The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The briefing was, well, brief, some nonsense about monsters, mind control, and a black hat, take-over-the-world conspiracy. Not my cup of tea, but Jack, my partner, drank it all up, which is why we’re hanging around this dusty mid-western town looking suspicious.

We checked into a motel, dumped our bags, and started “Getting the feel of the place”. We hooked up with the local cops, who knew nothing, walked the main street, hopped in our pickup, and drove the outer streets.

Jakesville is an odd town, dusty streets, tumbledown houses, closed shops, and, at the southern end of town, a huge, well kept factory behind a nice shiny fence. This must be why the town hasn’t crumbled into dust: at least one factory is still running. The fence is your standard chain-link and is festooned with all the standard warning signs, all branded with a strange insignia. They must have gotten a bulk deal on signs, because some of them were damn weird, “Beyond this fence is a grassy field” Huh?

We head back to the motel after that, and I’m glad to crash: I’m tired, jet lagged, and hungry. We buy ourselves a bucket of chicken each, and I grab the local papers from reception. I eat and read, absorbing the local gossip, then lock the door and try to sleep. TV soaks through the wall, I guess Jack’s still up watching it.

I awake with a start, yanking my gun out from under my pillow to point it at the corner chair. Blinking sleep out of my eyes, I focus on the chair ... the empty chair. So why the hell did I feel like a malevolent street bum was watching me from there? And why am I certain I left it at the table last night? Jack chooses that moment to bang on the door with coffee and breakfast so I dress and help him eat it.

The woman who’d gotten The Agency involved with all this had mentioned the new cable company, so we hit the phones to figure out who they were. We’d seen a couple of the standard white cable vans driving around town yesterday, and decided to give their number a call. No answer: in fact, no line. A quick call to HQ confirmed that the line was registered to the local branch of [smudged], but after an hour on the phone to them, we determined that the local branch had closed 6 months ago. We did get their address though.

Number 14 Houston Street turned out to be yet another abandoned shopfront. We cut down a side street, parked, and found the back door hanging open. Someone had kicked it in. Guns drawn, we slowly walked in, switching on our torches to account for the gloom inside. A quick walk through the shop confirmed that it was empty except for dust and filing cabinets.

Jack rifled through the filing cabinets while I checked out the rest of the shop. They’d left in a hurry: their faded advertising still stood in the window, and they’d neglected to take the counter and chairs in the reception area. Marks in the dust behind the counter showed that the electronics had been removed after they’d left, presumably by whoever had kicked the door in.

I checked in with Jack; he was still flipping, a confused expression on his face. It turns out that, despite their apparently hurried exit, they’d taken the account sign up forms, but left all the bills, reports, direct debit forms, statements, and account closures. Odd.

We had lunch at the local diner. As we chewed, Jack told me this crazy idea he had to check out the cable equipment, justifying it with some nonsense about modified equipment. I figured that it was as good a use of our time as anything else and agreed to it.

I went to freshen up, then paid the bill with my corporate card. As I walked to our booth, a guy in a long cloak shook Jack’s hand before quickly walking out. I asked Jack who it was. He claimed he had no idea what I was talking about.

We bought a ladder, found a likely street and parked next to a pole with a shiny new cable box on it. Jack set up the ladder, and I kept watch while he climbed up for a look. Moments later, a couple of blocks down, a cable van turned into the street. I shouted at Jack, and he slid down, we dropped the ladder in the gutter and hid behind our pickup. The cable van pulled up to the house opposite us, another house with a shiny new cable box.

The cable employee—a female one, judging by the blond hair and hips—hopped out of her van, and walked around to the rear doors. Jack immediately nicknamed her “Blondie”. She then grabbed a small package from inside and walked up to the door with her clipboard. She rang the bell, then waited patiently. Moments later, the housewife came to the door, read the document on the clipboard, then followed the cable employee inside.

