The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Madison, Chloe, and I quickly realized we needed a formal scoring method. While on the bus, we worked out the system:

     MALE TEACHER.......................FIVE POINTS
     OLDER TEACHER......................TEN POINTS
     GYM TEACHER........................THREE POINTS
     JANITOR, LUNCH GUY, BUS DRIVER.....TWO POINTS
     PRINCIPAL OR VP....................TEN POINTS
     SUSPECTED HOMOSEXUAL TEACHER.......TWENTY POINTS
     BONUS..............................GETTING OUT OF TROUBLE, PLUS FIVE POINTS
     BONUS..............................PLUS FIVE EXTRA POINTS PER TEACHER, IF IN A GROUP
     FEMALE TEACHER.....................THIRTY POINTS

There were deviations, of course. Mr. Hawkins was worth eight points: Five for being a male teacher, plus five because he’s old, but minus two because he was such a dirty old man and would gawk at any woman under any conditions. That old buzzard would have ogled my grandmammie’s chest if given the chance. Mr. Phillips was worth three points: Five because he was male, but minus two because although he was unmarried, he was clearly desperate for female companionship, and he was too easy to manipulate.

Madison, Chloe, and I were all on the honor system, of course. If one of us claimed they had scored ten points, then the other two of us accepted that as the official score. You have to understand, we’d all known one another since nursey school. We would never lie to one another.

The Titsee Contest was also exciting because there was a certain amount of risk involved. Sooner or later, we reasoned, these dumb men would realize what was going on, and then our parents would be called. I didn’t think we could get detention, but why risk the punishment?

But amazingly, our instructors never noticed how we were manipulating them. If anything, Mads, Chloe, and I grew more popular with the faculty. The Monday morning after we started the contest, all three of us were entering the school at the same time, our cleavage out, all six tits lined up on display as we walked shoulder-to-shoulder-to-shoulder.

“Well, hello, girls!” Mr. Conners said, grinning broadly, leaning against the trophy case. Mr. Phillips, talking with him, nearly spilled his coffee. Neither men ever actually made eye with us.

“Hi, Mr. Conners,” we chorused in perfect unison.

That little exchange netted each of us ten points apiece, even before we sat down in homeroom, thanks to Conners and Phillips. What idiots!

Some time later, the whole of Hopper Douglass High was all abuzz. Rumor had it that there was a businessman, a hotshot corporate executive from out West, right here in our school! This didn’t make a lot of sense when you first heard the gossip, but the other kids seemed dead-set on its absolute truth.

“Its true!” Suzie Walkins told me and Madison and Chloe in homeroom. “I saw him! He’s tall, with the best-looking suit I’ve ever seen! Double-breasted and everything!”

You have to understand: Greenacre was a remote little logging town. The nearest city was Mobile, over three hours away by car. No-one from the East or West coasts ever came into our little backwater community. And in 1965, Greenacre was even more isolated than it is now.

“A corporate executive man?” Madison asked, clearly skeptical. “What’s he doing here at Hopper Douglass?”

“Beats me,” Suzie itted. “Maybe he’s looking for a wife?” she wondered hopefully.

I rolled my eyes. Suzie was skinny with huge buck teeth. If she were in the Titsee Contest, she’d be a complete flop. No Western fellow was going to whisk her away for marriage.

But I was mighty curious about this stranger nonetheless. All morning long, I kept an eye open, plus listened to my classmates. But aside from Suzie, no-one else seemed to have laid eyes on our mysterious visitor.

Besides, I had more pressing issues upon which to mull.

“I’m up another ten points,” Chloe bragged at lunch, while shining her apple. “Mr. Bellows, right by the water fountain. Five because he looked and another five because I got him to excuse me for being late to History.”

“Mr. Bellows, huh?” Madison asked. “You’re getting good, Chloe. In a month, you’ll be running this school with your breasts.”

I suppressed a surge of annoyance. Lately, my two friends were getting really good at the Titsee Contest, while I was falling behind. Chloe had eighty-four points, Madison now had seventy-nine, and me? Sixty. That’s it. I was hopelessly in third place.

And what had started as mischievous fun had mushroomed into something more competitive. I don’t think Mads or Chloe intended for me to feel pressured, but I resented their success and my failure.

