The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

When she woke up, it was 1:30 in the afternoon, and Briann had long since headed out for the weekend. Jackie made herself presentable in the bathroom, dressed, and opened the door to see what there was to do on campus over the weekend. All thoughts of potentially meeting up with anyone went out of her head when she saw a pale pink envelope in front of the door, addressed to Jackie Morris—a rush invite from Zeta.

Memories from the night before rushed back to her, and she shivered at how close to oblivion she had come. Desires both old and new had awakened in her, first when she humiliated the stripper, then when Carlene took her turn and made her lose control. She had no idea how Carlene hadn’t lured her into the passageway—no, that’s not Carlene anymore, is it? she thought. That’s not the girl I fell in love with. That’s just her body. Admittedly, her smoking hot, stacked, really nice to hold body with the spectacular boobs. Also, apparently I’m a lesbian, which is kind of an awkward thing to try and work through right now.

As bad an idea as it had been to give in, it had felt so good—and for the first time since the very beginning of the semester, she felt like herself, the popular girl who’d run Sneva High. At heart she was the queen bee and she knew it, just like Beth had said, loved by all, wanted by all the boys, teasing and never touching. With her lust awakened, she was in trouble, but she was happy to take the exchange. All she had to do was survive until the end of the semester, and then she’d be at Hinkle and free to be herself again. And I bet there are hot blondes with nice boobs at Hinkle, too. All I have to do is get there.

But that was going to be harder than she had thought. The access code on the invite, and the one on the card she’d pulled out of her bra, showed that they were ready to take her. Neve had been right: she had been marked prey from the moment she was put that close to the beguiling light of the passageway, and gradually, she was being brought to ground.

Quickly, she gathered her notes and her study materials and went to the one place the controlled didn’t populate: the library. There, she looked up everything she could find about the school and its history. Anything to keep her mind off what could be going on in Jameson and Hyatt Halls. Anything to keep her mind off Carlene. She studied hard to get her Bs, and she studied hard here.

Beth had been right too, she realized. The names she found on the old rolls and in back issues of the alumni newsletter weren’t all strippers and porn stars. Didi Diaz was the most well-known, but more than one pop tart had studied at Atlantic Coast before dropping out to go big. There were congresswomen there too, ones who had always looked like political puppets—Sarin, Bingham, O’Donnell. Now she knew who held their strings, and how a librarian from Texas had become First Lady.

Seriously, if it weren’t for the utter obliteration of free will, I’d love this place, she thought. The track record was impressive, but it all came through the violation of the mind and the destruction of the soul. She had to keep her resolve. She threw herself back into the research, looking for something else she could use as ammo.

But by the time the librarian shooed her out after dark, the only other useful piece of information she’d been able to dig out was about the dean and the doorway speech—he’d used it everywhere he’d worked. She made a note to research those other places the next day, when her eyes didn’t hurt so much and she’d had a good night’s sleep. One last cafeteria was open, and she grabbed dinner before heading back to the dorm.

The Latina who had been the stripper the night before was back, this time in rhinestone-studded blue jeans that looked to have been painted on her legs and a neon pink tube top that showed every curve of her body. She sashayed down the hall on her four-inch platforms without a hint of hesitation in her stride, only stopping twice to slip rush invites under two more doors.

Perhaps as a lure, or perhaps out of mindless stupidity, she’d left the door to Jameson open a few inches, and the light from it shone like gold. With horror, Jackie realized she was no longer afraid of the light. She’d seen too much of it, but not enough—too much to get away, not enough to truly feel its power, just enough to make her feel invincible. She blinked it away and took another step towards her door, but the afterimages danced on the back of her eyelids. Lust and the promise of what lay within were blocking out her rational thoughts.

The door opened wider. Jackie shook, trying to resist. Not moth. Light bad, she told herself, but even those rudimentary thoughts were hard to form. She had to avoid the light, but she couldn’t remember the reason anymore. It was beautiful, shimmering, enticing. Only the best were selected, only those who were worthy, and didn’t the Zeta invite prove that she was worthy?

