The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It’s Monday morning, so I really shouldn’t be surprised by any of this. This is the same exact building I’ve been going into for almost four years now. It has the same stone steps, and the same three cement words that sum up the entire infuriating experience. Four years ago the building had been intimidating, but now it’s just an irritating dread that segues into boredom.

Those three cement words almost seem to taunt me, and let me know that I’m being put into my place. I don’t like being kept in my place though, not by a long shot, especially not by all of the lectures, social drama, and facts that don’t feel like they’ll prove anything except for the fact that I have indeed had perfect attendance.

Those three words read “Midas City High.”

“You may be bigger than me, big enough to hold a graduating class alone of over a thousand, but one day, even if I don’t have any vengeance, at least I’ll be rid of you.” Normally I would cackle to myself, but this morning there’s something hanging in the air that leaves me feeling suspicious of reality.

Outside of my high school, there are what seems like a thousand super heroes and super villains just in Midas City alone. Despite what the tourism in the city wants people to think, you can live here and be completely uninvolved. I know I am. Once the Blue Fox came and gave a lecture in the auditorium, something about flying straight and things like that, but I ditched it to study for an exam.

Stepping further into the building I cast a few looks around and wonder what the original interior was like. A few years before I started attending some epic conflict or another had leveled most of the school and it had been rebuild modernized but in the same style as the original.

I can’t see anyone that I can recognize, and that frustrates me. Anyone who looks in my direction can see me though—at least my friends always say that anyone with curly, bright red hair like mine sticks out enough I may as well have a neon sign. If it wouldn’t be even heavier than the four books in my bag to lug around everywhere, I might consider it just for kicks.

“Stace!” Just as soon as I’m about to give up hope on finding anyone that I recognize today one of my best friends in the world screams out my name. I don’t need to look to see who it is, but I do anyway, and almost get bowled over by some random guy for not watching where he’s going.

Way across the main hallway stands Candy, my overly optimistic friend. Her and me, and our friend Laura, are our own little clique. Candy is the classically too hopeful and happy one of us, even though sometimes its just because its what’s expected. I’m generally the cynical drama queen. Laura is the classic bookworm who doesn’t really like making friends, but likes having people to hang out with. We all have a deeper friendship than just that, but it sums us up pretty well.

As Candy and I make our ways towards each other, I groan at the site of the Eclectic Sciences book clutched to her chest. It’s sort of silly whenever she holds a book like that, and I would imagine it would hurt with how busty she is, but she’s never seemed to mind. I’ve never had that problem, but I can always pretend that being curvy makes up for it.

“Hey Candy! How’s my favorite little sugar drop today?” I would make a Ritalin joke, but those are way to passé by now. “I swear, without you around people would think I was even more insane than they already do.”

The Technicolor sea of t-shirts keeps on moving around us, making various comments about us standing in the middle of the entrance, but I couldn’t give less of a damn.

“Well, we are birds of a feather, remember? Insanity must run in the assumed family. Since Laura is the older and more responsible one of the three of us, I blame her. Anyone who can study in the bathtub on a Saturday night has to be insane.” Candy smiles and after a moment of smiling back, I start to walk off to our first class and she follows.

Laura really has done that before, but it’s not like she never hangs out with us after school. That time she’d just put off a paper until the last minute and still needed to read the textbook because she’d been too busy reading other ones. Being such a type A personality must be a lot different from being a b minus.

Shrugging, I open up the door to the classroom and follow Candy in “That’s a no brainer. There’s definitely something wrong with her deep inside of that overly analytical mind of hers. I don’t know. Maybe we’re insane, taking this science class. It’s the worst science class in the whole school that doesn’t involve dissection.”

“Oh relax Stace!” Candy strolls over to her desk right next to mine and throws her book onto the table before shoving her backpack under it. “It’s not so bad. I mean, sure, there’s the rumor that we might have a paper on some random science topic that deals with current events, but it’s not all bad. The teacher grades on a curve, and remember that the only reason we’re even in this class is because we both botched the second semester of biology.”

“If I have to write a damned paper about some cretaceous park, I’m going to go insane. But yes, I remember that semester. You don’t need to remind me.” The only reason I failed it was the final, and that was because I’d spent the whole night before waiting for a date that never showed. Stupid boy. If I’d gotten more than two hours of sleep I might have done a little better.

