The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Maria Ono was, by far, the smartest girl in her group. From a young age she had decided to be smarter than everyone else and take advantage of her ability to retain and absorb information. She read and investigated, asked and inquired, looked and researched; and over the years she accumulated enough knowledge to guarantee her easy ascension through the long and arduous years of college. And now, a month from finishing her education and formally becoming a professional in society’s eyes, her world would be broken.

Maria Ono was likeable and friendly, capable of befriending everyone but one kind of person. The tall, long-haired girl of Japanese descent could not, for reasons she herself ignored and could not explain, make friends with black women. Her best friend was a man of cinnamon skin, her confidant was a girl of red skin, her lovers were a young gentleman of pale skin and a lady of brown sugar complexion. But she was never short of being rude towards black women. Why? Who can really tell?

And it was because of this irrational distrust for the fine ladies that Maria Ono’s life was about to be destroyed.

Three years prior she had worked with a stocky and voluptuous woman named Sandra Johnson. Sandra Johnson was a prominent woman in the division Maria Ono worked at, and the two had been appointed to a group that should’ve have developed a system that would allow the whole university to run better research operations. Because of Maria Ono’s constant bickering and distrust of Sandra Johnson, the whole team was disbanded and the project cancelled. To Maria, it was not even a setback—her skills soon found her in another promising position. But for Sandra Johnson? Her life was over and done with. The blame fell on her, of course. How could friendly Maria Ono be at fault? Sandra Johnson left the premises swearing that she would get back at the ‘scrawny asian bitch’.

And today was that day.

Maria Ono was alone, late at night, working on the final touches for her project. She was sleepy, tired, and most of all she wanted to finish her job. Just as Maria ordered her computer to print the last of the papers, she heard a scratching noise at her door. Sleepy and not thinking quite right, Maria Ono walked to the door and opened it, only to find a now thinner and somewhat sickly looking Sandra Johnson staring at her with what should’ve been rage and revenge, but turned out to be joy and luridness. Maria was quickly fully awakened. She recoiled, feelings of disgust and fear—she remembered that it was her fault the woman, famous for violent outbursts—lost her future.

“You look good, girl.” Sandra said as she invited herself into Ono’s room. She was holding a bucket of black paint in her left hand and a brush in the other.

Maria Ono remembered that it was her fault that Sandra had lost her job and her future. She felt guilt gnaw at her insides and the need to apologize slowly grow. But her not-quite hatred prevented her from saying anything beyond a question.

“What are you doing here, Sandra!?” Ono yelled, slowly walking backwards.

“I am here for payback.” Straight, honest answer.

Sandra Johnson quickly grabbed Maria’s arm, pulling the Asian woman close to herself. Maria had failed to notice when Sandra had moved the brush from her hand, and thus, distracted, was quickly thrown to the floor. Sandra reached for Ono’s chest, placing most of her weight there.

“You fucking bitch!” Sandra yelled. “You ruined my life! You ruined my fucking life!”

Maria Ono was a quick person, she easily noticed that Sandra’s hands were slippery and thus her grip on her neck was not the best. Using the back of her left hand, she pushed away Sandra’s arm, forcing the bigger woman to stumble and fall on her side. Maria used the opportunity to roll over and push herself off the ground, but lost her footing and fell face first on the hard, white tiles. Maria groaned and pushed herself off the floor for a second time, noticing her hands were now coated with black paint. She turned to look backwards, noticing that Sandra was already standing and walking towards her with the momentum of a rhinoceros. Moving faster than her assailant, Maria reached the door and pulled on the handle, only to hear the dreaded click noise of locked door. When she turned around to flee to the other side of the room she was stopped by Sandra’s hands on her shoulders.

“Oh, you are not going anywhere.” Sandra said, her face dangerously close to Maria’s.

Maria trashed and kicked, trying desperately to get free but her blows didn’t even seem to be felt by the black lady. Sandra kept on talking, releasing three years worth of anger and resent upon the petite frame of Maria Ono. Ono tried to close her hand into a fist, but realized instead that her whole hand, back and palm, were covered in the sticky, black paint Sandra had brought in. The same paint she knew was covering her neck and the same black paint that was smeared all over Sandra’s face and body.

“You... the time when... well, it turned... you’ll... street all night...” Maria heard Sandra rant, but everything was coming fragmented and broken. Not one sentence was whole, and not one thought made sense. It was as if Maria’s ears went deaf every couple of seconds. She tried clenching her fist once more, but her fingers wouldn’t respond. Nor would her voice come out. She could only move her head from side to side and kick. Sandra, somehow, saw this as more than a desperate attempt at escape.

“So, it’s... ...edy ...aking effe....ct. Go...” A smile crawled upon those plump lips.

