The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

So, you want to hear my story? You want to know how I screwed the world?

My name’s Allison Kramer. I’m a pop star. Now, don’t look at me like that, I can actually sing, and I write my own songs, and I never filled myself with plastic or got Botox or slept with my manager or any of that other crap. I did have a manager with a bad sense of humor, though. He thought the name might hold me back, so my stage name ended up being ‘Cream’. A play on my last name, they told me, and also that I had a pale-but-healthy skin tone; eventually, it came to mean something else entirely, but that was later.

I’m not stacked like a lot of other singers; I’m slim, but not a stick, and I’m about 5′9″ with black hair. In other words, I actually look pretty normal. And I’m not an airhead either. I have a brain and I have opinions and I’m not afraid to discuss either one. I’m normally mostly heterosexual, though I can appreciate a finely-cut female form when I see one. I don’t know if that says anything about me, and I don’t really care. I’m part Asian, on my father’s side, and people talk about how I’ve inherited that exotic beauty without looking stereotypically Asian.... honestly, when people start talking about me like I’m some work of art in a museum, I tend to tune them out. I mean, really.

But this isn’t about the pseudo-art professors either. It’s about me, much as I wish it wasn’t. My story is about the end of the civilized world as we know it. And it’s about how I brought it down around us all.

We were on tour. It was my second tour, following my fourth released album, so by this point I had a fairly solid collection of my own music to choose from each night for performances. I didn’t do performances like everyone else; not every night was the exact same playlist. The way I saw it, if people wanted to know what songs they were going to hear and in what order, they’d go get one of my CDs. So I’d change it up. The ‘core’ of the music was often the same, a base that I could build on and make a unique performance out of each night by changing out portions of my repertoire for others, or even just a particular classic bit of music I was in the mood for.

We were on the last leg of the tour, having gone across most of the US counter-clockwise, by car. Or at least by RV. Last night was Las Vegas, tomorrow night would be Boulder, then three more cities ending in Indianapolis, where I grew up. But that was later. Right now, I was realizing how tired I’d been, since I realized I’d fallen asleep sitting up in what counted for my bedroom in the RV our touring group had commandeered for my creature comforts. I was realizing this, because I’d woken up.

I had woken up because of a subtle change in the sound of the vehicle, that being that it had stopped moving and the engine had been turned off. I stood up to look out the window, and saw what looked to be nothing but bright yellow in all directions, bounded by a line of mountains in the far distance. The ground was sand or fine dirt, looking like a sheet of dust covering the earth. Where it wasn’t so dry the ground cracked, there were cacti and a few tumbleweeds.

Off to one side, there were a line of ramshackle houses, looking as though they’d been put together from junkyard scraps and duct tape. I suddenly hoped we hadn’t broken down somewhere. I pulled my hair back and tied it off, then headed outside in a tee-shirt and pajama bottoms.

Not surprisingly, it was hot outside. There was scarcely a hint of moisture in the air, and I felt my eyes water as a gust of wind pushed against me, doing nothing but relocating the hot air from a few feet away to where I was now standing. A line of thicker clouds in the distance hinted at rain that was likely never to come anywhere near here. I spotted Ted Urich, my touring manager, standing near a long building that looked moderately better built than the surrounding houses. I moved closer, holding one arm up to shield my eyes from the sun glaring off the ground and almost everything else.

“Where the heck are we?” I asked, coughing as a plume of dust caught in the wind and blew into my face.

“Dunno,” said Ted, lighting a cigarette. “Nevada, definitely, because we haven’t crossed the line into Colorado yet. We’re low on gas, so we decided to pull in here.” He dragged on his smoke, his usual outfit of blue jeans and plaid needing only a Stetson to pull off the total cowboy look in this background. “Should be back on the road in about ten minutes.”

“’kay,” I replied, shrugging. “Gonna see what they have inside.”

Ted nodded. “Don’t be too long,” he advised. “Got a schedule to keep and all that.”

Walking towards the general store, I noticed a sign hanging onto one of the weirdest skeletons I’d ever seen. It looked like a slug with bones and some kind of snaky arms... and it looked really fake. The town, I learned while inside the shop, apparently had a brief thing in the 90’s where the residents claimed they’d survived some kind of attack from an alien critter. I didn’t believe a word of it, but some people took it seriously and the place kind of turned into a tourist trap in the middle of dusty nowhere after it got into the news for a bit. They had monster-collectible memorabilia and everything. It was like something out of a bad X-Files episode.

