The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It was a cloudless, moonlit night. The grass under their feet glistened with dew. Crickets and birds of the night sang a joint melody that seemed to complement the laughter that broke the stillness of the night.

She was dancing and he was laughing.

The girl, Lorena, dressed in a short, white dress, danced with abandon. Sitting a few paces away, with a cup of wine in hand and a smile on his lips, Rupert hummed a tune he just made up and then laughed at his own lack of musical skill.

Time passed and the moon climbed the sky. Lorena twisted gracefully, one movement becoming another. She spun once and let her body fall next to Rupert, her legs crossing under her. The two looked at each other, their eyes unfocused and tipsy, and then laughed loudly.

“You are a beautiful dancer,” Rupert said in a slur, his eyes trying to focus on Lorena’s face, but failing miserably. “You should do it naked!” He then whispered, his teeth showing dumbly.

Lorena laughed and then winked. She was not as drunk as her friend, but tipsy enough to play along. “You know?” She said, looking at the pale moon. “You are right. I should totally do it naked one of this days.” She paused and then turned to look at her friend and killed his smile with a ‘no’.

“Oh, you can be such a tease.” Rupert slurred and tried to hug Lorena.

Lorena quickly pulled away, letting the mess of a man hit the wet floor and roll a few feet down the slight mound of dirt he was sitting on. She skipped around his body as he pulled himself up, giggling like a little girl. Rupert simply groaned and, once he managed to stand up and keep his balance, glared at Lorena.

“You know I wasn’t trying to do that!” He gesticulated as he walked towards her.

“I know,” She giggled; she had her hands on her back as she skipped towards the house.

Rupert followed the girl, his steps wobbly and erratic until Lorena skipped into their living room, passing through a sliding glass door. She tries to sit on a couch, but ends up stumbling onto it. Rupert closes the door behind him and reluctantly sits on the floor.

“I... I am...” Lorena panted.

“I know!” Rupert interrupted. “I think we should call it a night.” He said, his eyes on the clock mounted on the wall opposite to him.

“True.” Lorena said and then quickly pulled herself up. Her world turned upside down for a second. She had miscalculated her own tipsiness and momentum, and had to plant one foot in front of her to avoid meeting the rug face-first. “Oh, I think I had a little too much wine.” The dancer giggled.

“Maybe you did,” Rupert laughed as he made the mistake of jumping to his feet. As soon as he was standing, he lost his balance and wobbled to the side, he could’ve avoided falling if he had not tripped over a small box poking out from under the couch. He groaned as he felt a penetrating pain flare on his knee.

Lorena laughed from the stairs. She pointed at the box and commented that she would put it in a pedestal. Rupert cursed the box, nursed his knee, and pulled himself up. He stared at the box and kicked it away.

Rupert followed Lorena upstairs, telling her to stop laughing. The two mumbled more incoherent things and then locked themselves in their rooms, both falling on their respective beds and falling into a drunken sleep.

The box slid soundlessly over the hardwood floor until a stool stopped it. Underneath the moonlight that poured out of a near window, the box looked almost alive. The shadows it cast danced around it and an imperceptible click sounded from it, but it could’ve been anything.

Near-midday sunlight woke Lorena.

She opened her eyes and moaned into wakefulness. Her mouth tasted horrible and she had a slight headache. “That was a fun night,” She chuckled and then groaned as she removed herself from the bed.

The headache turned into golems trying to pound their way out of her skull. Her world began to spin. She tried to steady herself against the wall, but she tripped on something. She managed to catch herself against the wall before she hit the ground. Cursing, she steadied herself and kicked whatever was poking from under her bed out and away.

A red box slid soundlessly across the room.

It was a foot long and a foot wide, and no taller than a fist. It was a deep red all over, the colour of old brick walls that had seen too many rainy days, and it had a single golden latch holding the upper, finger-thing flap to the thinner flap to the chicken egg-sized bottom part.

“Strange,” Lorena said out loud as she turned the box from side to side. “I’ve never seen this before.”

She wondered if perhaps it had been under her bed all along. It was likely: since she moved into the house, she had never looked under the bed and she still had to finish unpacking. Lorena held the box and tried opening the latch, but it didn’t move.

Lorena shrugged and placed the box on her bed. If there were anything interesting about it, she would figure it out after a long shower.

Rupert was sitting in front of his television set, enjoying his day off by playing some generic first-person shooter on his Playstation 3. Just as his killstreak increased for the third time in the last minute, he saw Lorena appear in the corner of his eye. She was wearing a short, blue skirt and a t-shirt tied just over her navel in a hasty knot. She stood behind the couch and pointed towards the screen, acting as Rupert’s spotter. Shamefully, it didn’t work and Rupert lost the match.