We took this as an opportunity to leave: we loaded up the ladder and hopped into the pickup. We were just about to pull away when Jack saw the housewife through the front windows of her house. She was standing naked, facing the street, framed in the window, while the cable empl—Sigh—Blondie, fondled her breasts and pussy. Jack was, of course, instantly captivated, but I couldn’t help but notice that the housewife wasn’t just standing in the window, she was standing to attention, eyes forward, staring wide-eyed into space. Her mouth started working, saying words we couldn’t hear. I glanced at Blondie, she was whispering non-stop into the housewife’s ear.

Blondie then turned towards us, her eyes quickly focusing on us as we stared at her from our pickup. Snapping out of my daze, I stamped on the gas and spun our wheels as I took off down the street. I slid the pickup around the next bend, then slowed down a little as I weaved my way to the motel.

Great, there was something strange happening in this sodding little town.

When we got to the motel, I bought another bucket of chicken, wrote up my notes, and hit the sack. Jack, like last night, stayed up watching TV.

Again, I wake up with the distinct feeling that I’m being watched, but this time it’s not my imagination: Jack is standing in the far corner of the room, at attention, naked, his unseeing eyes staring straight ahead. I call out to him but he doesn’t even react. I shake my head to clear the sleep out of it, and realise that I’m not in my motel room, but a rough concrete cell. Strangely, the door is wide open. I stand, stumbling slightly as my eyes blur and my legs almost refuse to take my weight. Damn, they must have drugged me for the trip here, and it hasn’t worn off. I stumble towards the door and Jack stirs, his arm whipping out with inhuman speed to grab my shoulder, preventing me from moving closer. I move to grab his wrist, preparing to throw him over my shoulder onto the floor, but either I’m still too dazed, or he’s too fast: his other hand grabs my arm and twists it roughly behind me. I admit defeat for the moment, trying to stall until my head clears.

Jack monotones: “Lord Osmius requires that you undress before you leave the cell.” Hah, like you’re going to see that, pervert. I relax my arm, trying to get some leverage against him. He notices this and repeats: “Lord Osmius requires that you undress before you leave the cell.” He lifts my arm a little higher to make his point. I concede defeat, and move my other hand to unbutton my night shirt. Jack pushes me towards the center of the cell and moves to stand in front of the door. I finish unbuttoning my shirt and throw it at him, it hits his chest and falls to the floor with a faint sigh. He doesn’t even react. I slide my tracksuit pants down, stepping out of them, then approach him expectantly.

“Lord Osmius requires that you undress before you leave the cell.” Damn, he’s not going to let me keep my panties. I slide them down and kick them away. With that, Jack grabs my arm and leads from the cell.

My sense of direction is usually fairly good, but this place is amazing, after going down several flights of stairs and around a few twisted corridors, I’m completely lost. We eventually reach a heavy wooden door. Jack releases my arm, so I look at him expectantly. “Lord Osmius will see you now.” I sigh and push open the door.

I step into the room, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. In the gloom, I make out a rough stone room; water drips from the ceiling in places, and there’s a small pool next to a simple bed in the center. The door slams behind me, I turn, and see that Jack has followed me in, and is now standing, at attention, in front of the door.

I turn back towards the bed, and lock eyes on the tall hairy man who’s standing about a meter away from me. I can’t make out his face under the matted black hair that frames his eyes. I look him up and down, shuddering at his dirty trench coat. I guess he’s this “Lord Osmius” character. Not so impressive, I step back and open my mouth to ask him what the hell is going on.

Suddenly, someone’s whispering in my ears. Long droning words that seep around my awareness and into my brain. I make to turn, but his eyes hold my gaze. I slowly become aware that I’m staring, but it’s much too much effort to turn away. As my awareness shrinks down to his eyes, I hear the pool bubbling and a sweet scent wraps itself around my head, seeping into my brain, making me dizzy. I realise that I’m wet, almost dripping between my legs, but the scent squashes my awareness into a tiny ball in my head. My body becomes weak, and I fall to my knees, my eyes locked on his.

