The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Rubber meets concrete as feet hit the pavement, legs moving in concert to the vroom of cars and vehicles; the swoosh of the wind; the chirping of birds announcing the arrival of spring.

Yet the owner of those legs hears none of these things. The only sound that matters is the thump of her heart beating like a metronome in tune with the piston-like movement of her lower extremities. She huffs, beads of sweat betraying the exertion of her body. Her pony tail bobs up and down, tinged with her scent. The creeping soreness threatens to cut her jog short.

But Peta’s mind is on other things.

Hazel eyes take in the shade trees lining the blocks and bucolic side streets. It is same view which she has been accustomed to for the past nine years. The majority of those years amount to passive reflection, never taking much interest beyond the barest glimpse through the window of some car or school bus. Yet the neighborhood held no interest for her beyond that except as the place where she was domiciled. There were very few kids her age along the block anyway, dominated as it was by the old and the retired.

But today feels different.

Maybe it’s the vibrant colors or the endorphins rushing through her brain, but the cloud of nostalgia fogging her brain is impenetrable. Every avenue she travels dredges up some long forgotten memory. The time her mother fended her off against a vicious dog; the moment her then-twelve year-old sister protected her against a would-be bully; the home where a beloved neighbor died, only for a four-hundred pound sex offender to move in months later. Peta didn’t go out much after that.

Whether she liked it or not, this was her home. She took the bad with the good along with everybody else. Despite their best efforts, neither she nor Julia could get their mother to put the house on the market. Leaving was not an option, she insisted, and where would they go? It’s not like there were a plethora of affordable neighborhoods with access to good schools.

Things weren’t always so bad. They were a perfect family not so long ago, with a loving dad and a mother who doted on them without question. Peta’s memories of that time are hazy, but by all accounts it was a happy childhood. The Aznaŕs struggled like most families, yet they held on. Maybe it was Marlena’s Catholic upbringing, or Kevan’s, but like a covalent bond, the family continued to endure.

That was 2000.

When dark-haired, dark-eyed Kevan suddenly announced that he’d been hired to work at an upstart biotech firm in suburban Denver, the family was shocked. The biotech industry was still in it’s infancy then, and in the haste to capitalize on the recent sequencing of the human genome, every company with “bio” in its name rushed to cash-in. Massachusetts already possessed a biotech industry, and soon Colorado would too, but Kevan’s gamble still seemed risky. Yet the desire to leave Boston behind, with its latent racism and Byzantine side streets, was seductive.

So it was that on a spring afternoon—much like this one—husband and wife piled into the car along with their four and eight-year old daughters, turned the ignition, and made the two thousand-plus journey to their new home.

The gamble paid off, and the Aznars quickly adjusted to life in Colorado’s upper middle class, replete with McMansion. The Aznars partied while their daughter’s slept over at their rich friends’ houses, and for a time, it seemed like the magic would never end...until one fateful day.

The family were en route back home from a visiting Kevan’s parents in Boston he lost control of the SUV. The vehicle ran off I-90 near Westchester, demolishing the guard rail before finally colliding into a tree. Miraculously, mother and child survived, but Jacob was not so lucky. Death was instantaneous, but it would take several hours before paramedics would arrive in time to pronounce him DOA. A preliminary report by the New York State highway patrol would later declare that a faulty steering column was to blame, not that it mattered. In her anger and grief, Marlena joined a class-action lawsuit against the manufacturer, citing the findings.

The settlement received barely compensated for the loss. Bereaved and facing an accumulation of medical and legal bills, Marlena declared bankruptcy and foreclosed on the McMansion, moving her children into a tiny duplex in a less-expensive zip code. Norwood didn’t have the tony schools or access to malls and movie theatres that Peta and Julia were used to. It was also grittier, forcing the girls to adjust to the harsh realities of life on the low-end of the economic scale.

Julia became tough and aggressive, her voice tinged with a hard-edge. For a half-decade she turned inward, escaping into a world of books and make-believe where she has lived ever since...until now.

Peta’s pace quickens as she rounds the corner towards her home, smelling frankly of sweat. The moisture dampens her face and chest, breasts clearly visible under a moist tank top.

