The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“So I told him, ‘No, there’s no way you could bind an archduke-level demon with that spell, even if you have the feats to call one and can make the skill roll. That’s just not the way the system works, even if you think it logically makes sense your way. Suck it up and deal, the GM is always right. Seriously, some people will try to get away with anything, you know what I mean?”

“…What? Sorry. I wasn’t really listening.” The redheaded girl glanced at him, then at her watch, then at her drink.

“Oh, well, that’s okay. It was just a funny story about my game, that’s all.”

“Yeah, it was great. I think my friends are waving to me. I should go catch up with them.”

“Oh, okay. I mean, I could come along, I don’t have anywhere to be…”

“No, no, that’s okay. Thanks anyway. See you around.”

As the girl sped off into the crowd towards a gaggle of other women who most certainly had not been waving to her, Howard settled into his usual slumped posture of mild dejection. It’s not that he wasn’t good at talking to people, it was just that he was only good at talking to people who were of his intellectual caliber and shared his interests. And he had yet to find a woman who apparently shared his interests in role-playing games, astrophysics, libertarianism or world politics.

(Admittedly, he was also interested in high ritual Crowleyism and tantric sex, but those seemed like poor conversational topics, even to him.)

Surely this was the fault of womenkind in general, either for not sufficiently recognizing his greatness or for simply being too stupid to be interested in truly interesting things. Or so Howard thought.

That particular Friday evening didn’t get any better, as one might guess. Half a dozen beers and a dozen inane conversations later, the night wound down and everyone who was going to hook up headed out to do so, leaving Howard with a bunch of drunk, slurring frat boys (who thought another game of beer pong who be great if only they could figure out where the table had gone) and a sense of general disappointment. Perhaps tomorrow would be different.

Tomorrow was not different.

Nor was the following weekend.

To be particularly straightforward, that night was a very good indicator of Howard’s overall luck with women in college both before and after. For all he’d heard about things getting easier for geeks in college, the fact that he’d actually had sex (once, with a girl he was pretty sure picked him because she was fat and he was a sure thing) in high school made it look better and better. And at least there he didn’t have to listen to other people having sex through the walls when he was trying to sleep.

It wasn’t even like he limited himself to parties: He’d try to talk to girls everywhere. After class, in the cafeteria, in the dorm hallways, on the quad. He’s follow them around to make sure they knew he was interested, tell them the most fascinating stories he could think of, crack jokes—girls like guys who were funny? Hah!—and just generally be a nice guy.

But it never worked, so Howard decided to try a new approach.

“So that’s why I’m missing gaming tonight. This is finally going to get me laid. I’ve been double-checking all of the books with what little I could find online, and this should be a sure thing. The book says it’s the embodiment of forbidden lust, which is what I’m looking for, right? I’ll just use it to get some girls to lust after me.”

“Okay, dude, seriously, there are easier ways to get laid than trying to summon demons. Ways that work, for one thing. One of my high school friends is taking this class in being a pick-up artist, and he says that really works.”

“Is it by the same guy who wrote the book about game? Because that book got me slapped for trying to use it, and got hot soup dumped on me for reading it in public.”

“If word gets around that you’re dancing around your dorm room naked trying to summon the devil, you’ll long for the days of getting slapped.”

“Okay, first, there’s no dancing involved. Second, it’s not a devil. Or a demon, for that matter. It’s a conceptual embodiment from the abyss beneath the collective unconscious.”

“You’re not making this sound any better.”

“Look, it’s really simple. It’s actually the same ritual steps as summoning a demon, but because it’s a loose concept rather than a sentient entity, I should be able to just demand what I want rather than needing to bargain. So I just substituted the ingredients and the chants to aim the summoning at the right place.”

“All I heard was, ‘I made some shit up to waste my Thursday evening on, because the original shit isn’t pretentious enough.’”

“Says the man who’ll be slaying orcs later this evening when I’m getting lusted after.”

