The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Rania was unpacked at about two o’clock in the afternoon. As she heard the unzipping sound, her naked body uncoiled a bit from the tight ball it had been curled into: Washington had told her she would be able to move again when the suitcase was opened.

She looked up at two middle-aged white men, peering open-mouthed into the suitcase. Stiff and achy though she was, Rania presented herself as she had been trained to do: she sprang to her feet and stood submissively before the men, her back arched to offer her breasts to them.

“Jesus Christ, look at the body on her!” said the younger of the men, a tall 40-year-old with glasses, thinning hair, and a wirebrush moustache.

The older man, about 60, said nothing, but looked Rania over carefully. He was plump, of medium height, and wore a baseball cap and a leather jacket.

Thanks to months of strenuous belly dancing, Rania’s body had never looked better. The contrast between the fine muscling of her abdomen and the massive softness of her breasts was awe-inspiring.

Rania desperately had to go to the bathroom, but instead she touched her lips with her tongue and shimmied her upper body ever so slightly, as if to work her chest a few millimeters closer to her hosts.

She was standing in the den of a spacious ranch house in a small town about fifty miles north of San Luis Obispo. The two men didn’t look especially impressive, but in fact they were high-powered importers and exporters in the female slave trade.

The tall man casually walked up to Rania and squeezed her left breast to see if it was real. Rania moaned and curled into the touch, so that the man found himself wrapped around Rania, whose mobile ass sought out the man’s cock and squeezed it between her cheeks.

“Jesus Christ!” repeated the tall man.

“She can’t talk, but she can make noises,” observed the heavy man.

“Excuse me for a second, will you?” said the tall man, steering Rania toward a bedroom.

“If I were you, I’d show her to the little girls’ room first,” said the heavy man.

“Oh, shit,” said the tall man. “There it is, right down the hall. And hurry up,” he said to Rania.

The entire fuck was over in two minutes, and Rania found herself standing in the den again before she knew it, a dribble of semen running down her thigh.

“She’s a real firecracker,” said the tall man. “It’s a crying shame to waste her on some fetishist who probably won’t even bother doing her.”

“We can make a bundle off of this one on the fetish market,” said the heavy man. “Think about the possibilities.”

Rania looked back and forth at the seated men who were talking about selling her for money. She moved her hips forward a bit to make her sex more visible.

“What do you have in mind?” said the tall man.

“Well, just off the top of my head: let’s say that you have a thing for statues, or mannequins,” said the heavy man.

He walked over to Rania and said “Don’t move!” in a stern voice, as if giving a command to a dog. Rania became very still.

The man pushed Rania with his forefinger. Rania rocked back and forth a little, but remained in her waiting position, hands by her sides, chest thrust forward.

“When I move you, move with me, and when I let go, you stay where I left you,” the heavy man said. He pushed on the small of Rania’s back and pulled on her shoulder to arch her backwards. Rania wavered a bit when he released her, but settled into her new position and remained still, bent back and looking at the ceiling.

The man pushed Rania’s arms out into funny extended positions. She looked as if she were doing some strange modern dance.

The heavy man sat down again. “Now, I bet that she’ll stay put like that for a good long time,” he said.

“You’d better let her close her eyes,’ said the tall man. Rania was staring straight up and not blinking.

“You can blink now, but don’t you move anything else,” the heavy man said to Rania. Her eyelids started fluttering to make up for lost time.

“Seems like a nice little item to have around the house, eh?” said the heavy man.

“She could be a human doll,” said the tall man.

“Exactly,” said the other. He stood Rania straight up again, playing with her face until she had a wide-eyed, happy expression. She wound up sitting on the carpet, arms and legs spread wide, grinning stupidly.

“I think she’s getting better at holding the poses,” said the tall man. Indeed, Rania was desperately trying to be a believable doll for these strange men, and was quickly picking up the knack of being poseable.

“Yep,” said the heavy man. “If we worked with her a while, the effect would be pretty good.”

“And then there are the fornophiles,” said the tall man.

“You’ve got the idea,” said the heavy man. Within seconds Rania was the base of an imaginary coffee table, looking down into the 70s-style shag carpet. The heavy man patted her upturned ass.