She eyes the green hatchback in the driveway. The conspicuous absence of her mother’s sedan takes her by surprise. She must’ve left to get the groceries while Peta was gone, though she vaguely remembers being told anything about it. She jangles the house keys, taking comfort in her aloneness.

Peta shuffles towards the shower. As she peels off layer after layer of clothing, she studies herself in the mirror. Despite the glistening sweat, her skin glows with an almost preternatural radiance. The belly fat that she possessed only weeks earlier has disappeared, replaced by a taut stomach and sensuous curves. It’s hard to say which was responsible—the nanobots or her own hard work—but Peta likes the result nevertheless.

She wonders what her father would think. He’d probably be driven half-crazy by his daughter’s sexualized body. Crazy, horny or both. But how would he feel about her...transformation? Would he approve?

She’ll never know the answer to that question.

The thought lingers as the warm water pelts her body. A sniffle echoes off the tile as Peta lathers up. The racking sobs turn out to be her own. The sweat mixes with soap and tears as the memories of her father come to the fore.

Peta collapses in the fetal position, the scab of loss come undone again.

A sliver of light casts itself on the floor as the silhouetted figure watches her guest twirls around, pink sunset casting itself on sensuous curves.

A patch of caramel skin comes into view as the young woman steps into it, toes bathed in a coral hue. The reveal still leaves much to the imagination. The figure licks her lips as she sits at the edge of her bed, anticipating what is in store. She cast her eyes at the pumps splayed on the floor, hoping to see a glimpse of something more.

Julia continues to dance, moving gracefully as her hands glide over her flank. Her eyes flutter as she bunches the silk in her hand, lost in the pulsating tune inside her head. Her brain tingles as she hums along, keeping pace with each strut.

How she got here remains a mystery. She vaguely remembers chatting up the woman at the bar, but even that is a blur. A pastiche of images flit across her mind; she sees herself being led away into a car, the Denver skyline floating past as if it were some kind of daydream...

The point is moot. She’s here now, stripping to the whims of a complete stranger. She doesn’t even know the woman’s name, and yet the fact doesn’t bother her at all.

A thump echoes as an object hits the floor. A single necklace lays on the floor, shimmering in a hue of crimson. Another accessory fallen by the wayside. A thrill shoots up the woman’s spine.

Julia undoes the top two buttons of her blouse, revealing the globular orbs hidden underneath her bra. Even in this dimly lit space the figure could still make out the contours of her breasts. Julia cups them, massaging them through the thin membrane of her bra. The tingling intensifies with each caress, eliciting a soft moan.

The feeling had been with her ever since her transformation. Every time she licked, sucked, or fucked, the euphoric feeling infused her with a kind of power. The desire for pleasure was reinforced with each command the nanobots sent, and each time she complied, her desire for obedience increased. She was depraved in her addiction to it, seeking out women as junkies seek a fix. There was no Rubicon she wouldn’t cross, no rule she’d break in her pursuit of it.

Whether it was because of her programming, or her own unbridled lust, Julia didn’t care. The nanobots gave her purpose, and many of the other women she met felt the same.

A glint of light shines on her breasts as the bra flutters anti-climatically towards the ground, joining her blouse beside it. The sight of her naked areolae is almost too much.

A murmur reverberates throughout the room. The Latina spies her host fondling herself. A naughty thought pushes itself from the corner of her mind. If the perra wants a show, let her beg for it.

Julia smirks as she slips her hand into the waistband of her black cotton panties.

“Oh please,” A husky whimper emerges from the shadows. “I can’t take it anymore...”

“I’ll give you release,” Julia gazes intently. “But on one condition...”

“Please,” The voice begs. “Anything you want. Just make me come...”

“Lean into the light. I want to see your face.”

The figure complies. Dark blonde locks caress the woman’s suntanned face as she gazes back, watery, cobalt eyes flaring with intensity. The faintest of wrinkles bunch around her eyes as she forces a smile. Despite her relative age, there is something elegant about her—nay, beautiful.

She shifts around, revealing a midsection marked by childbirth.

“I had them, a few years ago,” The woman caresses her womb. “Boy and a girl. My husband...ex-husband took them away after he caught me fooling around. It wasn’t like he was doing it for me anymore anyway. We split up, I got the house ”

“Where are they now?”

