The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The mind-control device arrived in the mail.

At 8:15 in the morning, a parcel delivery truck pulled up to 1432 Smith Street and a fresh-faced young man in the parcel delivery service uniform knocked on the door. After a few minutes, a tousled, sleepy-looking young man in a bathrobe answered. “Yeah?”

“John Park?” asked the delivery agent.

“No, but he lives here.”

“Close enough. Would you sign for this, please?” the agent held out an electronic pad, and gestured to a cardboard box at his feet.

The rumpled young man scratched an illegible scrawl on the signature pad, and picked up the box.

“Thanks,” said the agent, collecting his pad and turning to leave.

“No problem,” the young man muttered as he padded down the hall back into the building, the door closing behind him. He dropped the package by his housemate’s door, went back to bed, and forgot all about it.

John Park was a college sophomore who had arranged his entire class schedule—and his choice of major—around the goal of never having to get up before noon. As this was Saturday, he didn’t open his bedroom door and see the package until 3:25 pm.

His confusion over who could have sent it—there was no return address on the box—grew greater when he brought his morning pop-tart into the bedroom to munch while he sat on the bed and opened the box... to find a strange pistol-like device and an instruction manual that looked like it was in an alien language. Indecipherable hieroglyphs covered every page he studied.

“Far out,” he mumbled, through a forgotten mouthfull of crumbs, as he gingerly plucked the device out of the supportive foam. It felt strange in his hand, unweildy, and he waved it about awkwardly before pointing it in the general direction of the ceiling and squeezing the trigger.

Inviting certain doom, if it were a disintegrator ray. There was a faint hum, but nothing visible happened.

“Damn,” said John, and rooted through the instruction manual some more.

On the very first page, which he’d previously skipped, John finally found something he could understand—a series of Intergalactic Pictorial Symbols. Designed to convey their basic meaning even to members of primitive nonliterate cultures, the symbols were just obvious enough for even John to comprehend. He correctly, if a bit uncertainly, identified the symbols for “Pistol,” “Mind Control,” and “Recyclable.”

“Some kind of hypno-ray, huh?” John muttered to himself, peering into the business end of the device. “Hah. All right—cat, you are in my power!” He pointed the device at Mrs. Gelbacher’s cat outside, through the bedroom window, and squeezed the trigger.

The cat froze instantly as the invisible hypno-ray hit it; then started moving again as soon as John let up the trigger.

“Whoa,” John breathed.

Just then, John’s roommate poked his head in the room. “Hey, man, rent is due, and—”

The hypno-ray froze him in mid-sentence. “You will pay my rent for me this month,” John said, then let up the trigger and leaned forward, eager to see what the effect would be.

“—I’m gonna pay yours this month, I just wanted to let you know.” John’s roommate blinked, as if confused by what he’d just said, then shrugged and left the room.

“Far OUT!” said John, grinning and hugging the hypno-ray to his chest.

Meanwhile, at 1432 Park Street, John Smith aka the alien spy Frrbnglrr was having an entirely less enjoyable day.

With the window shades drawn tight, Smith was kneeling worshipfully in front of his television set, which occupied a commanding position in one corner of the living room. Atop the TV set, a small glowing figure paced impatiently.

“He sent it by male? So you’ve had a servant hand-deliver it. Fine. When can you start picking out slaves?”

“Err... no, my Princess. ‘Mail’ is the name of the primitive mercenary package-delivery service on this planet, which is subject to exaggerated bureaucratic delays so common to backward civilizations, unlike the glorious Empire of which it is this unworthy servant’s great honor to be—”

“Yes, yes, fine. Stop grovelling so much, I can hardly make out what you’re saying. No, don’t get UP—” the glowing figure snapped as Smith started to rise—“just lift your head a bit when you speak to me. You may look at my feet.”

“Yes, my Princess.” Smith gazed upon the tiny, delicately furred, holographically reproduced feet of Princess Thrrmm, his patron and ruler.

“That’s better. Now, if I understood that mumbling correctly, what you are telling me is that per your instructions, your contact placed a sophisticated, high-tech, and highly illegal mind-control device... whose worth is more than that entire planet you’re grovelling on... into the care of a primitive and overbureaucratized local transport agency that can’t even move a package between two points on the same planetary surface within a single Galactic Reference Day. Is that essentially the situation?”

