The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Carol Richeson was not a happy woman. By her own tally, she was underappreciated, discounted, and generally had better ideas than those she worked for about what was needed to get the job done. She’d thought that Tina Grayson, her manager, was taking her seriously, but even that had been a fantasy. And when she’d gone to the Senior Vice-President of Operations, she’d somehow ended up scheduled for an intensive two-week stress and anger management workshop.

It was total bullshit, and she knew it. But the job market wasn’t great, so risking the ire of both Tina and Delaney wasn’t much of an option. Besides, she could play the game better than her so-called superiors. She’d have this place eating out of her palm in less than a week, and the reports back to Tina and company would gleam with praise.

“In the meantime, fuck ‘em,” she thought.

She finished the twenty pages of multiple-choice psychological profile questions and returned it to the overly-pleasant receptionist. The receptionist smiled and thanked her, put the papers in a large yellow envelope and sealed it.

“Thank you, Ms. Richeson. If you’ll wait a few minutes, we’ll be taking you back to the Processing Center...”

“Processing Center?” said Carol. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just where all the new attendees go to make sure we know everything about you we need to know to make your time with us productive and gratifying,” said the unflappable, cheery woman.

“Gratifying... I see,” said Carol, with a roll of her eyes. “Fucking Nazis.”

“So you’ll be given a few more tests, and then you’ll be done for the day. I’m sure you’ll find your accommodations quite nice... we take great pride in making your time here as comfortable as possible, as well as achieving the desired results,” concluded the little cheer factory at the front desk.

“Whose desires?” asked Carol, under her breath.

“Pardon?” asked the receptionist, her perma-smile revealing perfect, white teeth.

“Oh, I said I was fired up,” said Carol, flashing her own perfect smile.

“Great! Well, Lucy will be out to get you in just a few minutes. Please make yourself comfortable!”

Carol let out a half-laugh. These places were all the same... and a complete waste of time. She was a pragmatist, not some jellified, spineless woman. Coming here was as much an insult to her sensibilities as it was anything else.

She sat down, but didn’t pick up any of the coffee table books. She let her eyes take in the artwork, and listened to the background music. As the minutes ticked by and she closed her eyes in boredom, she realized that it wasn’t half bad. “It’s got a beat—I could dance to it,” she thought with grim amusement.

She let her thoughts drift as images came and went, dissipating into nothing or morphing into something new.

All those kids on TV used to dance the same, all stiff, except for a few of the girls that knew how to do it sexy... but even with them it was like someone pulling the strings. She could almost see invisible tendrils, all attached to heads, wrists, arms, legs, feet, hips, butts... and then the Host... no, Hostess... beautiful and compelling, asking two of the girls (where were the boys... no matter) if they liked the song. Their eyes filled with gratitude as they answered, unable to stop their marionette undulating as their hostess watched. They gasped and shook as they mouthed their answers, unable to keep the heat of her gaze from making them react, touch themselves, moan... as the pull and relax, pull and relax of the Puppeteer took them deeper and deeper into their frenzied lust.

And then she was dancing too, her hand pulled by an invisible, seductive wire across her belly, leaving a wake of pleasure that spread through her as the others watched, as the Hostess smiled and licked her lips and then disappeared into the crowd of dancing, gyrating women, and she nearly came as a hand touched her shoulder from behind... a hand she knew belonged to... oh, yes, to...

The hand touched her shoulder again. “Ms. Richeson?”

Carol jerked awake, embarrassed for having fallen asleep. Her face turned even more crimson as she remembered the fading content of her dream. But it had been enough to arouse her... she could feel the tingling wetness between her legs.

“Yes,” confirmed Carol.

“I’m Lucy Esposito. If you’ll come with me, it’s time to go to Processing and get started on what we believe will be a life-changing experience for you.”

“Jesus, is everyone here a fucking walking commercial?” thought Carol, her previous demeanor surfacing. “Lucy, you’ll pardon me if I’m a bit skeptical. I really don’t have stress and anger issues to work out. I’m here because someone else thought I should come,” she said, as they left the reception area and headed back an adjoining hallway.

“Well, then just sit back and enjoy it. I mean, you’re here, and since it won’t be something you need, maybe you can get some tools to help with the people you work with... that wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” said Lucy.

“Whatever.” Carol had nothing else to say. These people seemed to have an answer for everything. They were so enthusiastic it was cloying.