Immediately Sandra released her grip on Maria, who fell to her knees and then on her side, unable to push herself up since her hands and part of her arms would not answer her pleas of help. While Sandra loomed over her, watching as if considering how to properly skin prey, Maria kicked herself into a sitting position. Before she could shift her legs into a position that would allow her to stand up when needed Sandra grabbed her ankles with sticky hands. Black, tar-like tendrils dribbled from Sandra’s hands as she removed them from Maria’s skin. The black tar started to bubble slightly on Maria’s skin, yet it didn’t feel hot or cold, nor could she feel its weight or texture or density—it was as if there was nothing there. But the moment the tar touched her skin was the moment Maria stopped feeling her feet. She couldn’t move them either.

“What... what is this? What are you doing?” Maria’s voice was distant and almost not there, the tar around her neck making it close to impossible to say anything.

“Oh, so now the scrawny bitch is asking questions?” Sandra’s voice seemed to crack with emotion; though if it was Sandra’s doing or the tar’s effect on Maria’s mind, she couldn’t tell. “Well, here are some: Remember what I specialize in?” Maria nodded, her scientific curiosity shadowing her primal fear. “Remember what I was working on when you got me kicked out?” Another nod. Sandra nodded and pointed one red nail towards the bubbling tar on Maria’s neck. “Perfected and on you.”

Maria closed her eyes hard, suppressing her tears. She didn’t know what Sandra had been working on, she was so disgusted by the idea of a black woman working in the same lab as her that she had never even cared to ask. Now karma was paying her a visit.

Sandra inspected her palms, both black and smeared with tar only where calluses would be found. She smiled to herself and then showed Maria her palms.

“I can’t get it off, you know. I haven’t been able to for a year now. It doesn’t affect me... or anyone with a bit of black in them—genetics, go figure!—but it does affect everyone else.” She smiled and turned towards where her bucket of paint and brush had been turned over. Wrapping her tar-oozing hands around both, she picked them up and then returned to where Maria was trying to crawl away—without the use of her feet or hands she looked like a slug trying to turn on its back. Sandra laughed as she opened the bucket of paint with the tip of her fingers.

“Whaaat are yoou... you goin’ to dooo...” The words were hard to pronounce for Maria, her whole throat feeling sluggish and dead. What she wasn’t seeing was that the handprint of tar on her neck was slowly expanding, turning into a big blob of inkish liquid that slowly moved up and down her neck.

Sandra dipped her brush into the bucket filled with black so deep that one could lose their soul if they stared at it for too long. Once the hairs were completely black and only the shape of it would tell you it was a brush Sandra pulled it close to her face, inspecting her work with motherly pride. She looked at Maria with only her eyes and then grinned. “You’ll feel so good afterwards.”

One brushstroke and black completely covered Maria’s shoes—one brushstroke and Maria’s whole body shuddered.

Maria breathed in deeply and closed her eyes, a smile of contentment lighting up her face just before she controlled her own emotions, stilled her will, and returned to the frightened girl she was at the moment. Sandra noticed this and laughed.

“You like it, don’t you? Ha! It feels really good, doesn’t it? So good as it crawls over your body and into your head.” Sandra laughed as she continued coating the length of Maria’s leg with ink-black tar. Maria tried to move her legs, to kick Sandra in the face and be done with this humiliation, but the moment the tar touched her skin her legs were no longer her own. The tar bubbled and oozed al over her legs, covering her thighs and knees, her ankles and calves; it oozed into her heels, covering the whole of her feet. No matter how much she tried, her legs wouldn’t move an inch. Not only that, but as the tar began to ooze away from her feet and up her ankles, as if the whole mass of black ink was receding, she began to hear whispers.

Mine... all mine.

Forget... let go... mine...

Perfect... mine... not yours... mine...

Surrender... give up... mine... forget... give in...

Mine... forget... surrender... to me... mine... give me...

Slowly the ooze moved up her leg, revealing transformed flesh underneath. Her once pale skin was now completely changed, reversed and transformed; her skin was now dark, extremely so. Wherein Sandra was a dark cinnamon colour, Maria now had a tone that, a century ago, would’ve been called tar-brushed. Not only her skin had been changed, Maria noticed, her eyes completely wide, as she began to shake in fear and shock—her heels had transformed into platform heels that reached her mid-calf; they had a series of laces tying the front and upper part of the feet.

“Oh, how beautiful!” Sandra cried in glee, her single, tar-free finger moving over the now dark skin, enjoying her handiwork. “How perfect it is.”

Maria felt an exciting shudder crawl up her body. It was similar to the caresses of many of her previous lovers, but this, although quite similar, felt utterly alien. It was as if someone had felt the shudder and was telling her skin what to feel and how to feel it.

Sounds tried to form in her throat, but only gurgles and moans escaped her lips—the tar on her neck had started to bubble and grow and it had completely destroyed her ability to use her throat.