Moving her arm to get to her purse and moving her hand to get into the purse were both titanic efforts, but she was no longer sure whether she was fighting the control or fighting her own resistance. She knew she was hooked, and like a fish on the line, she struggled to get away. But one look at the Latina—her breasts on display, nipples pointed through the thin tube top, the scent of sex wafting from her cunt—and she felt her pussy juicing.

The Latina strutted towards her with a lick of her lips, hips rolling, every step precisely the same. Jackie dug her nails into the skin of her thigh to keep from reaching out and touching, but the girl didn’t stop for her, just swiveled her head to give Jackie a come-hither look through thick black lashes.

She did stop, though, stopped as the door swung open and bathed her in golden light, stopped and started again as if someone had pressed a button on her remote control. The door didn’t close completely behind her. The light gleamed from behind its heavy shadow, and Jackie’s eyes were drawn to it.

Thought was becoming more and more difficult, and when the thoughts did bubble to the surface, they were memories of Lissy’s perky fuckbunny personality, of Mikala’s garish but hot ho outfits, of the way Laura’s tits had looked in that tight shirt, of ripping the stripper’s panties off with her shoe and the applause of her dormmates, of dry-humping Carlene into the wall, of Carlene’s tongue in her mouth and Carlene’s fingers tapping on her slit...

Jackie felt a sudden jolt as her legs stepped across the threshold, and her body ground to a halt. The light was brighter here, brighter than anything she could have ever imagined it, and it overwhelmed her, filling her up and emptying her out. Subliminal images behind the light held her captivated as a pulsing, thrumming tone bent her brain to its will until her body was in perfect rhythm with it. The door slamming behind her barely made her fingers twitch; the front doors slamming open barely caused her shoulders to shake. Her memories faded and dulled under the onslaught of light and sound, until there was only one thing left, the one thing she had known through all her time at Atlantic Coast. When you walk through that door, your life as you know it ceases to exist!

Presented with the implacable logic, Jackie’s brain obligingly went blank. Even that last thought faded as the gas seeped into the room, deepening her trance, making her docile and mindless. Her breathing slowed, then slowed again. The lights brightened even more, washing the whole world in white—then in black as darkness fell.

When the lights came back to a normal level, Jackie hadn’t moved an inch, her jaw slack, her face blank, her eyes empty. Afterimages floated across her vision in hypnotic patterns, but she was too far gone to follow them. She had ceased to exist, and now she waited to be told what she was.

“Undress,” a computerized voice ordered. Jackie mechanically removed her clothes and dropped them on the floor. She felt nothing—no chill, no shame—as she stood naked before the next door. She had ceased to exist; therefore, there was nothing that could feel cold, or embarrassment, or confusion, or defiance.

The next door opened, and the computer voice ordered, “Enter.” Jackie moved forward, eyes still fixed dead ahead, face expressionless, arms limp at her sides.

There was a third door, and it cycled closed at the same time the second door did. The light returned like a supernova, and even Jackie’s awareness of no longer existing faded away. The computerized voice recited, “Zeta. Sex toy, level three. Domiciled on floor ten. Seven-semester holding.” The words meant nothing to Jackie, but they sank into her empty brain anyway, branding and reidentifying her.

“Dress when the bell rings,” the computerized voice said. The bell rang, and a box appeared in front of Jackie. Without thought, she put on the blue Zeta shirt, the short shorts that covered her ass and nothing more, the knee-high blue and white striped socks, and the sneakers.

For a moment, she remembered another girl in the same outfit, but she couldn’t remember the girl’s name, and after another series of flashes, even the memory of having the memory was gone. She stood in her uniform, waiting for her next command.

“Enter,” the computerized voice said as the third door opened. Jackie walked through and stopped as soon as she was clear of the door. This room had lockers lining the wall on each side, but she could only tell that much because one of the doors swung open into her line of vision. The voice added, “Enter open locker.”

She did so. It was deeper than a traditional locker, with a little bench that had a pair of dildoes rising from it. The door swung closed behind her and she waited for her next instruction.

