The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Brandi wept.

Despite the improvements that Mr. Foster had made to her body, her skin, her form—even the subtle changes he’d made to her face—the Protector openly sobbing wasn’t an attractive sight.

Or sound, for that matter. Her entire face was coated with a thick layer of cum—every time she breathed through her nose it made an odd gurgling sound. Her cries weren’t cute sniffles or tiny whimpers, they were huge, bawling wails of anguish.

And even through her utter misery, even through the thick layers of self-loathing and total humiliation, there was still a trace of the arousal that her low self-esteem continued to feed; a slight ragged nature to it, an almost animalistic quality.

“Uh…”

“Don’t stop,” she begged. As much as she may have hated herself in that moment, she knew that her body had just one purpose, and that was to serve men.

She existed to get men off.

But the man had already been harboring reservations (which is why he was last in her queue). The sight of the topless, cum-soaked slut openly bawling on the bathroom floor was enough to scare him off; as he left, Brandi collapsed even further, laying on her back on a dirty bar’s restroom floor and bringing herself to orgasm after shuddering orgasm, even as she sobbed about what had become of her life.

When she finally ran out of steam, she stopped masturbating and wailing, and took advantage of the limited facilities available. Barely resisting the urge to scoop up and swallow as much cum as she could, Brandi looked at herself in the mirror.

Her eyes were red—she knew that the crying was largely to blame, but she’d taken more than a few loads in the eye over the past few hours. Maybe I need to start wearing glasses, she mused.

Glasses to stop getting cum in my eye.

The thought sent a fresh wave of excitement through her body, but she was truly spent. She’d made herself cum again and again, as each of the tubby, unkempt men had wandered in, lowered their pants, and obeyed her desperate pleas to cum onto her face, her tits, to coat her in their seed and treat her like the whore she knew she was.

Sexually, physically, emotionally, mentally—Brandi was completely exhausted. Using the last of the paper towel, she desperately tried to remove as much visible cum as she could from her body—no matter what she did, she knew she’d reek, but a part of her hoped that she’d be able to walk down the street without everyone knowing what she was.

A whore. A slut. A cum-bucket.

Her pussy spasmed with excitement at the thoughts, but she didn’t even have the energy to get herself off again.

Putting her tank top back on, Brandi decided to walk home and have a shower. Maybe that would make her feel better.

Maybe.

Halfway home, Brandi had begun to sober up, and a thought struck her.

She’d just spent her Saturday morning in a strange bar, being repeatedly coated by strange men’s cum. She’d simultaneously loved and hated every minute of it, but…no matter how she felt, she had to admit—that was weird.

And last night. Last night she’d gone home with a…a cowboy? She’d let him cum in her ass, just like she’d tried desperately to get Duncan to do earlier that day.

A part of her knew that she was a worthless tramp who was lucky just for the opportunity to have strangers cum inside her holes.

But another part of her couldn’t help but wonder…

Lily was clearly hexed, and strange things had been happening to Nicolette’s body since the middle of the week. As far as Brandi could tell, the boys—Duncan, Niles, and Michael—were unaffected…but she’d obviously been dropping the ball lately, so it was impossible to say.

What if she had been somehow messed with?

Brandi realized that she was only a few blocks from Lily’s house. Hex or no hex, Lily was still one of the smartest people she knew. Brandi was sure that her best friend would be able to help her sort through all the confusion and work out what was really going on.

To her surprise, Lily’s front door was wide open. A cardboard sign rested against the stairs, simply saying “come up”. Brandi nervously walked up to Lily’s room—the sounds she could hear gave some warning, but nothing could really have prepared the Protector for what she found when she opened the teen girl’s bedroom door.

Lily’s room was slightly larger than Brandi’s, and yet it was completely packed. There had to be a dozen—no, two dozen men, all of them naked, all of them focused on Brandi’s friend.

She was in the middle of the bed, completely naked, desperately trying to take as much cock as she could. Both her hands were hard at work, each of them attempting to jerk off two or three guys. Two huge cocks filled her mouth, and Brandi was shocked to see that they belonged to Adam and Hans, the Jackson twins.

Lily was sucking off two brothers. At the same time.

It looked like a significant part of the school’s marching band were in Lily’s bedroom—Brandi recognized the overweight drum major between her legs, desperately licking and sucking at her pussy even as one of the trumpeters plugged away, his thin cock clearly bringing Lily a lot of pleasure.

Meanwhile, enthusiastically pounding at her rear entrance was Olaf, the only male cheerleader. Brandi had always assumed he was gay—hell, maybe he was. If naked male flesh was your thing, this room was clearly the best place to find some.

