The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Juliet was slowly emerging from a strange, abstract dream. A sense of unfamiliarity quickly emerged. Why was there no light whatsoever? She always slept with her window blinds open. There were pumps attached to her nipples by a strap wrapped around her chest, that much was routine, but being completely naked was not. She attempted to get up and look around, but something tugged at her arms when she did. There was a click, a whir, and then the pumps started sucking.

“Hmmh?!”

Something was definitely wrong. Juliet’s breast pumps where automatic, scheduled. These had clearly been activated by pulling some sort of wire. Clarity pierced through the morning fog, and Juliet realized she had been blindfolded, restrained, and was about to be forcefully milked. She went to the suctions cups and tried to pull them away before her lactation kicked in and knocked her out. Unfortunately, whereas her machine would have easily given way, this one’s strap was much stronger and more complex, keeping the cups firmly in place.

A desperate whine escaped her lips as her stomach started contracting. She tried to go for the suction ducts, pinch them so maybe, just maybe, the suction would stop. But though her arms weren’t firmly restrained, she could not move them beyond twenty centimeters or so. Unable to do anything, the poor girl felt the body giving in. The milk started to flow, and her thoughts slowed down.

“Hhaaaaah...Nnoooo p-p-please...Don’t...Hyaah...”

Juliet had never started lactating under so much stress, and it didn’t seem there would be any significant difference. Ecstasy flooded through her and suppressed any tension in its wake. Her arms fell down, her fear thawed out, and she realized whatever she was laying on was surprisingly comfy. The pumps slowed down, letting the girl slide down the pleasure crest and into the comfortable, middling pace of regular breastfeeding.

“Hmmmh...”

A calm smile graced Juliet’s lips. Time unraveled, spreading her consciousness into a giggling, unquestioning passivity. So pacified, the girl kept track of the soft, pleasurable contractions and let everything else flow.

“Do you hear me, Juliet?”

“Huh...Huuh...”

“Yes, nice and relaxed. Don’t worry, you are about to become very happy. It will take time to fully melt you, but it will all be worth it, I promise.”

Light pierced the darkness, though Juliet scarcely noticed it. She could have been looking at an eternal void or darkness or at the blazing sun and wouldn’t have cared either way. But then, a series of light pinches, somewhere, brought the image into focus. Juliet was familiar with the sensation—it was just as if she looked at her nursing child. Except she was looking at a bookshelf, as depicted by a ultra-high definition picture that spanned over every nook and cranny. Not even a hint of dissonance breached her foggy mind. Milk kept flowing, and her brain kept being fed feelings of love.

“The mansion is perfectly clean and pristine,” Sophia started saying as a recorded voice. “Remember how it is. You want it to be this clean. If it changes, only you can fix it. Nobody else can. It depends on you.”

The odd suggestion flew right past her silenced logic and into the whirlpool of loving feelings imposed by lactation. The pictures changed every now and then, though Juliet could not even remotely guess if it took minutes or hours. She just passively looked at pictures of a beautiful home and slowly, unwittingly, started to love and care for it. It was peaceful and pleasant. The only thing even remotely distressing where the pinches she sometimes felt before her milk started flowing anew and she fell down all the way down again.

Sophia Garland’s research notes

Case: Juliet Ferry, day 9—Test results after Juliet’s sedation.

For the last 48 hours, Juliet has been subjected to high-definition pictures of my home while my colleague’s helmet stimulates the spatial memory center of her brain. This did not break her lactation-induced trance in any way, though I did give her sporadic shots to increase her milk production, just in case. I will now let her recover and test the results of this exposure.

I woke her up, gave her a sedative, then gently walked her around the mansion. Despite weak attempts at escape, she is responding perfectly. Seeing a bookshelf in disarray had her distressed, and she attempted to put the books in order. Her Syndrome’s trance state does all the heavy lifting. Lactation is a powerful bond between mother and child, but I can make her bond with anything. Another 48 hours of constant exposure with the ideal state of my home, and not only will she will be personally invested in taking care of it, her own body will make it as rewarding as childcare. Yes, I am training Juliet to become my maid. Robots can take care of it, but she needs a task to focus on in her new life.

But giving her a passion will not be enough. It will make her happy, but I have to prevent unhappiness. I need to induce a full dissociation with her old identity, sever identification with the person known as Juliet Ferry. This entails changing a few things.