Rupert laughed and then turned towards Lorena.

“Hey, Ena.” Rupert said. “How’s your headache?”

Lorena groaned in response. She jumped over the sofa and sat next to Rupert. She was careful not to block his line of sight. She placed the red box on the table before she sat next to Rupert, staring at him and wondering how he managed not to get a hangover. He must’ve been at least ten times as drunk as she had been; yet he was as healthy as ever.

Rupert turned off both console and television. He stood and began to stretch his arms, one of his hands pointing towards the box. He cocked his head in a quizzical fashion. The way he moaned when stretching made Lorena wonder just how long he had been playing.

“I don’t know. Found it in my room.”

All of a sudden loud moan echoed in the room.

The two froze in place and held their breaths. Suddenly the room cooled down and everything, even the chirping of birds and honking of lorries, fell quiet.

The two slowly turned their heads to stare at the box. Its latch moved on its own, as if an invisible finger tried to force open a rusted latch.

Another moan filled the room; a long moan that seemed endless as the box opened. The lid moved slowly, rising a millimetre per second before it suddenly flew backwards with such a force that the lid cracked the wooden table.

“What the fuck!(?)” Lorena’s eyes were wide, her mouth ajar.

Rupert was silent, his eyes stuck on the box, or more precisely: on the swirling, coloured mist that began to pour out of the box. He tried to say something, lips quivering and tongue twisting, but he failed each time—he couldn’t even come up with the words.

The strange mist poured out of the box. It was multicoloured and shone with a light that seemed to come from deep within the box, like a miniature sun in the depths of the darkness of space. The mist rose a couple of inches and then, slowly, fell down and away from the coffee table before it disappeared.

“Rupert, what is...” Lorena trails off, her mouth opened in mid-sentence.

“Lorena?” Rupert tried to look away from the box, but his eyes and head wouldn’t turn away. “Lorena?” His voice quivered.

The two couldn’t blink, couldn’t move—couldn’t even speak. But they could still think. And it was seven hells of torture, for your body to disobey all of your commands. Screaming and trashing and barking in their minds, both Lorena and Rupert tried their mightiest to break away. Not one muscle moved voluntarily and only the steady rise-and-fall of their chests was appreciable.

Slowly the colours intensified, seemingly becoming deeper; the more intense they became, the more mist poured out of the box. Lorena found her eyes focusing on the mist’s swirling movements; not knowing why(,) she sighed happily.

Rupert was in a similar state, his mandible was like a length of rope hanging from a tree, lifeless and limp; his eyes were like a curious astronomer’s lenses, gazing upon something so majestic that everything else was nonexistent. He tried to form words, but something captured and destroyed them just before they took any real shape. Like aborted offspring.

And he was conscious—too conscious.

Another moan fills the room, but it sounds muffled, as if spoken through a pillow. To them. Slowly their minds began to stop working, the electricity surging through their brains suddenly not as intense, leaving only what was necessary to survive. The moan had been so intense that it made the air vibrate and boom; had they not been affected, they would’ve at least felt it on their skin.

The moan vibrated again, penetrating everything that was solid and was not. Lorena’s lips quivered and then parted. Her fingers began to tremble. Her breathing deepened and her heartbeat increased. Her whole body suddenly reacted to the sound of the moan, which seemed to speak out to her. Her hazy mind comprehended it as a voice asking a simple yet earth-shifting question, but it was nothing of the sorts. So beyond their minds it was. Whatever it was that spoke to Lorena, it prompted her to speak. Her voice was a distant whisper; every syllable was prolonged as if it took years for the information to reach her mouth. “Pantyhose...” Her mouth moved slowly. “Pantyhose...” She repeated.

The word felt foreign, strange, and even surreal. The still thinking part of their brains, that little speck of electricity and chemistry that made thoughts possible was surprised and quizzical. Why did I say that? Why that word? Why!?

The box moaned again.

Rupert and Lorena shuddered, their eyes rolling into their heads. Rupert’s shoulders slump and his chin touches his chest while Lorena starts to move, with wobbling steps, towards the box. He catches a glimpse of her body; shoulders slumped and head lolling, before everything went black for him.

Two steps and Lorena’s shins touched the table’s border. She bent at the waist and managed to stick her hand inside the box.

