The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It was another day of school for the army of eager minds and quiet mouths. After the ordeal of last week all students had realised the importance of wanting to learn, and of going to school. No one broke the rules, no one complained about the teachers, no one got distracted.

It was a very strange day.

When it was done, the teachers had an emergency meeting to consider what was going on. In no time they reached the conclusion that what had happened a week ago had somehow given all the students the same view on education that thousands of teachers had desperately tried to put in kids’ minds for thousands of years. Since this change was not affecting them, on the contrary, it was utterly helping them and society (in the long run) they decided to do nothing about it.

The teachers all stood in unison, gave a mental thank you to the higher power that had corrupted their minds with true happiness, and went on about their days.

The students moved as one, conversed the same, thought the same, and dressed the same. But they were not the same mind. They were independent people, each with his and her own dreams, expectations and desires that had been twisted and corrupted by other people’s dreams and desires.

Several groups, some that had formed after the liberation from haigure due to people knowing every intricate detail and secret of other’s life, which had allowed them to realise and learn who they would be happier and friendlier with, stayed after class to study. A group of four was sitting still at a cafeteria table. They were not moving, simply staring into each other’s eyes. A nod and they all pulled their books out.

“We must study.” One of them intoned.

“We must study.” The others repeated.

And they began to study.

There was another group, a group of two to be exact; they were brothers, and they shared a room. They opened the door to their apartment in unison, stepped inside in unison, walked up the stairs as one, and locked themselves in their room at the same time. They stood there, feeling strange and confused, but then they shared a look and smiled. They undressed before each other, making sure their uniforms were neatly folded and placed in the hamper, and then turned to inspect their true uniform.

Like many they had been unable to rid themselves of the leotard, not because it still had power over them, no, but because the experience was not easily forgotten. Their brains had been meddled with, and the changes, although not entirely permanent, had left their mark; the brothers could no more go long without wearing the faded leotards than a painter could go without creating art.

The two stared at each other’s leotards, feeling nothing for a long while until both sexes started to grow. They looked at each other and sighed merrily.

Bor stood at the mouth of the temple, grimacing. He knew something wasn’t right the moment he returned to Carrera—the air seemed less likely to sting your eyes, the people talked in whispers. It was not until a ponderously fat man dressed in an ill-fitting overcoat approached him near the campsite that he learned why the town seemed less irritably pleasant.

“I understand if you want to take your time, Mister Rodriguez,” Porfirio didn’t meet Bor’s eyes.

Bor shook his head. “I owe him, I owe him a lot. We all do. If it hadn’t been for him we would all be lost.”

Porfirio’s face looked like a death in a family. “That is a certainty.” He turned to look at the contents of the tent. “You go ahead, Mister. I have seen enough and although my stomach is stronger than most, it quivers at what you’ll find down there.”

And with that the ponderously fat man left.

Bor sighed and walked down the steps, echoes of footfalls his only company until he reached the place where everything had started.

Ileana and Rachel and Joel stood around the pillar that once held a basin of water but now was over turned and broken down. Somebody had smashed it in rage. Bor silently walked towards the group, but stopped in his tracks when he saw the blood. There was a river of blood coming down the steps and pooling besides a leather-bound book which Bor hoped would soon be turned to ash.

Rachel turned around when she heard Bor gasp. She was still wearing nothing but her colourful leotard, and Bor’s eyes found her covered sex before they found her sad eyes. The two shared a look and sighed.

“How did it happen?” Bor asked simply out of courtesy, out of years of learned social norms. He already knew how it happened, he had known since he had fallen into the web of haigure.

Ileana answered. “Just before he fell to ha—” Ileana caught the word in her throat, closed her eyes for a second and then continued. “Just before he was taken he cursed us all and cut his palms.” She pointed to where Grigori’s leotard had grown to cover the wounds he had inflicted. “But he thought about that, the clever cunt, and cut his femoral arteries. He passed out soon enough.”

Silence fell upon the ancient temple.

Joel broke it. “We didn’t know much about him, but in short notice we’ve been able to call his friends and sort of explain the news. People will take care of his body.”

“Good,” Was the only thing Bor said.

Another silence.