“Now here’s another idea,” said the tall man. While he was talking, he propped his feet up on the small of Rania’s back. She didn’t budge an inch.

“She’d be perfect for any fetish that requires training. Because she’s already docile.”

“For instance?” asked the heavy man.

“A ponygirl, or something like that?”

They tried it. Within minutes, Rania was prancing around the room, lifting each leg high in the air, her chest bouncing heavily at each step.

“Jesus,” said the tall man. “That’s a great effect.”

“Wait a minute. Those dog owners in Japan are looking to buy right now,” said the heavy man.

Rania found herself crawling around the shag carpet, barking and sniffing things. The tall man held out his hand to her; Rania licked it enthusiastically, then bounced into his lap.

“Down, girl, down!” he said. When she was back on the carpet, the tall man said, “Try being more of a poodle.”

It took Rania a few seconds to get the hang of it, but her barks turned into yips, and her crawling took on a mincing quality. Her large, hanging breasts were not very poodle-like, though, and definitely had to be taken into account as she adjusted to moving around as a quadriped.

“I’m going to try to catch those guys before they leave the country,” said the heavy man. He went outside to use his cell phone, and the tall man went to the kitchen to get something to eat. Rania, forgotten for the moment, had no choice but to remain a poodle. Trying to play the role properly, she crawled around the house a while, sniffing things. Weirdly, she found herself so focused on her task that she actually picked up smells that she would never have noticed before.

The men forgot about Rania for hours. Finally, the tall man found her whining by the door; she had to go to the bathroom badly. “Oh, jesus, just use the frigging bathroom,” he said when he realized what she was on about. “You can stop being a dog now.” Rania picked herself up off the carpet and slunk off to the toilet. Her nose had been in some unpleasant places; somehow she hadn’t minded so much before, but now she felt a little sick.

Unfortunately, Rania was about to learn a great deal about life in the animal kingdom. The Japanese buyers, a middle-aged couple named Kagawa, showed up that evening, and Rania was turned into a dog again for them. The couple didn’t say much, but looked at the naked girl with approval as she frisked about for their benefit.

“She’s a poodle right now, but you can make her any breed that you want,” said the heavy man.

“Poodle,” repeated Mr. Kagawa, smiling. Rania was at his feet, looking up at him with her tongue hanging out. The buyer could not help but note that the girl’s large breasts, dangling below her elbows, ruined the dog effect a little bit.

But any doubts Kagawa had were dispelled when Rania arched her right leg high over her back, reached up to her shoulder blade, and scratched it vigorously with her toes. It was quite a sight, and normally Rania couldn’t have pulled it off; but she had been a professional belly dancer until less than 24 hours ago, and the grueling dance regimen that she had learned during her slave training gave her a flexibility that few could equal.

Rania was sold on the spot, and found herself yapping in the back seat of a limousine while Mrs. Kagawa fastened a collar around her neck with a metal tag marked with Japanese characters. The woman then rolled up a newspaper and stopped Rania’s high-pitched barking with a few forceful blows to the princess’s bare, perfectly round ass.

If Rania had any doubts that her transformation was now permanent, they were dispelled at the Kagawas’ rented bungalow, where the woman laid down a thick covering of newspaper in the bathtub, ordered Rania to empty her bowels onto it, and left the room. The distressed girl obeyed helplessly.

When she was finished, Rania was pushed into a small cage, the bars and floor of which were padded with some kind of artificial leather. A few hours later, she was loaded onto a private plane, where she was left alone to whine pitifully during a long transoceanic trip. Mrs. Kagawa put a bowl of dry dog food in Rania’s cage; when she became hungry, she could not stop herself from eating it.

Rania was utterly miserable. One would think that she could no longer feel humiliation after so many years of utter degradation; but something about this new indignity made her aware again of the terrible fate that had befallen her. Her obedience was so engrained and so unconscious that it felt like a force outside of her—because she was forbidden to act human, her body seemed not even to remember human motions or behaviors. Beneath the layer of her brain that was commanding her to be a dog, there was still another layer that kept her in an endless cycle of arousal. She felt mummified, buried layers deep, unable to do anything but watch herself sink lower and lower.