Sliding a hand through her hair, Candy sits and looks up at me with just a bit of a worried expression. “Lighten up Stace. It’s really not so bad. Think of Poor Laura starting off the first class of the day without someone cool like me to talk to. Sure, it’s a class she likes, but it’s all alone. Aaaaall alone.”

With a roll of my eyes I plop down into my seat and start rifling through my dropped bag for that huge science book. “Yeah, but she’s living it up starting out a class all about grammar and word usage rules and the sheer amount of homework Mr. Lancrowes gives out alone must be orgasmic to her.”

Other students are starting to fill the room, so I feel a little bit embarrassed when one of them overhears, but I really try not to show it. You can’t be the cynical uncaring one if you’re hopeful and people can tell you do give a damn.

“Yeesh, what’s wrong with you today Stace? You really seem in a funk. Another boy related mishap?” Candy looks up from finding the place in the book we were at last week, and I just shrug.

“Nothing. Nothing solid at least. I just have this feeling that something is, was, or will be going wrong very shortly. Don’t you ever get that feeling? The rumor of the paper doesn’t make me really happy, but I’m more worried about something actually going wrong.” With a sigh I pull out my notebook and flip it open to a blank page for a new day of notes.

“You need to lighten up Stacy. You’re like the girl in the after school special just a day away from joining a cult or overdosing on heroin. All moody, sullen, you know, acting like yourself way too much. I know you don’t need a boyfriend, especially not after what happened with Tom, but acting like this is just asking for something to go wrong. Nothing is going to go wrong. Everything is fine. This is Midas, remember? The city of a thousand heroes?”

She pauses from trying to cheer me up or lecture me just long enough to lean closer and whisper just two sentences. “Relax, I’m fine, Laura is fine, and you’re fine. What could possibly be going wrong?”

I don’t respond right away, I just tense up and then groan before laying my head down onto my notebook. “Damn it, Candy. You just jinxed it. If something wasn’t wrong before, it will be. Now I’m really worried . . .”

“Okay, so maybe I am a little bit upset about the paper.” Backpack slung over my shoulders again I storm out of the classroom towards our usual meeting place under the stairs. “The rumors are never right! I don’t want to have to write a damned paper, I have a thousand problems I’ll have to do for math, probably another paper in lit . . .”

Candy keeps right up with me, and even reaches a friendly arm around me. “It could have been worse. It’s only a five page paper, that’s just one page for an intro, one page for each of the three subtopics, and one page for a lousy conclusion. Heck, I bet that the two of us could even have a study night with Laura and she could make sure we don’t fuck things up too bad.”

“Language!” I forget her name, but a random teacher yells out at us, but I don’t even care by this point. It’s just a matter of months and nothing in this building will matter anyway.

“Sure, we’ll talk to Laura about it . . . She might not really keep up with anything she’s not reading in a book, but the whole space station thing . . . It’s all sci-fi, it’s got to be right up her alley I guess. The name of the executive officer, Katya Emerald . . . Katya is Russian isn’t it? Think, just twenty years ago all of Midas would have been quivering at the thought of a Russian woman building a space station above their heads.”

Candy rolls her eyes and then just smiles. “Well, there’s no cold war anymore. And besides, I don’t know a lot about it, but at least I know that Katya was born in the States. I saw her on T.V. once and, she doesn’t even have an accent. Her parents might have just liked the name for all I know.”

She’s probably right, but I still find it amusing. Shrugging, I keep walking, and then settle down next to Laura on the cement slab attached to the support pillar for the stairs. She’s staring down at a book in her lap, and I don’t even try to get her to look up. “Hey hun, did you have a good lit class? I have a five page paper due now for science, on that big space station that s being built in Midas. Did you get any homework? Not that you would mind.”

“Nope . . . And you’re right, I really wouldn’t mind it . . . It was just a nice . . . slow . . . class.” A slow dull smile starts to spread out over her face and she slowly starts to look up though she still stays slouched. “Five pages aren’t that bad . . . Relax Stace.”

Optimistic as she is, even Candy blinks and stares at Laura, sitting down on the other side of her. “Laura, you okay? You sound a little . . . dull? Depressed? Was that class really that boring?”

Even if Laura is looking up, something about her eyes just seem far too hallow. It almost looks as if she’s not actually letting her eyes focus. “I’m fine Stace. Relax. I just . . . Relaxed a little. That’s all. Class was boring I guess. I might have dozed off . . . Not sure I really remember.” Laura looks into my eyes, and pushes her hair out of her face. I never noticed before that even her light blonde hair looks dark compared to her pale skin. “I feel great actually . . . Like . . . Way better than I ever have.”

