The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Are you sure it will work?” Were her words as she stared at what she had been given.

His stare was the type of stare that an expert gives when he is doubted in his field of expertise. “If you didn’t believe it would work, you wouldn’t have asked me to create this.” Were his words.

She looked at what she held in her hands and then at him. “But, why in... what is this? Latex? This will be too hot to wear around here.”

He shrugged. “When you told me your fantasy you wore trousers of a similar material. I thought you would like it.”

“That wasn’t...” She bit her tongue. She didn’t know what he was capable of; for all she knew he could be able to turn her into a toad. “So, it will work. And I only have to wear it?”

“As per your specifications.”

She looked at what she had been given, and tried them on.

Down the hallway and to the left, laughter, gunshots and cries to kill something big and mean could’ve given the impression of there being an entirely different plane of existence had magic been real and we didn’t know about videogames. But we do know about videogames, being a videogamy bunch. So the sounds coming down the hallway and to the left were something of every day, except Wednesdays when they were replaced by classical music.

Now, you should understand that our characters were friends and nothing more. Could be they once had feelings for one another in the manner parodying Romeo and Juliet, but no one likes to parody that play anymore, so they had feelings for each other in the manner of everyday folk. But they are mature and they are advanced hominids, and as such they remained friends.

Good friends at that.

His name will not be told, for his name was silly and unpronounceable; so we will call him Andrew. Andrew had outfitted his bedroom to be a personal haven of videogame pastimes, without any of the heavenly bother and fancy things that would’ve actually made it a haven. A peeling black sofa that basically bit your arse when you sat down was good enough for him, and it should be good enough for you. His bed was off limits except when anyone could sit on it, which was most of the time. He was sitting on the bad spot of the sofa, because he sometimes was that type of man, and let his friend sit on the good spot. Not that there was any difference, but placebos can do so much for our perception of reality. She was like him, if he wasn’t himself. Perhaps a bit on the slow side of understanding things, but that was being fixed, so no need to frown. They had hair colour in cousin shades, and similar length. Both had beautiful hair. As you don’t know, we will be calling her Carmen. Because: read on.

These two friends were sitting on a sofa, playing a very violent, very entertaining videogame. He was cursing and running away from a boss, and asking for support, as his health bar was dangerously low. She had no idea what to do for she was new at playing this game. In time, they both died and respawned some distance away from the opponent and cursed loudly and pushed each other playfully in a manner that could easily escalate violently in the Old West.

Had this been a normal day, they would’ve kept playing. Oh, perhaps Andrew would’ve stood up, gotten a glass of water, done some friendly flirting, and then kept playing; or he might’ve gotten bored and decided to play something else. Or he would’ve decided to do something different altogether. Carmen, being a guest, and having a voice of her own, would’ve asked him to get her something to drink and then suggested something she wanted to do.

Instead, a plot device walked into the room.

After some indecision they decided to attempt and kill this boss-level creature, and were utterly engrossed and concentrated—for the sceptics out there, videogaming requires some concentration. But they weren’t so concentrated as to miss a woman dressed in something that would’ve made her curious and him excited walk into the room. She walked right in front of them, stood blocking their view of the game for a good minute, smiling through a mask, and then sat down on a box that acted as bookshelf or chair. The two friends did not even recognise the sudden existence of a third person in the room. Perhaps if they had touched the woman they would’ve been able to accept her existence, but that is doubtful, considering what happened afterwards.

Let us suppose the two friends had seen the woman walk into the room: Andrew would’ve jumped to his feet, demand she explained who she was and what she was doing in his home, while loving and admiring her choice of attire—the woman’s head was covered, safe for her mouth, by something tight and black that he would’ve recognised as being rubber. Above and around her eyes there was a design of flowers and birds done in silver wiring sewn onto the hood. The eyes were entirely black and shiny, like sunglasses. Her lips poked through the hole, a smile of crimson. She crossed legs encased in black, and dangled a foot encased in black. Her hands were gloved and resting close to a belly trapped inside a corset—while Carmen would’ve remained silent, letting Andrew do the talking, before she would pull out a set of figurative claws from her fingers and figuratively attacked the woman.

But they did not see the black-clad woman, so she simply sat there, unmoving. She didn’t say a word, did not even blink. She just watched and listened to the two friends talk and game, unaware of a second pair of eyes in the room.

“Have you ever done a striptease?” Andrew said all of a sudden, skilled enough in the game that he could shot and kill and talk at the same time.

Carmen’s character ran around in circles, doing a barrage of damage to the opponent, whose health bar was soon to be depleted. “I’ve done it once or twice. Why do you ask?”

