The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Not knowing why, other than her heightened instincts, Jennifer decided that the opened window was better than the unlocked front door and moved back around the corner of the run-down Victorian. This close to the old house the sense of “wrongness” was even stronger, more pervasive, and she knew at least one reason why its owner seemed so lax about security.

What right-thinking person would be caught dead, even on this All-Hallow’s Eve, trying to break into the dark and decidedly dreary home of a supposed witch?

Well, actually, I would, Jennifer thought, though she often wondered just how “right-thinking” she was.

As she moved up to the open window, set off behind a bunch of barely alive shrubs, the second reason no one would enter this place became clearer to her, more obvious to her trained mind and senses. The woman who lived here, whom Jennifer knew to be a witch, and one of longstanding and great power, had apparently cast an emotional aegis over the entire house, one that would effect anyone trying to enter without permission.

Basically, it was a huge fear spell, dark and ominous.

Jennifer could “see” it was there, almost reveling in the strength this night of nights was adding to her own powers, as she was a witch, too.

Just to test it out, her unremitting curiosity both one of her greatest gifts and greatest weaknesses, she stretched out a hand toward the window. As her fingers drifted closer to the sill, she could feel it, like a whispered warning traveling up the length of her arm to her mind’s ear... Go away! Get away, before it’s too late! Horrible, terrible things await all those who enter this place. Run away while you still can!. And while Jennifer didn’t “hear” it in actual words, its meaning was just as clear as if the house had actually yelled them at her.

She withdrew her hand, leaving the warning behind. She was slightly stunned that the spell had felt so powerful, that it had made her quake a bit inside, even though she knew almost exactly what to expect before it happened. Any stranger feeling that, and hearing their brain telling them that, would probably be running down the street right now.

I would be, too, if I had the brains god gave a newt... but I don’t. No, in for a dollar, in for a pound. I said I was going to do this, and I shall! Jennifer thought, using that feeling to wipe away the last of the fear, and to settle herself for what she was about to do.

She knew she wouldn’t be able to mentally withstand a full-body assault from the aegis. So, whispering a quick spell of her own... a reflective, warding spell... Jennifer did something about it. She smiled as she felt a bubble of protection growing around her, surrounding her entire body. The spell had come so easily, worked so quickly and well, and once again she felt the effect this night had on her power. It was one of the ways she was different from the other members of her coven back at the college. There were others....

She was more independent than they, choosing to live alone, off-campus, rather than back at the sorority house with the rest of her brethren; she was a lesbian, while only two of the other 12 members were even bisexual; she liked to skirt the fine edge of the rules of conduct for witches, feeling this was a new age that called for a different, less structured set of personal and metaphysical self-controls.

In other words, she was a bit of a renegade.

And, moreso than any of them by far, All Hallow’s Eve seemed to enhance her powers, her skills, and perhaps even her knowledge. It was uncanny, and something her fellow witches frankly marveled at.

As she began to climb carefully through the window, Jennifer tried to put down the sense of self-importance and near-invincibility this night was giving her. She knew to a certainty that the witch she was hoping to confront was very powerful—much older than she, much more knowledgeable—and would definitely be even stronger on this magical evening, too.

Jennifer dropped quietly to the floor, her leather moccasins making almost no noise. She wasn’t quite sure why she’d dressed like a female Robin Hood, but it had seemed apropos at the time. For this particular foray into the unknown, she’d put on a green leather vest, cross-tied in the front, thigh-length brown leather skirt, with matching belt, functional white cotton bra and panties, and Indian moccasins. It was an outfit that somehow helped her feel more tied to the earth, more in touch with her powers.

She’d eschewed a headband, as her black hair was cropped short, front and back, but had finally bowed to common sense, as she knew almost nothing about this house and what it was like inside, and had clipped her “home security blade” to her belt. Actually, it was contoured-grip military knife that she’d picked up at a craft fair one day, just to feel a bit safer in her apartment.

She unsnapped the safety strap on it now, and moved further into the house, not really sure where she was headed, but figuring she’d know when she got wherever that was.

There was just enough ambient streetlight still coming through the window for her to see the room she was in. It looked as Victorian as the outside of the house, with an old-looking desk, deeply padded settee and a thick, wooden center table, one she almost ran into. It seemed so much nicer, so much better kept than the exterior walls, doors, windows, and landscape. She wondered if the rest of the house was in such good repair.

Opening the door slowly, happy it wasn’t creaking like something out of an old horror movie, Jennifer peeked out into the better lit hallway beyond. She wondered what Eleanor Devlin would look like now, having no clue, as it had been years since anyone had seen her, and even more years back for any photograph that would do her justice. The reclusive Ms. Devlin never answered her door, other than to call though it, even when the police had been sent there once, “just to investigate”. She knew the mayor had pushed for a search warrant once, but could not find a judge corrupt enough to issue one for no real cause.

