The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Stacy found that fantasizing online was more difficult then she had first suspected. Lurking in the corners of one of the big web communities, she had begun by searching for some of the more extreme fantasies she had entertained growing up. She had found chat rooms and user groups that celebrated bondage, but those had grown quickly tiresome. How many ways could you be tied up and teased? No, she knew she was looking for something else… something deeper and more satisfying. The trouble was, she didn’t know what that thing was. Until February.

That was when she had caught a post on a forum that mentioned in passing the idea of mind control. The author was someone named Molly, but the profile attached to the name was blank. Another anonymous name floating around the internet, a phantom living inside a ghost house. Still, the post intrigued her. It spoke of a website devoted entirely to submission, transformation and manipulation. The thoughts made Stacey’s belly flutter.

Sadly, the website was not yet up. Stacey clicked the link and found herself staring at a blank screen, a white page with no links, no images, only a slow hum that seemed to be an attempt to add music to the site. Whoever this Molly was, she didn’t know much about marketing. Why advertise your page before it’s even functional?

Stacey bookmarked the page, nonetheless, curious to see what the creator eventually made of it.

“Stace!”

Stacey looked over her shoulder and saw Kim running after her. Kim was, as always, a sight, a slight, pale girl who often played up her porcelain features with dark clothes and a penchant for dark tights and boots. She looked more like the lead singer of some emo band than a waitress at a bistro. Still, Stacey loved her peculiar, often mean, sense of humor, and made the evening at work almost bearable.

“Kimberly Sutton, you are not in uniform,” Stacey mock-scolded.

“I’ll be in the monkey suit soon enough. We going out after work tonight?”

“Let’s see how much we make. I need at least a bill. Anything over that I can blow at the bar.”

“That sounds about right.”

Stacey hefted her purse back onto her shoulder as they stepped into the restaurant, sighing again.

“What’s wrong with you?” Kim asked, dragging Stacey behind her into the women’s room.

“I just hate this, you know? I hate being the serving girl for some cigar-chomping asshole who has more money than class.”

“Here we go…”

“I’m sorry.”

Kim slipped into a stall, her bag tossed in ahead of her. She slipped the lock on the door, kicking off her boots and fishing for the uniform inside her bag.

“It’s okay, Stace,” Kim said, slipping on a white button-up and a black skirt, tossing the darker shirt into the bag.

“You know how I get sometimes.”

Kim kicked open the stall door, fully dressed in her work uniform, save for the red tie that looped over her neck. She stood behind Stacey as she knotted her own tie.

“I know how you get, babe. Six hours from now, we’ll be out of here and on our way to a nice quiet drink.”

“Deal.”

Stacey made her way into her one bedroom apartment, stumbling at the doorstep. She found herself laughing at her own alcohol-induced clumsiness, dropping her purse and keys onto the kitchen counter.

The evening at work had been a long, tortuous one, but the money had been good. The one thing Stacey despised most was the leering of the older men as she passed by in her black skirt and black hose, the subtle swivel of their heads, the glances from the corners of their eyes. The uniform was not especially revealing, with the shirt and tie, but the skirt showed off her shapely calves, sculpted by her morning runs three times a week.

Kim had led her to a local bar where they drank copious glasses of wine, laughing and talking in the easy way that they always did. The conversations always began with complaints at work and shifted into random topics, most silly, some personal. Tonight had been temptation for Stacey, though, when Kim brought up a date from her past that led to her being tied by silk scarves to a bedpost.

Stacey had almost spilled the bondage beans, almost told Kim of the nights she sat before her computer chatting online with strangers who shared the interest, some obsessed with it. Had almost told her about the fantasies of helplessness and capture. But, Stacey resisted, knowing that it was a characteristic that would forever color her friend’s perception of her, so Stacey bit her tongue and smiled and laughed in all the right places. But, the familiar fire in her belly had been stoked, that little voice that whispered to her and guided her down to the depths of her fantasies, promised her excitement and pleasure beyond the simple lovemaking she was accustomed to.