“Er...” still looking at the Princess’s feet, Smith appeared to be trying unsuccessfully to force his chin further into the carpet. “Yes, my Princess.”

“WHAT... WERE... YOU... THINKING???” The force of her yell had the diminutive holographic Princess up on her toes, arms thrust out to the side, her body leaned far forward (exposing the ample clevage of her topmost breasts, if Smith had dared to look so high) and her bushy tail held straight out behind for balance.

“I...”

“ARE YOU JUST STUPID?”

“I...”

“Nevermind. I don’t want to hear excuses.” Princess Thrrmm resumed her pacing, her tail twitching angrily from side to side. “You will take steps to ensure that this male service agency delivers the device to you as soon as possible. Then when you have handed off the payment—” she whirled around to fix another icy glare at the top of Smith’s head, as he stared miserably at her feet—“You DO still have the payment, don’t you?”

“Yes, my Princess.”

“Good. Then you will pick out a ship-load of suitable slave candidates, condition them with the commands I gave you, and send them on out here to me. Do you think you can handle that without further mishap?”

“Yes, my Princess.”

“Good. I’ll expect to see one of your slave candidates when next I contact you.” With an absent wave, the holographic figure vanished.

A moment after the communicator winked off, Smith hastily unbuckled his pants and thrust a hand inside them, pulling his already rock-hard penis into the air. The depilatory treatments that had removed the hair on his face and hands, allowing him to pass for human, did not extend to areas normally covered by clothing—since anyone seeing him naked would probably notice the tail anyway—and a fine grey fur covered his belly, legs, and crotch.

Being so humiliated in front of his Princess had him uncontrollably turned on, and he imagined the even greater humiliation he would have suffered had his prone position not hidden the evidence of his perversion from her sight. With the hand not furiously stroking his rod, he groped around on the floor, found a magazine, and rolled it up. She would have been completely disgusted; horrified at the sight of him. The thought excited him further. “Frrbnglrr... is... such... a... bad... dog!” he muttered through gritted teeth, punctuating each word with a blow to his own hindquarters with the rolled-up magazine. “Bad! Bad! BAD! BAD! BAAAAAD!” And he came in thick white spurts, all over the coffee table.

At the other end of the galaxy, Princess Thrrmm, turning away from the holographic communicator, had a moment of regret over the long-term wisdom of having used Frrbnglrr as a test subject for her own early experiments in chemically-based mind control. “His efficiency in the field has really dropped since then,” she thought to herself. “I wonder if there could have been side effects?”

Meanwhile, the Princess’s robotic handmaiden, Genari, was entertaining the Princess’s latest guest while he awaited her pleasure. Deke was a strong-jawed, handsome scout ship pilot of one of the hairless races that so tickled the Princess’s fancy, and he had caught her eye at a party held in honor of some brave exploratory deed of his that the Princess hadn’t bothered to pay attention to. Next-to-youngest in a family of over two dozen siblings, Princess Thrrmm was nowhere near the succession to the actual Imperial Throne; but her parentage gave her the social position to get almost anything she wanted. And at the moment, she wanted Deke.

All this ticked through Genari’s robotic brain as she bustled about the lavish bar in Princess Thrrmm’s informal lounge, mixing Deke a drink. It pleased her mistress to keep Genari looking like one of the hairless races most of the time, too, though with her low-power built-in holographic projectors and the finely tuneable pigments in her external skin, Genari could change minor aspects of her appearance at whim. Most observers never knew she was a robot, though the fact that Princess Thrrmm owned an expensively customized sexbot was by no means a secret.

But Genari hoped her default configuration would help to put Deke at ease. She had chosen her clothing to emphasize this commonality between them, showing Deke as much of her hairless skin as possible.

She attempted to engage him in small talk, as well. “So, do you come here often?”

Deke started. “Excuse me?” he asked. Never completely comfortable in social situations, the young pilot guessed that it wouldn’t be polite to drool too much over the Princess’s handmaiden, though her curves seemed to exert an almost physical pull on his eyes. He was therefore trying desperately to find something else in the room to focus on, which gave him a rather distracted air. He’d been eyeing a bit of statuary on the coffee table, trying to figure out what it depicted, and he’d just started to suspect that it was something rather lewd, when the handmaiden piped up with what sounded like a cheesy bar pickup line.