The most obvious one is the name. It needs to be similar yet different. Since she will wake up fully conditioned as a tidy maid, she shall be Juliette. No family name. To make it stick, I will make her new self inherently different from her old one, so she does not understand the latter. For this purpose, I will go through her surgery, but I will not touch her all-important breasts. Instead, I’ll send her to a cosmetic surgeon, turn her into a beauty. Then, repeat the pictures conditioning with her new and improved body.

Once she has been taught to love my house and herself, she will be released in my house and left to experience her new self, under observation. I hope she will respond well and accept the changes. If she does not, I may have to take full advantage of her trance and experiment how much I can change her personality, or maybe her way of thinking itself. I do hope it doesn’t come to this...

Juliette’s diary, day 1

Didn’t I have another diary? I found this one but I’m having so much dejà vu when I’m looking at it. Well, I’m not even sure what’s happening in general, and I don’t know if I should be happy or in despair. I guess I’m leaning on the happy side, but...Well, I should start with the beginning.

When I woke up, there was a note on the coffee table in front of me. It read:

“Juliette,

The surgery is a success. You now have the body you always wanted. You can safely go back to work.

Your Mistress, Sophia Garland”

That alone was weird as hell. I know Juliette is my name but...Is it really written like that? I’m not French...I think? I can’t really remember any place but the mansion. And why is Lady Sophia calling herself my Mistress? I asked myself what exactly I knew her as, and the only answer that came up was that she was my employer. And with my big, milky udders, that must have meant I was a wet nurse, right? But then I looked down.

I was wearing a black and white uniform with a deep, flat cleavage, sheer stockings, and lace everywhere. A french maid’s uniform. So...I was a maid? Should maids call their employers Mistress? I attempted to think about this, find out if that was normal or not, but nothing came. Somehow it was as if I had been born right then and there. What in the world was that surgery about? It’s like she had operated on my mind, not my body. I had to check, and thus, I made my way to the study. There was a mirror there, that much I was certain of.

Actually, the whole mansion felt extremely familiar, as if I had lived here my entire life. Which can’t be right. I mean, I’ve forgotten so much, but it’s obvious it’s my first day as a maid, right? This uniform...It’s so thin and revealing. It’s the first time I’m wearing it, I could feel it in my bones. The high heels, too...Getting to the study was much more arduous that I thought it would be. My body’s pretty terribly balanced as it is...Anyway, I entered the study and tiptoed my way to the mirror, convinced I would find answers, that somehow looking at myself would give me my memories back.

Instead, my jaw dropped.

“Who...Who is this?”

Standing before me was a total stranger. A knockout beauty, with perfectly smooth skins, plump lips, a cute nose, and a shiny bob of golden hair framed by the laced maid tiara. My breasts were as massive as ever, but the cleavage showed them in a whole new light. I was...A doll. A pretty blonde doll ready to take her duster and serve her Mistress. I saw my impossibly pretty reflection start blushing. It was definitely me despite evidence of the contrary, as I felt the flush. I was shivering in excitement from head to toe.

“I-i-is it the surgery? Mistress made me beautiful?”

Somehow, the thought made the shivers even more intense. I started feeling all funny. Especially down there. I tried to refocus...

“But I d-d-didn’t want surgery for that...And Lady Sophia’s not Mistress...What did I want surgery f-for?”

Yet my hand started gravitating to the dangerous place. I’m not sure how aware I was of it, but I know I tried to fight it, regain control of my body, but...

“I love my body. Being a cute sexy maid makes me happy.”

I couldn’t look away from my increasingly lewd reflection. I couldn’t help but say those words in a breathy, needy voice. And I especially couldn’t stop my fingers from sliding inside my wet slit.

“No, nooo I have to stop, I...”

I was desperate, ashamed. Yet my first time ever doing that thing made me feel something so intense, I lost control. I let out a soft, strangled, sad moan.

“Heaaah...”

I fell on my butt, unable to stop myself from moaning pitifully as my fingers started venturing deeper, my thumb brushing against my clit. The unbelievable pleasure overtook my body, made it feel possessed, or turning into something else. I couldn’t even look away from my reflexion. Hypnotized by a body that wasn’t mine and unable to pull my traitorous fingers out of my quivering vagina, I was blown away by an explosion of pleasure.

For what I can only guess was a few minutes, I simply lay there, breathing heavily. I was shocked, but also relieved in a strange way. By which I mean I was confused and even somewhat terrified by what was happening to me, and yet, I felt safe, at peace, as if the danger had passed. When I finally got back on my feet, I accidentally looked at my reflection again, yet I barely noticed it at the time. Had I already come into this body, or did the next of my strange reactions do it?