Her arousal was growing, her imagination creeping over her rational thought, and, in no time, Stacey found herself again at her computer, bouncing between chat rooms, watching dialogue scroll past describing adventures that excited Stacey further. Stacey squirmed as she read, her inebriation and stimulating coupling and growing. She pushed on, growing bored with her voyeuristic peeks at the web underbelly she found herself returning to, scanning over sites that had excited her previously, but now left her strangely unsatisfied. Then, she ran across her bookmark for the mind control site. She crossed mental fingers and opened the shortcut, hoping to be greeted by stories, or pictures, or both.

It was the same. A white screen. A sound behind it that hummed and thrummed, a deep bass cycle that was almost outside the edge of hearing. She leaned back in her computer chair, staring at the screen, her brow lowered as she tried to figure out if there was a link somewhere that she was missing, some hidden door to treasures beyond. She clicked in the blank space of the screen and was greeted by a subtle blossom of pink that slowly faded back to white, dissipating like a finger’s touch on an LCD monitor. She clicked again and again, watching the near-imperceptible blossoms of pink, subdued fireworks. Stacey noticed that the thrumming sound was a bit louder, more insistent.

Stacey couldn’t imagine why she would sit before this blank screen so long, listening to a sound that was little more than noise. She clicked again and again, sensing rather than hearing the bass sound spike with each click. Confused and fascinated, Stacey sat back heavily in her chair, the sound drumming along, the screen now perfectly white. She was still wondering why the screen was just so white when time and alcohol conspired to drag her down into sleep.

Stacey awoke with a jerk, nearly sending her out of the chair and onto the floor. She took a quick inventory and realized that she had fallen asleep in her clothes propped on an elbow in her chair, watching the white screen. Except, the screen wasn’t white anymore.

Stacey leaned towards the screen, the color now a faint rose, with the words ‘Cycle Complete’ in small black letters in the center of the screen.

“What cycle?” she wondered aloud.

She looked at the wall clock beside her and saw that half the morning was gone already, and the buzzing in her head reminded her that she had been out drinking with Kim the night before. She gave another glance at the screen before exiting the window. Definitely weird.

Stretching and yawning, Stacey clicked on her e-mail and found the usual menagerie of junk offers. She was scrolling up to close the window when a new message appeared. The sender was displayed as ‘Molly.’ Stacey could no more disguise her puzzlement at the e-mail than her curiosity, and she found herself clicking on the message before she realized it.

The message was simple, reading : “Thank you for your interest in my website. Please return soon for more updates and drop by our new store on Klein Avenue. I guarantee it will change your life! -M.”

“Updates? There’s nothing on the site now.”

Thoroughly confused, Stacey pried herself from her desk chair and into the bathroom, where she finally removed her clothing from work the night before. She piled the skirt and shirt onto the bathroom counter, then rolled down the black hose and tossed it into a hamper just outside the bathroom door. She could see that a run had split most of the right leg. Great, more money to spend just to go to work.

Finally removing the bra and panties she wore, Stacey found herself looking into the large mirror over the sink, staring at the curves of her body, not quite chubby, but full. She imagined she could get away with most any outfit she wanted, a few pounds too much to reveal the musculature beneath the skin, but taut, nonetheless. Curvy without being voluptuous, she thought, and turned the shower handles until the room filled with steam.

Stacey shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, the water suddenly freezing. What was happening? Moments ago, the water had been hot, the bathroom had been filled with its steam. Now, the water was ice cold, and she could see over the top of the curtain that the bathroom mirror was crystal clear. She hurriedly shut off the water and opened the curtain, quickly wrapping a towel around herself. Her fingers and toes had pruned, she saw, but it felt like she had just stepped into the shower. Something was very wrong…

She wrapped a towel around herself, hurrying to her closet to put something on, warm up, when she noticed the clock on the wall. She had been in the shower over an hour.

“What is going on?” she wondered aloud, dropping the towel and stepping into a white cotton pair of panties.

She followed that with a loose pair of jeans and a tee, her nipples still erect from the cold water and readily apparent beneath the fabric. She could only think of one option, and she took it. She called Kim.

