The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Jennifer Lost the War”

The evening started with me finding out that someone broke into my apartment. I was pretty sure it was only going to go downhill from there.

It wasn’t a big, obvious break-in, or anything. I didn’t find the door hanging wide open with the lock shattered and big crowbar marks on the frame. I’m pretty sure that would have alerted my neighbors—I know they pay a lot of attention to what goes on around here, because I’m used to getting knocks on my door at eleven o’clock at night from someone who saw a guy in a hoodie walking down the street and wanted to know if I could ‘check it out’. Even someone picking the lock probably would have had to deal with a few nosy tenants recording the whole thing on their cell phones.

But when I put my key into the lock, it turned smoothly instead of catching. And I remembered turning the handle on my way out this morning and feeling it rattle back and forth under my fingers; nothing helps you develop good habits about locking your door like taking the statements of burglary victims who ‘just popped out for a few minutes’. That meant someone must have unlocked it while I was at work, and Maintenance would have left me a text if they were stopping by. That meant it was someone who had a key... and it didn’t take a detective to figure out who had a key to my apartment.

I should have taken it back days ago, but every time I thought about talking to Jen again, I just hit a wall. I told myself there wasn’t any big hurry, she probably needed time to cool off anyway and if I pushed things now we might end up losing our friendship, but... those were all just excuses. I didn’t talk to Jen because I thought that she was going to make things weird and uncomfortable again, and I wanted to put that off as long as possible.

It looked like it wasn’t possible to put it off any longer. With a sigh of resignation, I opened the door and went inside.

I wasn’t surprised to find Jennifer in my living room. I wasn’t even surprised to find her dressed in skimpy lingerie; she’d made it pretty clear in our last conversation that she wanted me to be her first time with a woman, and I didn’t think she’d stopped by to apologize for making unwarranted assumptions about my sexuality. I knew she was here to try to convince me that I was ‘really’ gay, or bisexual, or whatever she’d decided she was after thirty-two years of being happily straight, and I knew Jen well enough to know how she went after someone she had the hots for. It didn’t involve a lot of subtlety.

But... Jennifer didn’t look like she was there to seduce me. She looked like she didn’t even notice that I was there. She didn’t react to the door closing behind me at all. She just slumped down in my favorite chair like she was trying to use the seat as a mattress, her legs spread wide and her cooch sticking out off the edge and a huge fuck-off vibrator sticking out of her cooch. Her eyes were half-open, just the whites showing, and she was drooling and mumbling like a junkie on the edge of nodding off.

I stood in the doorway for what felt like a solid minute, trying to fit my head around what I was seeing. I came in expecting to see Jen sitting on the couch or something, not... not fucking herself senseless with my goddamn vibrator like I wasn’t even there, soaked in sweat and babbling incoherently. Even after the weird, insistent way she hit on me last week, even after all the crazy passive-aggressive texts she left me... this felt messed up. For the first time, I wondered if she had a drug problem or a nervous breakdown or something. I approached her carefully, my hands itching to do something stupid like pull out my gun. “Jen?” I asked her, not liking the tentative sound in my voice. “Jen, you in there? It’s me, Shelly.”

She didn’t respond. At all. Her eyelids fluttered a little, but I couldn’t tell if that was because of me or if she was just getting a lot out of the big rocket between her legs. Her fingers didn’t stop teasing her nipples through the sheer, clinging fabric of her camisole, and she kept muttering like she didn’t even notice I was there. This close, I could make out some of what she was saying—it was some sort of nonsense chant, something about, “...guh luh fkk toy fuh mss morra, mma guh luh fkk toy fuh mss morra...” I couldn’t make it out, she was slurring the words so badly, but I could tell it was the same thing every time. I leaned in a little closer, trying to make out the words....

And then I felt something sting me in the back of my neck, just where it met the shoulder. I spun around, kicking myself for being stupid and complacent—I figured I knew what I was dealing with when I saw Jennifer. It didn’t even cross my mind that she might not be alone. But when I turned, there was a Caucasian woman standing there, a tall woman with angular cheekbones and chunky glasses and long black hair pulled into a tight bun. She was staring at my neck with a smug expression on her face.

I reached back and found a syringe still sticking out of my body. I pulled it out and stared at it stupidly. The plunger was pushed all the way in.

“You really are a terrible detective, Miss Kittridge, aren’t you?” she said. I reached for my phone, but suddenly Jennifer sprang to her feet behind me and pulled my arms behind my back with a grip that felt impossibly strong. I never thought of Jennifer as buff—even when she did join me for my workouts, she always tapped out a good twenty minutes before I did—but she made up in determination what she lacked in strength. It was like she couldn’t imagine her arms moving, and so they didn’t.

