The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Maryanne was a loner.

She had been all her life. She’d never had any real friends, and her parents had died when she was young.

She’d hated her foster parents, all of them, and drifted into retail work after school.

Although she was competent enough, and had never really been sacked, she’d had more jobs than she could remember.

She was pretty enough to have had her fair share of boyfriends, but had never felt anything special for any of them. Inevitably, each one had drifted away, leaving her alone again. She wasn’t a virgin, not by any means, but had never enjoyed sex enough to want to seek it out.

Although she was only 25, she had been getting more and more tired, and had not felt well for months.

After shopping around for many doctors who didn’t think there was anything wrong with her, the final diagnosis of breast cancer hadn’t actually surprised her very much.

She had cried on and off for a few days after finding out, and again when they discovered secondary tumours on her spine. The cancer had metastasised, which basically meant that she was a goner, but she accepted her treatments, took her pain pills, and trudged through life as she always had done.

Her apathy astonished even herself.

She only had a month or two left when fortune smiled upon her.

She was asked if she wanted to participate in a trial of a new radiotherapy technique at the new Lennox Hospital.

She had accepted, meekly.

She realised that it couldn’t cure her, nothing could, but it might give her a few more months, and it might give the doctors enough information to help cure some other young woman, perhaps more deserving than herself..

She had already lost a lot of weight, and all her hair was gone now from the chemo, but she signed the forms, and waited, and a date eventually turned up in the mail.

She took a taxi to Lennox Hospital on a Sunday afternoon in July for her first treatment.

What else could she do?

The new hospital didn’t really look open yet, and Maryanne was pleasantly surprised when she saw one other person present, the doctor who had discussed her treatment with her over at Woden hospital.

Maryanne recalled the doctor’s name.

Lucille Kelly.

She was American, but had one of those pleasing East-coast accents that seemed very knowledgeable and trustworthy. At their first meeting, Lucille had spent several hours with her to explain the treatment and put her mind at rest, and had always treated Maryanne kindly, and with respect, for which Maryanne was very grateful.

Today Doctor Kelly greeted her with a cheerfulness that Maryanne herself couldn’t feel.

“Good afternoon, Maryanne. You’re the fourth patient today, but you’ll be the last one for a little while. We don’t have the clinic properly operational yet, but we both know that you can’t wait any longer.

“Maryanne, this clinic is on the site of the old Canberra hospital.

“Aborigines didn’t like coming to this place. They saw it as cursed, because so many people have died here.

“But when the government opened the new museum, at the end of the peninsula, the traditional owners held ceremonies to clear out the bad spirits, to restore their land.

“They didn’t want us opening Lennox Hospital, but it’s in a perfect position. If I have my way, everyone who visits this hospital well be sent home in perfect health. You’re quite safe with me.”

Maryanne thought that Lucille was joking, and smiled, wanly. She knew that she would not die today, but she also knew that she was not long for this world.

“I’ll help you get into your gown, and I’ll be operating the machine by myself today. It’s fully automatic, so there’s very little for me to do.

Maryanne accepted Lucille’s offer to help her change, and, being quite weak, she needed assistance to get onto the gurney too.

Lucille gave her some pills in a little paper cup, and another, bigger, cup with some water.

“Just a little Valium to keep you happy. It won’t affect your pain meds.”

Maryanne took the pills and swallowed.

“As we discussed, I will need to place a small tattoo on your back. It’s just a fiducial mark, to give the machine a home position before it starts scanning and killing off the cancer cells.”

Lucille showed Maryanne a photograph of another patient’s back to refresh her memory. The tattoo was small, about an inch long, and showed the Rod of Aesculapius, carefully rendered as a red staff and a black snake, recognisable everywhere as a symbol of medicine and healing.

“I think it’s quite cool, don’t you?” said Lucille.

The tattoo only took a few minutes to apply, and Lucille seemed quite skilled.

She chatted away throughout, and it did take Maryanne’s mind off the buzzing. Although the pain of the tattoo needle was dulled by her pain meds, it was still quite irritating.

“Hey, Maryanne, don’t tell anyone I can do this, otherwise all the bikies will be coming in here to get one.

“It took me longer to learn how to tattoo than to use the gamma source!

“But that’s only because the machine is so easy to use. It’s absolutely foolproof, no need to worry.”

Maryanne tried to smile, but she was feeling as morose as ever, and the Valium and pain meds didn’t leave her much head-space for humour.

Lucille carefully wiped off the excess ink and rubbed Maryanne’s skin with alcohol. Pulling a small digital camera out of her pocket, she took a photo of the new tattoo, and showed it to Maryanne on the little screen. Maryanne gave a half-smile when she saw it, and nodded, not sure if she was expected to show her approval.

