The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It would be the epitome of understatement to say that the lab was in an uproar. The disappearance of both Stacey Newman and Risa Latham was mysterious at best. Even with the security cameras, it was hard to tell exactly what had happened. Men with infrared devices and fingerprint brushes had turned up plenty of evidence, but nothing of use. Likewise, the bio-technicians had found nothing that was not already known.

Pete Duncan, Director of Security, watched the surveillance tape again, searching for any clue that he might have missed. He watched as Dr. Latham entered the isolation room where Stacey lay and began an attempt, the last in a long series, to communicate with the catatonic patient.

There apparently had been a breakthrough. It appeared as if Stacey had finally capitulated. With no real warning, she reacted strongly, seeming alarmed and disoriented. Dr. Latham obviously had tried to comfort her, and even had some success as the patient calmed. They appeared to be talking when Stacey suddenly appeared to grow agitated again, possibly from choking. Up to this point, it all made sense. But then, suddenly, Dr. Latham reached up to remove the helmet of her isolation suit, going against all safety protocols, especially considering what they had discovered.

The doctor reached over to shake Stacey’s shoulders, obviously concerned about something... and then straightened, her movements strangely slow and deliberate. Her hands reached to the side zippers of the suit, and slowly Dr. Latham shed the protective shield that had been her safety net. Her clothes came next, and Pete watched as she shed the jumpsuit, bra and panties that were her only clothes when working inside the bulky protective gear.

Outrageous, and it only became more so as the raven-haired Risa climbed up on the table and perversely straddled Stacey’s partially open mouth. Pete watched as Dr. Latham’s hands fell forward to the edges of the table, eyes closed, her upper body leaning towards Stacey’s feet, her hips slowly sliding to and fro, but building steadily in fervor and speed. Within moments, her hips were grinding uncontrollably, her back arching and reversing with impossible agility, and the wanton, obviously crazed doctor screamed and bucked so forcefully that Pete could almost hear it despite the lack of sound on the tape.

Then, inexplicably, Risa became nearly still, her body quivering as she tensed. After nearly ten minutes of shivering and drooling in place, her mouth closed, her eyes opened, and she dismounted the patient, whose tongue, still extended and writhing, became still and returned to its dark cavern. Must’ve been the ‘big O’ to end all ‘big O’s’, thought Pete, shrugging off the dark sense of voyeurism he suddenly felt.

Bringing the young patient to her feet (an action that had initially surprised Pete... he would have expected atrophy), Risa dressed the woman in a hospital gown, and herself in her recently discarded jumpsuit. They left the lab through the previously sealed escape door, and were lost for a moment until picked up by the hallway camera.

Risa and her charge walked the rest of the way out of the building virtually unnoticed, with only the cameras as witness to their departure. Whatever had happened to Risa had not affected her ability to think... she had quite handily bypassed the rather daunting security of the protected facility.

Pete unconsciously rubbed his swollen prick. This whole thing was so fucking weird. It was like watching something from his worst security nightmare and a triple-x video at the same time, and it had only happened six hours ago.

There was a knock on the door and he quickly jerked his hand away from his crotch and gruffly called, “Come in!”

It was Denise Masterson, whose help he hoped would prove useful, since she was the only person other than Risa Latham intimately involved with the work surrounding the enigmatic case of Stacey Newman.

“Find anything?” asked Pete, his eyes wandering over the assistant. Great hooters, nice ass... but a face that’s a bit too horsey for my taste, he thought for the hundredth time, despite his “gender sensitivity training.”

“Well, we did find a pinhole in the left armpit of Risa’s... I mean Dr. Latham’s isolation suit, which would perhaps explain her initial variance from protocol—and the properties of the patient’s breath would, at least in part, help to explain her... increasing impropriety,” Denise blushed. She had seen the tape, along with a handful of other people who had been called in at three in the morning.

“As for why they left, or the differences in the effects of Stacey’s genetically altered breath on Risa as compared with other test subjects, I have no clue, Mr. Duncan. Of course, I’m still trying to find something that will tell me more than the videotape.” Looking down at the swell in Pete’s crotch, she added, “Besides, the tape is a little... um... distracting, don’t you think?”