The plane’s destination was the Kagawas’ secluded estate in the mountains outside the Japanese city of Nara. Mr. and Mrs. Kagawa had gradually become more involved in animal roleplay over the years, and purchased this property with privacy in mind. They had one other slave, a sullen girl in her late twenties named Chieko who was a full-time submissive and had had several owners since a former boyfriend had first put her up for sale. If she got any erotic pleasure from her servitude, it was not immediately obvious.

Rania was something new in the Kagawa household, a full-time dog. In her play life, Mrs. Kagawa was actually her husband’s dog, a submissive. But most of the time she puttered around like a middle-aged housewife, and Chieko performed a maid’s functions. Only Rania crawled around the house naked and barking twenty-four hours a day. Chieko was given the task of feeding Rania and letting her out, which she performed without malice or enthusiasm. As the weather was nice, Rania was often put outside for hours on end, and had to whine at the door when she was hungry or thirsty.

After her arrival, the Kagawas put Rania in a room with a television playing a DVD about cocker spaniels, in an endless loop. Rania was given to understand that she was expected to imitate the spaniels, then was left alone in the room for hours a day all during her first week in Japan. Her brain rewired itself accordingly.

Whenever it was playtime, Mrs. Kagawa and Chieko stripped and donned collars like Rania’s, and Mr. Nagawa led the three naked, leashed women outdoors on their hands and knees. Mrs. Nagawa had her own fussy little dog routine which she had perfected over the years, with big, stagey gestures that Chieko duplicated listlessly. Mr. Kagawa held a rolled-up newspaper, and gave the dogs well-rehearsed commands; once in a while he swatted them gently on their asses, causing Mrs. Kagawa to pantomime distress.

Rania’s act was considerably more realistic than what the Kagawas were used to. Taken off her leash, she was likely to throw herself onto the other dogs, knocking them over and biting them playfully while rolling around. Mrs. Kagawa completely broke character the first time Rania thrust her nose into her asshole: the older woman rose to her feet and ran away screaming, disobeying her husband’s commands to heel. The Kagawas would sometime restrain Rania when she displeased them, but they never actually ordered her to change her impersonation; and so the women’s canine styles continued to clash.

The Kagawas had an unrealistic agreement that Mr. Kagawa would refrain from having sex with any of his dog slaves other than his wife. When Chieko had been the only temptation, Mr. Kagawa didn’t break this agreement very often; but Rania was more exotic stuff, and Mr. Kagawa began taking his opportunities as they arrived, fucking the panting princess in closets or sheds, then cleaning her up frantically while she barked away. Mrs. Kagawa never caught her husband in the act, but she sensed the change in the household atmosphere, and became more quarrelsome and emotional. Mr. Kagawa, who valued domestic peace, eventually tried to repair the situation by suspending his sexual visits to his curvaceous new dog. But his wife’s jealousy was unabated.

And even Mr. Kagawa didn’t enjoy owning Rania as much as he had expected. He was used to his wife’s silly, Kabuki-like dog impersonation, and was alarmed at the wild proliferation of earthy, physical detail in Rania’s performance. She had come to smell a bit like a dog, and Kagawa found that this was not part of his fantasy. Chieko was given the added duty of bathing Rania every other day—not only a messy job, but also a risky one, as Rania was apt to bound at the maid while she was being soaped, and became positively uncontrollable whenever Chieko cleaned her nether regions.

Another mark against Rania was the size of her breasts. She never really seemed like a dog to Kagawa on this account, and she looked a bit grotesque when on display next to Mrs. Kagawa and Chieko, with their tiny breasts that suited the roleplay much better. Rania’s pendulous chest and protuberant purple nipples made Kagawa think more of a cow than a dog.

As soon as Kagawa hit on this resemblance, he remembered that he had met a group of dairy fetishists at a roleplay convention in Osaka a few years ago. Rania would be worth millions of yen to them. Suddenly it seemed to him that selling Rania could solve a number of his problems at once.

And so, after only six months with the Kagawas, Rania transferred hands again, this time to a group of three men from Hokkaido, each of whom contributed part of Rania’s purchase price and owned her jointly. As she was carted away in a small trailer hitched to the back of a car, she mooed in distress—for she had been turned into a cow, kneeling thigh and elbow-deep in straw, tears streaking her pretty face.