That was this witch’s name... Eleanor Devlin. Back in the day, she’d been the head of a local coven, apparently a strong leader and a witch of considerable skill and knowledge. But things had gone wrong, somehow. She and her group had been hounded and challenged by the local populace, eventually to split up and move their separate ways. There were also rumors of a doomed love affair... a lesbian love affair between Eleanor and the one witch who’d stayed behind with her. Whatever the actual facts, about 15 years ago Eleanor had cloistered herself away in this house, with only the delivery, and disappearance, of her weekly groceries and supplies giving evidence that she was even still alive.

Sighing and dissipating her reflective spell, Jennifer opened the door and moved out into the hallway. Emotionally unprotected now, she could once again feel the wrongness of the house, a sense of a darkness having nothing to do with the amount of light radiating through it.

Jennifer couldn’t be positive, but it became more apparent with each quiet step she took that the black arts were being performed here, that the city council and her coven were probably right. If so, that was why she was here, and here alone, to try to stop this before all hell broke loose.

She came to a set of opposing doors as she moved down the hallway toward what looked like a large living room. They were both open, and she glanced into the one on her left, seeing what looked like a well-appointed sewing room, or the like. To her right...

Before she could turn her head to the right, something from that direction had grabbed her, had wrapped what felt like a rough rope around her throat, and was pulling her into the room. Jennifer tried to scream, but could not, simply struggling not to fall now, trying to look behind her to see what was attacking her.

It was some type of giant plant, or animal, or something... something that looked like a mutant hydra, but certainly nothing of this earth. She shrieked, then gasped as the thing around her neck tightened even more, yanking her more deeply into the semi-dark room. Struggling to breathe, she grabbed for her knife.

But it was too late, as other ropes, or tendrils, or tentacles caught at her wrists and forearms and jerked them upward, leaving her feet barely touching the floor. Jennifer groaned, trying to think of what to do, how to fight this, even as she felt her lower legs and ankles being wrapped and held, too.

She needed a spell, something quick and strong, but it was so difficult to think like this. Feeling the... the… tendril (as this “creature” seemed more like a predatory plant than an animal to her) loosening enough around her throat so she could breathe again, the trapped witch struggled to come up with something that would work. Concentrating hard, and trying to calm herself, Jennifer only closed her eyes for a second or two… but it was enough.

She never saw the new tendril that thrust itself into her gasping mouth.

Almost choking, she struggled to eject it, to pull her mouth free from the thick, rubbery-tasting vine. She almost succeeded once, but then something whipped around her forehead too, limiting her movements, and she quickly found that she could not clear the thing from between her lips.

Now, even if she came up with a good spell, she wouldn’t be able to speak it, to make it come alive for her.

She shuddered in real fear now, knowing this was even more proof that dark magic was being practiced in this place. The thing holding her was certainly not from this plane of existence, and must have been called forth by the owner of the house. It was then she finally looked down as best she could, her head still held in a leathery vice, her mouth filled by a thick tendril.

There was proof positive, crawling along the floor toward her!

Wereworms! Jennifer knew about them, knew they were from the black places beyond, knew that she was in huge trouble here. More like huge, gray slugs than worms, shaped like the biggest cigar you’ve ever seen, the two wereworms were slowly moving across the floor toward her bound feet, just seeming to glide over the hard, polished wood. She had no doubt what they’d do when the got to her; had no doubts where they would climb and wiggle and go to feed and breed.

Cursing Eleanor Devlin for straying from the true path, Jennifer struggled harder, snapping and twisting her limbs and body, but all to no avail. She was stuck here, unable to even lift her feet from the floor, and there was nothing she could do to stop the worms. They’d already drifted out of her field of vision, Jennifer only able to look down so far. She felt their slight weight on her moccasins, though, then their first slimy touch on her held ankles.

She needed a spell, she needed to get free, and she needed to do it now!

So, with nothing else for it, she steeled her, tightened her jaw, and bit through the thing filling and controlling her mouth.

All her wrappings suddenly tightened, as apparently, the plant creature could feel pain, and she felt herself being choked again. Thankfully, that soon lessened, but by then she’d lost her chance to spit the still wriggling tendril tip out. Instead, she was having to purse her lips and clench her teeth to keep the severed vine from invading her mouth again.

Dammit!, she thought, This is getting suckier every minute! The wereworms were moving up her shins now... she could feel them, wet and clammy, inching ever upward.

Again, with nothing else she could do, she did the nearly unthinkable, and swallowed the plant section still moving and squirming against her tongue.

She almost didn’t make it, her throat dry from fear, the tip catching for a moment, threatening to choke her completely, before finally going down. Ignoring every strange feeling inside her as it did, Jennifer could only pray her stomach acids would take care of it, and that she didn’t throw up.