“Says the man who has actually had a girlfriend.”

“Who broke up with you.”

“Break-up sex is still sex.”

“Yeah, well, despite that, you and I are both in the same situation now. And I’m going to do something about it.”

“If you get laughed off of campus, I’m totally claiming your character’s Hat of Disguise.”

No matter what Danny thought about it, Howard knew he was on to something. The books were all straightforward on the details of the summoning and binding rituals, and they were all pretty much identical except for the name you used to call the demon and the symbol you drew. Substituting in the symbol and name for another creature seemed stupidly simple—why hadn’t anyone thought of this before?

He spent two hours cleaning everything off the floor of his room, then meticulously drawing the triple-circle and inscribing the runes. Hopefully this marker would be as washable as advertised; it would suck to have to pay the university’s cleaning fees, even if this did work. He had to be naked, apparently; though admittedly that was easier than trying to order some kind of druidic ceremonial robes off of eBay. Then he anointed himself with the ceremonial oils (well, lavender massage oil, but it’s what he could find at CVS) and lit the candles (which didn’t seem strictly necessary, but why take chances?) and started chanting.

After twenty minutes of chanting he was starting to get bored, when suddenly a gust of wind put out the candles and the room went dark, except for the faint glow of streetlamps through the window shade. In the time it took for his eyes to adjust, Howard heard a quiet hissing before he realized something black and viscous was filling up his circle.

“Hah! It worked! Now, listen up, you…thing. By the, umm…” He fumbled for the book and squinted in the dim light. “Seven signs of az…her…Azorath and the twenty secret names of God, I bind you to my service. By the pact of gran..gren…Gennerholm I forbid you to do me any harm.”

The mass of black ooze in the circle shifted, swelled and then started shaping itself into a vaguely humanoid shape, arranged to mirror Howard’s seated form. The gelatinous form took on a strange firmness and glinted like obsidian in the faint light. Though it had no eyes, Howard couldn’t shake the feeling that it was staring at him.

Unnerved, Howard continued, “I have summoned you here to perform according to my will. To command the minds and arouse the lusts of others. Do, um, do you understand?”

In the eyeless gaze of the Thing, Howard heard a word echo in his head, UNDERSTAND.

“And I am your master, so you’ll only do what I command of you.”

MASTER. COMMAND AND AROUSE.

“Yes. Great. Good. Umm, so…go ahead. Do my bidding. Give me what I want.” The books made this seem easier—Demons were supposed to give more feedback. But then again, this wasn’t a demon, was it? Howard was rapidly realizing he hadn’t thought the exact details of this part through.

Howard hadn’t thought a lot of things through.

HUNGER.

“What? No, umm, there’s nothing in the books about that. You’re not one of the demons that requires a food offering. You don’t even have a mouth.”

As if in response, thousands of obsidian teeth glinted from where the form’s mouth should have been.

HUNGER.

“I don’t…did I screw this up? You’re supposed to be an incarnation of lust and forbidden carnal pleasures. It says right here. Hunger shouldn’t even be a thing…”

HUNGER.

The shadowy form suddenly lunged at the circle binding it. The circle lit up and flared red for an instant, and the mass retracted, and flowed back to match Howard’s seated form again.

“Whoa, okay, see, we seem to have a miscommunication here…”

The form lunged again, and there was another flash of red…and a loud crack as one of the wooden floorboards split, creating a break in the circle. The ebony figure poured itself through the crack and towards Howard. Howard jumped up and started backing away. “Shit. Shit! No. No. Bad demon! You’re forbidden to harm me by the signs of…something. Pacts! By the pacts of the things! Shit!”

NO HARM. MASTER.

“Yes, that’s it. I’m your master. You’ll…AHH!”

The Thing lashed out a tendril of darkness and it wrapped around Howard’s leg. It felt freezing, and burning, and numb and…strangely good? Howard nearly passed out from the shock, and slid down to the ground, where he failed ineffectually at his leg.

