,” Tim grinned, slathering some butter on his slice of toast.

“I hope you didn’t put too much salt on my eggs,” Heather said, slightly frowning. “I don’t want the excess sodium.”

“Don’t worry, dear, I made it just the way you like it—and besides, it’s good protein—you’ve got track and field practice today, right?”

“Yep—I probably won’t be home till around seven,” Heather replied, munching on her piece of toast—she hadn’t put any butter on it, of course, as she was following a healthy diet.

“What about you, Tim?” Mom asked.

“Actually, I’m, uhm, going to do a sleepover,” Tim said, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Oh? Are you going to Eddie’s house, or William’s?” William was his friend Yang’s first name, though no one ever called him that. Heather recoiled slightly at the mention of Eddie’s name, but said nothing.

“Neither of them, actually—I’m going to spend the night at Ms. Davis’ place,” Tim replied confidently. He’d decided last night—he’d thought up some fun scenarios he could do with Ms. Davis, and besides, it would be good to get to know her a little bit better. Unlike his mother and sister, Tim knew nothing about his history teacher outside of the fact that her ideal vacation destination was Bali and that she had a boyfriend named Ryan.

“O-oh, I see,” Mom replied. “If you’ll be in school all day, I’ll be doing peloton in the morning—and if you’re not going to be here in the evening, perhaps I can schedule an afternoon yoga session.”

Tim was glad to see that Mom’s personality was unchanged, other than the fact that he was now her main priority. He was also happy that she was still focused on maintaining her physique, for obvious reasons.

“Ms. Davis, huh,” Heather said as she chewed on her toast. “Yeah, I should have figured you’d go for her. Practically all the boys in my class have a crush on her.” Of course, Heather now saw nothing wrong with the fact that Tim had added Ms. Davis to his harem. He’d instructed both women last night to be comfortable with the fact that he would be expanding his group of sexual partners beyond their immediate household.

The family continued eating their breakfast quietly. Heather skimmed through her track and field magazine as she ate her scrambled eggs. If it weren’t for Mom’s nudity, it could have been any other morning.

It was surprising how easily Tim’s psyche had adapted to the idea of manipulating his family. Only a week ago, feelings of guilt would have been consuming him over what he had done to his mother and sister. And just two days ago, when he believed he was going to get caught, those feelings had flared up once more. But now that Tim was back in control, the combination of power and lust had overwhelmed any remorse he might have had.

Besides, he justified it to himself as he looked around at his mother and sister, it’s not as though his family was suffering. They were perfectly happy with the scenarios he had programmed into their minds. It didn’t even enter his mind (his conscious mind, at least) that what he had done to them was a vile transgression. If either woman had been aware of what Tim had done to them, they would have been permanently traumatized—it was only his use of the ray gun that had made them so accepting of the bizarre suggestions they had been programmed with. Tim, of course, avoided letting that thought even enter his mind. As far as he was concerned, this was a win-win situation for all involved.

“I’ll be back early tomorrow,” Tim said, polishing off the last of his breakfast and grabbing his backpack (in which he’d carefully hid the mind control gun). Heather was still in the middle of eating her scrambled eggs, taking her time while she read an article on some track athlete.

“Say, Mom,” Tim said, as he stood up, “I’ve ordered some stuff that should be coming in today. Just some…toys and things. Keep an eye out for the postman.”

“Will do, dear,” Mom said, glancing back at him, as she cleared the dishes from the table.

Tim stood up, and on his way out of the kitchen, looked at both women. Mom was washing dishes, while Heather was still finishing up her meal. Just another ordinary day, as far as they were concerned. Tim couldn’t help but smile.

Almost as an afterthought, he addressed them both. “By the way, you two…uhm…I’d like you to think of some things for us to do this weekend. Things that I would enjoy. Y’know…in the bedroom.”

Heather blushed at hearing this, but she nodded her assent. “Of course, Tim,” Mom said, as though this weren’t an unusual request.

And with that, Tim marched off to school, his head full of plans.

This is heaven, he thought.

This is hell, Hannah Davis thought, as she said goodbye to her first period history class, a fake smile frozen on her face.

When she’d walked out the door of the West household last night, she’d tried to go directly to a police station to report Timothy West for rape, but found herself driving directly home, almost as though her body were on auto-pilot. She even tried using her phone to dial 9-1-1, but her fingers refused to obey her brain. She couldn’t even call or text Ryan—it was as though she was a puppet, and it was Timothy who was pulling the strings. He had told her to behave normally, to do nothing that would give him away, and so she couldn’t, no matter how much she tried. It was as though she were a prisoner of her own body.

As soon as she’d gotten back to her apartment, she’d taken an hour-long shower, desperate to wash the stench of Timothy West off of her body. As he had ‘commanded’ her to behave as though it were a normal night, she then proceeded to make herself dinner, but she could barely keep it down. She barely slept the entire night, feeling nauseous and on the verge of throwing up the entire time.

It continued in the morning. Her body, as though it were still on auto-pilot, got ready for work, made breakfast, and then drove to Lansdale High. She smiled when her colleagues approached her, and gave no external sign that anything was wrong.