He parts his coat, revealing a mass of thick moist tentacles. Some part of me is scared, terrified, but the scent takes that away. He steps towards me, and my face pushes itself between his tentacles. My mouth finds his cock, and begins sucking as his tentacles caress my head and neck. The whispering starts again ... had it even stopped? ... The scent in my head makes it hard to think. ... I feel my thoughts slipping around my head like how his tentacles slip over my breasts, their touch on my nipples is electric, my mind blanks as I cum, dimly aware of his cock, squirting it’s load down my throat. I collapse to the floor as the strength leaves my body.

Lord Osmius walks around me, I can understand the whispers now; they’re telling me that I’ve been good, a good slave. I cum again, spasms ripping through my body, so happy to have pleased him. He stands behind me, bends down, his hands grasping my hips as he roughly pulls me up to his cock. I feel his tentacles part over my ass, slipping around my hips to pull me against him. I feel his cock enter me, almost cumming from the sensation. Then he starts pounding me from behind, his tentacles roaming my back, then finding their way around to my breasts, stroking, teasing, pinching my nipples. My mind shuts down as the pleasure overwhelms me, then he cums again, shooting deep inside me. I spasm around his cock, cumming again, harder than before, my limp body shaking as his tentacles keep me from falling.

The world is blurry, hazy, shimmery, glowing. I can feel his seed dripping down my legs and off my chin. I’m led to the next room, concrete again, but with plastic seats facing a blank wall. My awareness fixes on a strange insignia at the top of the wall. Words flash up on the screen, The Spectral Seal, I must obey it, must obey those who have it, follow orders, obey, Obey. My hand falls between my legs, twitches, my body shudders, time passes.

I’m led out, standing outside another room, I can hear raised voices through the door, men worried about Lord Osmius’ bargain. One of them opens the door, the seal is on his lapel, my knees want to kneel, but he tells me to stand. He gives me an envelope, explains something important to me, then tells me to forget.

I’m in my cell now. I have something important to do: finding clothes, pulling them on. Mission Complete. I cum, collapsing into someone’s arms. The world blurs and goes dark.

I awake in the motel. The chair’s at the table, and the door’s locked. An image flashes in my mind of me locking it, something cold soaking into my pants, but it disappears as soon as it appeared. Jack knocks on the door with breakfast. We eat quickly and check out. The lead we followed last night really broke the case for us. We spoke to ... someone unimportant who explained it all to us, every last detail. So we’re loading up the pickup and heading back to HQ to write it all down.

As we drive out, we pass a shiny new fence around a huge grassy field. Odd, such a nice field being fenced off, but I know I can’t cross that fence and that it’s unimportant. Whatever, we need to get to the airport.

I’m standing in front of the assistant director, Jack is explaining our report, I cut in every so often to correct him. Jack explains how we couldn’t find any evidence of any wrongdoing in the town, or anything unusual at all. Images flash into my head: a naked woman in a window, an empty shop, stone cells, dripping water, tentacles, then they’re gone. I miss my cue and falter, but Jack covers my mistake, doesn’t miss a beat.

The assistant director isn’t happy: time, money wasted on a wild goose chase. He confines us to headquarters until further notice. The part of me that isn’t arguing with him is pleased. Mission Complete: my nipples stiffen.

Jack’s inside the main communications trunk. Some part of my mind is screaming at me that I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t be doing this, but the other part, the part that’s in control, ignores it, letting my eyes watch the corridor and doors while my ears listen for footsteps. Jack’s installing ... something, something unimportant in the main communications trunk.

Jack’s done; he leads me to his truck, then drops me at home. I eat a basic meal, then sit on the floor, watching static on my new cable TV as my hand finds it’s way inside my sweatpants. My eyes unfocus, looking through the TV. My vision clouds; I see The Spectral Seal, floating in front of me. Mission Complete: I will receive a reward for my obedience. I cum, collapsing to the floor. My eyes close, darkness overtakes me.