It was now late fall, and Hokkaido was already covered in snow and quite cold. But Rania was installed in a spacious, well-heated barn, with windows that looked out on the snowy mountains. Not too far from her was a real cow, and two horses, and a number of goats. A rope was knotted loosely around Rania’s neck and tied to a wooden pole. It would not have been difficult to untie, but Rania could not use her arms in her current cow-like state. Next to her were two wooden structure that looked like hurdles, with which Rania would become very familiar.

A small reception was held in honor of Rania’s arrival. One of Rania’s three owners, Kato, lived in the house next to the barn with his wife and 16-year-old daughter, who were both in attendance. Mrs. Kato, an attractive 50-year-old who had once been a sex worker, shared her husband’s fetish, and was in fact maintained in a state of constant lactation by Mr. Kato. But today she was dressed like all the other guests. The other two owners, who lived 2 and 25 miles away, respectively, were unaccompanied; but a few other dairy fetishists, including one rather elderly couple, had traveled to attend the reception. Rania was greatly admired by all: everyone felt that a more perfect specimen of a girl-cow could not be found anywhere. After a little speech, Mr. Kato tied a large cowbell around the neck of the mooing, distressed princess, and the group applauded gaily.

Rania fit easily into the daily routine in the barn. Several times each day one of the Katos fed and watered all the animals, including Rania, who ate cooked grains and drank water from a wooden trough. Sometimes she was given special treats, and the food was not too unpalatable on the whole, though Rania had become a very messy eater in her cow persona. Her droppings were swept away with those of the other animals, and she was given clean straw every day. Once in a while she was hosed down to keep her relatively clean; nonetheless, she soon acquired a much more pungent smell than she had ever had in her life as a dog, and her aroma would have been unacceptable anywhere except in a barn.

One of the barn routines was for Rania’s benefit alone. Starting on her first full day in the barn, three to five times daily, one of the Katos would lead her by her neck rope and pull her up and over the wooden hurdles, so that her arms dangled over one hurdle and her legs hung down behind the other. Suspended like this, Rania’s heavy breasts hung free below her, where the Katos had easy access to them. When her neck rope was tied off, Rania could do no more than jerk helplessly in the air, cowbell clanging; as a cow, she did not have enough mobility to roll off the hurdles. The Katos would then pull up a milking stool and spend 15 to 30 minutes kneading Rania’s breasts and sucking her nipples, leaving her quite red and swollen. Her mooing and thrashing during these regular sessions were taken as signs of resistance, whereas in fact they were simply the poor princess’s sexual excitement.

After a few months of these vigorous, methodical breast massages, a few drops of pale fluid began to appear at Rania’s engorged nipples. The first sighting of breast fluid was a cause of great celebration among the Katos, and other dairy fetishists traveled from far and wide to witness and assist in the ongoing procedure. Rania watched helplessly as her already oversized breasts began to grow, and the drops of fluid turned into streams.

Only a few weeks after Rania had started to respond to this treatment, Kato and his wife entered the barn in the morning to find her mooing persistently from the dull ache in her breasts. Kato grabbed a thick, purple nipple and drew hard on it: a jet of liquid flew into the straw. Rania was ready to be milked.

The Katos already had a milking regimen for the cow and goats, and Rania was now added to the list of dairy animals. Twice a day, one of the Katos (and sometimes Rania’s other owners, who began to appear more frequently now that Rania was producing milk) would pull her over the hurdles, sit next to her, and feel her gingerly for the right grip, exploring the soft flesh surrounding her turgid nipples. When the milker had the right purchase, he or she would pull Rania down hard, squeezing at the same time. The first jets of milk hit the pail hard enough to be heard over Rania’s mooing and the clanking of the cowbell. While one breast was extended toward the pail, the other would be pressed up against Rania’s rib cage, as the milker prepared for the next pull. The trick was to get a flowing, musical rhythm, so that one teat would be bouncing back up toward Rania’s chest while the other was being drawn down and wrung dry. After a few pulls, Rania’s hard nipples would become slick with her own milk, and the milker had to allow for this slipperiness, grabbing Rania higher and tighter to get enough milk from her before her breast slipped away. At first Rania gave only a pint or so of milk at a sitting, a cup from each breast. But her output increased rapidly.