Had she been aware of anything, she would’ve screamed and then moaned. Her fingers touched something soft and silky that made her shiver all over; her skin goosepimple; and a sticky, musky-smelling liquid dribble down her thighs.

Her hand wrapped around something that seemed to float in space. She felt a shiver crawling up her arm and gasped slightly before pulling her hand out of the box.

It was the silkiest thing her hand had ever touched, smooth and soft. Every thread was perfect on its own, a thin line of string crafted by mystic spiders. Lorena pulled her hand out of the box and stared at something of such a deep black that it could’ve easily swallowed her whole.

Her hands began to stroke the pantyhose, each caress feeding the growing smile on her face. Each time her skin stroked the nylon, her body straightened, her eyes recovered some of their true colour yet they remained lost to the blackness of the pantyhose.

Rupert began to whisper something, his voice too distant and her mind too distracted to really care. Far-off echoes(,) voice-like, scratching sounds filled his emptied mind. His lips quiver, his tongue smacks against his teeth, saliva pools under his tongue, and air moves out of his lungs like water through a net. His voice soon echoes, repeating the word Lorena had been, in a way, forced to say: “Pantyhose... pantyhose...” He droned as his feet began to move under him.

Imitating Lorena, Rupert bends at the waist and slowly puts his hand inside the steaming, colour-vomiting box. Still echoing the word, Rupert wrapped his hand around something suspended in space; it was soft and silky and smooth. Suddenly his whole body felt like ice cream under the sun—slowly melting and soon to be useless. Sighing, Rupert pulled his hand out of the box and stared at a pair of pantyhose similar to Lorena’s.

Suddenly, the two feel nothing.

Rupert wakes as his buttocks touch the soft cushion of the sofa. Next to him Lorena is smiling, the pantyhose being rubbed up and down her now naked body. Rupert frowns and notices that Lorena’s clothes are sprawled around the room. Strangely he doesn’t feel anything about this development.

Lorena turns towards him and looks him up and down, inspecting his body.

“Why are you naked, Rupert?” She said, the black pantyhose guiding Rupert’s eyes all over her flesh.

“I...” He looked down at himself, noticing that his penis was standing at attention and that his clothes were the ones sprawled around the room. “I don’t know.”

Lorena nodded, her eyes following Rupert’s hand. He was holding the black pantyhose, running it along his erect member.

“Do... do you want help with that?” Lorena said, her mouth was dry and her sex tingled.

“I...” Rupert stared at the black pantyhose Lorena was rubbing over her pussy. “I don’t know.” He repeated.

Then the two fell silent for an eternity, just staring at each other’s pantyhose. They could think, but chose not to. The feeling of pantyhose on their sensitive bits was just too delicious to cluster with other thoughts.

Rupert began to groan, and Lorena began to breath heavily.

“Maybe we... maybe we should put them on.” Lorena moaned in ecstasy.

“God! Yes... yes!” Rupert agreed, his hand tired and his penis sore.

The two quickly stood, robotically and in unison. The two blink and stare at each other, realizing what they just did. Before they can even think about it, the box opens again, moaning as it does.

The two fall back into trance, their bodies softening and their minds opening. Juices keep on dripping down Lorena’s thighs, and Rupert’s penis starts to pour out warm, sticky liquid.

Another moan from the box and the mist starts pouring out of it. Both Lorena and Rupert start chanting something without words before their hands began to work on the pantyhose. One foot in, then the other, carefully pull upwards and ensure the seams are straight.

The two fell back on the couch as soon as the pantyhose covered their bellybuttons. Moaning and with their hands desperately trying to contain the contents exploding out of their sexes, Rupert and Lorena fell asleep.

The following morning the two woke startled. They looked around, but they didn’t know what they were looking for.

“Did we...?” Lorena began, her hands resting against her chest.

“I think so...” Rupert said.

The two remained silent for a while and then stood simultaneously. Shoulder to shoulder they went up the flight of stairs, swishing sounds filled the house every time their nylon-clad legs rubbed together.

“So... did you like it?” Rupert said suddenly.

“You have a way with your tongue,” Lorena smiled, feeling arousal returning at the thought of what she believed Rupert did. “I can still feel it caressing my loins.” She licked her lips and cupped her crotch.

Pride swelled in Rupert’s chest.

“Well, that thing you did with your hands was just... Marvellous.” Rupert said awkwardly. He had to say something—anything, to complement what she had said.

“Thank you.”

Silence again. Their heads looking straight ahead as they reached the top of the stairs, their hands hanging limp at their sides, their legs a shimmering blackness. Moaning, they parted ways and walked into their respective rooms.