The general store, in addition to being the hub of the little sales scam run by the locals, actually had a decent selection of non-alien-critter products, like food and cheap alcohol. And ammo. Lots and lots of ammo. It had something to do with the stupid con the town pulled. They also had some knockoff brand of instant coffee, some postcards, a selection of hats, and, surprisingly, a small collection of books.

The books were what threw me most, though I suppose there’s always some way to make a buck. The selection was clearly aimed at the masses, because there was almost nothing that wasn’t big-name stupid on the shelves. They had that stupid vampire romance series that was making its run, they had books by famous pundits, they even had a pile of old NatGeo’s molding away on the bottom shelf. And then there was this one old book that kind of caught my eye.

The book was old... really old. There was no way to miss it. The pages were yellowed and some of the edges were burnt, the cover was leather and was cracked all over, the title was faded almost entirely, and I swear it looked like it had been gnawed on by a bear or something on one side. Still, I thought that it might make an interesting conversation starter if nothing else. So, I brought it up to the counter. There wasn’t a price sticker on it, but the woman at the counter said I could have it for five dollars. So I paid her and walked out with my new find.

Five minutes later, I was back in the trailer, waiting for everyone else to finish up and get us back on the road. I tucked the book under my bed in the sleeping area, and resolved to look at it later when I could get some privacy.

Three weeks later, I was back at home, the tour finished. There had been a few snags here and there, but nothing major and nothing that couldn’t be fixed with some elbow grease, some replacement parts, and Ted shouting himself hoarse at the roadies for mispacking part of the main sound system and letting it get damaged. I’d felt a bit sorry for them, but I understood why Ted was cross and how important that equipment was. Without it, we didn’t have much of a show.

The book had stayed on the back burner of my mind during the tour, and now had come my first real opportunity to examine it in detail. I hadn’t remembered there being a gemstone in the spine of the book, but there it was, red and smooth and finely-cut. I was sure it was fake, because no book could be worth five bucks if it had a real gem the size of my thumb stuck in it. The faded title had only the end of one word visible on the front, something that looked as though it might have ended in -rum. I briefly wondered if it had to do with mixing drinks, but decided it was unlikely.

Finally, I opened the book. There was no copyright, no title page inside, nothing that immediately indicated what it was. I flipped to a random page and saw the strangest text I had ever seen. It wasn’t any alphabet I’d ever heard of. It looked like some unholy combination of Korean, Greek, and Arabic, maybe with some Klingon thrown in for extra legibility. At first glance, I couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

It occurred to me that I might have the book upside down, so I flipped it the other way. The only changes this made were that I was now staring at gibberish upside down, and it was actually giving me a headache. Something in my head told me this was definitely not the right way to read it, so I turned it back the other way. The headache vanished, but no comprehension dawned.

I flipped through to a few more random pages, filled with the same mad lettering. A few had drawings, massive sketches of things that looked like they would be at home in a really twisted episode of Buffy, or maybe Torchwood. Complex diagrams of constellations and moon charts, maps of places that looked nothing like anywhere on Earth... I’d never seen anything like it, unless you counted Tolkien’s appendices.

I shuffled to another random page and stared at it for a while. As crazy as it seemed, I felt as though I might be able to read this one. Nothing was there to indicate that this page was any different from the twenty or so I’d looked at in length, but I swear the previously incomprehensible text was starting to look legible, or at least familiar. So, I gave it a whirl.

“Thaa bossaro ki shu loo mara...” As I started to read it, or sound it out at least, something compelled me to continue. There was this undefinable dread that haunted the back of my mind as I stumbled through the text. I’m not sure what, but I felt that whatever happened, it would be at least as bad for me to stop reading as it would be to finish.

“...pha lioth ekru jaamat rish,” I concluded. The book seemed to fluoresce briefly, giving me the weirdest sensation that it was giving me some kind of approval. Beyond that, nothing happened at all. So, when I raised my eyes from the book and saw a woman sitting in the chair across from my bed, I freaked a bit. Wouldn’t you? I mean, there was suddenly a woman in my room, and there hadn’t been anyone at all even moments ago. There hadn’t been any flashy lights or puffs of smoke, and the latter really would have been appropriate, because after I stopped trying to press my back into the corner of my room, I noticed that she wasn’t just an ordinary woman.