Eventually Bor turned away from his ill-met friend and looked at the desk and corner where he had learned so much about an Elder God. Someone had started to wreck it and stopped suddenly. Bor found Grigori’s notebook and started to leaf through it.

“What are you going to do now?” He asked to whomever would answer. “About all this research and work?”

The three people in the room looked at each other and then at Bor. “We’re... we will publish everything. Make it public.”

Bor tensed and turned around abruptly. “You can’t do that!”

The three gave sad yet resolved stares. “Look... all that has happened, all of it...” Rachel began.

Joel cut in. “When you freed us we were close to ten thousand strong, Bor. Covering this up will be stupid with so many people knowing about it, and who is to say that the side effects won’t be as terrible?” He ran a hand over his chest, idly.

Bor averted his gaze.

“They would’ve wanted us to publish everything we have found.” Ileana said.

Bor weighted the notebook. “That is true.” He said. He really hadn’t known Grigori and had no idea if he would’ve wanted them to publish things, but if there was one indication of Grigori’s desire to leave records of everything that happened it was his notebook. Bor placed Grigori’s notebook on Ileana’s hand. “Do it.”

A smile flashed over Ileana’s face and for a second Bor thought about slapping her.

He nodded to the group and started to make his way out of the temple just as Frederic came walking down the steps, clad in his leotard. The greeted each other and Bor started walking up the steps when a sudden thought made him stop and turn around. “What are you going to do with this place?” He asked, his body hidden in shadows.

“We’ll learn as much as we can from it and, if we’re believed, destroy it.” Joel’s voice said.

Bor nodded, not really caring if they saw the motion, and left the mausoleum. He greeted Porfirio on his way out and the two shared a short talk.

Bor walked all the way to the other end of the small town of Carrera, got inside the car he had borrowed, and drove off, never to return to the town.

The two sisters sat on the veranda overlooking a vegetable garden. One of them was sitting on a woven straw chair, the other lying on a hammock, swinging from side to side. The two had been silent for well over an hour, considering things, thinking things.

Finally Aizan spoke in a humble tone. “Have you ever wondered if there’s anything buried in that garden?” She pointed at the ample backyard.

Jo shifted on the hammock and peered outside. “I know there isn’t.” She smiled at some memories.

Aizan turned to her sister. “How do you know that?”

Jo giggled. “Remember I dug several holes to find treasure when I was a kid?”

The girl in the star-covered leotard ran a hand over her hair and then her eyes went wide. “Oh, yes you did!” She smiled. “I remember you got extremely excited when you found a shiny stone that you thought was an emerald, but turned out to be just a piece of glass. You cried for a whole day after that.”

Jo had decided, long ago, to not remember the crying.

Another silence, a long one. Bird started singing on a nearby tree and the sun crawled down. Just as the sky started turning fiery Aizan spoke, “I am sorry, Jo.”

Jo turned towards her sister, slowly. “Whatever for?”

Aizan looked away, wrapped an arm around her chest and sank into the chair and into words that came hard. “For... for being like I am. For being such an unrelenting bitch.”

Jo would’ve said some ironic remark, some smartass comment but she couldn’t, not anymore. Jo now understood Aizan’s mind like never before; for Aizan to apologise was a very rare occurrence, and it needed the respect due. If Jo so much as smiled, Aizan would curl up into her own shell.

“I’ve always tried to impose myself on you and it really showed when I... when I tried doing what I did.” She sighed. “Besides being overly controlling, deaf to your opinions, and simply the worst sister you could have...”

“Say no more,” Jo interrupted, sitting perfectly balanced on the hammock. “Aizan, I haven’t been the best person to live with either...” She stopped talking when her eyes met her sister’s; for the tiniest fraction of a second Jo thought she heard Aizan’s voice in her head. “Well, we’ve shared a mind, Aizan. You can’t go back on that. We know each other maybe better than we know ourselves now, that... that’s just amazing.” Jo smiled sweetly. “I think we should use that and simply get closer. Start from there.”

Tears burned at Aizan’s eyes, but she wouldn’t allow herself to cry. It had been enough for her sister to take a glimpse of everything that made her who she was, she wouldn’t let Jo see her crying, not even if she really wanted to do it. Instead she smiled sweetly, the first time in over a decade that she had smiled at her sister. “I’d like that.” She said and meant it.

