The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The celebration was close now. Just ten more minutes and 2010 would be over. A new year would arrive and with it a new dawn in the life of Mandy Fate. She sipped from her glass of wine, waiting for her date to return from the other room.

“Happy New Year!” a man drunkenly screamed, running by and nearly knocking the glass from her hand.

A woman chased after the man, giggling maniacally. There were many guests at this party like them. Carefree, wild, and raucous, attributes not exactly fitting Mandy.

She stepped back, finding a quiet corner where she could collect her thoughts. The wine just wasn’t helping all that much. There was a lot on her mind and, ordinarily, when she drank, it took no time at all for her 5 foot 3 body to be overcome by the effects and feel quite at ease with the world.

But, tonight, things were different. Tonight, she’d finally met her date. He was a man she’d been long communicating with over email. She originally was attracted to him simply by way of the erotic fiction he posted: it was mesmerizing, deeply entrancing, and every word felt as though it was custom-written for her very ears.

She loved those days in the beginning, back when she was still star struck and fascinated with meeting the man behind the words. They’d exchanged everything almost right away. Pictures, personal info, where each lived: nothing was withheld. Knowing him as a person was a bit different than she’d expected, but expectations were meant to be exceeded, it seemed.

Over the months, Mandy had flirted, and sure, she may have had a drink every now and then, drunk-emailed him, then spent the next several hours letting him write stories to her about what all they could do together.

Sipping her wine, Mandy shivered at the details of those stories. Some even had illustrations or animations that he made to go along with them. Her dream author was the sweetest man ever, always looking out for her. And, best of all, he enjoyed her exact kinks.

Mandy had always been a smart girl, far too bright for many men to pay her much attention in real life. But the internet was different. It wasn’t real life, and this world was fun. In the world online, Mandy read of girls like her. She read of them losing their intelligence, of them becoming simple-headed little bimbos, of them thinking only of sex, thinking only of the most lurid and depraved ways of fucking a cock inside them.

It was that one fantasy that had always existed in Mandy Fate’s thoughts. She never told anyone about it until she first started speaking to that faceless author of online erotica. As with everything else, they weren’t seven days into their correspondence before she’d laid all the cards out on the table.

And he was into it. He loved the fact she was just like his ideal girl, the type of woman he dreamed of as he put fingers to keyboard and created the next masterpiece. Mandy became his muse, his inspiration for new stories, and with each and every one posted, she felt herself growing more impatient for the next. With every email he sent her, she grew obsessed with when the next would come. And with every image manipulation he made her, or every animated picture, Mandy became more and more eager for more.

She might’ve admitted she wasn’t just star struck anymore. Mandy was becoming more than enamored. The thoughts seemed to enter into the author’s mind almost the same time as hers, because, one day, just a week before New Year’s, he contacted her and asked if she would like to meet.

Mandy jumped at the chance, at the opportunity to finally meet this man in person, the man who’d long captivated her fantasies.

He lived a long way away, and traveling wasn’t exactly cheap. But he paid it all. He paid for the first class ticket and even had a limo meet her at the airport. It was star treatment all the way. But something seemed wrong now.

It had been three days since she last communicated with him before tonight. Three days, and things were popping into her mind that she didn’t seem to be able to make sense of.

Mandy finished her wine, setting the glass down. She looked around, wondering what was keeping him. She knew absolutely nobody here, and it was a rather crowded and wild bunch. Plus, she wanted to ask him—no, needed to ask him—about some memories she now seemed to recall.

During their nights of endless chat and email exchanges, many things were said. Mandy knew she’d been a real tease. She’d joked about things she would never joke about in person. She made a real slut of herself for his amusement. But there were images and words flashing through her mind as the clock ticked on toward midnight, things she must have forgotten.

Why were they so hazy? Why couldn’t she make sense of them? And why was he taking so long?

Almost as soon as the two of them had arrived here, he’d gotten a phone call. He assured her he’d be back in time for the countdown, but now Mandy realized he may be cutting it close.