“Are you stoned or something?!” I try not to raise my voice, because the last thing we need right now is a teacher overhearing us, but I can’t contain my shock. None of us like the term straight edge, but Laura pretty much exemplifies it. She studies, she goes to school, and sometimes she hangs out with friends. I could never imagine her doing anything like pot or . . . What else is this kind of a downer?

And do her eyes look just a little . . . gray?

Candy stands in front of Laura and stares at her. None of her sunny disposition is showing through. “Come on Laura, you’ve gotta explain yourself . . .”

“Well I . . .” Laura takes a deep breath, and noticeably inhales through her nose. “It’s much better than being stoned . . . and . . .”

“Laura!” Her head jerks up, the quickest reaction I’ve seen in her this morning. I follow her gaze over to a group of Goth girls, all dressed up in black with makeup and leather—the works. “We need to talk to you before class.”

A shudder visibly slides down Laura’s body, and she quickly inhales with just her nose before standing up, not alert, but there’s a need to it, an urgency. “Sorry Candy, Stace . . . I’ll tell you both later, I promise . . . Just, gotta talk with them for just a little bit, that’s all . . .”

“Today, Laura!” The girl who actually talks has long black hair, and I remember seeing her before. She used to be a blonde, and just a little on the preppy side. Not all out school pride, but she wore those colors of candy yellow and pink nearly exclusively. Next to her are two of the girls she used to hang out with, and they keep snorting and rubbing their noses just like . . . Laura is right now.

“Coming, Chels!” Laura dashes off towards Chelsea, must be the name of that Goth bitch, and the four of them take off.

I just stare for what must be well over a minute before Candy shakes me and stares into my eyes desperately. “What the hell just happened Stace?! She just . . . Laura isn’t like that. Laura is calm, rational, and barely moves for anybody, especially when she was reading a book . . .”

Candy bends over and grabs the book up from where Laura set it down and stares at the cover. The book is almost completely black, except for some lettering. This isn’t a school book, and while that’s not unusual, it makes it more important. “What’s the name on it? I can’t see it, the text is too small.”

“Dirty girls.” Her voice isn’t so much devoid of feeling as much as filled with the absence of understanding. She opens up the book to about the middle and flips through it. " . . . and Kathryn pinned Yolanda to the wall, grinning as she felt the young woman’s nipples harden through her bra. Her will to resist was already dripping out from between her thighs.”

“Oh my god!” I steal the book away from her and read the line over again just to make sure. Laura never shows any interest in boys, sure, but she’s never showed any in girls either. Is she just embracing that, embracing Chelsea, and that’s why she’s all messed up?

That just doesn’t make sense. She wouldn’t ditch her friends and turn so dull headed just because she realized she’s a lesbian—if she’s a lesbian. “Yolanda seemed about to talk, but Kathryn silenced her with a fingertip, and whispered right into her ear. ‘You’re my little dirty girl now. You have no need for words.’ Oh my god . . .”

So is Laura turning into some little subservient lesbian slave girl for Chelsea? Did she just not get any sleep last night and then has been reading books like this? It’s not that she was too strong willed for me to believe this, it just doesn’t fit her personality at all. This stuff is way too exotic for a girl like Laura.

Candy looks into my eyes after I look up from the book, and I know the same thoughts are going through her head too. Something very wrong is going on here, or just very kinky.

“We’ll talk about this at lunch. I think we should just take some time to think before then, ya know? No offence, but I have a test in math, and if I see you again right before math, I won’t be able to think about anything but Laura all . . . damn it. Its already going to be tricky. So, please?” She looks so very pitiful, blue eyes all lit up with worry, so I just nod.

“Sure thing, I’ll see you at our usual table. Should I take the book or just leave it here?” I don’t want to let her know I broke her confidence, but it’ll be obvious and we’ll need to talk about it with her anyway. I didn’t go through her things, she just left it there.

She shrugs, and looks at the cement slab. “I say leave it and hope it gets lost.” Without another word, Candy leaves. After I put the book down, I do the same thing.

Literature went by horrifically slow. Each and every little thing seemed to talk about Laura’s book. Characterization. Interesting plots. Interesting locations. Taboos. Censorship. The line between how the writer feels, the reader feels, and the character.