“I can’t hardly say,” THe woman shrugs. “We drifted apart after the operation. Last I heard they were in Durham, not that it matters. I try not to think about them. anyways...”

Julia raises an eyebrow.

“Operation?”

“Partial crown, third molar,” The woman indicates with her hand. “Had it done about a month or so ago, best decision I’ve ever made. Dr. Hart helped me realize that my family was a burden. Without her I never would’ve gotten the strength to move on. I’ve had my share of regrets—but meeting her isn’t one of them. That woman is blessing in disguise...”

The knowledge that one of her conquests is a fellow patient sends a thrill up Julia’s spine. The feeling of being in the company of a fellow infected is strangely liberating. She freezes in awe as she tries to process the news. She could feel the moisture between her legs percoalte

“But enough about me,” A husky voice erupts from the darkness. “Why don’t you come over here and make yourself useful before I explode?”

Julia crawls on her hands and knees. The stranger thrusts the Latina between her legs as Julia laps at the folds of her sex. The vise-like grip of the woman’s thighs increasing as Julia’s tongue darts and tastes. A sneaky hand finds its way into her sex as she pleasures herself. The Latina moans as her hands are bathed in the slickness of her own juices.

She offers up a taste to her host. She sucks the finger lovingly, moaning as she takes it into her mouth. A sweet flavor lingers on the tip of her tongue as she rolls it along her mouth. It reminds her of a kind of honey, yet she is at a loss to describe it exactly.

The tongue lashings intensify as the woman buckles against Julia’s face. She can sense her host getting closer to the edge. She could hear it in the shallow panting of her partner’s voice. Julia teases it out, prolonging the beautiful torture for just a few more minutes. A loud orgasmic cry rents the air as the woman convulses, soaking the Latina in her juices. It tastes tangy and sweet—like pineapple, or guacamole, Julia can’t say which. The woman tousles her hair gently.

“Deborah,” The woman whispers into the shadows.

“Julia,” The Latina replies.

Roxanne Hart sinks into her chair as she overlooks the pink sun slipping into the clear lake behind her house. She sips her wine as she enjoys the view from the corner study, a welcome respite from the paperwork strewn about her desk. She pauses once and again to savor the alcohol wetting her palate as the coral rays bathe the horizon.

Her eyes may be tired, her body sore. Yet the woman patients know only as Dr. Hart has every reason to feel pleased. By her estimation the clinic received over fifty patients in a single week—and only a few of them were first-timers. It is the single biggest gain the clinic has received since it opened.

Roxanne wonders how much of it had to with the effectiveness of her stepdaughter’s recruiting efforts. She knows all too well the beguiling charm of Beautiful Creature’s dark-haired ambassador. Those piercing hazel eyes, those supple lips; a lustful gaze barely hinting at the pleasures within. Many a woman was brought low by the sight of her—enough to warrant coming back time and again.

Of course Roxanne knows. She trained her.

She makes a mental note to give Audrey a bonus. The brunette minx deserves a little recognition, doesn’t she? A raise just wouldn’t do. It should be something special, something to demonstrate her value to the company.

Roxanne glances at the frames lining on the wall. Honorary degrees from this or that institute, certificates from charities, photos of herself with local dignitaries—fifteen years worth of recognition from unsuspecting acolytes. Her eyes linger as she looks them over, chest swelling in pride.

Even now, it is surreal to think about the path that led her to this moment. If someone had told her that she’d become the leader of a Sapphic mind-control cult fifteen years ago, she’d never have believed it. But it’s funny how things have worked out.

And she owes it all to those tiny, microscopic machines.

She happened upon them by chance as an adjunct professor back East. Roxanne was only thirty-one at the time, a passionate redhead with a love for science. Her most recent project—a study of the efficacy of nano-particles in treating stroke victims—was already underway when a group of rodent test subjects started wasting away. With millions in grant money on the line, Roxanne resolved to get to the bottom of it.

To her surprise, she discovered a population of oversexed, hypersexual mice. As soon as they were well, they went to town on each other, barely touching their food as they fucked on the regular. The effect was especially acute on the females, who paired up with each other with unusual frequency. Something had affected their neural patterns—and Roxanne wanted to know why.

