The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

William Wilder is a selfish asshole.

We were supposed to be friends, having bonded at pre-frosh orientation.

We were supposed to be pals, finding ourselves both spurred by the fairer sex, which never struck me as fair in the slightest.

Suddenly, he starts a D&D group with three incredibly attractive nerd girls and when I ask to join, his supposed friend, pal and brother-in-despair, his response is, “No my brother, you got to buy your own.”

What is that?

It’s not even English.

It’s an obscure pop culture reference that I had to Google, wasting precious moments of my existence.

I know he was jealous, at least previously, that as the school’s football team equipment manager, I often get to ride in the infamous Bus #2 aka the cheerleader bus due to overflow, but trust me when I say, which I’ve told him on numerous occasions—it’s not as fun as it sounds. Yes, every single one of the cheer team, all fifteen in total, is attractive in a myriad of ways, but also, every single one of them, again all fifteen, has rejected me in an equally myriad of horrible and embarrassing ways.

The worst of the lot, though, is Leigh Harper, head cheerleader. Why the worst? Well, she’s absolutely stunning in every way imaginable. The dirty blonde hair of a beach bunny (with the tan to match). Piercing blue eyes that sparkle like jewels or the waves of the ocean. A tight, taut body with a kind of flexibility that makes my mind do acrobatics thinking of all the bedroom gymnastics I would love to partner with her on. Of course, she’s equally as vicious as she is beautiful and that’s what makes her horrible. If a kind word left her perfect lips, I’d be forced to assume she’d been replaced by a pod person. Because of her attitude, all my fantasies about her revolve around a good anger bang.

Her lieutenants, Avery Clarke and Madison Estrella, are no better, even if they just passively let her get away with her constant bitch routine.

I don’t totally blame Avery. She’s… Well, to be honest, she’s a bit dim. If you looked up “redheaded bimbo” in the dictionary, there’d be a picture of Avery blissfully unaware and waving back at you. Honestly, she was reasonably sweet when rejecting me, the kindest of the bunch, but on the command of Leigh, she made a horrible (and clearly scripted by Leigh) proclamation of my disgustingness to the entire student union during lunch rush. This effectively ended my chances with every non-cheerleader in attendance, and, through social media, nearly every woman on the planet between the ages of 18 and 49.

While Leigh’s default status is vexed, Madison’s is entitled. Madison pulls her looks from her Hispanic descent, with pitch black hair and soft brown skin. She’s probably never met a problem daddy’s money couldn’t fix, outside of Leigh. They butt heads sometimes because Leigh has to work for everything that Madison is simply handed. If Leigh didn’t rule through fear so effectively, I’m sure Madison would be head cheerleader.

Oddly enough, everyone on the football team is totally cool with me. They appreciate the work I put in and my attention to detail. All of this despite being Charlie Paxton, the easy target. I’m still waiting on puberty to fully deliver on its promise of making me a man. Yes, my balls have dropped. Yes, I have hair down there. I’m just a skinny rail, no matter what I eat and what exercise I engage in. I’ve tried weights. I’ve tried aerobics. I even tried yoga if only to leave no stone unturned. I get sweaty, but add no mass. My dad’s a forty-year-old bean pole, so there’s probably no help in the future for me, either.

So, while William has his trio of delight, I’m stuck with a trifecta of torture.

But no more.

I catch him outside of his Psych class for a little tête-à-tête.

He walks out of the room with Tiffany Taylor tittering at whatever bunk he’s spoon-feeding her.

“Dude!” I say, aggressively with some healthy disdain to hammer the point home.

“I’ll see you later, Tiff,” he says, squeezing her ass as she walks away. “All of you.”

That he would do that in front of me? Un-fucking-fair display.

He turns to me with a “What?”

“What is right, man. What the fuck? I’m angry. You’re holding out on me, parading some charmed existence while over here I’m barely living.”

“You’re right.”

I lose momentum. I was ready to really dig into him for a good five… six more minutes at least. I didn’t think he would relent so quickly. “I am?”

“Yeah. We’re buds.” He calmly wraps an arm over my shoulder.

“Right?!?” I pull away from him. “So, I can join your D&D group?”

“Oh.” He says with a sly smile. “No fucking way. That’s a closed group. I mean, we’re mid-campaign and everything.”

“You suck.”