It was like Mrs. Kiln knew or something.

The study hall period right before lunch was somehow even worse than Lit. Having a paper assigned at least I could go to the computer lab, but I had to resist looking up Dirty Girls on Wikipedia or even just Google. Finding out about that book a little more might help.

It wasn’t arousing to me at all, not even a little, but I’ve got to know everything about this that I can. Something is happening with one of my best friends.

My self control managed to be stronger though, and I ended up researching what I was supposed to. As it turns out, Katya Emerald isn’t a drop Russian, which is disappointing. Born in New York, she moved to pursue a career in weapons development, and then after seeing the results of her research decided to create the humanitarian Argentum Project. Argentum being Latin for silver, and silver being the most conductive metal, a symbol of purity, strength, and connectivity.

It’s enough to make somebody sick with how altruistic it is.

At least now though, it’s finally lunch. With my bag full of new research material and my head full of conspiracy theories, I first swing by the pillar. We always meet at the table we’ve had since freshman year, but I just have to check one thing first, just to see, just to know . . .

The book isn’t there. Someone took it, a teacher confiscated it—I can’t be sure what happened but I do know that “Dirty Girls” is not under the stairs. I hope that’s a good thing. Now I just have to turn around and go right to the cafeteria and meet up with Candy and -

“Hey, you came to look too, don’t look at me like that.” Only Candy isn’t in the cafeteria. Candy is standing right behind me. “I almost carried the Yolanda instead of the one thanks to that damned book. I just had to know if it was still there. Really, it would be for the best if someone besides Laura found it. She doesn’t need to be reading things like that at school. Even if she, you know, is into that kind of thing, its just not appropriate reading for school. It’s just way too explicit, you know?”

“I know Candy relax.” The only way to shut her up reliably is to give her a hug, so I do. “And it’s not like her. But come on, she’s probably waiting for us at our table. We need to ask her about this.”

Both of us are far too deep into our own heads to be good conversation. Candy has always been the innocent one, and she got a much longer look at the book than I did. I’ve never done anything that kinky, or really even thought about it, but well . . .

When we get to the cafeteria, our usual spot is available, and no Laura. She’s just not at our usual table, not even at a different spot than usual at the table. She’s just not there.

“Damn it Stace! We need to talk to her, right away! We need to know what’s going on!” Candy whimpers and stares at the table before sitting down, and I just stare, before looking around the room slowly. Laura needs to be here. This is lunch. We all have the same lunch period. Taking a deep breath, I look over to the last table I want to see Laura, and there she is.

The Goth table.

She looks even less there than she did before, if that could be possible. “Wait here, just a second, okay Candy?” Sighing, I walk over to the table, and Candy doesn’t even try to follow me. I’m thankful, to be honest.

When I get over to the tale, with Chelsea, her two friends, and Laura, I honestly don’t know what to do. None of them seem to care that I’m there, until I lean very close to Laura from behind her. “We need to talk. As in now. As in tell your friends you’ll be right back, because you will.”

Laura leans her head back to face me without really turning around and just grins, nodding just a little before whispering something into Chelsea’s ear. I can’t tell what it is, but afterwards Laura stands up and nods. “Okay. I wasn’t really . . . all that hungry anyway. We can talk, talking can be good . . . about what?”

“You, Laura. What the hell are you on? What the hell are you up to? Why are you shunning us? Candy doesn’t even know what to say, or do, or think, and we saw your book . . .” We’re only a little ways off from Chelsea, but she doesn’t say a word. “Come on, please, just . . . Tell me something? Tell Candy something?”

“Your curls bounce when you get angry . . .” Laura grins, and grabs one of my ringlets before giving them a tug to pull me in closer, whispering right into my ear. “Tell you what . . . If you want to join Chelsea and I, you can, and we’ll tell you everything. Or . . . I can join you tonight, at home, and we can talk all about my new hobbies, my reading, or . . . Mmm . . . Your call . . .”

I don’t even know what to say. Laura has never acted like this and she’s . . . Definitely never nibbled on my ear before! “It’s all the same to me . . .”

“Well it’s not to me!” Swatting my hands in the air, I pull back and shove her just a little bit away. “Tell you what, it’ll go down like this. You keep being with Chelsea. Enjoy that however you like. Then, tonight, after I get my homework done, I’ll drop by your place. Then we’ll talk. How does that sound?”