Her impressions of the man she’d idolized for so long met with what she’d pictured. He was sweet, charming, and a real gentleman. There just seemed to be something else. Mandy couldn’t quite put her finger on it. It was like a look, a subtle glance in the corner of his eye, and she knew she wasn’t imagining the grin he gave her every time she looked away.

“Less than two minutes,” she thought, watching the big plasma screen opposite the corner she stood in. The crowd between it and her was standing in a recessed reception area, providing her with an exceptionally clear view of the numbers counting down. “He’d better hurry up,” she thought.

Mandy wasn’t quite sure where things would go from here. She’d met him, and that was a big step, but was she ready for more? Would she really be willing to make a long distance thing work? Could she even do that? It seemed he had that in mind. Or maybe she was reading too much into things.

She sighed, wondering if she should either go look for him, get more wine, maybe even some champagne, or possibly leave. This night seemed odd, and, for some reason, she still felt completely sober. It was a disturbing sensation to have these memories flooding back into her mind, each second bringing new thoughts, new remembrances of images he made for her, of animations she watched on loops over and over.

His stories, Mandy thought, the ones he wrote for her: were they getting inside her mind? Were they playing games with her subconscious? He was skilled. She had to give him that. He knew exactly what to say to make her weak in the knees, precisely what to write to make her have a very pleasant night.

“Hey, babe, sorry I was so long; just finishing up some business.”

Mandy turned and instantly smiled. It was like a gut reaction. She simply couldn’t prevent it. But, still, she had questions.

“I’m glad you showed up. I thought I wouldn’t see you until next year.” Mandy joked.

“Oh don’t worry about me. I’d never leave my little cum dumpster waiting.”

Mandy bit her lip. She looked around quickly, making sure no one had heard his words. Saying things like that in their email exchanges had never been all that weird or embarrassing. Somehow, hearing him say that to her face made her blush all over.

“Something wrong?” he asked, placing a hand around her waist and pulling her closer.

“Um . . . well, a little. I wanted to ask you about some of our late night chats. I had some memories.”

He interrupted. “Not memories.” He made a surprised face, rolling his eyes for effect. “Mandy’s my little brainless bimbo slut. How could she have memories of doing anything online?”

This time Mandy was the one to roll her eyes. She was getting annoyed. The charm might be wearing off on this man she’d longed to meet.

“I’m serious. I wanted to ask if you did anything odd, said anything different the nights that I was a little tipsy?”

He straightened up, looked momentarily concerned, then pointed to the plasma screen. The roar of the crowd was growing more organized as everyone began counting down from fifty.

“Nothing all that odd, Mandy. Let’s just say that tonight, Mandy Fate, you’ll finally realize your own fate.”

The crowd reached thirty.

“And what fate is that?” Mandy asked, a nervous chill running up her spine.

The crowd reached twenty.

He grinned, that grin she’d seen before, but more blatant and open. “The fate of becoming what you’ve always fantasized about. In a few seconds, the final countdown will begin, and, with that countdown, you’ll become a complete dimwitted slut.”

Mandy’s eyes were wide. She stared at the number on the plasma screen, listened to the shouted cries of partygoers around the room. She wanted to speak but didn’t get the chance as the number ten appeared on the screen.

“TEN!”

Mandy felt her libido take off, like a heartbeat on overdrive; her juices began flowing, her thighs quivering. Images flashed through her skull.

“NINE!”

Her education began dropping, the image that of a roll of twine unwinding, spinning wildly as it uncoiled and took with it every shred of knowledge she’d learned in college.

“EIGHT!”

Mandy forgot how to write in cursive. She forgot how to perform simple calculations. She even forgot where the key went when driving a car.

“SEVEN!”

She looked at her date, eyes wide, pupils dilated. She came just looking into his grinning face. Her panties were sopping and she was shaking as she orgasmed.

“SIX!”

All thoughts of her job and home vanished. Mandy Fate forgot where home even was. She felt her thoughts turning squishy and pink. She felt her nipples harden.

“FIVE!”