Part of the problem was that the other two were really, really good at wrapping teachers around their little fingers. Mads, for example, had twice convinced Mr. Mhilley to let her submit late homeworks, which awarded her ten points both times. I couldn’t coax teachers to give me those kind of breaks.

I was brooding over these matters when entering Mr. Mathers’ Social Studies class. Maybe my boobs could bewitch Mr. Mathers into letting me drive off in his car? That should be worth thirty points.

As I was filing into the classroom, Madison stopped short directly in front of me, sucking in her breath. What could have spooked her?

I craned my neck over her shoulder and immediately saw. Standing in the front of the class, next to a meek-looking Mr. Mathers, was a tall, deeply tanned stranger. Dressed in a pressed grey suit, with a square jaw and thick blonde hair, the man was both handsome and exotic at the same time. He watched us students closely, smiling with a twinkle in his bright, brown eyes. There was a strange intensity in his expression, a hungry look I couldn’t place. He rubbed his palms together absently.

This was the businessman from out West. It had to be.

When I first saw him, I had twin reactions. First, there was something predatory about this man. Honestly, in that gray suit and in the way he rubbed his hands, he reminded me of the Big Bad Wolf in Momma’s picture book. As his eyes swept over me, I felt an alarm sound deep within my mind.

But at the same time… this man was also alluring. He was handsome. In fact, the moment I beheld him, I instantly wondered what it felt like to kiss him. I know that’s bizarre… but that’s where my mind went.

Everyone shuffled to their seats, wondering what exactly was going on. Madison and I sat in the back row, as always; Chloe sat three seats forward.

“Kids, settle down,” Mr. Mathers said numbly, although there was perfect silence in the classroom. “Today we have a special treat, a guest from the other side of the country. Who here re our unit on California?”

No-one raised their hands.

“This is Mr. Sanders Leigh,” Mr. Mathers said, although at the time, I thought the stranger’s complete name was “Sandersly.” “Please give him your full attention.”

The Californian—he was from the California, so that means you call him a “Californian,” right?—stepped forward, smiling brightly. He had shining white teeth.

“Hello children,” he said, and his voice was rich and deep. He had a slight accent I’d never heard before.

We all shifted in our seats, suddenly nervous. This man’s gaze was piercing. I felt transfixed in the few seconds when he held my gaze.

“Y’all are wondering what such a strange dude is doing in your little town,” Mr. Leigh laughed. “And why he’s here are your school. Am I right?”

He was right.

“The Arabian Sultan I work for sent me to purchase you for slaves!” the Californian exclaimed, then laughed even louder at our shocked expressions.

“Ah, y’all are priceless,” he exclaimed. “No, no, kids, I work for a wealthy gentlemen who owns several wineries up in Sonoma. (Sonoma is California wine country, kids.) We need a particular hardwood lumber for the cellars, and that brings me to Alabama. You folks have got some of the best lumberyards in the Continental US, let me tell you.”

“But I ain’t here because of California or wine or lumber,” Mr. Leigh rambled on. “Naw, the owner of the Greenacre Lumber Yard is the brother of your Mr. Mathers here, and he and I fell to talking. See, before I hung up my hat and decided to be a wine man, I traveled the world. I been to… let’s see here… Africa, India, Middle East, Southeast, China, South America… you name it. Well, your Mr. Mathers here thought it might be a treat for you youngsters to hear about those strange lands from someone who’s actually been there. So here I am.”

Huh, I thought. So the businessman was here in Hopper Douglass to brag about being a world traveler? That seemed… odd. But it if meant we didn’t have to listen to boring ol’ Mr. Mathers for another lecture, I was all for it.

“So,” said Mr. Leigh, smacking his two hands together, “where would you kids like to hear about first?”

No-one spoke up or raised their hands. Mr. Leigh was engaging, to be sure, but there was also something… intimidating… about his demeanor. Despite my attraction to him, I didn’t want him focusing his attention on me for a second.

“Oh?” the stranger exclaimed. “No-one? Well, then. I’ll stop wasting your time and give Mr. Mathers back this class time.”

Now every hand in the class shot up, mine included. Given a choice between the mysterious Mr. Leigh or Mr. Mathers, I’d opt for the former, any day.

