The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“I have you in my sights this time, Ultra Girl!” Dr. Mania cried with glee. “This time there will be no escape!”

Ultra Girl groaned deeply, straining against the tight Neuroweave fabric holding her captive, utterly cocooning her from head to mid thigh. She had used up most of her energy earlier battling the demented doctors other creations: killer robots, animal-human hybrid monsters, and brainwashed zombie ninjas armed with laser cannons. All of them a distraction; once she’d been depleted of power, he’d sprung his real trap, binding her in a cocoon of his patented neuroweave fabric.

“Uggghhhhnnn... must... resist...” she groaned, fighting the insidious effects of the fabric coating her skin. “Gotta fight it... gotta hang on... give myself enough time... to recharge...”

“You won’t be able to stand much more, Ultra Girl!” the doctor taunted her. Taking aim with his Threadweaver 500, he locked in on the sultry heroine’s legs. “Now to entrap that delectable legs of yours and finish the job!” He pulled the trigger, sending a stream of argyle colored fabric up towards the floating heroine.

Just then, the sun broke through the clouds, illuminating the area. The sunlight recharged Ultra Girl’s powers, and with a burst of strength, she broke free of the cloth, shredding it completely. Freed, she easily dodged the flying bundle aimed at her feet, and focusing her power into her hands, fired a bright beam of laser light at the doctor’s flying battletank.

“No. No! NOOOOOO!!” he screamed as the blast struck his craft. An explosion rocked the sky, and a plume of orange fire shot up as debris rained down. Ultra Girl breathed a sigh of relief, only to curse seconds later as a very familiar laugh sounded. Rocketing away from the center of the explosion, Dr. Mania, seating safely inside his escape pod shouted back at her. “You win this battle, Ultra Girl, but trust me, I’ll win the war. You’ll never escape meeeeeeeeeeee...”

Karen Summers sighed deeply, slipping quietly back into her dorm room. Her X-ray vision had showed her that her roommate was gone, still she moved quietly, checking then double checking to make sure the coast was clear. Satisfied, she quickly removed her black mask, and slid her silver silken costume from her body, tossing it all into the box just underneath her bed. I’ll have to take it out later and burn it, she thought to herself wearily, grabbing her school girl uniform from the closet. I’m just lucky I’d learned about his latest little trap in time to coat my uniform with enough sealant to block most of the effect. Now, I have just enough time left for a quick shower, dress, and a quick sprint over to Western Civ. class!

Wrapping a towel around her chest, Karen slipped into the shower. Soft pale slender hands worked the soap deep into her skin, turning it a rosy pink. She felt a slight tingling across her chest, and on her sides, where her bare skin had been exposed to the neuroweave, causing a soft moan of pleasure to escape her lips whenever she touched. Warm wet pleasure fluttered through her, and it took a large amount of will not to surrender to the temptation to jill herself off. Stepping out of the shower, toweling dry, she returned back to her room, feeling much better, and a bit more in control of herself.

Sitting on her bed, she held up a pair of argyle woolen knee socks. Hmmmm. These aren’t mine. Must have gotten Angie’s clothes mixed in with my own on laundry day again. Oh well, I don’t have any other pairs to choose from ‘til we do laundry again tonight. They’ll have to do. Sliding the fabric gently up the length of her foot, Karen gasped at the sensation. Wow! That’s.... mmmm... silky... just like sliding on a pair of stockings. She took the second sock and inverted in, sliding her fingers along the fabric. Hmmm. Has a lining. Nice idea, I always hated the way these damned things itch. I’ll have to remember to ask Angie where she bought ‘em next time I see her.

Glancing at the clock, she cringed inwardly. Shit! I’m running late! Sliding on her shoes, she nearly slipped out of her door before she realized that the only other clothes she wore were her undergarments. Bloody hell! Where is my brain today? Muttering softly, she slid on her blouse and skirt, grabbed her bookbag, and ran flat out towards her class.

Shit, shit, shit, I’m going to be late! Dammit... if there weren’t so many people around I’d almost be tempted to FLY to class.

The bell rang just as she entered the building. Cringing inwardly, she crept quickly to her class door, and, wishing she had the power of invisibility, slid inside.

“Ah, so good of you to join the rest of us, Miss Summers,” Professor Tristan quipped, gesturing at his watch. “Class starts at precisely 1:00PM, not 1:02. Do take your seat as quickly and as quietly as possible, and we shall see if we can continue the lesson you just interrupted.”