“Try moving your legs, bitch.” Sandra laughed, her brush gliding over Maria’s skin, covering her hips and the skirt she was wearing. The tar seeped into both skin and clothing, attaching itself to whatever it could find to change. “Try moving anything that’s under the tar’s control!”

Maria Ono tried, she really did. She tried moving her hands, but the now bubbling tar covered them, making it impossible for her to feel them. She tried moving her alienated legs, but found that she couldn’t even feel them in the way a cripple would feel the weight of a dead limb. It was as if the tar had erased their existence instead of changing them.

All mine... The whispers started once more. Loud, reverberating, penetrating—they were too powerful to ignore. Legs are mine... surrender... submit... to me... give up...

Bubbling sounds brought Maria back from her haze and the onslaught of whispers. She dared to look down and saw that Sandra had stopped applying the tar to enjoy the show. Wherein her legs had been changed, her hips and bottom were the ones that really transmuted. The tar receded, merging with what had crawled up her old legs and merged into a single ball of blackness. Free of the tar, the transformation was obvious; her hips had grown and her bottom had exploded with form and mass. Her hips had been turned the same black as her legs, become as wide as three heads. Her ass had taken a peach-like shape, protruding out of her body and raising the rest of Maria’s lying down body. Her skirt had also changed, going from a black pencil skirt to a red leather micro skirt with a side opening and a golden belt falling sideways on her waist. The assemble, paired with her new high-heeled boots, clicked something in Maria’s mind and sex and in Sandra’s aroused psyche.

“Oh, that looks so delicious.” The bigger woman said, her face caressing the leather of not-quite Maria’s skirt. “You are going to love the rest.” Sandra added as she reluctantly continued applying tar on Maria’s abdomen and chest.

Maria was oblivious to this; she was too concentrated on battling whatever was speaking to her. The whispers had evolved, turned into phrases. As the tar moved up her body and transformed more of her once pale skin into a beautiful dark, and the more her very body became something else, the more intelligent the voice sounded. The tar began to bubble on her abdomen, and the tar on her hands was gone, revealing a pair of off-looking dark and slender hands with nails painted a blinding red.

These are mine now... The voice whispered everywhere in Maria’s mind. Feel how you lose... Surrender to me... My hands, my legs, my feet... Love the arousal... Embrace... Surrender to me... Submit to the arousal...

The arousal the voice spoke of was real. The more tar covered her body, the hornier Maria felt. It was a strange sort of arousal; like the feeling of clothing on her legs and hips, and the feeling of the hard floor under her hands and bottom, it felt alien and foreign. Someone was describing in great detail how she should be feeling. But even if it was a fake kind of arousal, it felt as powerful and encompassing as the real one. Thus Maria’s attention was divided between trying to ignore the increasingly lucid whispers and enjoying the delicious feeling coursing through her body.

Submit to me, Maria.

“So, how does it feel?” Sandra was kneeling on top of Maria, her hands roaming the tar-covered body. She had already finished covering Maria’s torso, leaving only the arms and head free of the tar’s influence. “How does it feel to have your life destroyed? For someone else to forcibly turn you into someone else!?” At that Sandra couldn’t contain herself anymore; pulling at Maria’s skirt, she pushed her tar-black finger deep into the broken down woman’s sex. Maria’s legs squirmed, her hips pushed upwards, her toes curled. And Maria’s eyes began to tear.

In and out Sandra’s fingers went, and up and up the tar moved. Her abdomen was uncovered now, free of tar and clothing; a piercing was now visible on her belly button, well-defined abs could now be appreciated. But the biggest change was how her waist had shrunk, shrinking to half its original size.

Surrender to the feeling, Maria.... Submit to me... Your body is mine... Give up the struggle... Submit to me... Mine... All mine...

A moan escaped Maria’s throat and Sandra was brought back from her sexual fantasies. She stopped fingering her captive, took her brush once more and returned to work: with simple and quick strokes, she covered Maria’s left arm.

“So, you can speak now?” Sandra said, placing her breasts on Maria’s face as she started working on Maria’s right arm. Once finished, Sandra returned her attention to Maria’s pussy.

Maria moaned a butchered word and her hands clawed at the floor. Slowly, very slowly, she was starting to feel her legs and hands as if her own.

The tar on her chest finally disappeared, merging with what covered her arms. The change was extremely apparent. Her breasts had swollen to head size; big, perky, firm and round they now were, with erect nipples visible through the thick layer of her red rubber tanktop. The very touch of the rubbery material was enough to make Maria quiver in need. Sandra couldn’t get her eyes off of them either.

“So perfect.” Sandra licked her lips, her tar hands exploring their shapes.

My body, not yours. Give it to me, Maria. Submit your whole being to me... Give up and submit to me... You are all mine now. All mine forever. You’ll be gone... My body... Surrender.