“Lower your shorts, position yourself on the bench so that the dildoes are inserted into your pussy and your ass, and watch the screen,” the voice told her. Jackie obeyed, squirming onto the dildoes until the back one was comfortably up her ass and the other one rested in her pussy. As soon as she was in position, the screen lit up, porn and sex bombarding her as the dildoes started to vibrate in tandem.

Behind the images, the core values of Jameson Hall flashed into her empty eyes: Fuck. Suck. Obey. Learn. The words repeated themselves in a constant loop, sinking deeper every time, a hundred times a second. Jackie’s gasps and moans fell into a pattern in time with the words, the images coming at her faster and faster as the dildoes warmed and vibrated in a buzzing counterpoint to the porn before her.

Finally, the pattern broke when she climaxed with a scream. She slumped forward, only the dildoes keeping the rest of her body upright. “Rise and raise your shorts,” the voice ordered, and Jackie obeyed.

The screen lit up in a blinding flash, holding Jackie’s attention. The voice said, “Natural orientation: lesbian. Preferences: blonde, large breasts, Southern upbringing, urban sensibilities. Fixations: oral. Kinks: dominance.”

The recitation sank into Jackie’s mind, labeling and identifying what she was. Ideas flickered behind the bright lights of the screen, and a line of drool formed at the corner of her slack mouth. “Fuck. Suck. Obey. Learn,” she droned in a monotone. “Fuck. Suck. Obey. Learn. Fuck. Suck. Obey. Learn.”

“Exit the locker and enter the next open door,” the voice ordered, and Jackie obeyed.

Behind the third door was a short hallway that led to a pair of gold-handled, frosted glass doors. The lock had a small slit for a key, and a chute and tray were installed in the wall next to the doors. “Your past will cease to exist as soon as you walk through these doors. Your future will be what we make of it. You will have all the fun of college without ever having to think again. Fuck. Suck. Obey. Learn,” the voice said.

“Fuck. Suck. Obey. Learn,” Jackie repeated, the only words she could think of, the only words she could say.

White light flared all around her, and the room filled with a pulsing rhythm that she felt more than heard drumming into her head. Conditioned and trained as she had already been, her body aligned to the beat more efficiently than before, so that her heartbeat and breathing slowed to match its pace. She stood and stared at nothing as her memories of resistance, of the Omegas, of the days at Hialeah, of fearing Jameson Hall, of Indiana and her mother’s warnings, all evaporated.

The voice began to ask questions—a place called Sneva, a person named Beth, something called Breezy—and a faint sense of confusion washed over her at her lack of knowledge. She answered the only way she knew how.

“Who is Neve McTavish?”

“Fuck. Suck. Obey. Learn.”

“What did you do at Hialeah?”

“Fuck. Suck. Obey. Learn.”

“Who was your first roommate?”

“Fuck. Suck. Obey. Learn.”

After the last question, something about a person named Jackie, there was a chime, and a gold card came out of the chute. The voice told her, “Take the card, insert it into the door, and enter your new home.”

She took the card and inserted into the door, which opened with a hiss. The vista before her was familiar in ways she didn’t understand, marble and golden decadence. A giant fountain rose up before her, and on the couches and pillows of the main room were all kinds of combinations of sexual activity: a pair of girls locked into a sixty-nine, two boys double-penetrating a busty blonde, a redhead giving an Asian boy a blowjob, a stocky little Latino taking it up the ass from a tall black guy, a group orgy that she couldn’t even begin to untangle but wanted so badly to be part of. Her mouth watered.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw other girls line up in the doorway with her: two more Zetas, two Deltas, and five Kappas, all of them in high socks, sneakers, short-shorts, a t-shirt, and nothing else.

“Report to the atrium,” the computer voice ordered, and all ten of them marched down to the center elevators and exited on another level, where the recruits from that day were all bent over on a padded bench, wearing nothing but their shoes and socks, being steadily fucked from behind. She eyed the thick cocks of the men and the thick strap-ons of the women and wondered how good it would feel to have either of those in her throbbing cunt.