The two sisters shared a silent moment, looking at the sun going down and the night coming into its work shift. Minutes after sundown the house phone started ringing. Jo jumped on the hammock, but Aizan had already gone to answer it.

With the mumbling voice of her sister in the background, Jo’s thoughts drifted towards Bor, her new friend, and everything they had been through. She pressed her legs together, and her mouth was forced to sigh as an electric pleasantness filled her. Since she had ended haigure the day before she had been feeling the sparks of pleasure whenever she touched her leotard—so strong was this feeling that she could not remove her leotard without sinking to her knees in a torrent of desire. She had already tried twenty times. Jo didn’t know her body could withstand so many orgasms... Since then she had not dared another attempt.

She had asked her sister and realised that Aizan was going through something different, but in her case was that she could just not find the desire to remove her leotard. She hated it, yes, but inside her head, somewhere very deep, she still wanted to keep it on. It was as if a second personality was playing tricks on her, Aizan had explained.

Jo thought of her friend Alejandra. After everything was over and done, and she was safely back home—Jo had received a call from Alexandra. The girl had thanked Jo, and nervously started talking about when the two could get together to just hang out, forget everything about what had happened, and sit together to study like the good students they were. Jo had been a bit freaked out, but decided to ask again. The same answer and then Alejandra had started to say that she wanted nothing more than to study and be a good student.

Jo had hung up instantly.

Aizan walked into the room, wearing a short skirt and a blouse with three buttons left open for the world to see the leotard underneath. She seemed very uncomfortable. “Jo, it was mom.” She said it with a hint of amusement. “She and dad are at the mall and they desperately want me to go and pick them up.”

Jo giggled. “Don’t tell me they were caught up in the whole thing.”

Aizan smiled. “Okay, I won’t. But just pray that they don’t have the leotard on.”

The two laughed and then Aizan was gone.

Jo walked to her room after a while, each step an adventure with the heels she had not been able to get rid of. Actually, she did get rid of them but found that she liked to wear them now, although it was difficult to walk in them.

She jumped on her bed and stared at the ceiling while considering many things. It had just been a day since they defeated haigure, but had it truly ended? So far she had realised that the effects of delicious (she had to admit, in hindsight, it was a delicious concept) haigure were still present. Or the side effects. All over town she knew—she just knew, and Alexandra’s story had confirmed it—people have been acting up. But how could they not? For a couple of days they had been part of a hivemind, feeling only bliss coursing through their veins. Had they forgotten, things would’ve been easier, but they all remembered the experience.

Ten thousand minds remembered being one. The effects of haigure would be felt for who knows how long.

Jo curled on her bed and stopped thinking about that. She ran a hand down her body, feeling a deep thrill fill her. Eventually she would have to get rid of the leotard, somehow, but all the thinking about haigure had aroused her. Her hands found the slippery material, which turned her whole body into a sensitive zone.

It was not until Jo allowed herself to whisper the word that her body broke into another wave of... of... she had no idea what that had been. It wasn’t an orgasm, at least not like any she had had. It was deeper, more pleasant. Perhaps her brain had had an orgasm. Whatever it was, she liked it.

“Haigure.” She giggled. “Man it is so wrong that I find that arousing now. Must be a side effect.”

Lore had finally removed the leotard, after much cutting and struggling. She felt relieved, liberated, free! For the first time in her life did Lore found that she loved the naked view of her body. Standing in the mirror, looking at the mark the leotard had left over her body—her skin had tanned, and where the leotard covered now was a shadow in pale skin—she saw all that was beautiful: her perky breasts, her slender waist, her moles covering her arms and back, the way her shoulder blades showed if she flexed her arms, how her legs seemed to be sticks covered with flesh and skin...

Lore loved her body, now.

She retired to take a long, long hot shower and to think. In no time had she realised that things were different; she was treating people with more confidence, her self-esteem was soaring high, and for some reason she wanted to dress properly and perfectly to show her assets.

“Wait...” She whispered to herself, water licking at her back. “Wasn’t there a voice who talked like that?”

And as quick as the thought had arisen, quickly it died.