“So you just blanked out?” Kim asked, sitting before the computer.

“Yeah… I was in the shower forever, but I honestly couldn’t tell you why or how.”

“Weird, Stace.”

“No argument from me…”

“What was the website again?”

“I bookmarked it. There.”

Kim clicked on the bookmark and the website opened up.

“They have done updates…”

Stacey looked at the site, which had once been just a white screen, now filled with color, swirling like a rainbow consumed by winds, rolled along and disappearing and reforming.

“What do you mean?” Kim asked. “It’s just a white screen.”

Stacey couldn’t answer, her friend’s voice seeming to come from miles away. She was lost in the colors, folding and unfolding on themselves. And the sounds… she could hear it more clearly, more insistent.

“Stace?” the voice called from a great distance.

And, then, the colors were gone.

Stacey shook the cobwebs from her head, refocusing on Kim in her chair.

“What did you see?” Kim asked again, staring up at Stacey.

“Colors,” Stacey replied, almost mournfully. “Just all sorts of colors.”

“I didn’t see that at all. And what was with that feedback we were getting? Something strange is definitely going on. Let’s see that e-mail you got.”

Riding in a car with Kim was always a leap of faith. The rolls through stop signs, the hurried passings through intersections as the light blazed yellow to red… all done with Stacey’s hands glued to the handle above the passenger window.

“You’re going to kill us,” Stacey chided, but Kim was oblivious to critique.

By the time they turned onto Klein Avenue, Stacey’s knuckles were white.

“There it is, I think,” Kim said, pulling the car to a stop.

Stacey looked out the window at the a squat, rundown building with a simple sign above it. On the sign was simply the letter ‘M.’

“What do we do now?” Stacey asked, feeling a strange thrill at the anticipation of Kim telling her their next move. The ride over had been mostly silent, and Stacey just enjoyed the feeling of motion, her head bobbing along with the soft music playing on the radio. Now, she had to claw her way through a fog just to find the right words to reply to Kim. Something was different, she knew, but she couldn’t say what, like the slow drift inward of a tide, imperceptible if you stared at it constantly. But something inside her was moving, shifting, like those tides.

“We go in,” Kim said and opened the car door.

Stacey had not bothered to change before they left, only adding a pair of heels with the jeans before departing. Kim had told her sneakers were appropriate, but her feet felt all wrong in them. So she had opted for plain black heels with a more severe heel than she was used to wearing in day to day life, but she stepped from the car and stood confidently and surely in them.

Kim was already at the plain door, glass with a pull handle and bars covering the exposed glass to deter theft, Stacey imagined. When Kim opened the door, a smell like ambrosia wafted out and Stacey beat her friend inside, following the aroma.

Kim followed behind and stepped into the shop. At first glance, it seemed like a normal clothes shop, tops and skirts hanging from racks and mounts on the wall, a couple of mannequins displaying the wares in the center, a counter at the back. Looking closer, the overwhelming brightness of the place was more apparent. The clothes were so bright, the colors all screaming to be noticed. Kim looked to her left and saw that Stacey was stroking the material of a deep purple top, a fabric Kim did not immediately recognize.

“What are you doing?” Kim asked, her voice distant in her own ears.

Stacey did not reply, but only kept walking among the clothes, running her hands over them as one might brush the tops of plants in a field.

Kim’s sense of danger was pounding, thudding against the haze in her head. She had to get out. She had to get Stacey out. Something was too wrong here, something was…

“Hello, girls,” a sonorous voice called from behind Kim.

Kim spun to face the voice’s owner, a woman no more than 35, but youthful, dark hair tied into a French braid, a white collared shirt peeking out beneath a black vest, dark pants ending in spike-heeled boots.

“Who are you?” Kim managed.

“I’m Molly. I’m the owner. You must be Stacey.”

“No, that’s Stacey.”

Kim pointed to her friend, gazing up at a bright red leather jacket hanging from the wall.

“Of course,” Molly replied, “how silly of me. She had already completed the first cycle. She must be in sensory overload right now.”

“What did you do to her?”