The other woman reached into my pocket and took out my phone with casual ease. “And I don’t just mean the way you let me sneak up on you,” she continued, tapping in my PIN number as though she’d known it for years. I didn’t even know that Jen knew it, but I never really tried that hard to hide it from her. You don’t expect your best friend to stab you in the back like this, not even when you’re a cop. “I mean, look at these texts. ‘I’m losing control’. ‘My mind is going’. ‘I can’t stop anymore’. ‘Please just come over’. ‘I can’t fight it’. ‘I’m so horny’. And these last three—’I lost’, ‘I lost’, ‘I lost’. Did you really think she just wanted to fuck you?”

I didn’t even know how to respond to that, but it turned out to be rhetorical. The woman with the dark hair reached up and stroked my cheek gently and said, “Even when she talked to you last week—ah ah, don’t struggle. Ssh. Ssh. It’s already working. Let it happen. Even then, you didn’t listen. ‘I feel like I’m fighting a war inside my head,’ she said. ‘Between the person I think I am and the person I want to be.’ She couldn’t say it out loud, of course. My control had already wriggled down inside her brain and locked off the part of her that wanted to tell you what was really happening to her. But she asked you for help, and you didn’t even notice.”

Her fingers trailed down my throat to my collar, teasing me with her delicate touch as she undid the top button of my shirt. “War’s over now,” she purred, her deep brown eyes hungry with anticipation. “Jennifer lost.”

I heard a whimper behind me, and felt the arms that held me squeezing tight as Jennifer squealed in pleasure at hearing her own name. “ GOOD lil’ fucktoy f’r Miss Maura,” she moaned, intensity lending her words a brief burst of clarity as she shuddered and shook in mindless bliss. “...I’m... I’m a g-good, good little fkk... toy...” she gasped out, before her voice once again descended into a guttural chant. I felt a sudden, sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as I realized that Maura—and the woman in front of me had to be Maura—was right. I’d been stupid. And I was paying for it.

“Not that I really expected you to figure out all of it,” Maura went on, unbuttoning my blouse slowly as she spoke. “I mean, the truth is a bit difficult to believe if you haven’t been properly... inducted into my circle of friends.” She chuckled like she was making a private joke, but I didn’t really care what was so funny about it—I was paying more attention to my body, trying to figure out what was in that syringe. Was it my imagination, or was it getting harder to stay on my feet? Was I just getting worn out from fighting with Jennifer, or were my muscles getting weaker? I gave another desperate, frenzied burst of struggling, but I might as well have been a kitten held by its mother for all the good it did.

“But I at least figured you might realize that Jennifer was under some kind of influence. You might have guessed drugs, blackmail, possibly hypnosis if you were willing to credit a little bit of the unlikely.” Maura chuckled again, unhooking the center clasp on my bra and pushing it aside to play with my nipples. “I didn’t expect you to say, ‘Sorry, but I don’t swing that way, let’s not ruin our friendship.’”

I felt my head droop a little on my shoulders, a wave of stronger and stronger dizziness hitting me with every playful stroke against my sensitive skin. “Wh-whuuut did you... give me?” I slurred out, my tongue feeling thick and clumsy in my mouth. I knew enough about controlled substances to know that it was a sedative of some kind, but even the prescription stuff didn’t hit this hard, this fast. I was already dangling in Jennifer’s grip, my legs unable to support me, and my eyelids were flying at half-mast. Just keeping them open was a struggle now.

Maura took my chin in her hand and raised it up to meet her eyes. “Just a little midazolam,” she cooed to me, her other hand still working its way down the row of buttons. “I find that it helps with the process. Keeps down the static in your brain, and lets me communicate a little more clearly to you. It’s also going to make it harder for you to resist, but that’s really just a bonus. I’ve been doing this for years, ever since college, and I’ve never found anyone who can fight me once I get a good, strong channel into your mind.”

I blinked heavily, trying to make sense of what she said. It was hard going—my brain felt like it was full of sludge, gumming up all my thoughts and making it hard to put anything together. “Into my mind?” I repeated dully, unable to process any of it properly. Jennifer lowered me onto the floor, taking a seat behind me and reaching around to play with my tits. I realized that she’d stopped holding me, but somehow all my muscles felt too relaxed now to try to make a break for it.

“Mhmm,” Maura purred, letting go of my chin so that she could undo my fly. My head slumped forward without her holding it, giving me a good look at what they were doing to my body until my eyelids slid shut. “It’s a gift I have. A gift I’m about to share with you. I’m going to touch you, nerve ending to nerve ending, and the electrical impulses of my thoughts will jump that tiny little gap and flow up your nerves into your mind. I’m going to put ideas into your brain. Just like I’ve been doing all this time. The more nerve endings I can touch at once, the clearer the channel and the easier it is to program you.”