Lore finished showering, dressed up in her usual blacks and, feeling quite disoriented at the whole of the world, decided to go to her studio and see if she could work. She got there and the first thing she did was to pick up school uniforms and get rid of them. Once she had tidied up the place she got to work on some old pictures she had been putting off.

Lore edited several old pictures before she found the folder containing the images from the fateful day. She didn’t make any move to edit them, and instead started to skim through them. The first ones were of one of the girls succumbing to Lore’s words. The memory made Lore cringe. She kept looking at the pictures and then found the ones where she had taken an active role in the girls’ conversion. With every passing picture a boiling in her gut started to go crazy. Self-loathing grew until her computer almost smashed against a wall.

Breathing heavily, Lore just sat there, angry at herself, angry at the world, and angry at Cosette. But Lore was much angrier at the fact that Cosette was gone and there was no one left for her anger to be directed at.

After a while she stood and walked towards a window, considering, realising that she had changed. Her eyes went wide and her nails bit into the wooden frame. She had changed. I... am no longer myself. She thought. It had not been her choice and that was what made her angry.

Night fell and she heard her mobile ringing. She ignored it.

After much pondering Lore came to the conclusion that even if she had indeed been changed, she was still Melanie Lore. The reason she had her own business was that she had always taken things as they came, and made the best of them. This would not be different.

Amanda wandered all over town for a whole day; and kept wandering the following day, simply taking account of the people who were still going around their day wearing nothing but a leotard and those who had returned to normal day wear. Had the way their minds been connected one degree farther away from utter communion both sides would be at each other’s throats. Amanda saw no inclination of aggression, none whatsoever. Leotard-wearing people greeted non-leotards as if nothing was off, and it was very likely that to them all, who had been one mind, there was nothing off.

Amanda smiled to herself, confused. She turned around, heels kissing the concrete, her orange-and-black leotard riding between her legs; she felt nothing. A soft breeze kissed her face, taking away the thoughts she was desperately trying to get rid of. Amanda had too many things crowding her mind: worry, shame... noise. Noise more than anything.

In her mind there were her thoughts, and a thousand other stray and foreign voices, which she couldn’t understand. It felt like as if she was standing in the middle of a room where everyone spoke a different language than her own. She could hear the voices and at times would feel like she almost understood what they said, but could never grasp their meaning. Noise, that was what they were.

She was part of a hivemind of one.

Eventually she found herself walking up a hill overlooking the old town square. She walked towards the edge of a security railing and wrapped her hands around it, breathing heavily. There was a red bird singing on a tree branch, and it flew away when a strong gust of wind almost made Amanda slip the wrong way off the hill.

She shrieked and her heel gave way, and when she realised it she was hanging at an impossible angle just beyond where she could reach the railing.

A strong, calloused hand pulled her to safety and Amanda found herself being held by a short man with a slightly big nose, who was wearing a similar leotard to Amanda’s. The two held each other’s eye before Amanda croaked a thank you.

“You’re welcome.” He said in a smooth voice that cracked with every E he pronounced.

Amanda took a time to recover her breath and to keep her heart inside her chest.

“My name’s Amanda.” Amanda told the short person.

“Glenn.” He said, smiling warmly. His eyes automatically roamed Amanda’s leotard-clad body, and he blushed when he realised what his eyes were doing.

Amanda noticed and chuckled. Her eyes also wandered down his body, remaining a while over his tight groin.

“Ehm...” Glenn mumbled, trying to come up with something to say.

“How did you catch me so fast?” Amanda interrupted his thoughts.

Glenn’s eyes glimmered and he looked away, a bit ashamed. “Well... I’ve been sort of hearing your thoughts.”

Amanda’s eyes grew wide and her heart skipped a beat. “What, really?”

Glenn nodded.

“But... no one can hear each other anymore.”

“Well...” He began. “It is actually more like, well, noise in my head, but as I was walking close by and suddenly heard you in my head. I got curious, very curious. Who was this girl whom I could still hear in my head?”

Amanda smiled again. “And you saw me about to fall to my death.”

He nodded. “Well... you know...”

Amanda looked towards the horizon and then returned to look at Glenn.

“Would you like to walk with me and talk about what is going on with us?” She placed her hand on his arm. “And perhaps go for a bite?”