“I am trying to put you at your ease. The Princess will be detained for a short while, and she has asked me to look after you in her absence. If there is anything you would like me to do for you—anything at all—I am entirely at your disposal. Here is your drink.” Genari bent over to hand Deke his drink, giving him a good view of the tops of her generous breasts—only two, as her mistress had chosen, which matched Deke’s race as well—and he seemed momentarily unable to tear his eyes from them. Due to her original sexbot programming, Genari delighted in being looked at, and was pleased to see that Deke was so affected by the sight of her. She smiled in approval as he tore his gaze away from her chest and downed a healthy swig of liquor, as if hearty drinking would distract him from the sexbot.

Of course, the Princess wasn’t really detained, exactly...

Genari laid a gentle hand on Deke’s shoulder. “Ooh, but you are so tense! Here, let me massage your shoulders—I am fully trained in massage techniques. I’m sure I can make you feel much more comfortable.”

Deke wasn’t sure he wanted to feel more comfortable, but he didn’t protest as Genari dug her surprisingly strong fingers into his shoulders, and the feeling was very pleasant.

“Here, finish up that drink and relax a bit,” Genari suggested, and Deke tossed back the rest of his liquor and set down the glass.

“That’s it... just let your head droop down so I can reach all those muscles...” purred Genari, as Deke gave up his back to her ministrations. “That’s it... just relax and let me take care of you. Close your eyes... yes... and think about ‘Mission Gallium.’”

Deke’s body stirred in surprise for a moment, then went completely limp. Genari gently eased him into a prone position on the couch, crooning softly in his ear the whole time. “Yes... that’s right... all the way down...”

Mind control devices were illegal in the Imperium, but subjects in certain postings, such as the scout pilot service, could receive a small amount of mental conditioning to train them to resist pain and such things. Princess Thrrmm had obtained, at great expense and effort, the key words that had been used in Deke’s training. Together with the drugs she’d put in Deke’s liquor, Genari planned to use those well-established triggers to mold Deke into a proper bed partner for her mistress. Princess Thrrmm did happen to be busy just then, but Genari would have had this duty in any case; a duty she found immensely satisfying.

“Now Deke... your concentration on your mission is so very great that you can narrow your entire world down to just my voice, focusing only on my words, can you do that for me? Your mouth can move easily to respond.”

“Yes...”

“Yes, and any other thoughts that might distract you will just drift away, reminding you to focus more completely on my instructions. You are focused on my instructions now, aren’t you, Deke?”

“Yes...”

“Yes, you are, and now I am going to teach you some very important skills. You will need these skills for your next mission, so you must learn them so thoroughly that they become completely automatic to you, as natural as breathing. You will not need to think about these skills, they will just come to you as you need them; so now you must concentrate completely on learning them so well that they become a permanent part of you. Are you ready to do that?”

“Yes...”

“Good. Now the first skill that you must master,” Genari continued, holographically altering her face to look like the Princess, “is your response to Princess Thrrmm. Whenever you see her face... hear her voice... or her name... or think about her for any reason. While retaining this deep concentration on my words, I want you to open your eyes now, and we will practice your reaction.”

As Deke’s eyes slowly opened, Genari deftly slid her hand inside the front of his pants.

The rest of John Park’s day just got better and better. The first girl he ran into on campus was Sandra Bayle, a bespectacled hottie he’d often sat near in his freshman English class. Now double majoring in math and physics, Sandra was about a hundred times smarter than John even in his own estimation, and though distantly friendly, seemed totally uninterested in jumping his bones. Time to test the mysterious mind-control ray a bit more.

Quickly making sure no-one else was in the hall in either direction, John took the ray gun out of his bag and held it concealed behind a corner of the hallway. “Hey, Sandra, what’s up?” he called, to get her attention; then, feigning shock, he suddenly peered over her shoulder. “What on Earth—?” he said.

“Hi, John. What? I don’t see—” Sandra got out, before the hypno-ray cut her off as she turned her head to look down the hall behind her.