Damned intrusive bitch thought Pete, turning red, but he said, “Well, I suppose. I hadn’t really noticed.” Taking the tape from the machine, he handed it to her, saying, “Take this over to the vault in Building One for the time being. I haven’t had time to make a copy yet, so don’t lose it, whatever you do. We’ll need it later for the report, and it may help piece together what’s happened. Other than your pinhole, it’s the only solid evidence we have.”

Denise nodded and took the tape, and added, “I was just on my way to finally get a cup of coffee. I haven’t had a chance to wake up with all the hoo-ha of this thing. Can I get you a cup?”

“No thanks, I’ve already got some,” Pete answered. “Actually, once you drop it off, why don’t you go home and get some rest? You’ve done all you can for the moment. It’s really time for the men’s work now, anyway.” Pete grimaced as the words came out. The last thing he needed was a sexual harassment suit on top of a security breach. Well, if she didn’t have such luscious tits, she probably wouldn’t have the job anyway, he added, silently rebelling against the Gods of PC.

Denise left the security office and walked down the hall to the break room. What an asshole, she thought, smiling grimly. For all that he tries to hide it, he’s just another macho lech with a little power... and bullshit! Pulling her regular mug out of her lab coat, she poured herself a cup and took a sip. She looked at the stoneware mug with her name painted on it. It had been a gift from Risa after working together for two years. Tears formed in her eyes and she silently cursed, Why couldn’t it be fucking PETE who took off instead of Risa?

She decided she really must have been more tired than she had thought. The walls seemed to be moving as she sat there fuming. Almost like they were breathing... She stood and grabbed the elevator to the first floor, trying to clear her head.

As she left the building for her car, she felt a wave of what she thought was drowsiness wash over her, nearly making her keel over. God, I DO need to get some rest, and despite his bullshit, for once, Pete’s being human. Soon as I get this tape over to Building One, I’m definitely due for a visit to my boudoir... she thought. By the time she drove the several miles to the gate that led to Building One, she had completely forgotten about the delivery. As she headed home, more from instinct than awareness, all she could think about was bed and sleep.

And Risa.

Denise walked in the front door of her small house and staggered through the living room to her bedroom, shedding her shoes as she went. She tried to unbutton her blouse, but her fingers simply weren’t listening to her brain. Besides that, her body was tingling in an odd way... not that she minded... it felt awfully nice.

Falling onto the bed, she rolled onto her back, and stared at the ceiling as it began to undulate, like the break room, as if it were breathing...

Wonderful, she hummed, fucking wonderful... as her body began to writhe with building pleasure. Her thoughts filled with images of painted faces, melding with Risa’s face... faster and faster they danced, like a tornado, ripping out the past, leaving an empty vessel... and now she was dancing, too... god, it feels like... like..., she gasped inside her mind, as the first tendrils of impending orgasm swept over her body.

Very soon, she would have no thoughts at all.

“God damn it! Goddamnedfuckingcocksuckingcuntheaded bitch!!!!” Pete ranted inwardly. At least in his head, he didn’t have to edit his words or opinions. This would never have happened twenty years ago. Fucking woman doctors and woman bosses and woman screw ups. Give me a man every time. Give me someone I can depend on, he continued, the stress of his situation wilting the more tame and reasonable attitudes he had been forced to adopt, outwardly.

Denise had not dropped the tape at the vault in Building One; in fact, she hadn’t even been to Building One. I’m already in deep enough shit with this fiasco—I don’t need some horsey-looking BITCH to fuck it up even more! he shouted from his office to no one in particular.

Not only that, but there was no answer from her home phone, her cell phone, or her pager. He knew from experience that it was probably something like a flat tire, or running out of gas, but she would have likely called in that case. All that was left was the probability of the typically scattered brain of a woman, or the less likely possibility of foul play. Not that he cared about either one, really; he just wanted the fucking videotape saved. Without it, he was dead meat. It was the only solid evidence he had that anything strange had happened, and, more importantly, that he could not have prevented it from occurring.

As he considered his course of action, he became increasingly angry that he had to deal with Denise’s typical lack of focus on top of his larger, looming problem. With mixed feelings of satisfaction and regret, he decided to call the head office to speak with the Human Resources Department.