For example, she had wings. Leathery, pointed bat-looking wings, which were folded behind her, but were still visible above her shoulders and to her sides, though because of the rest of her, I didn’t quite process this first part for a few minutes. She had blue hair ? actual dark blue hair, not a wig or dyed—that came down to her butt. But the feature that stuck out at me most, even being a mostly heterosexual female, was her chest. And I do mean ‘stuck out at me’ because they were huge. They looked like something out of some teenager’s wet dream, or some bad porn flick. They weren’t bigger than my head, but only because I have poofy hair. Seriously, big freaking breasts.

Her outfit, such as it was, didn’t do much to dissuade the idea of being a walking sex object. She wore... well, it looked kind of like a skimpy, dark green one-piece bathing suit, except it was made out of something that looked really soft and clung to her body. Also, it barely covered her nipples, or the sides of her boobs, or her... um... her sex. Really, she might as well have gone without. Her waist flared out into a round butt, then tapered into a pair of toned legs that were covered in what looked like the same material as on her body, but it was a darker shade of red, almost crimson. They ended in a pair of short blue heeled boots that hung loosely away from her ankles.

Like I said before, I’m mostly heterosexual, but she was pretty hot. So after taking her in for a moment or two, and still not quite processing the wings, I straightened up in my bed. “Who let you in here?” I demanded.

The woman crossed her legs. “You did, my dear,” she replied simply, in a husky voice that dripped like honey and gave me chills. Not the scary kind of chills, either.

That shut me up for a second. I did this? “Who—wait, back up,” I told myself. “Let’s start over. When did you get in my room?”

She tilted her head in thought. “About fifteen seconds ago,” she answered.

“And before those fifteen seconds, you weren’t in my room.”

“That’s correct,” she said, smiling.

“You weren’t hiding in a closet or under the bed, or anything like that?”

“Not at all.”

“And you didn’t come in through the door, because the door’s still closed. There are no windows. So...” I braced myself for the lowest shout I could muster, “how in the world did you get in here?”

She smiled again. “You summoned me.”

I looked at her, puzzled. Some of the detail of her unusual body was starting to nag insistently at my attention. “How did I do that, exactly?” I asked her.

She returned my gaze. ”You spoke the incantation. You summoned me.”

It was at this point that things began to really click in my head, and I finally noticed the wings. I’m smart, but I’ll be the first to admit I’m not always the fastest thinker on my feet. The two things that ran through my head at the same moment were the book and this isn’t possible. Looking back, I’m surprised that my mind didn’t suddenly snap and descend into some kind of Lovecraftian madness, but it seems that it wasn’t quite that level of strange. I looked at the book still in my hand, and almost threw it in genuine fear. But something told me that it would be a very bad idea to do that without more information.

I held it up, with my thumb still holding it open to the page I had read aloud. “What’s so special about the book?”

The woman suddenly looked hesitant, and shifted position slightly, her chest bouncing slightly as she moved. “You don’t know?” she asked, and I could see her licking her lips in a way that made me feel uncomfortable. Maybe it was that she looked at me like I was her meal.

I retreated slightly into the corner, or tried to, because I was already up against it. “What are you?” I asked.

She giggled, a sound that made me feel strangely weak in the knees, and I was sitting down already. “You hadn’t guessed?” she countered. “I’m a demon, silly. A sex demon.”

I looked back at her, stunned. “A... a what?” I stammered, feeling uncertain. “How... that’s not possible!” I glanced around, and felt the weirdness of the situation hit me as the incredibly stupid-sounding question formed in my mouth. “...Is it?”

“Well, try to think of it this way,” she replied nonchalantly. “If I’m right, then the last few minutes and everything that follows are real, and there are reasons for it. If I’m wrong, or lying, then that means that you’ve gone insane and you’re now arguing the existence of demons with a really sexy figment of your demented mind. Which one do you wish to believe to be true?”

That was a pretty strange way of describing the situation, but I decided to ignore it for now and shift gears. “Okay,” I began, “humoring you, who may in fact be a delusion, for the moment, I’ll assume that you’re real and that this all is real, and I wasn’t struck on the head by something a minute ago. Do you have a name?”

“Yes, I do,” she replied.

Then there was silence. “Can you tell me what it is?”

“Yes, I can,” she answered, “but it might not be a good idea, especially if you are as untrained as I think you are.”

I sighed in exasperation. “Fine, is there a name you would prefer to go by, so that I can stop calling you ‘demon girl’ in my head?”

“Yes, you can call me Nandi,” she said.

I glared at her, dumbfounded. “Nandi,” I repeated slowly.

“Yes.”

Whatever, I thought. “Okay, Nandi, I realize this is going to be a stupid question, but... what exactly is a sex demon?”