“Yeah. I’ve been holding out on you. I mean, really, I got so lost in my fortune that I lost sight of your misfortune. You’d be amazed how distracted juggling three girls can make a guy.”

“Stop rubbing it in my face.”

“That’s what she said.”

I shut him down with a glare.

“Sorry. Look. Picture a perfect world. Your perfect world. What needs to change?”

I could feel myself furrow, taking his question seriously. Clearly, if he can somehow land three reasonably attractive women, he must be privy to some sort of arcane knowledge or magic. And I want some of that.

“In my perfect world, all of the cheerleaders would get their comeuppance for being so horrible to me.”

“Okay…” he says.

“And I’d want compensation from them… for all of the horrible…”

“Right…” he says.

“Oh,” I add, “and the football team should actually win some games, seeing as they’ve been pretty cool to me and, you know, good behavior should be rewarded even as bad behavior gets punished.”

“Right…” he says. When I don’t continue, he asks, “That it?”

“I wouldn’t mind getting all of the sex you’re clearly getting.”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously.”

William nods. “Okay. Follow.”

I walk in silence as William proceeds towards his room. I wonder what he’s going to give me. Rabbit’s Foot? Mystic spell book? The Ark of the Covenant?

Less dramatically, he fools around on his computer, visiting some website, and inserts, then removes a pair of thumb drives. Anticlimactically, he hands them to me. “Here you go, man. Red drive. Blue drive. Like The Matrix.”

“Oof. I swear, William. You and your pop culture references.”

“They’re a touchstone of modern existence.”

“And how do these help me?”

“You control the music on the busses, yes?”

“I moderate a playlist solely conceived and ordered by Leigh for Bus 2. Bus 1 is happy with anything I give them. They’re really nice guys.”

“So, you have access, is what I’m saying.”

“Yes. I have access.”

“Like in The Matrix, you take the blue drive. The story ends. That goes to Bus 2. Red pill is Wonderland. That goes to Bus 1. And, by all that’s holy, make sure you’re on Bus 1 for this trip.”

“Or?”

“I just don’t think it would suit you to be on Bus 2.”

“These hypnosis? You working your magic on your D&D girls through hypnosis?”

“Hypnosis is for pleebs. This shit is so next level.”

I tentatively grip the pair of thumb drives in my hand. “And this isn’t some prank? You’re doing this as a friend, yeah?”

“One hundred percent, man.”

His earnest delivery gives me no reason to doubt him.

The next away game is tomorrow, though, so I’ll find out soon enough.

Fourteen hours after our conversation and I’m trying to remember which drive goes to which bus. I know it had something to do with The Matrix, but that’s about it. And William isn’t picking up his phone… or checking his email… I’m guessing he had a late night of D&D with his squad. Fucker.

I’m reasonably sure blue drive goes to Bus 1, seeing as it’s full of dudes. Blue. Dudes. Just makes reasonable sense, so I plug that into the sound system to kick in when the bus starts its journey.

I mentally prepare for my entry to Bus 2 to deliver the red drive.

I stick the drive in then hear from behind me Leigh’s unmistakable taunting voice. “Someone smell pee? I smell pee.”

Avery sniffs the air. “I don’t smell anything.” Then, a second later, “Oh… I totally smell pee.”

Mission accomplished, I turn to get off the bus, but Madison blocks my path.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Bus 1?” I say.

“Nuh uh. You’re with us, piss boy.”

She holds a well-manicured hand to my chest and pushes me backwards.

As I drop down into one of the front seats, Leigh leans over to the bus driver. “Close the door and hit the road.”

The bus driver nods in acquiescence, knowing no one denies Leigh, not even fifty-year-old overweight bus drivers. Not if they want to keep their job and keep their children fed.

He closes the door.

He starts up the engine.

We Are the Champions begins to play over the bus speakers.

I cross my arms to feature my well-built biceps and pectorals, flexing them and making them jump just for fun. I hungrily gaze back at the rest of the bus. Fifteen beautiful young women and all fifteen of them need to keep me happy if they want to keep winning championships. As the only male member of the undefeated cheerleading squad, it’s down to me to make sure the more complex, more dangerous, more points-earning tosses and lifts go off without incident. The lightest girl might go to the top of the pyramid, but on this bus, I’m top of the food chain. I’m the alpha and omega male. I am the sun their planets revolve around. Since their desire for victory overrides all other judgment, it means they have to do every damn thing I ask of them. All fifteen of them. Thank god, I’m young and in great shape.