As soon as she got to her classroom, she read her school e-mails and saw that she was tasked with creating study plans for the two students who had been suspended for fighting earlier in the week—Edward Berger and Douglas Whitney. In order to avoid interacting with the student body or each other, Berger would be visiting the campus after school today to meet with each of his teachers and Whitney would be doing the same thing the following week. She prepared the necessary material for both students, printed it out in the main office, and then went back to her classroom. Afterwards, she reviewed her schedule for the day—Hannah only had two classes on Friday, which usually gave her plenty of time for lesson prep for the following week. Though she was limited in what she could do due to Timothy’s instructions, they didn’t stop her from doing what she normally did between classes—research on her laptop. Hannah began to think about what she could do with the small amount of freedom she had.

The one thing that gave her hope was the fact that she had dinner plans with Ryan that evening. As Timothy had told her to ‘act normally,’ she assumed that meant her meeting with Ryan could go on as planned, and surely she’d be able to give him a sign that something was wrong. And even if she couldn’t, Ryan was bound to notice that there was something ‘off’ about her behavior—he was a perceptive, empathetic man, one of the reasons she loved him so much.

In the meantime, the only clues she had to go on were the names her so-called ‘master’ had let slip last night—Oskar Müller and Ms. Sommer. Somehow, she knew that those were vitally important pieces of information. If she could figure out what they meant, perhaps she could save herself—and save Timothy’s family.

A methodical and logical thinker, Hannah Davis knew that the most vital questions were the following:

1. How had Timothy gotten the ability to control people?

2. What did the ability consist of, and how could it be counteracted?

3. How could she warn those around her about Timothy before he did to them what he’d done to her?

4. Most importantly, was there any way of freeing herself and other victims from Tim’s control?

Hannah believed that the identity of Oskar Müller and Ms. Sommer was connected to the first question. She also believed that Tim had deliberately obscured the answer to the second—that he had made her forget what he’d done to control her—whether it was some sort of concoction he’d had her drink, or some sort of device he’d used on her. Still, if she could find the answers to questions 1 and 2, she believed the answer to questions 3 and 4 would naturally follow. She input the name Oskar Müller and began researching online, through Google, social media, and the electronic texts collection used by historians.

What she found was fascinating…and frustrating. Müller had apparently been a crackpot European pseudo-scientist who’d moved to the US and eventually had hit it big in a series of investments he had made in Lansdale back in the fifties. He was long dead, and Hannah was no spirit medium to ask him questions from beyond the grave.

The thought that Timothy West might have some sort of supernatural powers gave her goosebumps, but she dismissed the thought quickly—his ability to control people was definitely something he had acquired from someone, and it had to be a recent acquisition. It had to be related to Müller, and to West’s recent library visit.

Hannah kept looking further back into Oskar Müller’s life. His area of specialization during his studies in Germany and Austria was radio waves. He received a doctorate in physics from a second-rate university which had closed over sixty years ago. He moved to the United States to continue his research working at Lansdale City College (which no longer existed either, having closed about fifteen years ago due to lack of enrollment). Everything she found out about him seemed to be a dead end.

Then, working her way through the man’s life, she discovered a tantalizing bit of evidence—a series of articles about War Department scientists meeting with Müller to discuss his findings related to electromagnetic waves. That information led her down a rabbit hole—Müller had claimed he could use electromagnetic waves to control people. Looking at the newspaper articles chronologically, the early ones showed a great deal of excitement about the discovery, only to then have the tone of the articles turn snide and contemptuous when government officials claimed that Müller was a fraud and his research and supposed discoveries were, in truth, worthless.

That has to be it, Hannah thought triumphantly. Electromagnetic waves—that’s got to be how he’s doing it, what he’s using to control me and his family. Perhaps she was grasping at straws, perhaps she was just desperate, but still…if there was a chance, any chance, at stopping Timothy West, she had to find it.

Hannah Davis was no scientist, but she roughly knew what an electromagnetic field was. She knew, for example, that it was a natural phenomenon, but that there were also man-made electromagnetic fields—which had to be what Timothy was creating, and using it to affect people’s minds. Maybe it made her a tinfoil-hat-wearing loony to think so, but…

Tinfoil hat…

Was it that simple?

Hannah opened up her browser and typed in ‘ways to block electromagnetic waves.’ Thousands of results turned up.

Faraday cages, metal shielding, space blankets…there were dozens of ways to block electromagnetic waves. Tinfoil hats, ironically enough, amplified certain waves because they weren’t actually made from tin, but aluminum foil. But still, there was a lot of information here that could be useful. Hannah grabbed her notepad and started writing down some of the what struck her as most important. If she could figure out a way to create something to shield her brain, the next time Timothy tried to control her, she could run away and escape from him. It wouldn’t reverse what he’d already done to her, but it would stop him from doing anything more.

Something else was bothering her, though—the identity of this Ms. Sommer that Timothy had mentioned. Was she another ‘slave’ of his, or was she someone who was actively helping him? Or maybe she was the one in charge, and Timothy was just doing her dirty work for her? Hannah couldn’t leave that to chance.