“Ah, better,” the Californian beamed. “So… where?”

He pointed to Gwen O’Sullivan. “Uh, India!” she blurted out.

“India,” Mr. Leigh nodded, casting his gaze upward. “Fascinating place, India. Of course, the British think they civilized India. But the truth is India has a culture that’s older than the Bible.”

Older than the Bible? I thought. How can any place be older than the Bible? I was fascinated.

“Indian culture,” Mr. Leigh continued, “is far older than any in Europe. Their dynasties extend back thousands and thousands of years. Most of the world’s understanding of mysticism is rooted in the Middle East, my friends.”

“What’s mysticism?” Stacey Guthrie asked bluntly.

“Mysticism?” The Californian man asked, his eyes shining. “Oh, I’m glad you asked. Mysticism is the ancient study between the connections of mind and body and the universe. From mysticism comes many modern practices. For example, hypnotism. Did you children know hypnotism comes from the India?”

Wow. I didn’t know that.

“The best, most irresistible hypnotists in the world all hail from India,” Mr. Leigh bragged. “In fact, that’s one of the reasons I went there.”

“You learned hypnotism?” squeaked Annie O’Sullivan.

“Allow me to demonstrate,” Mr. Leigh bragged.

Without warning, the Californian man turned to our instructor. The two locked eyes, and maybe its my imagination, but Mr. Mathers seemed to freeze.

In a clear, demanding voice, Mr. Leigh intoned, “Mr. Mathers! When I snap my fingers, you will suddenly find a need to leave this classroom!”

And then he snapped his fingers, once, loudly.

Mr. Mathers blinked. “I think I’ll get a cup of coffee,” he said absently, to no-one in particular.

And he left!

Mr. Mathers simply turned tail and walked out of our classroom, without so much as a glance back! I couldn’t believe it. Never in all my years had I ever seen a teacher simply abandon their classroom. I confess, my jaw dropped on the spot.

My fellow students were equally impressed; everyone was murmuring excitedly.

“Oh, that’s nothing,” Mr. Leigh assured us. To Stacey Guthrie, he said, “Stand up, girl.”

Looking slightly panicked, Stacey rose to her feet.

“Look at me,” instructed Mr. Leigh. Stacey did. Then before I knew what was going on, he grabbed her by the shoulder, while snapping his fingers before her eyes.

“Sleep!” he shouted.

Stacey’s back was to me, but I clearly saw her shoulders slump, her arms drop to her side, and her head sink down into her chest.

I was stunned. Was Stacey… hypnotized?

Mr. Leigh pivoted away, now bearing down on Bruce Stone. “Stand,” commanded the Californian.

Bruce automatically obeyed. Within seconds, Mr. Leigh entranced him too, just like Stacey.

The class was both amazed and alarmed at the same time. Mr. Leigh moved among us, randomly selecting students, asking them to stand, and then hypnotizing them where they stood. I watched, amazed, as Chloe was selected and was unable to resist the stranger’s powers.

Chloe was angled so I could see her face as she slept under Mr. Leigh’s spell. I peered at her carefully. Chloe’s expression was completely blank, her eyes shut, her lips slightly parted. Her arms dangled at her sides, completely limp. She wasn’t faking.

After he had maybe six students under, Mr. Leigh walked to the front of the room. “My hypnotized friends,” he said loudly. “In a moment, I’ll count from one to five. On five, you will awaken, feeling refreshed and wonderful. The instant you open your eyes, you will shout, ‘Mysticism is amazing!’ Then you will have no memory of doing so or going into hypnosis. Do you understand?”

He counted to five, clapping his hands loudly on the last number. As one, the six students opened their eyes, standing straight up. And I swear, they all cried out, “Mysticism is amazing!” all at the same time.

Mr. Leigh laughed, delighted, and indicated that we were all to applaud. Which we did.

As Stacey, Bruce, Chloe, and the others sat down, confused, a sudden stroke of inspiration hit me. I leaned over to Madison and whispered, “How many Titsee points for the Californian man?”

Mads looked alarmed. “For him?” she said. “You get fifty points.”

I grinned to myself. It was thrillingly risky, but I saw a way to shoot back to the lead of the contest.