“It just occurred to me I’ve never done a striptease.”

It was not until the boss—to those curious, it was a giant cyborg with a silly, yet fancy, name—cried in defeat that Carmen spoke. “Just what have you been considering that made you think of a striptease?” She paused the game and turned to look at the bearded man. When he started talking about that sort of things—and he did that with considerable frequency—she was reminded of how appealing he looked.

Now, the woman, although her eyes were completely black, was intently staring at their every move, mannerisms and twitches. She noticed Carmen’s face soften and go ‘hmm’ when she looked at Andrew’s, and she noticed the honest curiosity behind Andrew’s voice. We ignore what the woman was thinking, for her mask didn’t allow a narrator in, but if the mask had allowed any thoughts to sneak out we would’ve heard something like “Interesting.” when she heard about him wanting to strip.

“Nothing. Nothing occurred to me.” Andrew answered.

To someone who didn’t know him that would’ve been true, but Carmen knew him and knew that a ‘nothing’ actually translated to ‘please, keep prying until I actually talk’, so she pried.

“Of course you have been thinking about something. What is it?”

He looked at her, smiling. “Well... I would like to do a striptease for my girlfriend, but, actually, I would like to give you one too.” He paused to look towards the screen. “You know I have this need to please you in ways...” He added in a tone that was parts enticing, parts funny.

Carmen laughed and feigned interest, just like she always did. It wasn’t new for Andrew to flirt with his friend, and it wasn’t new for Carmen to feed the fires of his friendly flirts. They both knew they didn’t want to go anywhere and jeopardize their relationship.

d y

“Aren’t you interested in finally experimenting one of these things he talks to you about?” The woman’s fingers moved in a special way, a learned and tried way that would leave any woman or man in a state in which the word ‘no’ and any other negative answer was but the most ridiculous of religious myths.

There was a microsecond pause in which many things were considered. Chiefly among them, was that Carmen, indeed, wanted to try one thing that Andrew always went on about, and about, and about, and about! It was not the thing itself, for she preferred more penetrating deals than what he said he preferred, but the way Andrew always talked about it... It made her curious and excited. When he wanted, Andrew could make anyone interested in the majestic workings of a hairpin.

Carmen nodded again.

“What is it?” The woman said, her fingers moving in a especially wonderful motion.

“Frotteurism.“ Carmen said and the woman’s fingers were removed from inside her, and the woman’s hand slowly brushed over Andrew’s cock. But the hand was removed, and it left Carmen aching for it. She hated herself for wanting the woman’s hand, but when something feels so good you really don’t care.

“You know...” Andrew began, his face blushing and not entirely because of the pleasure he was feeling at rubbing his covered manhood slowly over her belly.

Carmen looked up at him, her hands suddenly caressing his buttocks. She didn’t remember the woman, but still felt that need between her legs. “I know?”

“Yeah, that... well...”

Carmen frowned, and then she smiled. He can be a mess of words, she thought, leaning closer to give his bellybutton a kiss. She felt Andrew stop dancing on top of her, and looked up at his confused if happy eyes.

“I would like you to try on one of—”

“Swimsuits?” Carmen interrupted.

Andrew only nodded.

“I...” Carmen trailed off, considering. She wanted to feel him rub himself over her, yes, to at least experiment that. But did she want to wear the swimsuit? She knew what he did with them, but, then again, she knew that if she wore one it would drive him wild. And she really wanted to feel his wild side all over her body. “... don’t know.” She finished.

And the two didn’t see it, for the masked woman had removed herself from their existence, but she was moving around the room. The masked woman walked straight towards Andrew’s closet, and she opened the second, lower drawer from right to left where Andrew kept his fetish garments. She looked around a bit and pulled out that back zipper, red and white swimsuit Andrew loved, and she then pulled a pair of white pantyhose Andrew kept in the back of the drawer.

She walked to the pair, as they were talking in hushed voices. She ran the pantyhose over Andrew’s face, and he sighed. The woman sat down next to Carmen, and, leaning close, her rubber body touching Carmen’s, she whispered, slowly, and in a purr. “Pantyhose.”

Carmen pulled Andrew down, forcing him to get closer to her body. She kissed his belly, and her hands reciprocated the thousand massages he had given her. She had a grin of the types Andrew had never seen.

“Ehmm...”

“Only on one condition.” Carmen’s voice was husky and expectant.

“Yes?”

“I wear pantyhose too. And we do frotteurism.“

What happened after was a haze, if only for Andrew. Partly it was Andrew’s own fetishes and desires and fantasies fuelling his movements, but the masked woman had whispered something in his ear earlier on that made his perspective of reality stretch and bend.

