The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Scuffling sounds. Giggling. A strong forearm on my chest, holding me down. Mari?

Me waking.

Blindfolded, my arms immobile, extended out from each shoulder, strapped down, my legs spread, raised, strapped into stirrups suspended from the ceiling. Me supine at the base of a bed, fully exposed at the mattress’ edge. Something up my ass, a butt plug. Not Sati’s sort of thing, but Sati wasn’t here. And the mice were playing.

My cock head in warm wet suction, then more of me, soft lips ringing my shaft, moving up and down, an indescribably delicious tongue behind. Then, separately, one completely shaven ball tongued and tickled and sucked from each side, those tongues occasionally also playing past me with each other, the butt plug being gently, slowly rocked in and out. That would be Kelsey; while she enjoyed a nice big cock inside her, and really had a thing for Stuart’s, she preferred pussy and everything that came with it in every other way—for us guys if it wasn’t a big hard cock inside her, she was all about assplay. Our asses, not hers. At the moment she also had one of my recently shaved balls in her mouth. Jess, doing most of the giggling, had the other. Dani, who enjoyed a nice hard cock in all three orifices, sometimes more than one at a time, had me in her mouth, and what she was doing to me was fucking amazing. Not Sati’s sort of thing, but Sati wasn’t here. The mice were playing. With me.

That wasn’t a forearm on my almost completely shaven chest, it was a firm female bottom. Ingrid’s.

Again.

Sati had done something else to me. My body was getting younger. I’d recently turned 47, but my body was now aging in reverse. Not all at once, about a year for every five days that passed. She’d had me drink something from a shot glass, an elixir she called it, and it was The. Most. Delicious. Drink. Ever.

“Not too much,” she’d warned, not that seconds were offered, and then again a week later, all of us but Sati and Ingrid partaking. It was about time again.

My cock was bigger. Maybe an inch longer, even thicker than it’d always been. Dani withdrew at just that moment.

“Eight inches,” she said, breathily. “Happy birthday.” And then she took me back in.

My birthday was a month ago but I hadn’t been here then, and they’d just learned. Better late than never.

Ingrid scooted her firm strong bottom up my chest, her warm thighs now against my close-shaven chin, her hands on my almost completely shaven head.

“Breakfast in bed for birthday boy,” she said, then her almost completely shaven pussy was against my lips, and my lips and tongue dove in.

Again.

Sati and Callie and Stu left three days ago. No one told me where, but some part of me knew; they were going to my house to fetch my grimoire. Not to break in, but they knew from me that my kids were sloppy about locking doors. Craig, who would’ve turned 17 by now, could drive himself to school every day, sometimes dropping off Aly or Eric on the way. Joanna worked and could drop off the others. I’d been gone more than a month. And often someone was late and hurrying, and if one of the kids was the last one out, a door sometimes got left unlocked. Some part of me was glad I wasn’t able to think about it, because it would’ve made the real me achingly sad to not be home with them.

The remaining women woke me this same way yesterday. I was close- or clean-shaven on almost my whole body because by the time they would let my hair grow out again there would no longer be any gray in it—time for me to say goodbye and good riddance to that distinguished salt and pepper look. A few places on my body were left unshaven for dramatic effect now or later: my legs and arms where the hair hadn’t changed color, four strips of white hair from my scalp now carefully braided and beaded, and a thin line down the center of my chest, ending in a big arrowhead pointing directly down at my cock, which had set off wave after wave of giggles among these same four women. That wave returned, irresistible to them, for hours.

My body felt like growling, so it did. Everyone seemed to like that, so I did it again, then Ingrid came with my tongue teasing her clit, and with Jess and Kelsey frenching each other hard around my tightening balls while whatever Dani was doing to me completely overrode my vision, hearing, smell, taste, I came without ejaculating right after.

Everyone except Stu could read my mind, what little there was left of it, or maybe it would be more accurate to say that whatever was in my brain was broadcasting so that everyone else could sense it. And funny thing ... a new personality seemed to be taking residence, replacing my fussy intellectual cantankerous old self. This personality was not smart in any conventional way, couldn’t read or write, could barely talk, seemed more about R-complex than cerebrum. And these women were conditioning it to be a literal fucking animal. No cumming for me this morning, or afternoon, no cumming for me until after dinner when it would be time for another fucking orgy. Until then, it would be just teasing, edging, getting the girls off as often as they wanted, no release for me until after dinner, when they wanted, if at all. But since we would all share it and it would be mind-blowing, I’d only gone without twice, not without dissatisfaction from some.