There had to be a connection between Müller and Sommer that led to Timothy West. Müller had died decades before Timothy was even born, so perhaps it was this Sommer woman who tied the two of them together.

She began to research the terms ‘Oskar Müller’ and ‘Sommer,’ and found an article in the Lansdale City newspaper archives—apparently Müller had set up a scholarship fund in the late 1950s and each year he sponsored four or five students in their university studies—and among one of the batches of students he sponsored was a young woman named Helen Sommer, who was studying library sciences. That must be the ‘Ms. Sommer’ that Timothy had referred to.

Hannah was just about to search for more information on this ‘Helen Sommer’ person when she heard her classroom door swing open.

“What are you up to, Ms. Davis? Preparing for your next class?”

Timothy West stood in the doorway and looked at Hannah, smiling widely.

Tim had a twenty-minute break between his morning classes, so he grabbed his back pack and decided to go pay Ms. Davis a quick visit and see how his commands from yesterday were holding up.

There were plenty of other students in the school hallways, heading to their next classes, chatting with friends, or grabbing things from their lockers. Tim felt like a little kid in a candy store as he leered at some of the more attractive girls, mentally adding some to his list of women to control whenever he came across a particularly beautiful specimen. He saw a guy from one of the lower grades talking to his girlfriend (she reminded Tim of Avril Lavigne, with parts of her hair dyed hot pink and light blue) and right away made a mental note to find out her name and use the mind control gun on her at the earliest possible opportunity. There was a gaggle of cheerleaders chatting away in the corner, and Tim couldn’t help but fantasize having all of them do a naked cheer routine for him as he made love to the members of his future harem.

He entertained himself with those thoughts as he walked down the hallway until he reached Ms. Davis’ classroom. He peered in through the door’s window and saw that she was hard at work on her computer, probably working on next week’s lesson plans. It was a rare sight when Ms. Davis wasn’t surrounded by other students asking for help or making up excuses to chat with one of the prettiest teachers in the senior high.

He didn’t even bother to knock (why would he, when his history teacher essentially belonged to him at this point), and swung the door open.

“What are you up to, Ms. Davis? Preparing for your next class?”

Upon hearing his voice, Ms. Davis gave a yelp and shut her laptop’s screen, which made Tim suspicious. What was she doing that he didn’t want her to see?

“I-I was…I was…,” his teacher mumbled as she looked frantically around the room, as though trying to find an escape route.

“Tell me what you were looking at on the computer just now, Ms. Davis. Remember that you have to answer all my questions honestly—no lying,” Tim said, his voice serious.

“I was…I was looking for information on Helen Sommer,” Ms. Davis said, her voice defiant.

Helen Sommer? Did she mean Ms. Sommer? How had she learned about the old woman? Tim thought back, remembered that he’d let the librarian’s name slip yesterday. More importantly…

“Why are you looking for information on Ms. Sommer? What are you trying to do?”

“What do you think I’m trying to do, you little fucker? I’m trying to figure out a way to stop you—you’re sick, and twisted, and—“

“How can you speak to me like that? I’m your goddamn master!” Tim’s voice was a mixture of anger and whiny pleading. The commands weren’t working the way he’d expected—Ms. Davis might be superficially obeying him, but it was obvious she was trying to circumvent his commands wherever possible. He’d expected her to give up last night when she realized his control over her was complete, but he hadn’t taken her tenacity into account.

“You might be my ‘master,’ but as far as I’m concerned, you’re an oversexed, disgusting little degenerate. N-not just what you’ve done to me, but what you’ve done to your own family, for god’s sakes—don’t you care about your own mother and sister? If you don’t care about what you’ve done to me, what about what you’ve done to them? Or are you some sort of sociopath?”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, Ms. Davis—my mom and my sister are happy! I’ve made sure that they’re happy!” Tim’s voice quavered.

Ms. Davis stood up from her desk now, her face reddening with anger.

“Oh, by hypnotizing them into thinking they’re happy? Like you did with me when you made me think I was with Ryan yesterday? Stop fooling yourself—you know that all you’re doing is creating an illusion…whatever feelings you think your mother and sister have, you know deep down that those feelings are fake, that they’re—“

“They’re not fake! They were really happy this morning, and, and, and…” Tim was at a loss for words.

“Listen to yourself. You can pretend all you like, but those excuses you’re making—they’re not even convincing you, are they? Why don’t you stop all of this now, before it goes too far? You’ve already hurt enough people, Timothy,” Ms. Davis said, staring him down.

Tim had just about hit his limit. How could Ms. Davis talk back to him like that? She didn’t know Heather and Mom, so how could she know how happy or unhappy they were? Initially, he had thought it would be best to have Ms. Davis keep her personality intact and he’d been hopeful that she would eventually understand her role as a slave, but it was clear that wasn’t going to work out.

“J-just stay there, Ms. Davis—you think my family isn’t happy? I’ll show you how happy they are…I’ll show you!”

Tim put his backpack on a nearby desk, unzipped it, and had just begun to dig through it in search for his mind control gun, when he heard a booming voice come from the doorway.

“Well, well, what’s all this commotion?”