“You’ve just realized how sexy I am. You’d like to get in my pants. When I ask you to go out with me tonight, you will say yes,” John told her, then cut off the hypno-ray and quickly hid it behind the corner again.

“—anything,” Sandra continued as if she’d never stopped, and turned back around to face John. Then she inhaled suddenly when her eyes reached his face, and John saw her pupils dilate as she stared into his eyes, momentarily transfixed. After a moment, she hastily looked away. “Um, so, ah... what’s up?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me tonight. There’s this—”

“Yes!” Sandra interrupted, then looked sheepish.

“Yeah? Ok, so how about if I pick you up around 8?”

“That sounds fine.” Sandra kept looking away from his face, as if afraid of staring again, but she darted little glances at John’s arms and chest and hands and crotch. John tried not to laugh.

“Ok, I’ll need your address.”

“Oh! Um, here...” Sandra dug in her bag, and John took the opportunity to hide the mind-control device behind his own. After a moment, Sandra pulled out a piece of paper and hastily jotted down her dorm, room number, phone number, and two email addresses.

John stuffed the paper in his pocket. “Thanks. See you tonight, babe.” Still hiding the ray-gun behind his bag, he quickly walked down the hallway and out of sight. Score! he thought.

Slowly walking back to her dorm, Sandra puzzled over her sudden reaction to John. He’d certainly never interested her before, but today he seemed different somehow. Riveting. Even the “babe” comment, which she normally hated, just seeemd... daring. She realized her panties were slightly wet from that brief encounter in the hallway, and she blushed. Tonight would be interesting...

Genari’s session with Deke went well, and she was able to move quite quickly to her favorite part of the procedure: sexual skills training. Though scout ships generally carried only the lone pilot and there couldn’t be too many suitable partners out on the frontier where he spent most of his career, Deke seemed to have at least plenty of natural talent to go with his boundless enthusiasm. So most of Genari’s effort was spent just directing him towards particular things that the Princess liked, and teaching him the system of gestures that would allow the Princess, or Genari, to give commands to his subconscious mind without him noticing, while he was otherwise awake.

Of course, she got in lots of good fucking, too. Her designers still argued about whether it was correct to talk of androids experiencing pleasure, or whether they merely simulated it; but Genari was programmed to seek out sexual stimulation quite avidly. And she simulated orgasm very well.

She was in the middle of a bout of stamina training, conditioning Deke to be unable to have an orgasm until given permission by the Princess, and to keep on pleasuring her until then, when Princess Thrrmm walked in to see how the training was going.

“OHH! OHHH! YES, Deke!—Oh, hello, your Majesty!—OHHHH!—How was—YESS!—your—YESSS!—call to—JUST like that!—Earth?”

“My agent there is in danger of—”

“OHHH YES!”

“—disappointing me. How is this darling—”

“AHHH!”

“—man coming along?”

“HAAAAA! Ahhh, ahh... Quite well, your Majesty. He’s—Ooohhh!—lasted through—Oh!—twenty-five of my—OHH!—simulated orgasms, and—MMmmm... still hard as AHH! a Denebian pillar-worm in—Oohyes—rutting season. MMMmmm... and his cardiovascular fitness is quite O-oh! good, as OH! you can OHH! see OHHHH!“

“Twenty-five, Genari? You know I rarely—”

“OHHHHHHHH!”

“—go above eighteen.”

“OHYES—It is—YES!—important to—YESS!—leave a margin of error—YESYES!—in the conditioning—OHH!—process, your Majesty. OHHYESYES! OHFUCKME! OHHH, nearly twentysixOHHHOHHH—”

Reaching around the sexbot’s head, Princess Thrrmm tapped the snooze button on the back of Genari’s neck, leaving her frozen for ten minutes just on the verge of her twenty-sixth simulated orgasm. At the same time, leaning in to place her lips next to Deke’s ear, she murmured huskily, “Cum NOW, Deke.”

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! YES MY PRINCESSS OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...” roared her long-delayed lover-in-training, as the Princess eyed his naked chest and bucking hips in appreciation.

“Twenty-six orgasms,” the Princess muttered to herself. “I cannot abide uppity servants.”