It took them not more than five minutes to emerge.

Rupert was wearing a pair of jean shorts that reached down to his knees, a pair of flipflops and a t-shirt that showed his pantyhose-clad belly whenever he raised his arms. Lorena dressed in a black skirt and a black blouse, her feet enclosed by a pair of white sandals.

The sound of closing doors filled the room, and then of swishing nylons. The two walked towards each other, small yet quick steps guiding their bodies. Rupert and Lorena faced each other, their noses inches away from each other, their legs trying to rub against each other.

“We need more pantyhose.” The two said in unison; they said it as if they had mentioned the lack of milk in their fridge.

“How many nylons?” Lorena asked happily.

“As many as we can carry.” Rupert said. “All that we need.”

“We need a lot of pantyhose.”

“Yes we do.”

The two had dreamy smiles on their faces and their eyes were slightly glazed. Suddenly they kissed, softly and then began to make their way down the stairs.

They remained silent the rest of the day.

Rupert walked into the house first, his arms holding about four bags filled with all manners of nylons—pantyhose, stockings, garters, socks. Lorena quickly followed; she was carrying five bags.

The two slumped over the nearest chair they found, throwing their bags on the coffee table in the middle of the sitting room.

“My feet are killing me!” Rupert moaned, his hands caressing his heels. “How long did we walk?”

“About five hours?” Lorena asked, her black-clad feet rubbing against each other. “But it was worth it.” She smiled, holding a package of red pantyhose in her hands.

Rupert grinned and fished out a pair of pantyhose from one of the nearest bags. Within seconds he had pulled the tan garment out of the plastic covering and was rubbing it along his black-covered legs and his arms. Lorena quickly did likewise.

The two had spent a whole day wearing black pantyhose. They had no idea where it had come from, or why they were wearing it in the first place. Rupert had not even mentioned the fact that he was wearing black pantyhose, and Lorena shrugged as if the whole situation was normal. And they didn’t mind, really. They didn’t even question why they had this urge to buy more pantyhose. They just did what felt right.

And right now it felt right to masturbate with pantyhose, in front of each other.

“Ready for some kinky fun, Rupert?” Lorena inquired as she began to remove her blouse. She was not wearing anything underneath it.

“Oh, I am aching for it.” Rupert smiled, his shorts quickly thrown to the next room and his t-shirt removed in seconds.

Lorena had a dark patch on her crotch. It seemed impossible, but the space-black pantyhose could get even darker, even deeper. Rupert found his gaze focusing on that patch of darkness, wishing he could dive in it and be gone. Lorena ripped packages of pantyhose open, spilling two-legged colours all over the place as her eyes locked on Rupert’s already hard penis.

It took them a while, but soon the whole sitting room was covered with nylons of all colours and designs. And soon enough the two were sitting next to each other, their hands holding pairs of stockings and hose, and rubbing them over each other’s aching sexes.

“Hmm... I love this.” Lorena moaned. Her hand tingled whenever she moved it over Rupert’s rod.

“Yes...” He whispered. “Me too. But why?”

And suddenly, their worlds began to crash.

It dawned on them, what they were doing. Blinking, they stared into each other’s eyes, and saw only lust and need. Perhaps they saw worry too, but it was covered by a mist of glazy need and loss of control.

They shrugged off the feeling and kept on masturbating each other.

The box moaned and wailed, opening with its otherworldly force and adding a new set of spider-web cracks on the wooden table as soon as the two moaning housemates found their sexual release.

The two writhing bodies rose from the floor, pantyhose and stockings clawing at them like desperate vines and falling to the floor soundlessly. Their heads hung in place; their arms were like spaghetti; their legs were sticky with juices, sweat and pleasure; their eyes were devoid of thought; and their minds were cleared of worry.

The only thing that mattered was what the box would say.

Mist poured out of it, multicoloured and beautiful, and the two mindless drones stared into it with the mindless ignorance of a soulless thrall.

Suddenly the box reached out—or what was in the box reached out—it spoke to them in the language only the two who wore what it provided could understand. The two moaned, their hands twitching, their sexes aching, their heads throbbing.

“Uniforms...” Rupert was the first to answer.

“Leotards...” Lorena whispered next.

“Encasing...”

“Tight...”

“Teasing...”

“Controlling...”

“Perfect...”

“And enslaving.” The two whispered in unison and then fell to their knees, their bodies shuddering as the box wailed once more.

