The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I was in my office at the college, going over a journal article when there was a knock at the door. I glanced at the wall clock: 3: 25. I’d gotten almost halfway through my office hours uninterrupted. I really couldn’t complain.

“Come in,” The door began to open before the words were fully out of my mouth. “So, how can I help you…Elizabeth? ” I said looking up at Elizabeth Brady, one of, if not the top student in my entry level Women and Cinema class. Not to mention one of the most attractive young ladies in the freshman year. Not that I think of my students that way. “Liz, how are you? Have a seat.”

Elizabeth looked away, uncharacteristically nervous, before sitting in the chair opposite mine, obviously steeling herself to say something difficult. “Ah, fine Professor Bussy—“

“Barbara, Elizabeth, its Barbara. How many times do I need to tell you…”

Elizabeth blushed, obviously not entirely comfortable being so familiar with a professor. But she made an effort. “Barbara, I’m here about…it’s about the grades for the seminars.”

“Oh,” I paused perplexed, “but you did very well on your seminar. I believe you received an “A” You can’t do much better than that.”

Elizabeth smiled slightly at the praise, and then, looking even more nervous, went on in a rush, “I know. Ah, thank you, but its not about me, it’s about Angelina de Lorenzo’s grade. I heard she got an “A” too?”

I didn’t like where this was going, “Well, that is true, but I don’t see how that is anything you and I need to be talking about.”

“Well,” she looked at me almost slyly now, “I wanted to know why. Why did you give her the same grade as me?”

So that’s her angle, I thought. Disappointing to find Elizabeth harbored such pettiness towards another woman in the class. I felt myself becoming annoyed and I’m not the sort of person you want to annoy.

“Elizabeth, I didn’t give Angelina the “same” grade as you, I gave her a grade on her work, which was very good. As was your own work. Now if that is all...” I began to dismiss her, but she interrupted me.

“Because I think its unfair. I don’t understand it. I work very hard and I don’t know why you’d give the same grade to me, for my work, as to that, that—Well, its not nice to say but she’s not very bright, and the way she presents herself, she’s like, a stereotype. I don’t want to be mean but she’s like a stereotypical Gina, an american italian princess with all that big hair and the war paint and those tacky, trashy clothes and—”

This time I cut her off, “Elizabeth, that is quite enough. There is no need for you to speak of another student that way.” Well, this has gone on far enough, I decided, appalled to hear a student of mine speak such bigotry. There and then I decided it was time to teach little miss perfect a lesson, and gave her a little unconscious push.

I said I wasn’t the sort of person you wanted to annoy and Elizabeth was about to find out why. Ever since I was a child I’ve been able to influence people, to push on their minds and get them to do what I want. For the most part I’ve restrained myself, after all I wouldn’t want anyone messing with my mind. But as I’ve gotten older I’ve also found than when I experienced displeasure, any negative emotion really, it triggers something in me, a darkness that has to do with that power to influence, to push on other people. Despite my principles and my best intentions, I become cruel.

Push

She backed down, a little, “She’s not a serious student. I just don’t understand why you—

Push

“..gave you the same grade. I know, but you don’t need to make fun of another student. That’s something you and she have in common you know, you’re both students.

Liz quieted a little more, “Yes, we’re both, like, students but she’s—

Push

“a student just like you are. How would you feel if she came in here making fun of you and questioning whether you were smart enough to get the same grades as her.”

She got a little fiery then, “That’s ridicu—dumb, she’s a princess, a stereo— stereothingee, like, a cartoon… as if—

“Suppose I told you, she’d already been here, just like you, and she asked how you did so well, acting and looking like you do?”

“Huh—“ Liz’s face looked uncharacteristically confused. It was a good look on her, I decided.

Push

“But nothing Elizabeth, it’s not very attractive you know. Your superior air, your condescending ways and it interferes with communication, with learning. You won’t make a very good teacher if you patronize the children like that, will you..?”