They stopped in front of a rather unremarkable looking door, and Lucy pulled it open. Inside, surrounded by white walls, was what looked like a high-backed office chair, except a bit larger, and there were no feet, but only a back that became a seat, that became a singular front support, like a slightly angular inverse “S” with the top and bottom missing. Two arms were attached, and there was a large computer monitor sitting in front, but no keyboard or computer that Carol could see.

“So is this the brainwashing chamber?” asked Carol, smiling at the humor of the look and feel of the room.

Lucy smiled and said, “No, that comes later. This is just a kind of exam that looks at your reactions to stress. We’re really proud of it... it’s state of the art in the area of emotional cognizance.”

“Do I have to sit in it?”

“Well, yes.”

“How long?”

“It all depends. Some people take longer than others to map. About the longest you’ll be here is forty-five minutes.”

“Geez, how much more do I have to go through today?”

“This will be all the exams for today. Then, once you’ve slept, we begin in earnest. By tomorrow night, I think you’ll really be glad you’re here.”

“Golly, I’m looking forward to that,” said Carol.

“Good!” said Lucy, paying no attention to Carol’s dripping sarcasm. “Well, let’s see how you fit in the chair.”

Carol walked in and sat down. To her surprise, it was quite comfortable. Lucy adjusted the height of the arms, and when she was done, Carol almost felt like she was floating rather than sitting. Despite her cynicism, she was impressed.

Lucy went to the back of the chair and returned with two cylinders in her hand. Each had a button on the end.

She handed Carol the cylinders and said, “Okay, the way this works is pretty simple. We’re going to show you a series of pictures and moving graphics. When you find it agreeable, press the green button in your left hand. When you find it disagreeable, use the red button in your right hand. If you are indifferent to it, press both.

“Now, some of the images might make you uncomfortable. But overall, just try to remember you’re just in a room, in a chair, and they’re only pictures. I’ll be back to get you when we’re finished.”

“Okay. When do I get the ink blots?”

“Very funny. I promise, this will start you on a journey you’ll never forget. I know you’re skeptical, but we’ve had amazing results, and by the end of your two weeks, I guarantee you’ll feel like a new woman.”

“Okay, bring on the show,” said Carol, barely able to hold back her contempt.

“See you in a bit, Carol. Nice meeting you!”

“Charmed,” said Carol.

As Lucy left the room and closed the door, she wondered if Carol knew just how similar she was to everyone who sat in the induction chair for the first time. She smiled, thinking back to a movie she saw once. “Dey all go een de same... but when dey come out, dey’re... deefferent.”

Carol, like so many before her, would surely be deefferent soon.

With the door closed, Carol became acutely aware of the sounds she could hear, which were few indeed. Apparently, the room was soundproofed. The screen in front of her stayed blank for a few minutes, and she heard the air conditioning start. She was glad... it was starting to feel a little stuffy in the room.

From somewhere, she heard a whzzzzzzzzz, click! and then a soft ticking, like a clock, only a bit slower.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The screen slowly came to life, it’s background covered in grey on grey concentric circles that seemed to slowly move outward, and which were composed of small, rotating diamonds... one circle had them rotating clockwise, the next counter clockwise, and so forth. Pretty cheesy graphics, in her opinion.

Her name and the date appeared in yellow in the upper left corner for a moment, and Carol resisted the temptation to press the red button, just to be pesky. She rolled her eyes and tried to focus on the screen. She hoped the slideshow would start soon... she wanted to get this over with.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The first image faded in. It was a little girl with a balloon. Carol sighed and pressed the green button. If this was how it was going to be, it was going to be a long session.

The image shifted to a woman in her fifties, appearing to yell in her face. It was really quite realistic, and Carol found herself flinching before hitting the red button.

That was followed by a soft, feminine hand touching the cheek of a woman with a tear falling. It was so close that she couldn’t see the face, but the tenderness of the gesture even reached in to Carol’s heart, as hard as she had made it. She pressed the green button.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Picture after picture came up, and Carol found herself focusing and getting lost in the process. To her surprise, it seemed to be naturally engrossing... so much so that she almost forgot she was sitting in a chair.

But it was more than that. The edges of the screen were shifting in and out of focus. As she scanned the pictures, it appeared that it was the monitor moving, and not her eyes. A kind of rubbery cloudiness seemed to have congealed around her thoughts. “Am I getting disoriented?” she asked herself and no one in particular, even as she realized how unnecessary it was to even ask. “I am,” she answered herself, “getting... dis... oriented.” Her discomfort at the thought gave way, powerless to keep her attention as the screen pulled at her eyes.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

A flock of bright balloons drifted into the sky, making her dizzy, and she blinked. When she looked again, there was a picture of a woman, hair tired back tightly, wearing a black catsuit. It was grossly sexist, and Carol had no trouble hitting the red button.