Carmen, however, was fully aware of what was going on. She was fully aware of her hands start to remove her clothes when Andrew’s hands stopped her. He whispered something in a monotone that confused her, but also excited her.

She felt his hands rub and caress her body as he removed her clothes.

It felt wonderful. He knew where to caress slowly, and where to do it fast. He knew how to tease her, and how to reward her reactions. And he got her naked, and it was the first time he had seen her naked and Andrew stared, mesmerized.

And the two froze in place, and the masked woman sat behind Carmen, on the bed. “Do you like this, dear?” She whispered into Carmen’s ear.

Carmen nodded.

Carmen felt silky nylon on her legs, and tight lycra over her crotch. A hand was rubbing it against her sex, and she automatically opened the gates. She wanted that hand inside of her. “I love it.”

“Good. It is easier if you love it.” The woman whispered. She stopped touching Carmen’s glory and slowly brought the same hand to cover her eyes. Andrew felt something brush his chin and then the world went dark.

“You need to work out.” The masked woman whispered into Carmen’s ear. But we know what her whispers, when one of her hands draws interminable circles over your sexual organs.

Carmen now didn’t quite care about what was going. She had realised that she could no more fight against the masked lady than to stop a tornado by kicking its shins. Not that tornado had shins, but you know what she means. But Carmen was not one to let such things ruin her idea of her own life, so she took the bull by the horns and decided to enjoy what was happening.

As she looked at her reflection on the mirror—Carmen’s idea, not the woman’s—she came to the conclusion, though not on her own, that she indeed should work out more. She had lost her beautiful physique, and should, no, had to recover it! Yes; she needed to work out. But it wasn’t because the woman said so, or so Carmen liked to believe. But even though Carmen wasn’t entirely satisfied what studying all the time and not exercising the rest did to her body, she had to agree she loved how she looked. Curves accentuated by tight, tight lycra that not only hugged her beautifully but increased the sensations over her already sensitive sexual bits. Her legs felt wonderful and looked wonderful. And when you felt and looked wonderful, you were on the top of the world.

Andrew came along and wrapped his hands around her waist. The same hands found her sex and her breasts, and the ministrations from both individuals were making Carmen, who was already well beyond the threshold of arousal, wrap herself in the blankets on a bed inside a room of carnal need. She was blushing, she was sweating and she pressed her sex against his hands. She had crossed the threshold and was currently making her way around her bedroom of carnal desire.

“You look delicious.” He whispered into her ear at the same time the masked woman whispered “You like this look.”

Carmen turned around, rubbing her legs together in the movement—the swish of nylon made her shiver, as she now liked them—and brought her lips to his.

It took them little time to find the bed, and it took them little time to position themselves where and how Andrew usually did the deed.

The masked woman was on the bed, with the two friends, who would remain only friends because of something the masked woman would do. She sat, with her legs spread wide, and with her crotch touching Carmen’s head. Her hands caressed and played with Carmen’s skin, on her face and neck and shoulders. But the masked woman looked at Andrew, whispering things to him that helped him find the most appropriate spot. He supported himself with his elbows, his torso looming over Carmen’s, and his crotch placed hard against hers.

The moment Andrews hard, trapped cock touched her wet, trapped sex, Carmen wrapped her nyloned legs around his waist and forced him to press tighter. Both moaned, at different feelings.

He looked into her eyes, and slowly lowered himself to kiss her lips, but instead kissed the woman’s finger, and in that moment he knew what to do. And so did Carmen. The masked woman only giggled in delight as Andrew started to slowly, slowly rub his cock against her covered sex.

Carmen started moaning, softly, biting her lips, and smiling broadly. Andrew did something with his face that made him look like a villain about to conquer the world. And the masked woman didn’t do anything with her face, and if she did, no one could see it.

What transpired afterward was a formula. As things go, frotteurism falls into a formulaic set of actions.

Andrew rubbed himself over her crotch, and when he felt her reacting keenly, he moved away and started to rub himself over her belly. Some times he would position himself such that he could rub his hard cock from her breasts down to her crotch and back up again.

Carmen wanted to feel something else, but was quite content, if mad with desire, at what he was doing. So she responded, by trapping him in places she wanted him to touch, by kissing his manhood when it got close to her face, and by caressing his legs with her own.

But the two friends didn’t reach the peak of sexual need until the masked woman leaned over and ordered them to do so. And the two exploded in a torrent of sexuality that only made them increase their tempo and repeat and repeat and repeat. They had one orgasm, and they feel into a loop of formulaic motions that only helped, in their minds, to become more and more addicted to what was happening.