The rest of the men were staring at Lily. Some of them were cheering, some were talking dirty, some were jerking off.

In the middle of it all, Lily was red with exertion, hard at work. Her eyes were wide as she noticed Brandi opening the door, but before she could remove the cocks from her mouth and say something, someone offered her another line of white powder, and soon the redheaded teen’s eyes lost focus and rolled back in her head.

Disgusted and overwhelmed, Brandi stumbled backwards. The noise of her abrupt exit drew the attention of some of the orgy’s participants, and to her absolute horror, a part of her wanted to step forward and…join in.

You wouldn’t have to take all the cocks at once, she told herself. You could just strip down and…

…and let them cum on you. That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

Instead, for the second time that day, Brandi ran blindly away from her friend.

Niles. She needed to find Niles. Lily was gone, a lost cause—but Niles would know what to do.

He’d be able to save them.

Brandi was surprised to find that Niles’ front door was also ajar. She heard a shout, which she read as a response to her knock.

Brandi’s run across town had only been interrupted when she stopped to throw up. The booze, the sight of Lily’s normally snow-white skin so red and blotchy, the sounds, the smells…

…the reaction of her own body.

It was too much. Something was wrong, and she needed to fix it. She needed help. She needed her Mentor.

On some level, Brandi had thought she’d been prepared for what she’d seen at Lily’s. She suspected a hex already, and she’d heard the sounds as she’d gone up her friend’s stairs. Maybe she’d hoped it was just loud porn, but the young woman had done all she could to mentally prepare for what faced her when she opened her friend’s bedroom door.

She’d been wrong, but at least she hadn’t been totally blind-sided.

Like she was when she opened Niles’ door.

It wasn’t her Mentor with his pants down that first caught her attention. It wasn’t Duncan, completely naked, on all fours by the window, taking Niles’ cock deep into his ass.

It was Rita.

Rita.

Even through the gag, Brandi could see the demon’s smirk. It wasn’t even in response to the Protector’s presence—Rita was just enjoying the show. Her flawless body was completely revealed; for some reason, she was tied to the bed, but she didn’t even looked like it bothered her.

Hell, the bitch even managed to make it look comfortable.

What had Rita done, to make Niles let her into his house? Was she responsible for the changes within Brandi, within Lily? It made sense—she’d been at the party, after all.

Rita stirred slightly, clearly trying to rub her legs together and provide some stimulation to her glistening pussy, and Brandi turned to see what she was watching.

That was when she saw it. Her kind, gentle, peaceful Mentor, holding down Duncan, forcing his ass-cheeks apart, forcing him to take his cock deep within him.

She just stood there in shock, staring as Duncan loudly pleaded for mercy—the sounds that she’d mistaken for an invitation into the house—and Niles whispering cruelly that he would never give him mercy, that Duncan deserved every inch of hard cock he took.

Brandi’s instincts kicked in. She was about to rescue her friend when she realized that his protestations were just for show, part of the game. His python of a cock was hard, and as he supported himself with one hand, he was slowly stroking it with the other—not fast enough to get off, but deliberately enough that Brandi knew he was enjoying it.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, how long she watched. Her Mentor, sodomizing her friend, half his age. Her friend who had been sodomizing her with an equal passion just half a day ago.

No. Not equal passion. When Duncan had been fucking her ass, he’d been doing so with less than half the enthusiasm that Niles now showed. Niles appeared to be be furious, but his every stroke showed that he had complete and total control—not only of himself, but of Duncan as well.

Why? Brandi mentally asked herself, before turning her attention back to the demon on the bed.

Rita.

She’d known from the moment she saw the slut that she was up to no good. And now she had Niles and Duncan in some kind of thrall—Lily too, it seemed.

Taking a step towards the bed, Brandi didn’t have the mental wherewithal to come up with a plan. She just knew that Rita had to be destroyed—now.

But before she could act, Duncan moaned—“I’m cumming!”—and Brandi realized she couldn’t just strike blindly. She could take Rita in a fight, easily, and Duncan too. But Niles…Niles had tricks up his sleeve that even Brandi didn’t know about, and if the three of them turned on her at once, she’d soon find herself overwhelmed, enthralled…perhaps turned into a pussy-slave for the demon cunt.

No. No. Why did that turn her on? As Brandi ran to get backup, she cursed her own body’s reactions.

But the image was there now. Kneeling at Rita’s feet, forced to serve the demon she hated most in the world.

It was such a turn-on. God…what was wrong with her?

“Michael?”

It was going to be a struggle, convincing Michael that Rita was a threat. He’d been so convinced that she was passive, that she was…what had he said? Just here for ‘research’.