“Keep your eyes on the road, man.” I say to the bus driver, a chiseled older man. “Don’t even thinking of looking back.” I’m sure he was something back in his day, and lop thirty years from his age, maybe he’d be on the squad, too. But I want the team to get to our destination in one piece and I don’t need any hungry eyes looking away from his job, especially since there’s about to be a lot to see.

“Panty check!” I bellow out in my deep, masculine voice.

In response, fifteen cheerleader skirts lift up to visually confirm that none of my squad are currently wearing panties. Panties are allowed during routines and during routines only. Not in transit. Not during practices. I can’t count the number of times I’ve looked up into a needy snatch while balancing a girl on my outstretched arm. I have the concentration of a fucking champ.

“Thank you, ladies!” I yell out. “Whose turn is it to help me focus?”

Leigh, Avery, and Madison present themselves. They are my favorite trio of the five combinations. Sure, I like taking our flier and literally spinning her around my cock, but there’s something I find especially pleasant in debasing Leigh. Maybe it’s her sneer. She knows she needs me to keep winning, but she hates it. You have to love her commitment to victory.

I point to Avery. “Avery. Tits!”

“Yes, Charlie,” Avery says and takes off her top, proudly presenting her wondrous tits.

I point to Madison. “Madison. Pussy!”

“Yes, Charlie,” Madison says and leans back into the arms of the squad members behind her so that she can position her pussy for entry. Once she’s there Avery straddles the bus seats on either side of her and leans forward toward me to present her tits for playing. I like Avery because she can cum just from tit play, her big pink nipples clearly have a perfect connection to her clit.

With an especially wide smile, I point to Leigh and say, “Leigh. Balls!”

Leigh narrows her eyes at me, but drops to the floor as requested.

Once Leigh is in position, I slowly, methodically push my massive hard on into Madison’s eager and waiting pussy. Only when she’s fully lubed up do I start to leisurely piston in and out. With each deep thrust, Leigh licks my bouncing balls, using her tongue to add to my elation. It’s easier at this stage, but gets harder for her when I start to really thrust. I use Avery’s tits to steady myself, gripping and fondling them and watching her dim face alight with pleasure.

“Madison, work it!”

Madison reaches down and starts diddling her clit, speeding up as I speed up my own pace.

Sensing my load is ready for deposit, I work Avery’s nipples with pinches and twists and her flush face reveals that she’s on the brink of orgasm.

“Uhnn!!!” Avery screams out.

The sound of her orgasm and look on her face triggers my own.

The feeling of my throbbing dick inside her tight wet hole triggers Madison.

For her part, Leigh never stops licking. After I pull out, she cleans my rod before diving down to clean out Madison’s slash until Madison stops her.

Having finished the first part of our warmup, all of the girls take a seat next to a partner. Leigh, having been on ball detail, stands next to me.

“The team that cums together—” I start.

And in unison, fifteen girls call back to me, “—wins together!”

Immediately the girls start fingering their partner.

There being an odd number, I get to finger Leigh.

I find her as wet as always. The bitch likes being ordered around by the alpha. She gets off on it. Just a few strokes in and she’s already biting her lower lip in pleasure.

“The team that cums together—“ I start, again.

In unison, fifteen girls call back, “—wins together!”

The stroking and poking in each seat speeds up. Teeth start to clench as some of our more easily orgasming team members have to hold back on their pleasure for the greater good.

“The team that cums together—“ I start, again.

Fifteen girls call back, “—wins together!”

Some require more effort to stay focused than others. I see their straining faces. I see the sweat beading up on Leigh’s forehead. I lick it off her. She shudders a little in response and I know it’s time.

“Cums together—“ I start, chanting.

“—wins together!” They finish.

“Cums together—“

“—wins together!”

“Cums together—“

“—wins together!”

If you’ve never heard fifteen girls cumming at the same time, you’re doing something wrong with your life. It’s sweeter than any symphony. I doubt a literal choir of angels could compete with this truly heavenly sound. Even Leigh’s loud-as-fuck orgasm feels perfectly placed in the wondrous cacophony.

I bring my fingers up to my mouth and sample Leigh.

Hard to believe so sour a girl could constantly taste so sweet.

I take a deep, deep breath of the bus air through my nose.

I love the smell of pussy in the morning.

Smells like… victory.