Jess and Dani, along with Sati, were now pregnant from me, as Kelsey was from Stuart. And of course there was gardening and yardwork, cooking and housecleaning, most of which the women did, and always books for all the students, but they had me weeding and moving heavy things inside and out and from high shelves pretty much every time I wasn’t otherwise occupied. They’d learned I was good in the kitchen; soups, pasta, sauce, really anything even on autopilot, and certainly good enough with a chopper that they could hand me onions or celery or carrots or garlic or mushrooms or any other thing and I would deliver exactly what was desired, quickly and with minimal risk of getting cut. They kept chickens in a fenced run bigger than my own yard, a coop for shelter at night, well fed on bugs and seeds, a ready supply of water and grit and some feed, just in case. A local organic farmer provided some really fine bacon, which like the chicken was used sparingly, most of our meals being vegan. They learned that I was really good at catching, killing, plucking, and dressing those chickens, so twice they had me go out to catch 5 or 6, bring them to another part of the yard, out of sight and earshot, feed 3 of them chicken treats like mealworms or melon or oatmeal or table scraps before returning them, then hypnotize the last 2 or 3 and thank them for their sacrifice before doing a dirtier but bloodless business—chickens are easier to hypnotize than people. I have never tasted better chicken in my life, often in a dish that also included a little bacon. Broth from the carcasses plus mirepoix and other vegetables made every dish better. A separate group of chickens lay spectacular eggs, the shells multi-colored, browns and greens and blues, the yolks a deep orange. We don’t kill any of those hens, they are partners for life; them having to put up with the rooster is enough.

Kelsey was a very fine shot with a .22 rifle, Dani even deadlier from shorter range with a light bow, and one day the two of them came back after a few hours in the forest, somewhat flushed after an encounter with the two-backed beast, carrying three rabbits suspended from a bent branch. With morels and a little bacon and some of that wonderful chicken broth in a gravy, improvising significantly from the dish they’d thought to prepare, came one of the best meals I’ve ever tasted. After dinner, enjoying the afterglow from that meal and the elixir and a little wine and each others’ warm supple bodies, theirs also sharing knowledge and satisfaction with their skill at arms, mine knowing it could now do the same if the time came, a different kind of mindreading, muscle memory rather than thoughts. And down that path, our bodies already sharing so much ecstasy, came that much more, all of us going off simultaneously like canister into the forest, temporarily felling every mammal within line of sight, which in some directions was quite a long way.

And oh yeah, Nancy’s enormous mind-sucking tits were gone. Departed, gone. My consciousness had not yet returned, but at least the cause of its departure was equally distant. I would be able to think about the wheres and wherefores later, but wasn’t anywhere near that yet.

And oh yeah, it wasn’t just Kelsey and Dani who were handy with the kind of weapons that could bag a rabbit ... everyone here could do as well and with bigger weapons; there was still venison in a freezer left over from the previous open season, a weapons locker hiding much heavier guns and bows, sniper gear, blinds, and in one of the barns were saddles, bridles, stirrups, spurs, jodhpurs, a fucking shooting range underneath the other plus everything else that might be needed for an effective recon in force. No horses in evidence, though there was a large grassy fenced area nearby that might be a corral, plus those two barns. Maybe they were wintering elsewhere.

Three days later, Sati returned with Lashe, Callie, Stuart, and someone new: Taylor, a gorgeous young flamehaired woman who’d been on the park hilltop with us in Canada. So now we were nine adults. We had a feast to celebrate their return, chicken, a little bacon, more wild cottontail still warm from recently departed life, housemade rosemary bread, greens from the organic market since the greenhouse here wasn’t producing much yet. Then an even bigger orgy. Ingrid knew the previous night that Sati would be returning and so I had the, um ... pleasure ... of my third full day of denial. Lots of accompanying giggles since everyone else knew the reason why, and of course that meant some part of me did too, not that I was in a position to do anything about it. But tonight ...

There were three hilltops surrounding this little retreat, one bare, two partly, each at least 400’ higher than us down here at the head of an isolated and once-glaciated valley between two huge dormant volcanos.

Every single mammal, from mouse to deer plus a couple of our more intellectual hens, and most especially everyone in our little hall from mostly unconscious me to an even more teased and quasi-unconscious Stuart to the five perfect women I’d already known so well plus beautiful Taylor, full breasts jouncing delightfully as she rode my longer, thicker, younger, newly sensitized and improved cock at the time, and even all the way to Sati, who was, I now knew, an actual fucking no-fooling divinity, went lights-out.