I looked at the room itself with a simple eye span, thinking nothing at first, but another unfamiliar feeling sprang from within. Something was off. Very off. I did not have to delve into my foggy memories to know what—as soon as I focused on a single book on a desk, I was absolutely certain it had been displaced. My body sprang to action, and I put the book its proper place without so much as pause. And I have no idea why, but this made me smile. My memories being a barren wasteland? My body altered to make me a pretty blonde doll? Masturbating as a response? None had lingered in my mind. I was happy I had put the book back.

Lady Sophia’s letter came back to me. I was a maid. Everything was already pointing to it, but after this rush of satisfaction, I knew it was true. Clearly I was an experimented maid, and liked my work. Another look around, and all my troubles had faded into irrelevance. The mess blemishing the manor filled me with purpose. I went for the feather duster on the central table, and went to work.

It took me a few hours, but I cleaned the whole study! I am exhausted, but good, hard work will do that to you! I guess I must also be weakened from the surgery. So I made my way to my room, a small but comfy room set aside from the rest of the house in a separate staircase. Like in the old world version of Paris! There, I found this journal, and...here I am.

Sophia Garland’s research notes

Case: Juliet Ferry, day 15—Test results after Juliet’s sedation.

At least my nefarious exercise in brainwashing has taken well. I have been monitoring her with my hidden cameras system. She woke up very confused but had a mellow reaction. She went up to the study, knowing the way perfectly, then set herself off upon seeing her new, pretty body. I figured vaginal masturbation, inherently linked with puberty, was a good natural way to force her to grow into heightened sexuality. Not that I particularly need her to be wanton, but my colleague assured me that heightening her libido was the simplest way to make the changes a one-way street. And indeed she did not show as much confusion upon further encounters with her reflection.

Though this could be a result of discovering her love for cleaning immediately after. It started with righting a single book, her getting lost in a contemplative daze for a few seconds, then getting into a cleaning frenzy. For two hours, she relentlessly hunted down the most minute tarnish in the room, from dust deposits to crooked frames. Not a speck of dust didn’t find its way into the vacuum cleaner. She happily hummed most of the time, even indulging into some hops of satisfaction. Her tidy rampage did not stop until she could review the room twice and be satisfied.

The first hurdle is cleared. Juliet Ferry lies dead by my hand, replaced by Juliette the pretty maid. The hardest part is yet to come, however. She is likely to realize this is not a job, but slavery. I have to purge all doubts, questions, and desires of freedom from her mind. Here’s hoping I can do that without reducing her to childlike intellect at least...

I better conclude this day by rewarding her breaking into her new role. Bond with her. Make “Mistress” a gentle, loving, and loved presence in her life.

And so, just as she was finishing the first journal entry of her new life, Juliette heard footsteps in the auxiliary staircase. This had to be Lady Sophia. Wondering why she would come to the servant’s quarters but otherwise eager to see her, Juliette went to answer the door.

“Lady Sophia! Welcome ho-ho-home.”

“Thank you, Juliette.” Smiled the mansion’s owner. “I saw the study. You have done a very good job, despite your convalescence. Thank you.”

“Oh, it was nothing. I thought I was fine with being p-p-p-plain, but being so pretty is...weird, but amazing! As for the cleaning...I had fun, a-actually!”

“Did you now?”

“Yeah...Putting everything in its p-place, making sure e-e-everything was tidy and clean...It all just flowed through me, I knew I was making good p-progress and was still eager to go even further. I was actually doing s-s-something more than m-milk! It really did feel good.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Still, it would be remiss of me not to offer you a good dinner. You must be hungry.”

“Oh, yeah! I suppose I should eat well to do m-m-my b-best tomorrow!”

Sophia’s approach worked this time. Juliet might have been gone, but simple friendliness assuaged the lingering wariness the newly minted maid had. Lady Sophia didn’t mean anything nefarious by “Mistress”, Juliette thought. It was just housekeeper nomenclature, not tyranny!

The pair soon arrived to the salon on the ground floor. Dr. Garland had made sure her robots cleaned the room just shy of perfection so Juliette would notice a natural decay but not have the urge to clean and ruin the bonding moment. Indeed, the holder of the miracle milk was only meant to see the luxurious entrees on the mahogany table.

“Wow, i-i-i-iiiis that foie gras, Mistress?”