Somewhat relieved, and filled with a bit of hope finally, the spell came next. It was a very simple one, with Jennifer counting on her enhanced skills to help bring it to fruition. So, clenching her teeth to keep the injured, demanding tendril out, she began to chant, enunciating as clearly as she could...

With every ounce of concentration she could bring to bear, Jennifer willed her rudimentary spell to work. The wereworms were moving past her knees now, and she wasn’t sure she’d succeeded at all until she felt the pull at her waist and saw the knife drifting upward toward her bound, struggling hands. When it got there, she grabbed it in her right hand and immediately began to saw and dig at the vine wrapped so tightly around it.

She moaned, feeling the heinous worms moving to the inside of her thighs, starting to disappear under her skirt, the thing around her neck spasming tighter. Guessing she had cut halfway through the tendril, it suddenly let her go, unable, or perhaps unwilling, to take the pain she was inflicting on it. Immediately, she began to slash at the one holding her left wrist, that vine letting go even more quickly, apparently having learned what would happen if it didn’t.

Slapping the tendril away from her mouth, Jennifer fought for air, slamming the knife back into its sheath and putting both hands under her skirt. She ripped the wereworms away from her skin with a sickening, suctiony sound, raised her arms and flung them both against the far wall. The one tossed from her right hand, her throwing hand, hit the wall with a wet thud and stuck there. The one from her left still hit the plaster hard, but fell to the floor, to lie there unmoving.

Not daring to risk a second, Jennifer snatched out her knife again, and reached up behind her neck to attack the vine still wrapped around her throat. That one quickly let her go, as did the ones around her ankles, as soon as the serrated, sharp edge of her blade touched them. Finally released, Jennifer ran out of the room, panting and shaking and struggling to forget what had almost just happened to her.

Damn... I have to be more careful. No telling what other home defenses and traps Eleanor has set up in here.

Sighing and letting herself settle a bit more, Jennifer finally moved forward again, toward the large living room at the end of the hallway. As she reached the lantern-lit room, she dropped down on one knee near the left wall of the hallway. This room was far brighter than the one she’d been trapped in, but still felt and looked a bit creepy in the flickering glow. Although she wasn’t really hidden at all where she was, it was still better than just walking into the room, unannounced. Peering around as best she could, the room looked to be completely unoccupied.

So she stood, and took three steps forward before freezing in a total, panicked stop.

She wasn’t alone.

She hadn’t been able to see one part of the room through one of the large, stuffed chairs in it, and had missed something, something from the dark places that Eleanor must surely be accessing with her magic.

She couldn’t remember what it was called, but she’d seen pictures of “things” such as this during her spellcraft studies. It apparently hadn’t seen her. In fact, it was walking away from her on the far side of the room. It was about five feet tall and shaped roughly like a human being. But that was where the similarities ended.

I was also so thin as to be nearly two-dimensional, completely naked, its entire being looking like, and having the consistency, of Cream of Wheat. She knew from the pictures she’d seen that it was nearly faceless, too, without eyes or a mouth or anything approximating them. In actuality, it looked like a gray, semi-opaque version of the yellow, nearly stick-figure AOL icon.

The ghoulish thing still hadn’t “seen” her, or heard her, or even smelled her... Jennifer didn’t know what senses it had... but, taking no chances, she took two slow steps to her left and ducked down behind an ornate sofa, figuring to wait until it left the room before she continued on. It had looked to be heading for a doorway in the far corner, perhaps the kitchen. She collected herself again, holding her hand straight out in front of her, pleased to find it not shaking.

I’m not afraid of no boogie man, she thought, peeking over the back of the sofa to see it disappearing into the next room.

She never saw the one above her on the ceiling.

It landed on her head and back with a sound like loose bread dough being dropped on a table. It wasn’t heavy at all, but from that height it hit Jennifer with enough force to stun her, and to knock her to her hands and knees. Trying to catch her breath, it was a few seconds before she could start to struggle against it, and by then it had spread and oozed around her to the outside of her breasts and halfway down her thighs. Worse, it had slid far enough over her head to cover all her hair and a good part of her face.

She began to fight in earnest now, but it was like trying to wrestle a bowlful of jello. Her knife was useless, unless she decided to stab herself, so she dropped it, trying to tear at the creature with her hands. Jennifer could scoop small sections of it away from her arms and neck, but even then it would just ooze through her fingers and begin coating her again, continue its inexorable attempt to cover her completely.

She was starting to panic, her eyes already covered, struggling now to simply keep her nose and mouth clear, lest she suffocate.

Thinking to maybe climb back out the window to get outside, that maybe away from the enchanted house the thing couldn’t exist or function, Jennifer tried to stand. But she’d waited too long, as the thickening slime had wrapped around her thighs and shins and calves, welding them together, and keeping her from straightening her legs. The creature was amazingly strong for its thinness, and trying to move against it, inside it, was like trying to get out of a thick, wet balloon... she could stretch it some, but not enough to do any good.