The answer was obvious once the autopsies were performed. Microscopic black dots clustered around the thalamus and brain stem. The nano implants embedded themselves too well—rewiring the circuits of the rodents’ brains. It would have gone undetected, if not for an electron microscope.

The project was quietly shelved, and Roxanne forgot about it. Until her hopes of attaining tenure were dashed. Angry and disaffected, the out-of-work PhD fled the state—taking vials of nano implants with her.

At first she didn’t know what to do with them. But as she settled down into an apartment in downtown Denver, a plot swirled inside her head. Roxanne may not have had access to a lab, but with the right credentials, almost anything can happen.

She applied for dental school on a lark and got in. Using her charms, she schmoozed with classmates and instructors. Somehow she managed to acquire a lab from one of the nearby universities. By day she slaved over nomenclature, by night she was a mad scientist

What she learned would change her life—and countless others—for years. Not only could the nano robots affect brain structure, their hosts were pliable to suggestion. With the right motivation, almost anyone could be persuaded to do anything—no matter how depraved. It was a recipe for domination, and Roxanne liked it.

By the time she was thirty-four, she’d already opened her first office in downtown Denver. Beautiful Creatures started out as only a front with a small cadre of supporters. Fifteen years later, it is a going concern, with a clientele approaching well over ninety.

Roxanne smiles at the thought.

She cups her breasts as she fantasizes about the parade of victims over the years. Teachers, real estate agents, homemakers... A tiny moan escapes her lips as her nipples rise to hardness. All this reminiscing is making her horny. She unbuttons her blouse, caressing her taut midriff.

As she massages her breasts, a thought barges in through the corners of her mind.

Audrey.

“Princess,” She presses the intercom, “Could you come upstairs for a moment?”

The tiptoe of feet sends tingles rippling throughout her body.

“What’s wrong?” The dark-haired beauty asks her stepmom. “Is it something I said? Something I did?”

“No,” Roxanne shakes her head. “I just wanted to tell you how proud your mom and I are of you, both of us.”

“Okay...”

“Thanks to you, Beautiful Creatures is set to gross over a million this quarter—one million. That’s a lot.”

“Thanks,” Audrey blushes. “But I’m not the only one who pitched in. Tori...”

“Forget Tori,” Roxanne uncrosses her legs. “Today it’s all about you.”

Audrey does a double take as she spies her stepmother’s skirt bunched around her knees. The sight of Roxanne in her underwear isn’t an unusual sight.

“I can’t right now,” The dark-haired beauty stands her ground. “I got an exam coming up and...”

Her stepmother’s emerald eyes bore into her own as she looks on. The bottomless gaze pulls Audrey deeper and deeper inside. It is the same technique that she’s used on countless women before. Subtle and seductive, with just a hint of untold pleasures underneath.

Audrey’s knees quake. She pretends not to notice her mother’s stare. Countless times she’s been on the verge of breaking away, and every time she succumbs. Her insides quiver with desire. She curses her stepmother’s control over her, even as a part of her yearns to give in.

Roxanne suppresses a moan as her nipples rise to hardness. Her eyes flare with lust.

“You are an undeniable asset, Audrey,” She looks her over. “Which I why I’m making you a full partner. The paperwork is already drafted. All it needs is a signature.”

Audrey’s jaw drops. Of course she wants the responsibility. But between school...and Peta...

Roxanne’s underwear falls to the wayside as she crawls toward her stepdaughter. Audrey gasps as Roxanne caresses her ass, massaging ever so gently. A look of hesitation appears in Audrey’s eyes.

“It’s alright, honey,” Her stepmother reassures her. “Today I serve you.”

The dark-haired beauty’s clothing collapses onto the floor as Roxanne slowly, sensually pleasures her. She gasps as a finger worms it’s way into her ass,. The feeling is soon augmented by Roxanne’s lapping tongue against her wet folds.

A visage of Peta appears in Audrey’s mind. A sudden tinge of guilt washes over her, as if it were kind of betrayal. Has her lust for her turned into something more?

Audrey winces at the thought.

The thought is quickly replaced as her knees buckle. The excitement between her legs is almost unbearable now. Audrey whimpers breathlessly. It’s only a matter of time before she crosses the Rubicon...

A trickle of come cascades down her leg as she shudders. She stares placidly into empty space, lost in beautiful oblivion.