“But I, like, don’t wanna be a teacher, I’m going to, you know, be a professor, like you.”

“Oh, I don’t think you’re at all like me. You have more in common with another student like Angie than with someone like me…”

“But you’re, like, my role model.”

Push

“Ah, now I see the problem. You have unrealistic expectations of yourself, that’s why you’ve been so hard on yourself.”

Push

“Unrealistical— what? Hard on myself?”

Finally, a crack. Push “You over identify with authority. That’s why you have such a hard time calling me by my first name. We’re just women together here.”

“We’re just women, like, together?”

“Well, a woman, and a girl, really. You’re just a girl, like Angie. Angie is a more appropriate role model, for someone like you, a fellow student, an good student who isn’t ashamed to show her feminine side, who isn’t ashamed of who she is…”

“Aw Jeeze, Professor… I am not ashamed—

Push

“of your femininity? That’s why you wear those mannish slacks and button down shirts Call me Barbara.”

Push

She giggled. “Yes ma’am. I mean, Barbara.”

“A pretty schoolgirl like you should be less repressed in your dress, your manner, less uptight.”

Push

Her eyes were glassy now, and her cheeks were flushed, excited. “A pretty schoolgirl like me should be less uptight…”

Exactly.

Push.

Without noticing it, Elizabeth Brady, the brightest student in my class—not to mention one of the most attractive young ladies in the freshman year—began to remove her clothes.

I slept well that night. As I said, I try not to abuse the power I have, but modern life is so full of petty annoyances and disappointments that the darkness I have inside me tends to build up without me noticing it, and agitate me at an unconscious level. Then it takes just a small thing, like a presumptuous student or an irritating administrator, to set me off. And then, usually, get me off as well.

I have to admit that I woke up looking forward to my next Women and Cinema class. After Elizabeth had stripped for me, and she’d done her very very best to prove she was “not repressed at all, Professor, uh, Barbara, ma’am” I’d given her a few more pushes to guarantee she wouldn’t be putting on airs in the near future. I was more than a little curious as to what affect my suggestions to Elizabeth would have in the long term. She had proven unusually resistant to my voice, at least initially, but when she went down, she went down deep. Still, I was prepared for her to show some resistance once she had some time away.

I needn’t have been concerned.

At the next lecture I didn’t immediately recognize her, though my eyes did settle appreciatively on the pretty mallrat-type chomping gum and blowing bubbles next to Angelina de Lorenzo for awhile without me realizing I didn’t know who she was. I think it was the way that her eyes followed me around that gave it away. Like a little puppy’s.

I certainly didn’t recognize her based on her appearance. Her hair had been coloured a pale platinum blonde. It was gathered into a floppy side ponytail with a fuzzy pink scrunchee that matched the cotton candy pink of her glossy lipstick and brightly painted nails. She was wearing a white lace minidress, with a scoopneck and a draw string that gathered underneath her cleavage. The skirt was barely long enough to sit on and when she crossed her legs, exposed her rose coloured panties. Fingerless pink lace gloves matched her thigh high lace stockings. Her boots were fuschia coloured with stiletto heels and pointy toes. So Elizabeth had become some kind of eighties style Madonna clone, though I doubted she was going by anything so formal as “Elizabeth” these days. I reached with my mind to pull her in, as she blew a big pink bubble and popped it, snapped it contentedly, thinking about her nail polish, whether she should change it from pink to more of a poppy colour…ah hah, so i ts Britney Brady now. Well, that’s nice. She won’t be looking down on Angelina now and will probably be more than happy to match her grades.

In fact, with two such airheads—though I know I shouldn’t—I thought I would be able to just …Push…both at once. No more easily thought than done— from now on they’d be the best of friends, girlfriends even, you know, in a gay way…

During the rest of my lecture I had my job cut out for me, keeping my eyes off of the two of them giggling and feeling one another up underneath their desks.