There were ten empty benches in the front, and one of the older sorority sisters waved the new girls towards them. The new girls obeyed, tossing off their shirts and bending over the benches. Within seconds, she felt first a cool hand with lube, then a hot cock in her ass, and she moaned in delight. Then came a licking, someone’s face buried in her pussy while she gave someone else a blowjob, and then it was her turn to lick someone else out while someone else took a turn at her ass.

She lost count of how many ways she fucked and was fucked, or of how many times the mantra thrummed through her head. Fuck. Suck. Obey. Learn, was the rhythm of the strap-on thrusting in her ass, the rhythm of the tongue swirling around her clit, the rhythm of her mouth sucking on a gorgeous cock, the rhythm of the fingers that twisted her nipples. She obeyed and learned as she fucked and sucked, and as she settled into the rhythm, remnants of her old persona returned: the mean girl streak ignited by the scratch of nails on her back; the need for dominance renewed by the pressure of a body against hers; the yearning for something in her mouth rekindled by the fullness of a man’s shaft; the lust for blonde hair and big breasts remembered by the stacked blonde who licked her to a screaming climax.

After some time, she began to form words other than mantra or filthy talk. A light blinked at her last climax and wiped out everything but the memory of the pleasure. When she woke up, she was on the other side of the doorway, happy, oblivious, obedient, and in the middle of a massive party-cum-orgy. She went to the showers with her two Zeta sisters, first helping them get clean as they soaped each other off with giggles, then got dirty all over again. She felt it through her body when the Italian girl slammed her into the wall and fingered her—and felt it even harder when she returned the favor and left claw marks across the Italian girl’s ass while she forced the Asian girl’s face between her thighs.

When they were dry and momentarily satiated, they put their uniforms back on and headed to the Zetas’ lair on the tenth floor. The rooms were arranged in a circle around a central area, the better for a good fucking to turn into an orgy. She saw a tall blonde with a warm smile, wearing nothing but a lacy red thong and a demi-bra that left a pair of perfect breasts on display for anyone to see and use, and her mouth went to those tits like a hungry newborn. Something about the blonde smelled familiar and comforting; something about nestling into those breasts felt like home.

The blonde’s grin grew, and she took her into the room for an all-night fuck-fest that segued into a complicated panty raid with her sisters. There was food for when they were hungry, and sleep for when their bodies couldn’t take it anymore, but mostly there was fucking, and that was what the newest Zeta and her sisters loved most.

“Calculus 102, Professor Stuart, all in course report,” the computer voice recited, and she emerged from her room and put on clothes that she was meant to keep wearing for a prolonged period. This was a first in her new memory, so she decided to make the most of it. One of her sisters found a matching panty and bra set in black lace; another gave her a tight ruffled skirt that would show those stylish panties with each step; a third found her a pink silk scoop-neck shirt that would display her assets perfectly. The communal shoe closet turned up pink heels that strapped up to her ankles.

She took the Prada bag that was indicated to her and headed back to the passageway. A series of lights put information back in her brain: the first room put her classwork back in her brain so it could go straight onto the paper; the second put in her voice; a third gave her the name “Jackie Morris” and a campus map. The lights ran in reverse, and when she came out, there was a scrawny girl with a boycut staring at her—ewww, some baby butch who thinks she can get a piece of this!

The short girl said, “I never thought that you would take it this far...”

“Bitch, please. You wish you could be this hot. Newsflash: there’s no genie in the world that can help you,” Jackie sassed as she went by, putting on pink lipstick that matched her blouse before she went to her calc class.

With no thoughts to get in the way, the answers flowed right from her brain and onto the paper, her past math acumen filling in any gaps. When she handed in her booklet, she could hear the boys snapping upskirts as the professor spluttered. With a smirk, she strutted past them to the ladies’ room, took a selfie with her legs spread to show her shaven pussy, and sent it to the boys with a message: take a number.

Laura was coming in as she came out, and she took a moment to lean into Laura and whisper, “One,” before heading back to Jameson and inserting her key into the door. The giant blast door swung open and bathed her in golden light that erased Jackie Morris once again, leaving her with only the core values: fuck, suck, obey, learn.

College was, indeed, a new world.