“Now, Kim, if we’re going to talk, we can at least be civil. Come along,” Molly said, throwing the direction over her shoulder even as she turned and made her way behind the counter. Kim followed.

Behind the counter, into the bowels of the store, Kim saw a rack of computer equipment in one corner, the rest of the space open, with only a desk chair in the middle, like one from an elementary school.

“Have a seat,” Molly said with a wave of her hand, and Kim found herself moving to the desk, unable to think of an argument not to, despite the low-level, instinctual buzzing in her stomach to run, to get out of this place.

Molly turned to the girl now seated at the desk and smiled.

“I’m amazed she brought a friend into this after the first cycle. Tell me, did she have an integration period?”

“What?”

“An integration period? Did she lose time, wake up somewhere strange? Perhaps in a new outfit?”

“No. I mean, she woke up in her shower, said she had been there so long the water had gone cold.”

“Good. Not perfect yet, but good. One moment please.”

Molly’s heels clicked on the tile of the storeroom, as surely that must have been its purpose at one time. Now, Kim was alone in here, fixed to a desk that she could not seem to direct her body to rise from.

Then, the clicking sound of the heels again, closer and closer, behind her, Kim knew, but she couldn’t manage to turn her head.

“You’re probably so confused right now,” the voice whispered, hot breath on Kim’s ear. “So scared, aren’t you? Don’t be. I would never hurt you.”

And just like that, Kim relaxed. Even the instinctual yearning to flee had quieted. She just sat, patiently waiting for the next words from that lovely voice.

“You asked who I am. My name is Molly. I am the owner. And, years ago, I was just an ordinary wife, with an ordinary mortgage and job, and an ordinary husband who cheated on me, again and again and again. But that’s a long story. What is important to you is that I am very persuasive. So is the music on the audio system here. So is the smell. And so is the website Stacey looked at. That was a beta of it, there are still improvements to be made. I knew Stacey would find it. I’ve been following her through chat rooms and messages, e-mails and postings. Your friend has quite the fetish, Kim. Well, she used to. But she has been a wonderful test, and successful, too. See, she has been bombarded by subliminal images and words.”

“The website hypnotized her?”

“Yes,” Molly smiled and stepped around to face Kim. “That, and so much more. It changed her, the basic functions of her mind have been changed. She’s like a child, now, her higher functions dimmed, her sub-conscious pretty much running the show. A subconscious I molded.”

“You’re a monster,” Kim spat at the woman before her, wanting to reach up and throttle her, make her give Stacey back. But her arms were leaden, and she could feel herself relax more into the chair.

“Really? Then I’ll give you a choice, Kim. I’ll let you walk right out of here.”

“With Stacey?”

“No, I’m afraid she’s mine now. But you can go. I’ll erase every bit of me and this shop and even Stacey. And you’ll just carry on with your life. Or, you can stay with us. Never go to a job you hate again, never pay a bill. Always be happy, overwhelmed even.” Molly squatted in front of Kim, running a long-nailed finger along the top of her hand. “To be in a state of bliss, forever, to only have to think what I say. Oh, I promise you, Stacey is in a state of bliss right now. And I will care for her as long as she lives. Would you like to join us? Go ahead and go if you want… just get up, now. You can.”

And she could. Kim could feel more presence in herself, a thereness that had all but left her. She straightened in the chair.

“I’ll count to three,” Molly smiled. “If you are still in that chair, then you have decided to stay with us.”

Molly stood and backed several steps away from the desk.

“One.”

Kim couldn’t really be thinking of staying. But she couldn’t just leave Stacey.

“Two.”

She would stay here, help Stacey and they could escape together. Somehow, they would get out…

“Three.”

Molly approached again.

“I’m glad you decided to stay. I need more than one to run this store. Undress.”

Kim stood and peeled away the black top and bra, dropping them to the floor. She had to bend to untie her boots, kicking each one off and following them with the intentionally tattered fishnets she had worn in. Without reservation, Kim slid down the black lace panties and stepped out of them, now nude in the cavernous storeroom.

“So pale,” Molly grinned. “I’ll have Stacey take you to the tanning bed tomorrow. I must attend to her now. She was the one I wanted, not you. You I’ll decide a fate for later.”