Pete dialed the number on his speaker phone. “Veronica? Listen, as of five p.m. today, I want Denise Masterson terminated. <pause> No, not killed, you idiot, just fired. Usual purge of records or ability to reference. Okay? Oh, and the same for Risa Latham. I don’t think she’s necessarily done anything we can prosecute her for, but her status is now officially persona non grata. Got it? <pause> Thanks.” What is it about women today? he silently grumbled.

He picked up the phone again and quickly put it back down. “Fuck this shit—I’m going to find that irresponsible bitch myself,” he muttered as he stormed out of his office. The slamming door didn’t even raise any eyebrows. Pete was upset again. It was business as usual.

Outside the door to Denise’s house, Pete stood for a few minutes, considering how he should handle the situation. Not only had Denise made it home, but the door was ajar, allowing anyone to just wander in. Luckily, at least in his opinion, that included Pete Duncan.

He stepped carefully into the house, looking around. While he was fairly certain that Denise had just been a typically careless, irresponsible female, he wasn’t stupid, and it was not inconceivable that there had been foul play.

Pistol at the ready, he went from room to room, checking for signs of intrusion. No sign of the fucking tape, either, he thought. Finally making his way to the bedroom, he pushed the door wide open and felt his jaw drop, quite literally.

On the bed, flat on her back, was Denise Masterson, still partially clothed. She was writhing, hands gripping the air, nearly foaming at the mouth, her mouth silently working as if trying to moan softly. Her eyes, green-tinged and wide, seemed to be looking at a spot on the ceiling, or maybe nothing at all.

For the first time since this investigation began, he was truly horrified. All thoughts of anger dissipated in fear and panic at the lewd display. He was turning to go to the phone when a wave of intense arousal hit him full force.

Like a needle on a compass turning to north, his suddenly rock-hard prick spun him around. His eyes washed over with lust and he realized he was in pain... struggling to think... to focus. Suddenly it hit him, and he knew... realized completely... the pain was the clothes keeping his manhood trapped... As he released his turgid single horn from his slacks, a wave of pleasure nearly knocked him over as the air touched his skin. His hands, following a new craving, ripped his remaining clothes off to get to more of the addictive, blissful feeling of nakedness, as he fell to his knees.

Then, for a moment, the feeling seemed to lessen, and he remembered the tape, Denise, and why he had come here. Sensing the danger he was in, he attempted to stand but only managed to lunge for the door. He crawled across the room, almost... got... almost... there...

Somewhere in his addled mind, he heard the front door open and close, and footsteps. “Here!” he yelled, “Don’t come! Dan...ger...ous...” he screamed as he felt his motivation wax and wane. His eyes fell to the carpet, which was suddenly very interesting and... arousing... as colors began swimming through its fibers. His cock was screaming to him now, begging for his hand, telling him to just feeeeel how good it could be, like never before, like how it could feel in the deepest of wet dreams...

“Looking for this?” came a laughing, familiar voice. It was the sound of heaven. It was the source of life and purpose. Of love. His eyes jerked upward, against his will. It was the voice of Risa Latham.

And she was holding the tape.

“You know, Pete, everyone at the lab has always hated your chauvinistic bullshit. Oh, you’ve tried to hide it, but it always finds a way out of you. Even the men have been embarrassed at your sexist comments and attitude. I think they’d like what you’re going to become. And I don’t think anyone will miss you at all.”

Pete listened, drinking in the words. He simply couldn’t help it. They were the fabric of the universe.

“Do you know what the real definition of chauvinist is? It’s someone who stubbornly holds on to a lost cause. You might know that if you ever checked a dictionary.

“In your case, it’s particularly appropriate, don’t you think?” grinned Risa.

Pete felt his head nodding up and down, and felt his surprise shift to wonder at Risa’s amazing wisdom.

“Now you,” continued Risa, “would have run away, leaving poor Denise to suffer.” Pete watched as Risa reached into a small bag, and pulled out a vial full of an amber liquid. She opened the small bottle and poured the contents into her hand and fingers, spilling it freely. Her fingers shone as if wet from the nectar of hot, molten sex. Pete felt drool drip off the bottom of his chin, unable to move or speak.