God, men were so gullible. As Brandi knocked on the door of her demon lover (which, as if just to break the pattern, was actually closed) she wondered just how easy it had been to turn Niles and Duncan. Had Rita even needed to try, or had she just spread her legs and they’d immediately fallen under her control?

“Michael??”

Brandi knocked again, more urgently this time. She wasn’t going to be able to take down Rita, Niles, Lily and Duncan by herself—she needed backup.

Michael was the best backup she knew. If only he’d open the damned door.

Glancing down at her top, Brandi was suddenly aware of what a mess she looked. As if her freakishly-large boobs weren’t enough of a hassle, they were still coated with a thin layer of cum, and running around town had left her sweaty. Her hair was mussed, and if her whole top hadn’t been on big, cummy dark spot, she would had visible dark spots under her arms.

I bet Rita never gets dark spots under her arms.

Brandi knocked again.

“Michael, it’s urgent!”

Surely…surely he couldn’t be avoiding her. Okay, so the last time they’d had sex had been weird…but it hadn’t been that weird.

Had it?

Or maybe it was something worse. After all, he’d spent the most time with Rita. It was hard for a demon to use its powers on another demon, but it wasn’t impossible…especially if one caught them unawares.

Like after a long, hard, demonic fuck.

Brandi stepped back. Just as she was lifting her leg to kick the door down, it opened.

But it wasn’t the handsome visage of the demon football player that met her as it opened.

It was Nicolette.

This time, Brandi was completely blind as she ran. Her tear-streaked eyes did her no good. For now, they weren’t for sight; all they could do was express the utter feeling of betrayal and hurt that she felt inside.

She knew where she wanted to be: Home, where she could jump in the shower and cry until there were no tears left in her body. Home, where she could curl up in her mother’s arms and sob.

Home, where she could lie on her bed and get off repeatedly, as one thought repeated in her mind on loop.

I’m not good enough.

When it had been Rita, it had hurt… but made sense. Rita was a demon. She’d said it herself—there was nothing like fucking another demon.

But Nicolette? Nicolette was human, just like her.

No, actually, not like her. Nicolette was mundane—Brandi was at least given the Potential, and the role of Protector. Brandi was at least on Michael’s level.

At least, she’d thought she was.

What did Nicolette have that she didn’t have?

The answers poured into her brain. Looks. Personality. Brains.

Everything.

When Nicolette had answered the door, Brandi hadn’t even flinched. It was her third sharp surprise in half an hour—she didn’t even have the energy to react.

The brunette teen had just smiled, and her eyes flicked up and down Brandi’s body, her gaze not masking her opinion in the slightest. Instinctively, Brandi had checked Nicolette out as well—she was wearing a robe.

Michael’s robe.

It looked amazing—of course it looked amazing. Even with her new, muscular figure Nicolette managed to make a simple bathrobe look amazing. It was precisely draped to somehow show more than half the breast, but none of the nipple.

Her hair was tussled, her skin flushed.

It was obvious what they’d been doing before Brandi had interrupted.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice thickly laden with triumph. “Michael and I are…busy at the moment. Maybe if you stick around, he’ll be done in…”

She checked a watch that she wasn’t wearing, and tilted her head to the side.

“…a couple of hours?”

Her voice echoed through Brandi’s head as she closed the door. Brandi could see it—Michael’s perfect form, joining with Nicolette’s. The mutual attraction between the two of them that she’d been jealous of for so long.

The sex. The perfect, exquisite sex.

The kind of sex that would make Michael look back on their amateurish coupling and laugh. No, worse—the kind of sex that would make Michael completely forget that they’d ever been together in the first place.

And so Brandi had run. Sobbed and run. She just wanted to be home, she just wanted to be safe. She just wanted to cry and cuddle and get off. Then, after a few days of recovery—after a few days of getting drunk, of finding men to cum on her—then, and only then, would she be able to come up with a plan for stopping Rita.

She’d run for an hour, until her tears had dried up and her vision returned. She was in a rough part of town—the demon population ensured that Antioch had several of those—and while she was tempted to find a bar, strip off, and not leave until she was coated with enough cum to drown an elephant, she knew that she needed to go home.

She needed to go home.

Shower first, she decided as she passed through the rough areas of town, past the school, and towards her street.

Then cuddles with her mother. Not something she indulged in much, but she’d never needed it more.

Then, once they’d eaten junk food, watched TV, and she was starting to feel human again—sex. Masturbation if she had to, but Brandi wanted to be held, to be touched.

To be doused with cum.

Confident with the order she’d chosen, Brandi stepped through her front door, and walked in to find Michael fucking her mother.