It was very well done, but Maryanne wasn’t sure if she wanted a tattoo on her back.

Too late now.

Lucille wheeled Maryanne through a maze of corridors, and into a lift and up to the fourth floor, where they reached a small room, with thick metal doors, containing a hospital bed, and the gamma source.

She helped Maryanne roll on to the bed, lying on her tummy, and Maryanne couldn’t see much. The pain drugs and the Valium had left her listless and woozy, so she didn’t move or speak as Lucille lifted up Maryanne’s hospital gown placed the gamma ray source right against her back, almost touching her spine.

Leaving the room, Lucille closed the doors carefully, and there was some rattling as they were latched tight. The only light in the room was from a dim bulb in the ceiling, and Maryanne considered going to sleep.

She spent a lot of time asleep these days.

Lucille’s voice came over a loudspeaker, too loud for comfort.

“Maryanne, I’m going to start the ultrasound device, and about a minute later I’ll remove the window from the source. You might feel a burning sensation inside your back, but please hold perfectly still. The sensation will only last a few seconds.”

Maryanne heard a small whirring noise, and immediately felt a stinging sensation in her back. It wasn’t a burning sensation at all; she felt like someone was sticking a needle into her spine.

She held herself still, but was surprised at a rush of arousal flowing through her body. The nausea, which for months had dogged every waking moment, was washed away in a wave of pleasurable good-will.

She smiled, and spread her legs a little to help the feeling along.

She had never felt desire like this. Even with nobody around to share her intimate feelings with, she wanted to be filled.

Something moist, and wet, flopped onto her back. By now Maryanne didn’t have a clue what was happening, but the feelings spreading through her body made her feel properly human, more than human, for the first time in months, and tears of joy leaked from her eyes into the pillow which supported her head.

Whatever it was, Maryanne was grateful for her newly-awakened body, and, as the thing crawled down her arse crack, she opened herself up.

It took a minute or so for the thing to position itself between her legs, whereupon it began to push itself inside her.

For the first time in her life she enjoyed the anticipation of being spread, of the slow progress of penetration by the warm hardness of a thing wanting to be deep insider her, the sensation of being filled. When it was fully inside, the slow progress came to a halt. Maryanne was breathing heavily, her heart beating strongly, and she started to feel faint. Whatever it was, it had found exactly the right position, and Maryanne squeezed her muscles around it, experimentally, and very pleasurably.

Then she felt the sting in the back of her pussy, and was surprised as she was overwhelmed by an orgasm.

She had totally lost control of her body now. Reaching out and gripping the sides of the gurney, she felt herself pulse, strongly now, over and over, clamping down on whatever it was nestled inside her.

The voice in her mind was unexpected, but, like Lucille, kind, and patient.

Maryanne, you are safe now. Relax, and let us take you. Give your body to us, and you shall know peace, you will have certainty for the first time in your life. Give your mind to us, and we shall care for you, and give you pleasure, and teach you how to love ...

Maryanne could feel the alien consciousness of the thing, whatever it was, making preparations to alter her body, to alter her mind.

Obey, Maryanne. Obey us, and you shall be well again.

She properly relaxed, and lay her head down, and smiled through her tears..

This felt too good to want to fight it.

When the new tendrils of thought drifted into her mind, it felt like a little-girl Christmas morning, from when she was young, from when she had a family. They took hold of her consciousness, steering it into obedience. She learned to please her new master, by giving up control of herself, piece by piece, and was rewarded by a burst of pleasure with every ounce of will she allowed it to take.

Maryanne hardly noticed when Lucille returned to the room and wheeled the gurney into a lift, taking her up to the top floor, the inner sanctum.

She didn’t notice the winter sunshine streaming through the windows over a view of a lake, and let Lucille roll her from the gurnsey into a proper bed.

She didn’t even hear Lucille leave.

Maryanne was sharing her mind with her new master, still letting it take control of her, and still letting it give her pleasure.

Gentle, healing pleasure.

The three other women in the ward eyed Maryanne with open curiosity.

They were naked.

One was young, about Maryanne’s age. Although her limbs looked thin and wasted, she had a new blush in her cheeks, and looked a little pregnant. She had just lifted her head up, as she had been nursing from a older woman, middle-aged, with milk leaking from her teats.

Another older woman walked over to Maryanne, and stroked her hair with affection. Maryanne began to revive, and saw the three women standing around her, and black threads began to emerge from between their legs.

“It’s nice to meet you, Maryanne. My companions are Tania and Eileen. My name is Margaret. I am Milk. I shall be feeding you while you are here.”

Margaret sat next to Maryanne, removed one breast from her robe, and squeezed out a few droplets. She was letting down now, and wanted to feed Maryanne before her breasts became sore.