Risa walked over to Denise and touched her finger to Denise’s lips, and Pete heard rather than saw the girl quiet and lay still. “Breathe deeper, Pete,” winked Risa. Pete obeyed without even truly hearing the words.

“Pete, I am merciful; I know you can see that. You likely deserve to die. But your efforts in the past at equity, while pitiful, are perhaps evidence that you might be reclaimed. Is that what you would like? Is that what you truly want?” Pete nodded again as he felt tears begin to roll down his face. For the first time since childhood, he felt ashamed. Ashamed of who he was, ashamed of his arrogance, ashamed even of the turgid pole that was screaming its need to fuck.

“You will bond with me, Pete. You will fuck me. Your puny life will have real purpose which you will never need to doubt or question. Once we are bonded, my life will be your life. My death will be your death. Joy. Pain. All. And perhaps for the first time, you will feel complete surrender and love.

“Much better, don’t you think? You may speak, Pete.”

“Yesss,” said Pete, in rapturous agreement. He had no choice.

“Now, I know you want to fuck me. I know you want it more than anything you have ever felt,” Risa crooned, watching Pete shudder in agreement. “But you must prove yourself worthy.”

“I have a list of things for you to accomplish. You will not remember this meeting until you have accomplished them. Then you will return to me to complete our bonding. There will be nothing more important. Do you understand? Good boy.

“First, you must destroy the tape, and forget that it ever existed. Then, you will forge papers showing the transfer of Stacey, Denise and me to a privately held laboratory. You will pretend that you have found these papers, and out of the embarrassment of having created a crisis where none existed, you will resign. You will do this in a way and in a time that raises no suspicions.

“If you are caught, and cannot convince your persecutors of your innocence, your heart will stop. Truly stop. You will not breathe. You will not think. You will quietly die. You know this is true, don’t you?”

“Yes,” replied Pete, filled with the clarity of Risa’s commands.

“You were not here. I was not here. None of this exists until you can return. Go.”

Risa smiled suddenly as she watched Pete stand, and added, “Be sure to stop by home and put on some clothes. This seems only natural, right? You always have to go home when you lose your clothes...”

“Right.”

“Go.”

Risa watched the naked Pete Duncan get into his car and stared as he drove down the street and turned the corner. Not the only corner he’s turned today, she smiled to herself.

Then, turning to her first new Breath-Maker, she finished removing the tangle of clothes her assistant still wore and, lifting herself to the bed, straddled her young protege’s slightly open mouth, and said, simply, “Lick...”

Pete Duncan, former Security Director for Isolation Building Two, felt the rapture of Denise’s breath on his body again. The tasks he had been given had been easier than he could have imagined. Risa, glorious Risa, had been right. No one had seemed to mind that he was leaving, and had barely looked over his report long enough to accept his humble resignation. The only sticky problem he had was when Risa’s and Denise’s friends and associates asked how to contact the pair. “Classified,” he would answer, “on a ‘need-to-know’ basis.”

And now, he felt his arousal swelling to new heights as Risa approached him. His cock had never been so hard, so completely solid, and shivers ran through him from the tip of his purple glans, through his asshole, all the way to the base of his skull... and he knew deeply that it would only get better.

He watched as Risa removed her clothes, her movements fluid and graceful. Her skin was completely smooth and without blemish... not even hair graced any part of her svelte, perfect form from the neck down. Pete felt his consciousness reaching out from the vessel of his body; he could almost see the vapor-like twisting as his consciouness twined with Risa’s in the ether-space between them. Risa’s eyes closed as she savored the coming moment... the moment that she would complete the Circle of Spirit. After this, the tribe would only add to its depth... all parts would be as they should.

Risa closed her eyes, following an ancient ritual of centering that was revealing itself to her with each new moment. She felt her insides and mind shift into something more... something existing in multiple worlds. Primitive and elegant and mystical and physical and spiritual combined to form a new whole, previously unknown outside of the tribe of the Kala, the world of the Kala, the spirit of the Kala... a world which existed in many places at once, and nowhere at all.