She smiled, another of those smiles that made my stomach flutter unexpectedly. “I’m a demon, and I specialize in sex,” she said matter-of-factly.

I felt something touch my thigh just below my skirt, then realized it was my own hand. Absently, I let it rub against the skin there. “Do you... take souls or kill people?”

“Only when I need to,” she said nonchalantly, her hands resting on top of the pale flesh of her chest, her fingers caressing her own skin. “Which isn’t often. We actually get most of our sustenance from sex itself. Killing is usually only in our own defense, and souls are payment for... well, special favors.”

Well, that doesn’t sound too unreasonable, I thought. “So... what do you...” I trailed off. I realized that she was no longer in the chair on the other side of the room. That she was in fact suddenly sitting on the bed in front of me. I also realized that my hand was no longer on my own thigh, but held against the fabric covering her leg by her hand, which was slowly moving it up towards her hip. I also realized her other hand was gently pushing my skirt up my thighs. “What are you doing?” I asked softly.

“I’m a sex demon,” she repeated. “And I’m hungry.”

I felt my head go a bit foggy, and it was getting harder to really concentrate on much outside of what was happening with my body. The fabric on her thigh felt good against my hand ? better than I thought anything should, and the feeling spread all up my arm. I couldn’t help but try to imagine that same material pressed against something... more sensitive. It wasn’t until Nandi’s hands came up to work the buttons of my shirt that I grasped the fact that my hand was now stroking her leg without being guided, and that I couldn’t seem to put together the sequence in my head that would allow me to pull away from her, or stop my hand from caressing her leg on autopilot. “You...” I tried to gather my thoughts through the red fog in my head. “...did you do... something... to me?” It occurred to me that the breaks in my speech were less because I couldn’t think straight and more that I was breathing heavily.

Nandi nodded to me. “Won’t hurt to explain at this point,” she remarked, pulling open my shirt to reveal my bra. “I’ve been working a few charms on you for the last several minutes...” She squeezed my breasts through the bra, causing me to moan softly. “...And you’re pretty much ready. But don’t worry,” she said, as she leaned in and fiddled with the clasp of my bra, squashing her own breasts against mine, “you’ll get a lot out of it as well, I promise.”

I wondered how she could tell I was ready, but then my bra came loose, and the feeling of it scraping against my erect nipples pushed more of my thoughts out of my head. I felt my shirt slide off of me, though I’m not sure how, because I don’t remember my right hand ever leaving her thigh. Then she held my other hand and moved it to cup the underside of her breast, and I could see the nipple stretching against the edge of the fabric, even though the material itself hadn’t seemed to move. Without thinking, I saw my hand begin to stroke against her breast the same way my other hand was rubbing along her thigh. “I’m... not in... cont... control... am I?”

“Of course not, dear,” she stated, as she tugged the back of my skirt out from underneath me, and hooked her fingers into the sides of my panties. “You’ll find control to be a difficult thing to achieve in my presence, unless I allow it.”

“Oh... okay.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say, except possibly to ask her if I could straddle one of her legs without any clothing on for a couple of hours, but after that it just took too much effort to try to string the words together coherently. I felt my brain turn to mush as Nandi pulled my panties down my legs, her fingertips brushing against my thighs in a way that made me feel like I was floating. The next thing I was aware of was one soft finger running back up the inside of my leg, all the way up my inner thigh, and coming to a stop just inside my sex. It was at this exact moment that my mind exploded.

It was later. I have no idea how much later. I could feel that there were bits and pieces of the last however long missing in my head, and that most of them corresponded to earth shattering climaxes immediately before them. Currently, I was laying back against Nandi the sex demon girl, my skirt still vaguely around my waist, wearing nothing else, my head resting against the massive orbs that were her breasts as if it were a pillow. She was idly playing with my hair with one hand, occasionally rolling one of my nipples between her fingers with the other, and had her left leg wrapped over and around my stomach with the thin heel resting in a strangely satisfying way just inside my labia. Every so often, my body would just lazily orgasm, either from the fingers teasing my nipple, the boot heel in my sex, or sometimes from nothing more than just being held by a sex demon. I would just tense for a moment, and relax, and there would be a new wave of irresistible, seductive pleasure, and I would find myself enveloped anew in the mind-numbing fog that she had me wrapped up in.

“You taste good, sweetie,” Nandi said. The simple praise filled me with warmth, as if I had managed to do something special by tasting good to her. “You have a wonderful sexual energy, and I love it.”