“Fine . . . Wait just a second though . . .” With a smile, a far too smug one, Laura walks over to her bag, and then walks back, shoving a book against my chest. “Something . . . If you get lonely . . .”

Laura just sits down and then blows me a dull and lazy kiss before going back to her friends.

I don’t know what to say.

Going back over to Candy, I plop the book down between us, and just stare at it. “You know what Candy . . . I really don’t feel like eating. I think I’m going to go write my paper. I feel like doing something constructive. I’ll . . . Talk to you after . . . Know what, I’ll call you after school.”

She doesn’t even respond, and I don’t blame her. But I do blame myself for grabbing the book back up before leaving the table.

Yolanda had been following Kathryn. Something about her was just so fascinating, so dark, so . . . devious. She had a grin to her, and the way she looked at that girl she always was with . . . It made Yolanda confused. Did she want that? Was she envious or just curious?

When she’d finally gotten up the nerve to talk to her, Kathryn was approaching her and it practically turned her into a puddle of lust at the sight. Her emerald gaze was so strong, so piercing, and it felt like it caught and hooked some primal part of Yolanda’s sight. She only said one thing to her, asked one single question.

The question felt so heavy, so weighted, and it made Yolanda feel pinned in place, even though there was nothing behind her. Kathryn, with her deep, dark green eyes, had pursed her lips, and then whispered that question so deeply and so low that Yolanda was the only one able to hear it, and she couldn’t but hear it. “Do you want to be my dirty girl . . .?”

She knew, deep within herself, that she needed to say no. She knew that this actually was a question, it was still up to her, but if she answered it in the affirmative she would never make another choice again. It was that powerful, that deep of a question.

Yolanda had never had these feelings for another woman, much less desires to be controlled, to be some, some . . . dirty girl.

But she didn’t really have a choice, and she knew it, and knowing that somehow made it feel even better. In a moment of weakness—no, strength—she stepped back and felt herself wetly squish between her thighs. She was already so wet, so warm, she needed to say yes. She needed to be this woman’s dirty girl, but could she? Could she let herself become that . . .? She didn’t even know what it meant.

“Yes . . . Please . . .” And it was the single most fulfilling thing she had ever felt, the single most arousing thing she had ever surrendered herself to. The warmth in her bosom pulsed and she almost arched into it, as she felt the flush on her face and the sweat on her forehead making her slightest of bangs stick.

She needed this woman, to do whatever she wanted to her. The craving was so strong she couldn’t resist it, so firm she couldn’t deny it, and so overpowering that it was not taking control of her, it was erasing her good sense and taking its place.

“Good . . . Then come with me . . .”

“Ms. Terrebonne!” Mz. Taylor’s voice slaps me out of the book and I close it in a rush. When it slams shut, much harder than Candy or I closed it before, a small cloud of dust rises up and sparkles over my nose, and it feels itchy but it doesn’t make me want to sneeze, just feels kinda . . . tingly.

“Yuh-yes Mz. Taylor?” I look up and shove the book into my binder, and I want to look alert, but something about the dust when I take a long inhale, it . . . It should probably burn my nose or something, but instead it just feels like it’s blanketing the inside of my nose with small little yummy particles of . . . day dreams.

My psych teacher just looks at me over the rims of her glasses and scowls. “Can you tell me what the frontal lobe of the brain does, Miss Terrebonne?”

I know this! I knew this years ago, I think I saw it on Star Trek. Taking a deep breath to try and clear my head, or something, I think I just take in more of that cloud, of the little specs, and all I can do is just stare dumbly as I try to think around them. I feel warm, and squirmy, and . . . tired. “Uhm, it . . . It . . .” I let out a long slow yawn, and rest my head in my hands with a sweet sigh. “Impulse control . . . Serial killers have a lot, a lot of normal criminals don’t have a well de... deve... formed one. Stuff like that . . .”

“Good, I’m glad you could remember that much. Now, if you could kindly stay awake and keep your reading material tucked away? Thank you.”

I just can’t help it . . . Something just makes me feel so . . . So strange. It couldn’t be that cloud, it was just some dust from an old book, though it’s weird that it wasn’t there before. Silly anyway . . . Really silly . . . I’ll just rest my eyes a little while she’s talking about the brain, I know what the brain does, it helps you think, and some things make it work lesser, and no sleep does too, and I feel like I haven’t slept in a week . . .