Rania’s breasts grew. She had already been near the limit of how busty a girl could be while retaining an attractively proportioned figure; she now crossed that limit, heading toward cartoonish dimensions that appealed only to extreme tastes. Her nipples, which had already been long, were distended to the size of thumbs; when she was on her hands and knees, they poked into the straw on the floor of her stall.

She learned to sleep on all fours, and woke each morning to her own involuntary mooing from the discomfort in her swollen chest. Her breasts were as hard as water balloons before she was milked, and the first pulls on her teats were agonizing; after a milking, she was visibly lighter and less firm, though she began swelling up almost immediately.

Some of the milkers were rougher and less skilled than others. The men tended to enjoy manhandling Rania, squeezing her harder than necessary and tossing her breasts around like soccer balls. The most skillful milkmaid was Sumiko, the Kato’s 16-year-old, for whom milking Rania and the other animals was just a morning chore before school. The girl’s slender, bored fingers drew the milk from Rania’s teats with a graceful arcing motion and a minimum of pain. But Rania never felt more debased than when this vapid schoolgirl pulled orgasm after orgasm from her without the least effort or concern.

Unlike at the Kagawas, there was no prohibition against fucking Rania here. All Rania’s owners dropped by as often as they could, throwing Rania over the hurdles or taking her on her knees. Trusted friends of the owners also had free run of Rania’s body. Kato sometimes fucked Rania with Mrs. Kato watching, or masturbating, or squirting her own milk into Kato’s face. Sometimes Mrs. Kato was thrown over the hurdles next to Rania, with Kato and the others taking turns milking and fucking them. Most of the men hosed Rania down before handling her, though a few liked her dirty.

As time passed and the novelty of the new girl-cow wore off, Rania’s sex life became less varied and eventful. Apart from the routines of feeding, watering, and milking, she spent most of her time kneeling alone in her stall, listening to the noises of the other animals, her own mooing, and the constant clanking of her bell. She felt as if she had arrived at the end of the world and the bottom of the food chain; she had never been so miserable in all her long years of slavery and degradation.

Rania spent two and a half long years in the barn. She never went outside, though she could watch the seasons in Hokkaido change through the barn windows. Her twenty-fifth birthday passed, though she did not know it. She lost hope of ever leaving.

Then, one spring day, without warning, de Vries, the South African who had bought her in Libya, walked through the barn door. He was a bit greyer at the temples than when Rania had last seen him, but was still vigorous.

Rania stared unbelievingly at him, then began mooing.

“Good God,” said de Vries, looking at her breasts. “What have they done to you?”

He walked up to her, knelt down, and put his finger under her chin. “Your hair grew back very nicely, though,” he said. He unlooped her rope from her post. “Stop acting like a cow, please. Can you stand up?”

Rania felt as if her whole body had been released from a vice. She could move like a human being again. With help from de Vries, she rose unsteadily to her feet, then toppled forward; she would have fallen had de Vries not caught her. Fortunately, her energetic flailing during her regular sessions on the hurdles had kept her muscles from deteriorating too badly. But she was still very weak, and she had never stood straight before with breasts this large and heavy.

“Christ, look at your tits,” said de Vries. “What in the world are we going to do about that?” He lifted one breast with his hand, and Rania instinctively plunged toward him. “No, don’t,” he said, stopping her. “You’re not as clean as you might be.” He smiled at her. “It’s been hell tracking you down,” he said. “I’ve been trying to find you since Carling cashed in his chips. I nearly caught up with you in Los Angeles, and then you vanished into thin air.”

The puzzled princess stood still, as ordered. “I’m pretty sure I’ll close a deal with Kato-san for you before the day is over. They’ve had their fun with you for a few years—I think they’re ready to recoup their investment. Crikey, I think he’s coming. Quick, act like a cow again.”

To her utter despair, Rania felt herself sinking to the ground once more, losing the flexibility in her arms and legs. She mooed pitifully.

Kato walked into the barn, and de Vries, holding the end of Rania’s rope, greeted him cordially, bowing and speaking Japanese. After a few friendly words, de Vries casually tethered Rania to her post, and the two men walked outside, talking business, leaving the mooing girl secured in her stall next to the other animals.