The two looked into each other’s empty eyes, their hands moving towards the box. Knuckles, wrists, elbows, shoulders. The two pushed their whole arms into the box and grabbed something. Had they been conscious or had they retained some semblance of individuality, they would’ve wondered why they didn’t touch each other’s arms inside the box when they were clearly so close to each other.

But they didn’t care about that then.

They pulled something out of the box—a uniform in the form of a leotard. It felt cold and throbbing on their hands and it beckoned them to wear it.

And they obeyed.

Soon they were both uniformed, clad in a bodysuit that covered their arms, hands, torso, neck and back. It was the same colours the mist had, and it even looked as if the colours shifted and moved like smoke falling towards the ground. Metal rings appeared on every finger, on their wrists, on their forearms and waists; they formed on their necks and on their chests. They didn’t feel heavy nor metallic at all. They felt controlling, as if they were chains with which to thug and guide them if they strayed too far from their master or mistress’s path.

The two began to chant silently, the colours on their uniforms swirling, their eyes imitating the lights in the box. They raised their arms to the air and then fell on their backs and slept.

When the two woke from their third enforced sleep, they felt refreshed and renewed; it was as if their bodies had been submerged to the bottom of a frozen lake and then brought back to life with the fires of a volcano. Refreshing yet energy-filling.

Rupert and Lorena rose simultaneously and then stared into each other’s eyes, then into each other’s uniforms.

“We are perfect.” The two said in unison.

“Two more that are perfect.” Lorena breathed, her hand on Rupert’s chest. The touch of leotard on leotard made the two shiver.

“Two more to join the search.” Rupert then said.

They blinked, realizing what they had said. The two looked at the box on the coffee table and understood. It had changed them, it had morphed their minds and transformed them into tools to be employed as it saw fit.

And they didn’t care.

“We must search for the others.” Lorena said.

“We must search for more to make perfect.” Rupert said.

The box closed with a loud whimpering shriek; it sounded like a thousand dogs yipping and a million whales losing their offspring.

“Rupert?” Lorena shook her head. “What... what just happened?”

“I... I have no idea.” Rupert said as he steadied himself. All of a sudden he felt dizzy.

Lorena looked around the room, noticing the hundreds of pairs of pantyhose. She then looked at Rupert’s body, her gaze locked on his hard manhood. She frowned at the arousal that began to grow between her legs.

“What are we wearing?” She asked.

“It is perfect.” Rupert answered immediately, his voice monotonous.

“It is perfect.” Lorena repeated and then fell silent.

“So, what do you want to do now?” Rupert said as he began to walk towards the kitchen. “I don’t know about you, but I am starving.”

Lorena smiled and followed her friend into the kitchen. “Why don’t we fix ourselves dinner and then have a quick fuck.” She said, wrapping herself around Rupert.

He smiled and placed his hands over hers, enjoying the warmth of her uniformed body on his.

“Sounds like a perfect plan.”

—0—

A month later they were still clad in their uniforms. The box had not opened ever since and they managed to arrange their house in a manner that looked more or less normal. Pairs of nylons still filled the many rooms, and now they had mirrors painted with swirling colours all over the place. Though they really had no idea why.

In the past week they had begun to look for stuff on the Internet, stuff they could never remember once they turned off the computer.

But that didn’t matter.

The two were dancing under the moonlight, enjoying the night air when they heard someone knock on their door. Curious, the two went to see who was out so late. Opening the door, the two were greeted by three girls dressed like businesswomen. Their legs were covered by black, shimmering nylons, their stiletto heels white, and their short-skirted suits were painted with multicoloured mists that moved as if being blown away by a soft breeze. Spots of red that appeared on the girl to the right moved to the girl in the center and then passed over the girl to the left’s skirt. The three had red-painted lips, black-shadowed eyes, and bobcut hair held firm my black headbands.

Their eyes were glazed, Rupert and Lorena realized, and they held a red box in their hands.

“We are perfect.” The three girls said as one.

“We are perfect.” Rupert and Lorena said as one and allowed the girls into their house.

The three girls walked inside, each of their steps synchronized. Rupert and Lorena walked with equal synchronization towards their box and grabbed it. They felt nothing when they touched it.

Facing each other, the two groups held their stares for a small eternity before one of the girls spoke.

“We are closer to finding him now, but we need more to help the search.”

“We can help with searching and making more to help search.” Lorena found herself saying, sudden knowledge appearing in her mind.

“Like we have done.” One of the three girls nodded. “Soon we will find him. Soon everyone will be perfect.”

Rupert and Lorena nodded and then moaned.

“He will be found, and everyone shall be perfected.”