Mandy reached up and groped at her tits. She squeezed the dress she was wearing so hard her nipples popped up and instantly she was sucking on one of those nipples, jaw stretching, her awkward stance enjoyed thoroughly by her date.

“FOUR!”

Her intelligence bottomed out. She wasn’t stupid, but any basic survival skills beyond the urge to fuck and eat were minimal at best.

“THREE!”

Mandy lowered one hand and pulled her skirt up, thrusting fingers into her soaked panties, rubbing her constantly climaxing cunt.

“TWO!”

Staring into the man’s eyes, Mandy squeezed one of her tits, now fully exposed. She leaned at an awkward angle, her other hand was busily thrusting away between trembling thighs.

“ONE!”

Mandy Fate leapt at him like a crazy woman. She jumped, wrapping her legs around his hips, squeezing him to her tits and kissing him hard on the lips. She hardly listened to the music playing, the others shouting well wishes for the new year. All she wanted was him. All she needed was him. She had to have him on her, in her, all over her. And she had to have him now.

“Oh fuck!” Mandy said, breaking the kiss. “Like, come on stud, go ahead and stick that dick inside me! Screw me till I pop!”

He smiled, nodded his head and grabbed her by the thighs. Standing her on the floor, Mandy’s instinct was to jump back on him. She needed that cock inside her. She’d go mad without it.

“I’d say that worked out well.” He said. “I have to admit I wasn’t positive the programming had taken hold until I checked the logs on my phone just after we arrived. You really did a good job of taking the cues in. I’m impressed with myself for being so subtle.”

Mandy stared blankly at him. “Oooh, come on, fuck me! Fuck yer little bimbo slut unconscious, then fuck her some more!”

He grabbed her hand and dragged her away from the crowded room. “Well, you have a one-track mind, but at least it’s the kind of track I don’t mind riding on. You see, Mandy, it’s quite simple really. I wrote those stories, sent you those images, the animations, all just to accomplish one thing. You know what that is?”

Mandy was nearly slung into a dark room ahead of him. He flipped on the lights, revealing a coat room. There was a king-sized bed with various furs lying draped across it. Mandy giggled. Her hands were already removing her dress as she turned to face him.

“You are stunning.” He said. “But since you can’t think at the moment, I’ll make it very clear. I brainwashed you, or rather initiated a program to wipe away the old you and launch a new, improved model. You’re now Mandy Fate: slut, whore, bimbo, cum bucket, my own personal cunt. And you’ll be her forever. Your old life is gone. It’s more than a new year. It’s a new you!”

He laughed, watching the now nearly nude Mandy squirming on the bed, thrusting fingers between her legs, auburn-tinted hair whipping across her shoulders as she stared hungrily at him.

“So tell me, Mandy. What do you think of me now?”

She grinned. “Like, I totally think you need to stick that cock inside me. I need your cum! I need it sooooo bad!”

He walked up to the bed, unbuttoning his shirt, loosening his tie. “Nice answer.”

And with that, Mandy’s dumbed-down mind got what it always secretly craved. She no longer had to think of anything but how long before her next fucking. She no longer had to bother with working or driving her car. She no longer even needed to bother dressing unless her new master told her to.

He’d written her a new personality, one more erotically geared to his own pleasure. Mandy loved being used like this. She always would, because he was her fate; he was her purpose in life.

Outside the bedroom, the party continued on early into the morning. The music was loud. The guests were smashed. Nobody heard the orgasmic cries of a young woman being brutally and repeatedly screwed senseless in the coat room. Nobody else knew of the untold amounts of sperm rocketing into every hole Mandy had. Nobody could imagine the many positions she put herself in to serve her new stud. And nobody would find out until leaving that their coats were stained quite seriously by a newly minted slut taking her first steps into the new year.

Should old acquaintance be forgot,

and never thought upon,

The flames of love

fed new fuel,

and Mandy fed new cum.

Is thy sweet mind now

grown so dumb,

you cannot help but rut;

Oh, Mandy, now you’ve gone and

become

my own sweet bimbo slut!