Stacey wandered aimlessly among the clothes, breathing deeply, tracing over the exotic materials. Some of the items were latex, pvc, some spandex… all form fitting, the idea of these clothes hugging her, showing her off to whoever cared to look was causing a burning in her belly unlike she had ever felt.

“Stacey,” she heard a voice call to her. She spun on the plain black heels and looked at the woman before her, beautiful, there was no question, and with an intensity in her eyes that was impossible to look away from. “My name is Molly. You belong to me, now.”

Stacey nodded, smiling. There was no urge to resist, not argument to be made. Life was as she was told. As long as she could stay here, among the smells and sights of this shop. She felt her hand reach out to stroke a vinyl purple mini, taking comfort from its brightness, its slickness.

“I know, hon, you love these things. How would you like to try something on? Anything you like?”

Stacey’s face brightened immediately, her touch on the mini turning into a grip as her body tensed.

“I’ll take that as a yes. I have something already waiting for you in the dressing room. When you come out, we’ll discuss your future.”

Stacey was moving before the last syllable had drifted away, slipping into the curtained dressing room right of the counter, where the scents that were subtle outside seemed more concentrated, insistent. Stacey inhaled deeply, shrugging off the clothes she wore quickly, leaving her old clothes on the floor, immediately out of mind as soon as they were off.

She turned to the clothes hanging from the wall, and ran her fingers over a deep purple corset, with sating piping running from the top to the bottom, black lace in between and around the edge of the cups. She fitted the corset over her chest and reached behind her hooking each clasp into place. She admired with her hands the way the cups pushed her breasts up, giving them just the right amount of cleavage to be daring without exposing.

‘Like a good slut,’ Stacey thought, and quickly accepted the thought.

Moving to the next item, Stacey found her hand tingling at the touch of the latex, purple and bright. She stepped in, working the small skirt up and up, her skin singing in pleasure everywhere the latex touched.

‘Good sluts wear latex,’ she thought and knew it was true.

The pair of lace purple stockings were like stepping into pure bliss as she pulled them carefully taut against her skin. The design was woven with little flower details that Stacey could not help but trace with her nails.

She regarded herself in the mirror, the thin waist confined by purple and lace, the form-fitting skirt, the way the purple stockings seemed to flow up her legs, but offering a glimpse of soft skin before becoming shiny latex. Satisfied, Stacey stepped into the platform heels left for her there, acrylic heels that clashed garishly, but forced her calves to straighten and her back to follow suit.

Stacey stepped from the dressing room, her short gait inhibited by the skirt and heels work in tandem, and when she stumbled once, she tittered like a schoolgirl, her thoughts wet and heavy in her head, unable to form completely.

When Molly saw her, she clapped once in delight, smiling. The smile made Stacey almost buckle in pleasure, her bare sex warming and wettening.

“You look wonderful, Stacey. Now, come stand before me.”

In the sandals, Stacey had several inches on Molly, which made it easier for Molly to reach out and lift her breasts higher, pushing more out of the front of the tank top. Just the barest hint of her areolas poked over the material.

“A bit small chested, but maybe we can fix that, Stacey. And as far as your name goes, a girl like you needs to simplify, simplify, simplify. I think maybe we should spell it with an ‘I’ from now on, don’t you? Perhaps a little heart over the last letter?”

Staci couldn’t contain the giggle that bubbled up inside her. When Molly had touched her breasts, all thought left her. She wanted that touching to continue, to go further, to use her body.

“That’s a good girl.” Molly backed against the counter and lowered her pants to expose a well-trimmed mound. “Now come here and taste your future.”

Staci needed no more encouragement as she fell to her knees before Molly, softly kissing her nether lips before losing herself entirely and gorging on Molly’s sweet wetness.

Kim stood in the storeroom, breathing in the gentle scent that filled the store. She felt her nipples draw taut at the cool air, and yet she stood, hand at her sides. From beyond the door, she could hear Staci giggle wildly, and then the moans of Molly.

And, then, Kim simply stood.