And while her muscles quickly tired, the cloying substance encasing her remained just as strong as ever.

She moaned, spitting and snorting to get some of it out of her mouth and nose, her fingers fighting a losing battle to keep them clear. It was becoming more and more difficult to use her hands, or her arms, as they became coated with the controlling goo, too. Finally, it got to the point where she couldn’t pull her fingers from her own cheeks... they were trapped in the thick slime there now... and knew she had lost.

Try as she might, she couldn’t stop the creature from pulling her hands back along the sides of her own head, then behind it and across each other; it was simply too strong, too relentless, to resist. Eventually, the clinging mass of the monster pulled her fingers to her opposite elbows, leaving her forearms bent down behind her head and basically fused there.

Too scared to be aroused, Jennifer felt parts of the creature beginning to flow beneath her underwear, to coat her breasts and loins, to press and slide and pull at her soft flesh there. As there was nothing she could do about it, and survival was her only goal now, she desperately ignored that, and struggled on.

The ooze, or membrane, or whatever it was on her face, which had ceased moving for a time, now began to work itself over her skin again, and there was nothing she could do to stop it, either. It spread over her nose, too thick to snort away now, and then moved with surprising speed to cover her tight-lipped mouth. Jennifer had managed to scream, loud and high, before it did... but only once, and knowing it was probably the last sound she’d ever make.

She struggled for a few seconds more, kneeling there helplessly on the floor, twisting and writhing. Finally, however, she stopped, as what was the point... there was nothing she could do to break free now, and she knew it.

No! she thought, using all her power and faith to try to find a place of peace for her own death, Better to die with dignity then go out like some wild animal...

Trying to sink within herself, Jennifer couldn’t stop all her body’s struggles, as it still worked to try to keep her alive. As she began to see red, though, her heart pounding so loudly in her ears that it sounded like a construction site, she at least felt her fear melt away, and a soft acceptance fill her as her mind began drifting away from this place to wherever it was going to go.

She moaned, for a moment even letting herself feel the exquisite arousal of having her lips, nipples, and clit sucked into the wet, undulating slime... pulsating mini-bursts of white-hot pleasure in a deepening red sea.

So she barely noticed when hands touched her face, moving, pulling, and pushing the ghoul’s “body” aside as easily as one would brush one’s hair out of their eyes. It was only when the first cool rush of air hit her bellowing lungs that Jennifer returned, gasping and choking, and sucking in huge draughts of life-giving oxygen.

Opening her now-uncovered eyes, and trying to focus them through the haze that was only slowly lifting away, she could finally make out her softly smiling “savior”... a woman... a thirty-something, long red-haired, beautiful woman in a sultry, diaphanous red robe. It couldn’t be, as she must be in her 60’s, yet it had to be....

“El... Eleanor?”

“Yes, dear, and who might you be?”

“I’m... I’m Jennifer,” she gasped, “I’m a fellow witch, and I came here to war... mmmphhh...”

A suddenly non-smiling Eleanor had covered Jennifer’s mouth with her hand, and was glaring at her. “Another witch, eh? I should have let me pet finish you. I’ll not have you coming in here, trying to cast spells, trying to ruin my life!”

Jennifer tried to shake her head, moaning a “noo” into the older witch’s gripping hand... It isn’t like that at all!

“But maybe some good can come out of this. Hmmm...,” Eleanor said, her look becoming decidedly more nasty. “Yes, that’s it! First I take care of you, and then I, um... take care of you!”

Jennifer started struggling again, knowing it was still useless, as only her face were clear of the clutching ooze, but needing to do something. She stopped, though, when Eleanor brought up her other hand to cover her nose, too, and started to chant...

“She wasn’t asked to enter here And came right in despite the fear But as this is my house, my place, I’ll steal these features from her face.”

With that, she moved her hands away to grasp Jennifer’s chin and hip, managing to turn her enough so that the stricken woman could see her own reflection in a darkened window.

Jennifer looked, and saw, then quickly slammed her eyes closed. But it was already too late.

She knew Eleanor had just cast a “seeing is believing” spell on her. Well, she had seen, and now helplessly believed, that she no longer had a mouth or nose, that she only had smooth flesh covering the lower half of her face. As such, though part of her mind knew this must be a lie, once again she could no longer breathe, once again she found herself suffocating.

Trying to fight off the “truth” of what she’d seen, but failing miserably, Jennifer felt her vision disappearing again, along with her ability to think. This time, she had no initial reserves of air in her system that she could call upon to try to hang on, if even for a little while.

Struggling weakly, the last thing she saw or remembered was Eleanor’s face, the once-more-smiling witch mouthing words she’d never hear, as Jennifer felt herself sinking down through the red and into the blackness beyond.