“Gooood.” Maria slurred, her voice deeper and far away.

“Shush, bitch. Let me enjoy this.” Sandra moaned, rubbing her crotch against Maria’s defined legs while her hands roamed the new pair of tits.

Legs wrapped themselves around Sandra’s waist, and hands began to explore her back. Maria’s body was acting on her own, reacting to Sandra’s touch with a different personality. And Maria couldn’t deny how good it felt.

The tar finally disappeared from her body and everything down her neck was uniform: black, well-defined muscles and smooth, perfect skin. Her arms were now muscled, yet slender and attached to a strong and wide back. Clothes had changed, turning kin to a whore’s. Several wavy tattoos that represented fire and water had suddenly appeared on her thighs, shoulder, arms and belly in black, pink and purple ink.

The only things out of place were her head and her mind. And both would soon be corrected.

See? This is all mine now. You have no control, Maria. Your body is mine. All mine. My body forever. Surrender yourself to me, Maria. Give up the struggle and give me your very being. The voice was no fully conscientious. It spoke like a warrior who had already won a long struggle and it sounded like a whisper in her ear, so very close.

Maria couldn’t fight it anymore, she just couldn’t. Sandra’s touch on her new body was breaking her faster than she wished, and the tar had already destroyed her will to fight.

Sandra was gone, too. Her own pleasure mind-blinding.

“More tar.” Maria’s voice didn’t speak. It was not her voice anymore. It was someone else’s. “Surrender... give me more tar.” And then Maria realized it was her throat, which had been covered in tattoos and a golden collar, speaking with the voice of the whispers.

Sandra looked at Maria’s face and then smiled. “Finally!” She cried in glee before she began to caress Maria’s face with her tarry hands. Smearing inkish black on the white face, she moved her hands with care. Soon enough bubbling, black tar was covering Maria’s head in a bubble, as if a hood or a giant balloon placed on her head.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!” Maria’s body convulsed in pleasure, wrapping Sandra in a tight, human knot.

Sandra moaned loudly but then began to feel the faintest fear. She tried pulling away, but Maria’s embrace was much too strong.

The tar subsided, slowly turning into nothing. Maria’s hair had grown, turning into a voluminous mound of platinum blond. Her face had darkened and plumped; a thin line had turned into full, luscious lips that made you want to kiss them by just looking at them. Her once slanted eyes were now round and wide, with a penetrating stare and a look that could put any slut to shame. Added to this was the new addition of permanent make-up on her skin; colourful mascara and lips were now part of her face, as well as the array of piercings and stubs on her ears.

She was no longer Maria Ono.

Perfect white teeth showed in an otherwise completely dark mouth. A pair of eyes with pupils of a bubbling dark—just like tar—stared at a satisfied and scared face.

“It is done.” A sultry, smooth and deep voice said. Legs and arms released Sandra.

Sandra rose and then helped the new woman to her feet. She who had once been Maria Ono looked at her creator and smiled.

“How do you feel?”

The blonde, black lady stared back, smile of deviousness and pure bliss on her face. “Delicious. So utterly delicious.” She had her eyes closed and simply enjoyed the fact of being alive.

Sandra took a couple of steps backwards, unsure on how to react or proceed now that her vengeance was complete. She still was horny, but she didn’t know if this new personality would react as she wished. So, Sandra just waited and watched, curiously. The former Maria began to explore her body, touching and probing every curve, pushing fingers inside her, tasting her mouth and skin, touching her hair, clenching fists, moving muscles. Once satisfied, she took a deep breath and turned her attention towards Sandra.

“Oh, girl, thank you so much for letting me out!”

“Hmm... your... welcome? Eh... you?”

“Oh, love, call me Mistress.” Former Maria said as she walked, hips swaying, breasts jiggling, towards Sandra.

“Mistress?” Sandra thought for a second. “Why Mistress?”

“Oh, you silly girl.” Mistress said, getting closer and closer, her body enticing and exciting. “Because I am your Mistress now. And I’ll be the Mistress of many.”

Sandra felt the tar permanently bonded to her hands begin to bubble the closer Mistress got. She began to move back, taking one, two, three steps before she tripped over her own bucket of paint.

Looming over Sandra, Mistress opened her mouth and tar began to dribble from it. She reached for her lips with one finger, and then began to suck on it, eagerly coating it with her tongue. She then stared at it with the basic curiosity of children and then moved it down towards her crotch. Whatever she did under her skirt is a mystery.

Sandra began to scream as the tar on her hands began to bubble and crawl up her arms, rendering them useless. Her screams were desperate and ironic, and they didn’t reach anyone precisely for the same reason Maria’s screams had never reached the outside world.

Soon Mistress was coating Sandra’s body with a thick layer of tar, drowning all sense of self as yet another ever-aroused mind was born.