“Yes. A farmer in Wisconsin decided to copy the French technique after the FDA lost all relevance. I do not have seconds, but please enjoy it as thanks for your hard work, Juliette.”

The brainwashed maid didn’t have to be told twice. She dug in her foie gras slices and spread it on toasted bread. The result was properly delicious. Despite hazy memories, Juliette was sure she hadn’t tasted anything better in her life. She didn’t deserve this from just one clean room! She had better give her all.

“Sh-should I cook the rest of the dinner, Mistress? I am your maid, cooking is my job too.”

“Oh, there is no need. I enjoy cooking, it’s a good way to relieve mental overload after research. In fact, excuse me for a moment, I’ll bring the fish.”

“Okay!”

About three minutes later, Sophia came back with two trout fillets with beurre blanc. Truly grateful, Juliette dug in. It was delicious as well. Was being a stay-in maid supposed to be that good a life? Lady Sophia had given her a pretty body, too. It was all a bit suspicious, but Juliette supposed she shouldn’t have been looking at a gift horse in the mouth. The researcher was a famous recluse, that much she remembered. She was probably looking forward having a maid she could trust, thus the lavish rewards. Juliette was looking for ways to repay Dr. Garland’s kindness while enjoying the trout, when she felt an all too familiar sensation.

“M-Mistress? Sorry, I ha-have to be milked...”

“You don’t have to apologize, Juliette. Besides a new body, this maid outfit is also a gift. It has concealed breast pumps.”

“Huh? Really?”

“Yes, though we do have to attach bottles to the nozzles under your skirt. Finish your trout, I’ll go fetch them.”

The fetching did not take two minutes, during which Juliette looked at her uniform closer. The chest portion was definitely more than meets the eye. It couldn’t be easily pulled away from the two mounds it so lovingly enveloped, as it concealed two flat suction cups, feeding into similarly flat ducts. One could spot the devices under the velvety black fabric, but not without close scrutiny.

With a bittersweet look on her new, angelic face, Juliette started massaging her huge breasts. They weren’t the only attractive part of her anymore, but they still were the keystone. Everyone would want to make love to her now, should she step outside Mistress’ mansion. Even so, and despite her recent sexual awakening, Juliette felt most comfortable with the pleasures of her unnatural lactation. In fact, she was already looking forward to feeling the pumps of her pretty uniform.

Mistress came back, and the eager maid stood up to let her install the plastic containers.

“Alright, sit down. I’ll activate them.”

“Thank you.”

Juliette heard a small whir as soon as she sat down, and closed the eyes when she felt the suction on her nipples. The pleasurable sensation sprung forth from her chest and stomach, and she let out a soft, whispering moan. Her Syndrome-borne reaction was already making her slip, but then Mistress’ hands wrapped around the her underboobs.

“Does it feel good, maid?”

“Yes...”

“Do you like having your breasts massaged?”

“Yes...”

Sophia’s hands started squeezing her soft, sensitive flesh, coaxing the milk towards her slave’s stiffening nipples. Juliette vaguely sensed something wrong with this picture, but alien hands kneading her boobs felt significantly better than her own. The creamy milk reached her nipples and was squeezed out by the suction. The pleasure sent a shiver throughout Juliette’s body and cleared her mind. Once again, the young woman’s consciousness was reduced to her flowing milk.

“Good. Now listen and obey, Juliette.”

“Yes...”

“You have started calling me Mistress. That is good. I am your Mistress, and you must think of me as such. I am your provider and protector, and the only person you know. You want to obey and please me. I am your mother and your God. Just seeing me makes you feel safe and happy.”

“Yes...Mistress...”

“You love your body. It is the surgery you wanted. Being a pretty blonde with big breasts make you confident and happy. The only person you deal with is your beloved Mistress. You may feel shy, but you don’t have any reason to. Masturbate in front of a mirror again. Try to be sexy when cleaning. Try to seduce me.”

“Okay...”

Sophia kept programming her subject with suggestions to build a new, intelligent Juliette based on the foundations that were laid that day.

“Why didn’t you milk me on the sp-p-pot, Mistress?” Asked the perfected Juliette.

“You weren’t complete yet. You were just born, and I still believed I could preserve your intelligence.”

“What’s that, Mistress?”

“The bar on your left being high.”

“Eeew! B-b-but that’s bad!!”

“Yes, it is. I didn’t truly learn how bad your duty weighed on your mind until a good week later. But what do you say we escape this grisly topic and start preparing for Christmas?”

“Oooooh yeaaah! Best time of the year! Whoohooo!”