The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

My life was absolutely perfect. I honestly couldn’t imagine a better life. I was having a lazy morning lie-in, just thinking about how great my life was. I had this amazing research opportunity, other than some recent static with my prof, I was pretty sure I would get a good publication and recommendation out of it. So my career was going to be off to a great start. And my boyfriend?!

My boyfriend is unbelievably hot, he let me—no encouraged me to be the filthy little pervert slut that I wanted to be, and… and… I mean, I can’t overstate this, he had a MAGIC COCK. We can argue about it, but it’s clear as hell to me that when he has his cock out, women literally can’t resist doing what I tell them. I’d been unsure at first, but it was pretty damn obvious now.

There’d been the initial experiments, ending in me eating peanut-butter even though I’m allergic to it. Then, I’d convinced my mom to let me have Dylan over whenever I wanted, and I’d convinced her that Dylan was super hot. Neither of those were possible without his cock being magic. Then I’d discovered he had also fucking his mom! Weird that she was a prude about ass-stuff though…

Anyway, he didn’t know it, but it was obvious to me that this just had to be due to his amazing penis. He’d somehow convinced her using that magic goddamn cock. I wonder how many other women there were! Shit I was getting horny just thinking about it. I fucking loved how perverted he was, and I put my hands under the covers thinking about how I was his little pervert girlfriend.

“Amber? Why are you still home? Shouldn’t you be at the university?” My mom called down the hallway. Shit! I pulled my hands out of my panties.

“Uh.. Yeah, I’m just going to a bit late, but it’s OK. I just have something I need to wait for.” Oh damn. I can hear her footsteps approach. The door pushed all the way open.

“Daughter, stand up. Go shower, go get dressed. You are going to go to do your research. Go.” She stood and dramatically pointed. Ugh. Fine. I slipped off the bed and tried to go by her, but she grabbed my arm as I went by.

“Leave this. You don’t need your phone in the shower.” and she took it right out of my hand. God I hope he didn’t text anything incriminating while she was holding it!

Fifteen minutes later, she was pushing me out the door. I was already nearly at the school before I realized I still didn’t have my phone on me. crap

“The point, Amber, is that without the statistical analysis that we talked about, this isn’t really even a New Yorker article, let alone a publishable paper. It’s just pop-science. I appreciate that you’ve done a lot of work, but without a rigorous statistical analysis, this just reads like a wouldn’t-it-be-cool-if story. So without putting too fine a point on it, either get me the analysis, or stop wasting my time”

My heart pounding. This was it. It didn’t matter how hard I’d worked, or how many stupid tasks I’d done for her that TOTALLY WEREN’T part of my independent studies with her! She was going to throw this work away, and I would get no publication, and it sounds like I wouldn’t even get the letter of recommendation. This was a disaster!

“But Ms. Stanis—”

“Doctor” She cut me off.

“Dr. Stanis, sorry. I’m sorry but I thought we worked this all out after last week, I don’t understand why this isn’t enough.”

I’d been working on the analysis all week. Since the last meeting when she’d lambasted the analysis I’d done. And other than bringing Dylan over to show me a good time, I’d literally thought of nothing else. The worst part was that I wasn’t even sure that her criticisms were valid! I mean, there’s always a confound to consider, or a better statistical analysis available, but I thought it was publishable as it was. I’d certainly read worse stats doing my original research. But that didn’t help me at all. I needed her letter at least as much as the publication!

“I have some expertise in these matters. Could you publish this paper on your own? Possibly. But not as part of my lab. If we’re going to publish, we’re going to do it right. There’s no point publishing and then having to write a correction later! So no, it needs to be fixed up. Please do so.”

sigh But she’s the expert, I guess.

Don’t get the wrong idea. I thought about this long and hard, I didn’t just leap to this conclusion! I’m a good person! But I needed to get that letter of recommendation, and I didn’t see how to accomplish her goals. I really had been thinking about nothing else. Well. Ok, if I’m being honest, that’s not strictly true. I would have had a lot more time if I wasn’t spending most afternoons at Dylan’s place. But that wasn’t really optional, he needed me! At least my mom was being more reasonable after our.. our late night conversations.

But I had to face facts. I needed her letter and recommendation, with or without this paper. I was going to have to … deploy the Dylan.

Is it weird thinking that my boyfriend is basically a tool to make women do what I want? It seems pretty weird to me. But I just don’t see any way around this, and she is being SO unreasonable! It’s clear that we could submit it as is, and if—IF a reviewer wanted the analysis reworked, we could do it then. But instead she wants me to just do it now. And I can’t! Argh! So this is the only way! Basically, I didn’t have a choice!

But first, I was going to have to straighten something out with his mom. She needed an attitude adjustment...