“Oh god. Oh god. I’m gonna die. I can’t feel my leg. I’m gonna die. I’m going to get eaten by a demon and this was a really stupid plan and…”

NO HARM.

The tendril slid up Howard’s leg, tracing a path up his inner thigh.

Howard shuddered. The rest of the Thing had slid forward and was engulfing his leg. He flushed—it tingled, like his nerves were being tested and set off in waves. It didn’t hurt at all…it actually felt strangely good.

MASTER’S WILL.

The Thing’s voice kept echoing in his head. His thoughts felt foggy. Was he actually scared? He felt detached from the feeling. It wouldn’t do any harm, it said. No harm…

Several new tendrils emerged from the Thing’s central mass. One lashed itself around Howard’s wrist, setting the nerves up his arm and out to his fingers on fire.

MUST UNDERSTAND.

Understand? Howard could feel his hand moving of its own accord. Of course, it’s just trying to understand me.No harm. No harm.

MUST UNDERSTAND. MASTER. COMMAND AND AROUSE.

A third tendril, this one much more deliberate that the rest, snaked up Howard’s side and traced along his collarbone. It wrapped around his neck—setting off sparks of pleasure as it went. He realized that somewhere in all of this, his dick had grown rock hard. Hunh. I wonder when that happened…

And then Howard felt a sharp spike at the base of his skull.

MASTER’S WILL.

What…what was it doing? It felt like tiny tendrils spreading through his brain. Everything is so hazy…what is it doing to me? Was this what I wanted? It was so hard to think through the echoes.

NEED MASTER’S WILL.

BE MASTER’S WILL.

TAKE MASTER’S DESIRES.

Desires. What did he desire? He’d just wanted to get laid.

GIVE.

A mass of shadow stretched from the Thing and engulfed Howard’s shaft. Howard’s eyes rolled back—he wasn’t a virgin, if only barely, but this was far better than anything he’d ever felt before. A million tiny folds rolled and massaged his cock, sparking and setting off waves of pleasure he didn’t know he could experience.

HUNGER. GIVE MASTER’S DESIRES.

What did that mean? Out of nowhere, he thought of Amy down the hall, of her walking back from the bathroom in only a towel, of how much he wanted this to be her lips around his cock. He thought of her big, beautiful tits bouncing as she sucked him off…and as the shadow around his dick formed into the shape of Amy’s mouth and sucked, he came hard, bucking his hips and spraying hot cum into the Thing.

The tentacle in Howard’s brain swelled, as if filling with something. Howard’s head spun…that was amazing, incredible. He hardly noticed that something seemed to be missing, that something seemed to be taken from him. Was that a face on the shadow? Who was it?

HUNGER. GIVE MORE.

Give more…yes, he was still hard, and he felt like he should have been spent, but wasn’t. He just wanted to think of what he desired. Christy, from his computer science class. A skinny girl with long, straight brown hair and very sharp features. He would help check her code, and when she leaned over he could see down her top and into her bra. He wanted to grab those tits and play with her hard nipples. He wanted to see her bouncing on his cock, pressing her hands down on his chest, grabbing at him as she moaned.

YES. GIVE. FEED.

The shadow welled up, and shaped itself into an obsidian replica of Christy’s body, exactly as he’d always imagined it. The tentacle grabbing his wrist and neck became her hands holding him, the mouth on his cock became her impossibly-perfect cunt, hot and wet and perfectly wrapped around him. She pulled his hand to her small, perky tits and shuddered as he rubbed his palm against her hard buds.

GIVE MASTER’S DESIRES.

In a haze of lust, Howard grabbed the Thing’s replica of Christy’s perfect little ass and started bouncing her on his cock. She grabbed his hair and scratched at his chest, leaving black streaks of the Thing’s substance across him, her soundless moans echoing through his head as he pounded into her to the Thing’s echoing chants of GIVE. GIVE. GIVE.