There seemed to be some quivering sound coming from the monitor... almost a quavering squeal, but it wasn’t enough to be truly distracting. It was just a minor annoyance.

Another picture. The same woman, kneeling, with her hands resting on her thighs, palms up, head down. Carol pressed the red button.

The squeal became louder. Carol furrowed her brow to concentrate. The woman again. Kneeling next to a pair of legs. It was as if her eyes were touching the naked flesh of those legs, and she shifted herself slightly in the chair, despite the difficulty. The pictures were coming faster. She was thinking slower. Something.

She pressed the red button. She was beginning to get agitated. Why this woman again? Didn’t they get it?

The woman in black was kissing the tops of the feet at the end of the legs. This was getting ridiculous. Some kind of loop. Carol pressed the green button, just to see if it would break the cycle. Of all things, as the squeal from the monitor became louder, there was something less grating about it. Something almost musical.

God, she was having a hard time thinking. It felt like her brain was becoming a soft bubble. She smiled. She hit the green button. She felt very, very good. Fuck the pictures. Just go green.

Again the sound changed, almost like it was calling her. But that was ridiculous. She thought about moving her eyes again, but knew better. She was floating. Bubbles float. Bubbles don’t worry. Bubbles like anything.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Pictures and pictures. Nothing wrong with enjoyment... nothing sexist about feeling pleasure. That’s a green, and so is that.

Tongues. Licking. Kissing. Lips. Heat. Thigh. Pussy. Green, green, green.

Carol floated... she’d never felt anything so wonderful. “Green and wonderful, wonderful and green, I’ve been drugged, who fucking cares, I don’t care, it’s too fucking good, sorry Jesus, but this is beyond, beyond anything you’ve done for me, and I don’t give a fuck, I’m a soft bubble...”

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The door opened, and Lucy walked in. “See, Carol? I told you it would be okay. It’s very nice, isn’t it?”

“Vrrness,” said Carol, her words slurred almost beyond recognition.

“You really don’t need to talk, Carol, unless I ask you to. And when I do ask, I’ll give you the words so you don’t have to think, but only enjoy.”

Lucy swept her arm back and a ravishing young blond woman stepped into the room, dressed much like the kneeling woman in the pictures. “Now, Destiny here is going to take off your pants and give you a demonstration of what heaven feels like. Will that be green or red?”

Carol didn’t even think... she was quite beyond much thought at all. Her mind was a sponge, ready to soak up anything for this pleasure, this euphoria to continue. Her thumb jammed the green button over and over, spasming in anticipation of what she imagined was to come.

She didn’t feel her pants being removed carefully, nor did she notice the tiny earbuds being placed in her ears, nor the electrodes being attached to her nipples, nor the lube and inserts being placed carefully into her pussy and ass... Carol’s brain was a soft bubble, and soft bubbles didn’t have reason to notice such things.

But as Destiny knelt and then started to lick and moan, she felt the heavens open and Goddess herself shine down on her, the implants humming and stretching her, taking her places no one but a bubble could go. As Destiny’s licks became more fervent, more frenzied, the sounds in her ears licked her mind with lust, told her secrets and true things that she would never, ever forget.

Her head rolled back and forth as she fought, then accepted the words along with the pleasure engulfing her clit, her abdomen, her entire body. Her nipples were on fire... they felt like they were being squeezed, pressed, licked and released, only to ache for more and more of the insane goodness of every sensation. Even her ears burned with need for more... more of the sound that was engulfing and changing her from the inside out, as her body changed her from the outside in, meeting at the sexual, sensual, inescapable center of her existence. She was building, unable to stop, only able to feel and take on more and more and more as she was consumed by the volcanic eruptions taking place in her body and mind.

And as she came, as her climax took her and ravaged her with its flame, her mind... no, her entire soul... echoed with the name she had only just heard, her provider, her answer, the glue between all the pieces of the puzzle of her life, as her head buzzed along with her body in eternal bliss... in a wracking convulsive Orgasm of the Fiery Heavens, she cried out in love, in acceptance, in surrender to all that was right and good in creation... in pleasure, in longing, in need and in superheated lust and desire...

“ARIAL!!! OH, GOD!!! YES!!! ARRRRRIALLLLLLL!!!!”

As she stood, her task accomplished, Destiny smiled upon the newest recipient of Arial’s gift, and the newest woman to begin the journey...