But the loop was tiresome, and the masked lady soon grew tired of their repetitive actions. She was excited in the way few can be, and she wanted to see something more, to experience such a thrill that she wouldn’t be able to forget it. So she leaned over, and told them to undress. And they did.

Naked, they stood before each other; his manhood was hard and throbbing, her girlhood was wet and aching. Breathing fast and deep, hands shaking, eyes lusting; they wanted to touch each other, they wanted to use each other.

The masked woman sat in a corner, her legs slowly spreading as the two friends started anew their ministrations.

He pushed her back on the bed, and she pulled him close. Carmen kissed Andrew, and Andrew massaged her body. They kissed and played, they touched and rubbed, giving the masked woman a show she could love. In time their caresses increased until he entered her. And again. And again. And again.

Their tempo increased, their speed increased. They lost their thoughts, they lost their ideas; they simply fucked. Faster and faster, with an almost scary animal need. Why were they fucking like this? Who cared? They were lost in the moment brought by the unknown lady. So, they fucked. And the masked woman enjoyed the show, with her eyes and with her hands.

They reached, once more, the peak of ecstasy, simultaneously. Heaving and panting, they rolled off each other. He was happy, she was ecstatic; words didn’t form, didn’t come to be. They settled down and with a word from the moaning, masked lady, they fell asleep.

The masked woman removed herself from the tangle of human flesh, pressed her lips to theirs, and walked out of the room as if nothing had ever happened.

She walked down the stairs, and let herself out of Andrew’s house, and then made her way back to her own home. On the bus, one or two old ladies noticed her, but the masked woman had only to look their way for them to forget they had seen her. The metal wires around her eyes were like that.

When she arrived home she removed her gloves, and removed her tights, and removed her corset and removed her bodysuit. Finally, she removed her mask, and a mane of long, brown hair stuck to her head and neck. She took a deep breath, and relished the feeling of fresh air on her skin.

Stephanie cleaned her garments, dried them manually, and put them in their special bag, and put her special bag in her closet. When she was done, cleaned, and satisfied sexually, she sat down with a flomp on a couch.

At the same time the man who had been sitting on a rocking chair, his ponytail swaying to and fro, caught her attention.

“How long have you been sitting there?” Stephanie asked, too tired to care.

“Since before you set out to do whatever you were going to do.” The short, short man said, putting down a book. “I started and finished reading a novel, though. Good stuff.”

She looked at the book and then at his face. She smiled broadly. “It worked.”

The man looked hurt. “Of course it worked. I made it happen, remember?”

“Yeah, I just thought it wouldn’t... work that well.” The blush that came over her face made it all better.

The man with the ponytail stood. He was no taller than Stephanie, who wasn’t very tall at all. “You were very specific about your desires, and so the end result is very specific.” He looked at her eyes. “It was your dream, and I fulfilled it. That is what a stranger does.”

“The Stranger.” She corrected.

“Whatever. Names, titles; all is meaningless. What matters is only what dreams I help fulfil.” He made to go, and Stephanie didn’t stop him, but he stopped on his own before he disappeared through the door. “By the by, remember that the outfit will only work once a month, at your specifications, and only on those you have known for some time.”

She looked at where the mask was. “I know what I wished for, Stranger. But thanks for the reminder.”

The two looked at each other, as if waiting for an answer.

Finally, Stephanie said: “I won’t be seeing you again, will I?”

The man with the ponytail shook his head, seeming sad for a moment. “Never again.”

“I will miss you.”

“No one can miss me.”

And he crossed the door and disappeared and Stephanie didn’t think of him again.

“And I win!” Andrew said a little too loudly, and started making a bad sport of winning on Pictionary.

The rest of the group moaned.

“Oh, come on, you are an animator, and she can fucking understand your drawings! You intentionally made them incomprehensible for the rest of us.” Stephanie said, looking down at her stick figures. She knew better than to play with Andrew and his girlfriend.

“It didn’t help you don’t know how to draw.” Said someone who had paired with Carmen.

“True.” Stephanie said.

Carmen wouldn’t meet Stephanie’s eyes, simply because there was an enminity between them. But Stephanie would look at her, and then look at Andrew, and know that she was the only one on the table that truly knew what had transpired between the two. And the only one who knew why, in the recent months, Carmen had started to become much more athletic, and now enjoyed a pair of nylons wrapped around her legs. Sometimes she would catch Andrew staring longingly at her legs, and she knew he must be remembering that day.

With a smile she drank from her beer, smiling deviously at two of Andrew’s friends who had decided to play a videogame instead of playing Pictionary. Then she looked at Andrew and his girlfriend. There are many to chose from. She thought.

In a week she could once more become the masked lady.