Blushing furiously, Karen ran to her desk and sat down, ignoring the giggles, trying hard to disappear. Hiding behind her book, she sighed, thinking back on her earlier battle against Dr. Mania. Virtually unknown before she’d come to Crystal City, he’d sprung up out of nowhere, attacking the city with his strange army of mechanical warriors, as well as the occasional brainwashed human. Every time they fought, however, the battles always ended in a draw. Each time she managed to thwart his evil schemes, each time barely managing to escape capture herself, and each and every time he somehow managed to get away.

Probably just as well, she thought hazily, sliding her black Mary Jane’s off her feet, wiggling her argyle covered toes. Having him around makes things interesting. Mmmmm... back in the big city, there were... mmmmm... more heroes... than there were villains... at least here... I have my own... nemesis...

Karen’s thoughts dissolved into the background, as soft gentle waves of pleasure began to rock her, soft tingles of joy coming with each glide of her sock-covered feet along the classroom carpet, her legs moving in a criss-cross fashion, causing her thighs to open and clench, further adding to the experience. Her eyes stared forward at the book propped up in front of her, vacant and unseeing, mesmerized by her leg’s own steady rhythm of glide... glide... glide... across the carpet, drawn deeper and deeper with each glide, and each gentle pulse of pleasure that accompanied it.

The sound of the bell ringing snapped her back to reality. Shaking her head to clear it, Karen sat up, pushing strands of her long blonde hair out of her face. With a start she realized class was over, and that everyone was packing up to go to their next class. She slid her feet back into her shoes, then groaned as a strong pulse of pleasure made her knees weak. “Wow... spaced out through the entire class.” Head still in a fog, she gathered up her books and headed off to her next class.

Biology class floated by just as quickly as the Western Civilizations lecture. Karen felt something strange was going on, but her mind was too fuzzy for her to figure out what. Strange or not, one thing she DID know was that she seriously needed to get laid. During one of her more lucid moments in class she come back to herself to find one of her hands buried deep between her legs. She was by no means a virgin, but it had been over a year since her last boyfriend. When the bell rang, she’d stumbled out into the hallway in a daze, only noticing she’d left her books, and her shoes, at her desk when the instructor, Dr. Wilhemi, pointed it out to her.

This isn’t like me, she thought, struggling to push past the erotic fog inside her head. Maybe that fight with Dr. Mania affected me more than I’d thought, she ventured. That... stuff... whatever it was, it was created to paralyze my mind and body... make me... vulnerable. Maybe this horniness is a... weird... side effect? God!! I think I could focus on this... could figure it out... if only I could get myself off!

Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough time between classes for a side trip to the girls’ bathroom, and after the fiasco in World Civ. she wasn’t about to risk being late again. Besides, Psychology is my last class for today, and it’s only an hour lecture. Maybe I can... uuuuggghhh... hold out through Professor Ainam’s class... then I’ll have the whole... uhhhmmmm... rest of the night... to scratch the itch.

Sitting down at her desk, Karen breathed a small sigh of relief. If this class passed as quickly as the others had, she’d be back in her room before she even knew it.

“Good afternoon, class,” Professor Ainam said, walking briskly into the class. “How nice to see all of you here and in your proper places... and on time. Good, very good.” Sitting down at his desk, he switched on his laptop. “Now, as I recall, I believe we were covering the chapter on Human Sexuality, specifically the parts dealing with fetishes.”

Karen sighed gently, kicking her shoes off again, stroking her sock covered feet across the floor.

“No one is quite sure exactly where fetishes stem from,” he continued, typing away at his keyboard. “They could be simply a part of a person’s genetic makeup, a sexual desire they were pre-disposed to since birth.”

A soft moan escaped Karen’s lips unbidden as her eyes lost focus, her hand sliding back into its accustomed place between her thighs, as her legs worked their hypnotic rhythm, sliding her sock covered soles across the floor.

“Others would argue,” the professor continued, “that the environment is what causes the fetish, the fascination. Ah, but therein lies the question. Does the man that watched hours of bondage porn and discovered he likes it enjoy that fetish because of the tapes, or because he was naturally disposed to the notion? If he had never seen or experienced bondage before, would he still have a fascination with the subject?”

Spots danced before her eyes, and Karen slid a third finger into her wet dripping sex, no longer even bothering to attempt to contain her moans.

“Consider your own fetishes,” Professor Ainam continued, rising to his feet. He adjusted his glasses slightly, taking care not to stare directly at the pulsing flickering lights shining over the rest of his students. He waved a hand in front of a short redhead staring vacantly ahead. No response. Smirking, he continued on towards the desk of the only student still able to react. Staring down at Karen, he continued. “Consider your own sexual desires. What turns you on, what gives you a sexual thrill? Since we’re discussing fetishes,” he chuckled, grabbing her arm by the wrist, “we’ll dispense with the obvious direct sexual connotations.” Pulling the unresisting limb from between her thighs, he slowly pulled her desk back and away from her seat and sat down on the desk, facing her.