She tweaked my nipple, and another miniature orgasm washed through me, the words of thanks I had been preparing in my mind flittering away in the afterglow. Drifting on a tide of sex, I found it difficult to pull myself out of the bliss long enough to ask some important questions, questions I was having even more trouble forming. Somehow, I managed to collect my wits and disentangle myself from Nandi’s touch, even as my body ached to return to the comfort of her embrace.

“Wait,” I said, willing my hands to my sides, away from my erogenous zones. “Why are you here?”

Nandi stared at me for a long moment. “What, did you miss it? I’m here for sex. That’s pretty much it. Do I need another reason?”

“You said I summoned you,” I said. “How did I do that?”

Nandi gazed around the room, and eventually saw the old book. “Looks like this did it,” she said, picking up the book, which still lay open to the page I had read. “Yep, that’s my name all right,” she confirmed, indicating a line from the book. “Or my archetype at least. Where’d you get this tome anyway? This doesn’t look like an era of magic to me.”

“Allison?”

I heard my father’s voice from outside the room. “Are you decent?”

My voice caught in my throat. Having been trapped in Nandi’s wonderful clutches for the past however long, I was nothing short of indecent, and I had a naked sex demon on my bed. How could I possibly explain such a thing?

The doorknob turned, and there was a sound like rushing wind around me. I looked down to see that a shirt had miraculously appeared over my body, and my skirt was suddenly immaculate and in place over my legs, instead of the skirt-tail tucked into the waistband to expose my sex to Nandi. “Are you coming down to dinner?” my father said as he entered.

“D-dinner?” I asked, stunned. I remember coming up to my room sometime after lunch, and I’d only been browsing the book for what felt like twenty minutes before Nandi appeared. I glanced around the room in a quick panic, realizing that my father must have seen her by now, and would be yelling at me for having a naked demon in my room without his permission. But Nandi and the book were both nowhere to be found. “I...”

“Are you all right, Allie?” he asked me. “You look a little pale.”

I wanted to tell him. I really did. But I said nothing. Who would believe me? “I’m fine,” I replied, turning to face him again. “It’s dinner time already? I think I’ve been sitting in here too long.”

“I’d say so too,” Father said, chuckling. “Your mother isn’t finished cooking, it’ll be about ten or fifteen more minutes. We’re having gumbo.”

“Okay,” I responded. “I’ll be down before then.”

Father nodded and turned around, out of my room. I quietly closed the door behind him, and nearly fell over in shock as Nandi suddenly appeared on my bed again. “Where did you go?”

“Invisibility charm,” she replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Haven’t you learned that one yet? It’s pretty simple.”

“Learned magic?” I said, incredulous. “Nobody can do magic like that... well, maybe Criss Angel or... well, I sure can’t.”

Nandi smiled darkly, which really should have been my first clue that everything was going terribly wrong, and had probably already grown out of my control. But I was still reeling from the implications of there being a demon in my bedroom. “I could teach you some of it,” she said casually. “Nothing wrath-of-the-gods level, but I can see you have a latent talent in there somewhere.”

“You... could teach me what’s in this book?” I repeated.

Nandi laughed. “Oh, way more than that,” she said dismissively, waving the book around with one hand. “There’s stuff this doesn’t even touch on. But I’ll need something in trade.”

For a moment, I was cautious. “What exactly is it that you want from me?”

“Sex demon,” she reminded me. “Staying on this plane takes some energy, and it takes more to use my other talents. Teaching you those same skills will take a lot of the energy I use just to stay here. So, if you give me the energy I need from sex, I can teach you what you want to know about magic.” She smiled at me.

I considered the offer for what felt like a long time. I felt like I was being offered the keys to a new car I wasn’t entirely sure I knew how to drive. But she told me I could learn magic. And, really, what would you do if you were given the chance? I was still wary about one thing, and I had to be certain I could keep control over at least part of it.

“Okay,” I said. “One condition, though.”

“Oh?” she cocked her head as she spoke.

I nodded. “I need to keep you and the book a secret. I hope you’re really good at that disappearing trick, because you’re going to be doing a lot of it. I don’t want anyone else to see you, or hear you, or hear me talking to you, or anything like that. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, and my family in particular, you can’t exist.”

I think that this should have been my second hint that something was up besides what was plain to my eyes. But again, I was too wrapped up in the potential to realize the consequences at the time. If she had hesitated, or thought about my counter-offer for a few seconds, I think things might have turned out differently. But she didn’t. “Deal,” Nandi replied. “I officially greet you as my pupil in the art of magic. I think you and I are going to have a lot of fun.”