Finally, he grabbed her hair and pulled her mouth to his neck, and the feeling of her bite was a perfect blend of pain and pleasure as he came, shooting another load deep into her ebony depths. The bright lights behind his eyes subsided into a general feeling of fuzziness and emptiness, that another desire had been drained out of him. He numbly noted that he could still feel something pulsing on the back of his skull and stretching into his brain, but it felt…fuller. And that the Thing looked like a girl. Did he know her? She looked familiar.

MORE.

Something was wrong. In a moment of lucidity following his orgasm, Howard realized something was terribly wrong. Why couldn’t he remember that girl? Or that other girl’s face? The creature was doing something to him…taking something out of his mind. Oh god—it was eating his mind! It was sucking out pieces of him to make itself stronger! He had to escape! While there was still a chance, he had to…

MORE. HUNGER. GIVE MORE.

More. Yes. Master. Must give more.

The female form embracing Howard lost coherency, turning into a roiling mass, stroking at Howard’s skin and reflecting glints of ambient light.

GIVE MASTER’S DESIRES.

Howard thought of Carrie, the fat girl he slept with in high school. The soft curve of her hips, her clumsy attempts at a handjob, the smell of her vanilla body lotion. His cock stirred again. Her body was soft, and she had wanted him, wanted his cock so badly…

GIVE MORE.

Annie, the hyper-Christian floor monitor. She was…Korean, maybe? He thought about her long conservative skirts that she probably didn’t wear anything under. He envisioned the birthmark on her neck, and how she’d moan if he kissed it. She had to be repressing all sorts of animal urges.

FEED.

Jan, who wore that corset to a party last Halloween. Stephanie, his cousin lots-of-times removed. Ms. Garcia, the TA from his Shakespeare class. Jill, Danny’s ex-girlfriend.

GIVE ALL.

He wanted them. He wanted them all. He wanted to fuck every one of them. He wanted them to be his to use and own. He wanted to control them and have them do everything he wanted.

The blackness flowed, expanded, spread and shaped itself around him. Howard was lifted off the ground as the thing coalesced into a dozen different forms, each holding and touching and spreading slick shadows across his skin. Annie’s face appeared around his cock, expertly sucking him while Jan licked his thighs and massaged his balls. Carrie grabbed his hands and mashed them into her tits. Ms. Garcia lowered her pussy onto his face, and he obediently lapped at her clit. Stephanie’s tongue tickled his asshole, then grew longer and thicker and pushed inside of him, stretching and probing and setting new nerves wild with pleasure.

His hips bucked and he thrust his crotch into one mouth, then another, then a pussy, then an asshole; his mouth was filled with tongues, breasts, clits; every inch of his skin was bitten, licked, stroked; his ass was filled with tongues, fingers, tentacles of impossible size.

Finally, as his vision went red and every cell in his body felt like it was going to burst, Jill’s face whispered in his ear and commanded him, GIVE.

And he did. In a tidal wave of orgasm, Howard’s desires washed out and filled the Thing. His body shook as he came and came, filling shades of every woman he’d ever wanted with impossible amounts of cum. The Thing took, but Howard no longer understood or cared. Memories and sensations flowed out through the tendrils in his brain, and Howard was left empty and drained.

As such, Howard responded only mechanically as the Thing’s substance entered his body. Tongues and hands became flowing, glossy tentacles as they snaked in through his mouth, through his ass, and through pinpricks in every inch of his skin. The emptied-out parts of Howard’s mind, the inked-out parts of his soul, were filled with the Thing’s essence.

The Thing was from the nothingness outside of reality, made of the detritus of human thoughts and the remnants of hubristic mistakes. It had no name, it had no form. It knew nothing but the cold of unreality and the unrelenting hunger to be.

But now it had a form, and it had a name: It was Master. Master had desires. Howard wanted, so now the Thing could want. It wanted to relish this warmth of existence. It wanted more forms and more names.

The Thing that had taken all of Howard wanted. And it would take everything it wanted.