“Perhaps your fetish is a bit more common, such as, say, a foot fetish?” Leaning forward, he lifted the semi-conscious girl’s right leg from the floor, placing it in his lap. Karen moaned deeply from the loss of sensation, no longer able to rub her wool covered sole against the floor. “Common, yes, but in its way, also a bit of a change from the norm. Think about it.” He begin stroking her foot gently, rubbing and stroking the argyle covered foot, feeling her respond, watching her toes clench and spread, moving in perfect synch with her thighs.

“Simply staring a beautiful woman’s foot is enough for some fetishers, while others enjoy sniffing.” He wrinkled his nose, lifting the small foot a little higher. “Definitely not my cup of tea,” he replied, lowering it back into his lab. “Still others feel the desire... the need... to TOUCH the object of their obsession... to STROKE, to CARESS, to TEASE, TICKLE, and TITILATE.” He lifted Karen’s second foot into his lap, stroking that foot as well, causing the entranced girl to nearly hyperventilate. “Then again, for others, its all about the ‘packaging’, the dressings, the presentation mattering more than the actual thing under all the wrapping.”

Sliding his hands up the quivering girl’s legs, he slid his fingers up to the edges of the high kneesocks. Slowly, teasingly, he slid them down, nodding in satisfaction at the sight beneath: Neuroweave fibers, silvered, imprinted across the girl’s flesh like a living digital circuitboard, shining for a few seconds only to slowly fade, sinking deeper into the skin. Rolling down both kneesocks, he paused, leaving them covering just the young girl’s feet at the ankles. Unzipping his fly, he brought his very stiff, very ready cock to bear, resting between sock covered feet, sighing lightly as Karen, starved for sensation, began mindlessly stroking the evil professor’s cock.

Karen’s eyes fluttered, her thighs clenching, her processed mind registering the sensations at her feet as well as her pussy, feeling herself finally rising above the sexual plateau she’d become entrenched in. She wanted nothing more than to drive that cock she felt deep and hard into her very core, to impale herself upon it until she shattered completely in a bright blazing orgasm. Her mind was Jell-O, and though the desire and need pulsed through her like a lightning storm, she was utterly helpless to do anything to achieve her desperately sought after release.

“Then again,” Professor Ainam continued, panting slightly, “consider also... another fetishist. A man... a brilliant man... but with... very particular needs... a man of many fetishes, but whose more power desire... is to brainwash and enslave... a beautiful... sexy... young girl... Ah, but not just... any girl, no... a Super Hero... a mighty.... champion... of good!” He groaned softly, nearly overcome but forcing himself to complete his lecture. “His need... to have her... crippled... bound to his will.. rendered helpless... and needful of him... so strong... that he would go to great lengths... to obtain his goal!”

With a loud cry, he came, spurting his pleasure, soaking through the argyle coverings, imprinting his DNA into the matrix forming within Karen Summers’ mind and body. An instant later, Karen screamed out her own pleasure, thrashing wildly as she finally crossed the threshold she’d been held at all day. The erotic fog lifted from her mind, and sighing deeply, she glanced around the room, surprised and shocked to find herself sitting with her skirt hiked up, soaked panties pushed to one side, and her feet tightly clutching the slowly deflating cock of her teacher!

“Wha... wha...” she began.

“Shhhhh,” Professor Ainam cautioned. “Don’t interrupt my lecture. I was just getting to the best part. Fetishes... strange, bizarre attractions of a sexual nature, even though they, themselves, are not necessarily sexual. The problem with unhealthy and unnatural fetishes is that they come from the subconscious, not the conscious mind...”

“Professor Ainam?” Karen asked, confused, slowly drawing back. Her wet, ruined socks slipped off her feet, leaving them bare. “What is... all this?” She glanced around the room, finally noticing the state of the other students. “What have you done to everybody?!” Her eyes glanced at the chalkboard, and then widened, her jaw dropping in shock.

“...the problem being that in a war between what a person knows and thinks, and what a person desires...”

On the blackboard, as always, the professor has spelled out his name, and written out the title of the lesson for next class period:

Professor R.D. AINAM: Lecture series #17—study into illnesses of the mind, stemming from delusions, fears & phobias, MANIA, and psychoses...

“...the desires almost always win out. Because the subconscious mind is much, MUCH stronger...”

The computer station was still active from before, the transparency viewer in place, reflecting back a perfect mirror image of the chalkboard writing into the far wall.

The professor’s name.

Professor R.D. AINAM.

MANIA, D.R. rpsseforP.

Dr. Mania.

“...than the conscious mind.”