As she opened her eyes, Pete saw the deep turquoise of something new in Risa... it was as if light was shining from them, bathing everything in turquoise heat, infecting every molecule in the room with lust and wild, primitive abandon, everything centered on the inviting, relaxed, heavy-lidded Risa. He felt his mind falling into line, like the falling of dominoes, and it was as if they floated toward each other, called by the ecstasy of destiny beyond choice...

Risa pulled him towards her, backing herself up to a wall, her eyes burning into him closely now, making his own vision hot and flushed. Standing solid and tall, he allowed her to lift herself upward... her swollen, flooded cunt sliding down his belly and finally finding the tip of his swollen member.

Holding herself there, she whispered, “Now we bond. Now you become Guardian of Kala...”

Her pussy lowered slowly over his incredibly distended steelflesh pole... he could feel the incredible heat in her as it quivered and clenched against him. Her lips met his and he felt her breath flow into his lungs and he could see his cock, like a candle, melting, but not getting any smaller, waves moving downward along the shaft as he began to pump.

His mind was moving everywhere... and memories started to blow through, almost of their own accord... he was driving a busy street at night in the rain... walking in a field in the morning, iridescent dragonflies clutching the tips of the grass as they still slept... chasing a friend in a game of cops and robbers... all memories he cherished... he watched as they dissipated like fog in sunshine, never to return.

With every scene that washed away the pleasure increased... the molten waxy waves moving further and further into his body, until he was offering every nook and cranny of his mind and soul to the voracious turquoise dream-eating of Risa... every lost reality making her more real, more erotic, more perfect, more worthy of his obedience...

He realized that he was embracing his own slavery, surrendering his own past, but by the time the thought came there was nothing left to argue about. There was only the bliss of Risa, of surrender, of slavery, of obedience.

He felt his balls pulling up hotly, his whole body melting and growing with the wax now, reshaping who and what he was as the heat in his balls prepared to make his very essence the gift that would seal his destiny to... Risa...

The turquoise heat filled his mind, his body, his every thought as he pumped faster and faster, more and more urgently coaxing the hot cum that was the last of his will out of him, planting his will in... Risa... the friction was unending, perfect, better than any dream or fantasy... everything was Risa and Risa was everything...

He felt Risa’s body shift slightly... and he came so hard that he nearly pushed Risa through the wall with his body... he screamed the scream of the dying, the lost, and the depraved... and reborn, in pure ecstasy... his will spilling into her, her pussy coaxing every last drop of cum-will from his spent tool. He could feel her cumming, body undulating, her cunt absorbing his semen, absorbing him, owning him, Risa, her cunt, her words... his life... owning his soul in life and in death...

As the bonded couple slid down the wall to the floor, Risa tried to grasp a handhold, but merely waved her hand in the air as the sweat dripped from her face and body. Her face bore the exhaustion of bliss, of completion. When she finally opened her eyes, they were once again clear, as they were before the bonding began.

Finally, she wrestled herself free, standing before the man who had been Pete, but was now a shell, an extension of Risa’s will. “Guardian,” she said. She shivered in pleasure as Guardian looked up at her with deep turquoise eyes. “You are the first of my protectors. Though there will be others, you will always be cherished.”

Guardian knelt in honor and obedience. As for his happiness, Risa had been right. But then, Risa always was, and always would be... right.

Risa watched her tribe sleep, before falling into the sleepless visions that were coming more and more frequently. Soon, she knew, she would no longer require sleep at all. She could let her spirit rest in Kala while she worked in the world of humans. She did not regret the end of her life as she had known it. Soon, she would know the bliss of the Turning, when she would be not simply Risa, but Kalarisa... like the native girl Buzdi, before Risa.

And as she was entering a new realm of existence, she would be taking others with her... and, there would be changes coming. Although the Kala had limits, how it was made manifest in the “natural world” was very much within Risa’s domain... so long as balance was maintained.

She thought of Stacey, and the torture of the unending orgasm of the Breath-Makers, and wondered how she could change things to both serve the Kala and her own compassion... and she felt a mist begin to cover her eyes...

Risa dreamed. She was lying on the grass in a meadow, looking up at the sky. There was nothing to do, nothing to be, nothing calling her. Totally in the present, there were no distractions—not even thought...