Goddess knows, that was an amazing night.

Those three hilltops were strategic, unconscious sleeping me came to understand. Helicopters be ware, preppers be joyful, this place could be defended from air attack, and may have been chosen for that exact reason. Wait, where did that come from?

Next day, after breakfast, my grimoire came out. Everyone who’d driven down with it was confused; it had 200 pages of recipes with ingredients not easily obtained, vaguely worded journaling in between. Where were those four extra pages I’d read? Where was anything else that might be useful beyond gardening that they mostly already knew?

The story about procuring the grimoire was gradually revealed. Three weekdays of waiting for an unlocked door after Joanna and my kids departed the house in the morning, everything locked, a different person walking around the corner under a glimmer of unnoticeability into our little cul-de-sac to check each time, and then on the fourth day Callie found the back door unlocked, walked in, went upstairs to the drawer in my nightstand where they knew I kept it, disturbing nothing along the way, and now here it was, and there they were, and here I was. Sorta.

We had a few slightly depressed days together after that. Perhaps not coincidentally, it rained. Inside, we had slightly depressed but enthusiastically multi-orgasmic orgies.

And on the third day, Dani had an idea.

“Can we read it through his eyes?” she asked.

“Good boy,” my body felt without anyone else saying anything, perceiving my soon-to-be-even-more-fortunate self, looking forward to how this might play out, knowing from rapidly accumulating experience that more fantastic sex might be involved, so ... yay!

It sounded like just as good an idea to everyone else, so it’s exactly what we tried next. None of us had ever seen through the eyes of another, but we had time, and space, and motivation. It was not immediately successful, no part of it was successful for two more days. Taylor had the next breakthrough.

“What if he’s inside me while we’re trying to read through his eyes?” she asked. Taylor was as intuitive as she was gorgeous, and she certainly seemed to like me inside her even though she liked Stuart even more.

So of course that’s what we tried next. And it kinda worked. She wouldn’t be able to read through my eyes. No single person would, and even collectively it would be somewhat blurry, but they worked out a rough approximation.

Suspend a bound, constrained, blindfolded woman—beautiful Taylor, for example—from the ceiling, angled down, the book suspended over her shoulders, basil-bergamot-cardamom incense burning nearby. Me inside her from behind, sliding slowly in and out, inflated buttplug in my ass thanks very much (not really) to Kelsey, though to be fair it did help keep my body a little more still, peering carefully at the book, one or more other women nearby, hands on me and the woman I was inside—that would be Taylor again, she was really loving this—and often each other, those other women trying to read through my eyes and their own third eyes. There were something like 100 more pages that should’ve been legible now, which a distant part of me smiled about. But the method was very imprecise and tended to fragment irretrievably when one or more participants started shrieking in orgasm, which happened a lot with our senses joined so closely, and of course my eyes are just not as good as they once were, though at least they were now improving.

And that led to a new exploration, this time with sharing perception, using my pervasive extrasense as a medium. We’d already done so every day I’d been there in a raw sexual way, but perhaps it could be fine-tuned.

The default method for getting me into the best state of tractable guidable mindlessness seemed to be tease and denial, so that went on most of the day, the women taking turns with me again and again. And again. Orgasming without ejaculating if I had any release at all. Stuart could take care of the heavy lifting and high shelves and he was also getting extra tutoring in his studies since he didn’t have the same benefit of my shortcut for teaching magic ... the women were able to tease me, coax me into shooting one load into his ass, just to make sure, but it didn’t have the same teaching result, and aside from the physical release, which wasn’t nearly as good as the women were learning to give me, my body really didn’t want more of that. Sati had reached so deeply inside me that I was going to get hard and come at her command no matter what else was going on, and just looking into her eyes or at her lovely body while she did was going to make it that much better, but still.

Except for Taylor, who seemed entirely non-magical and whom I’d been instructed to not try giving magic to, the women were all adepts now, and the more I learned from our environment or from them, the more I could give back to them, so Stuart had fallen seriously behind.

That night’s attempt at sharing senses was no more successful, though of course all of us had as much sexual fun as ever. Over the next week, we were able to puzzle out most of two pages before we sort of collectively lost interest in favor of more productive pursuits, but for me, at least, the germ was planted. And while I was not in a state to use or share what my eyes had seen, some walled-off part of my strange complex psyche remembered everything.