“You,” Karen whispered, shaking her head in denial. It couldn’t be true. And yet... everything fit so perfectly.

“Yes, me.” Stroking his cock one more time, he closed his pants, and stood up to face her. “Very informative lecture today, don’t you agree, Ultra Girl?”

Karen took a step back. “You won’t succeed, Doctor,” she whispered softly. “I won’t give in to you. I won’t submit!”

The Doctor chuckled. “Oh, please. Haven’t you heard a word I said this entire period? YOU might never give in to me, not fully anyway, but that doesn’t matter. Not in the slightest.” He rubbed his fingers together, lightly, still wet with the last of his cum. He took a step towards her. “I’ve already slipped past your defenses. Whether or not YOU like the idea of submitting to me, and becoming my adoring slave, your subconscious mind adores the idea. You have a very powerful fetish, my dear, one that I was good enough to indulge you in.” He stepped forward again. “And fetishes are powerful. Very powerful. The sexual desire goes far beyond logic and reason, my dear Ultra Girl.” Another step.

Shuddering, either in fear or anticipation, Karen powered up. “Stay back!” she screamed, eyes flashing with a bright glow. “Stay back, or by God I’ll fry your ass with my Laservision! I mean it!”

The doctor chuckled again, taking another step. “No, you won’t,” he said confidently. “You can’t. Your own subconscious desires won’t allow you to.” Reaching out a hand, he gently caressed her cheek. The effect was devastating, nearly sending the stalwart heroine to her knees right then and there. “You’ve felt my touch, Karen,” he whispered, staring into her bright glowing eyes. “Your body knows and recognizes me, my scent, my taste, my very DNA, thanks to my Neuroweave fabric. You barely fought it off before after a few minutes of exposure... but you’ve been wearing those socks for several hours! They’re a part of you now, my dear, and the desire for me to indulge your most secret fetish is almost overwhelming.” He caressed her neckline with a single finger, and Karen’s eyes fluttered.

“Admit it now, Ultra Girl. You want to feel my touch again. Don’t you?”

“Noooo...” she cried, tears starting to streak her face.

“Yes you do. You know you do. You want it. Need it. Your subconscious is stronger than your denials.”

“I... I...” the light slowly fading from her eyes.

“The truth, Miss Summers!” Doctor Mania barked sharply. “Say it. NOW!”

“I NEED YOUR TOUCH!” she cried, sinking to floor. Sobs of despair and resignation shook her, and she cried, pulling herself into a fetal position. The mad professor sighed softly, sliding down to the floor in front of her.

“Now, now, my dear,” he crooned, stroking her head gently, “it’s alright. It was inevitable. And it’s not as if you won’t be treated well.” Reaching down, he cradled her soft bare foot in his hands, stroking, lightly tickling her soft sole. Her sobs slowly faded into sighs of pleasure, and Karen uncoiled herself, lying back against the floor. “All you have to do is just surrender to me, completely. You’ve gone most of the way, Karen, dear, you just need to finish the job. Lie back and stare up at the lights, let them wipe away the last of your fear and indecision.”

Still crying, Karen did as she was bid, staring up at the pulsing flashing lights up above her, not wanting to let go, not wanting to submit, but needing it, NEEDING for this to be alright, NEEDING for the pain of failure and betrayal to fade, to vanish, to disappear.

NEEDING to be touched, again and again, and again...

“Surrender to the pleasure, my little Ultra Slave Girl,” he whispered softly, bringing the soft pink foot to his lips. Sliding the tip of his tongue across her hypersensitive sole, he grinned evilly as her body shuddered with the pleasure. “Submit yourself to me, mind, body, and soul,” he whispered, licking again, “and you will feel pleasure you have never even dreamed possible. Submit to me, Slave Girl,” he rasped, feeling his manhood stirring again at the moment of his total triumph. “Surrender yourself, my slave, and CUM for me!” He slid her wildly spasming toes into his mouth, sliding his tongue around and around and around—

“MAASSSSTTEEEERRRR!!!!” she keened, cumming hard as she achieved perfect alignment of mind, body, and spirit. Every cell of her being imploded, burning away in a massive, all-consuming tide of pure pleasure, leaving behind a mass of molten joy wrapped in a shell of flesh and blood. The spasms continued on for several moments later, but the effect was already in place. Karen Summers, Ultra Girl, was no more; in her place, lay a nameless slave, clay to be worked and fashion in any way her Master so desired.

Professor R. David Ainam sighed softly as his new slave slept. Rising back to his feet, he walked over to his desk, and shut down the hypnotic light show. “And here endeth the lesson,” he said with a grin, sitting back down in his easy chair. “Class dismissed.”