The fellow with the somewhat big nose grinned. “Of course I would.” He wrapped his arm round her waist.

The library had kept Bor busy for several days afterwards. His office had been trashed, books scattered all over the place, and the pile of papers he had been avoiding for months had turned into ammunition for a paper ball war. He didn’t know if to be glad or angry at that point. The rest of the library had been in a worse state. With the other librarians, and even the janitors missing for the better part of those four days, Bor had to clean the whole building on his own. When he finished he was drained, annoyed, and in dire need of a vacation.

It was dark in his world of books when he finally sat down on his chair with a loud sigh. He pondered reading a novel, perhaps mystery or historical, but then he saw the book he had chosen all desire to read escaped him. It was incredible that he had missed it, really, but he had been so focused on fixing everything else that he had not looked under any furniture.

Bor found his copy of the Blissful Arathmica under the couch in his office. It was missing some pages, the hardcover was damaged, and it looked like someone had spilled water over it; otherwise it was undamaged.

It made a loud thud as it hit the hardwood desk. Bor stared at it, not sure what to do. The librarian in him told him to keep it, as it was a very strange book. The voice that had experienced haigure wanted to destroy it. Both were right.

He opened the book, discovering the same page that had summoned Arathmica into the world. He wondered if the Old God was still out there, angry at him, planning his revenge. He shivered. To have an abstract, all-powerful concept mad at you was a very disturbing thought. Bor hoped that they had permanently broken his link to the world that had created haigure. Or at least made it so that it couldn’t communicate. Bor knew that the effects of haigure were still out there and people would soon know all about it... and it was worrying. He had learned that haigure was a memetic virus, insidious like a yawn. Who was to say that it wouldn’t return?

Bor leafed to the end of the book and found, to his astonishment, an account of haigure. He perked in his seat, eyes wide, hands clenching in fists. He read what was written, noticing that the ink looked fresh and the drawings modern. It was an account, word by word, of what had happened during the Haigure Takeover, as it was called.

When he last read the book it ended in nonsensical scribbles, too faded to read. But now... more pages had been added, as if by magic; pages that spoke of events not yet recorded, pages that detailed things that only Grigori would’ve known, things Cosette was privy to, and things Bor could not begin to comprehend.

It was clear now: Bor could not get rid of the book. Yes, it was a way for Arathmica to return, for haigure to take over again; but it was also a book that could shed light upon the mysteries of a terrible force, and, perhaps, the universe itself. Who had written it? Who had had access to such knowledge?

He slapped it closed when he read that Arathmica had gotten into Cosette’s head through the book. Breathing hard, he pushed it away.

He stared at it for hours afterwards. Night fell and it was not until midnight that he finally stood. He patted his pockets, making sure he had not misplaced his wallet, took the book and walked out of the library. He considered going to his house, but shook his head. He thought about the graveyard, but that wasn’t a good place either. Sighing heavily, Bor rounded the library building and found a metal door at the back.

He used his key to open it, walked down a flight of stairs, opened a second door, and found himself in a storage room. He walked through it until he found another door, this one rusty and old, at the back of a big machine. He opened it and found a room big enough to fit three cars in it. The walls were lined with boxes labelled with faded marker, crates upon crates, and one or two old safe boxes. Bor walked to the wall at the far back, where a grey panel took most of the wall. He tried to open it but it wouldn’t budge.

Frowning, he looked about and found something hard to hit the padlock with. It opened with a clink. Inside the grey panel were a series of electrical cables and pvc tubes. Bor slowly pushed his hand inside and touched the bottom. He smiled when he found the slot where a patch of wall had given way.

Bor weighted the book, his fingers caressing the coarse leather. He made as to put it inside, but realised that humidity would destroy it. He looked around and found a plastic bag. Bor wrapped the book inside it, placed it in the slot, closed the panel, and got out of the hole he had walked into.

Feeling relieved and worried, Bor walked back home. The wind picked up, and he felt a chill go down his spine. Bor stopped some distance away from the library and stared back at it; from where he stood, high on a hill, he could see the library and a good portion of the town. To imagine that had it not been for him everything would’ve ended.

Bor smiled to himself, remembering that he ought to look for the person responsible of the book. He shook his head, telling himself it was not a good idea.