I tried to thrash my way free, but it came out more like a twitch. “Prrooo... gram?” I mumbled, sounding like a broken Speak and Spell. I didn’t want to believe what Maura was saying; it sounded stupid, like the bullshit they talked about on the Science Channel once it stopped having any actual science on it. But... but she was pulling off my slacks now, tugging my panties down to my ankles so that she could rub her fingers up and down my labia. And I could hear her inside my mind. Not in my imagination, not through the power of suggestion—I could really hear her voice mixed in with my own thoughts. And it was telling me...

Oh fuck. It was telling me to be a good little fucktoy for Miss Maura.

Out loud, though, she just said, “That’s right. I’m programming you. I’m going to push my thoughts all the way, deep down into your head, and I’m going to plant them there. Like planting a seed. Just like planting a seed.” She gently parted my pussy lips as she spoke, running a finger up and down the channel of slick flesh between them. I didn’t remember when I got so wet, but I could feel her touch skating over my cunt without any friction at all. God, it felt so good.

Her fingers dipped deeper with every stroke, rubbing their way up to caress my clit before sliding down to push into my tingling cunt. I could hear my breath coming faster, even though I felt too relaxed even to squirm in arousal. “And that seed is going to grow and grow. Its roots will strangle your resistance, its vines will tangle around your thoughts one by one. Until all you can think about is giving in to the voice inside your head. The voice that tells you to be my good little fucktoy. You can hear it so clearly now, can’t you?”

“Mhh, mhmmm,” I panted, drool dripping from my lips as Maura rubbed right on my clit. It wasn’t just the chant that sounded an endless, throbbing repetition in my head. It was the idea of it. Every time I heard myself think ‘good little fucktoy’ under Maura’s guidance, I knew exactly what that meant, an entire chain of associations that dragged my will deeper and deeper down into obedience. I knew exactly what Miss Maura wanted her good fucktoys to do and to say and to think, and I knew that every time I repeated it I would find my brain coming more and more into line with her expectations. Because it felt so fucking perfect.

Maura kissed me on the forehead, her telepathic voice getting clearer and clearer the more her skin touched mine. “That’s my good little fucktoy,” she cooed, and despite myself I let out a little squeal of pure joy at being told I was obeying. “You’re already doing so much better than Jennifer did. Even after three doctor’s appointments, she still hoped that she could surrender to you instead of to me. She fought so hard to resist my will that I honestly worried you might piece things together before my mantra finally broke her. But I worried over nothing, didn’t I?” She reached up and moved my head in a nod. “You can’t think at all now, can you?” She shook my head, her fingers slick with my drool.

“Good fucktoy.” Maura pushed three fingers all the way into my cunt, resting her thumb on my clit and rubbing gently. I could still feel Jennifer’s fingers teasing and tweaking my nipples, kneading the sensitized flesh with mindless devotion, but nothing felt as intense as the sensation of Maura’s touch. “You’re such a good listener. The drugs and the pleasure have silenced all your thoughts now, and when you cum for me, you’re going to feel yourself become more empty. More blank. More vacant and obedient for Miss Maura, isn’t that right?” I felt her hand move my head in another nod, and muscle memory convinced me that she must be right. I was going to be more empty, blank, vacant and obedient with every orgasm. For Maura. Forever.

That only made me cum that much harder.

She kept me like that for a long time, using her gift to simply pause my mind in that moment of climax. “That’s it,” she husked out, her voice a growl of pure desire as her fingers fucked me over and over and her thumb swirled its way around and around my clit. “You’re a good little fucktoy for Miss Maura. You’re a good little fucktoy for Miss Maura.” She paused just long enough in between each repetition to give Jennifer a chance to chime in with a response, the two of them whispering back and forth until my mind was gently rocked into a deep, drowsy sleep by the chant. I didn’t even know that I was joining in.

Finally, they lowered my wrung-out, exhausted body to the floor. “I can feel just a little static creeping in,” Maura said, her fingers still buried up to the knuckles in my cunt. “The drugs are beginning to wear off. Midazolam can have memory loss as a side effect, pet, and I think you’ll agree that it’s going to be very hard to remember what happened here tonight. Every time you try, you’re going to find yourself thinking about how good it would feel to masturbate instead. Your brain is going to release a nice, distracting hit of endorphins every time you give in to that impulse, and deep down you’ll know that’s because you’re being a good girl and reinforcing your programming. Even if your conscious mind doesn’t know that’s what’s happening.”

I nodded vacantly. My eyes were finally beginning to open again, but my thoughts were still too muzzy to process what she was saying. It just sounded... right, that was all. The way you knew the sky was blue. “And when you’re ready, when your resistance is so weak that you can’t fight anymore, you’re going to send a text to your good friend Jennifer asking if she can recommend a good gynecologist. And when we see each other again, well... I’ll explain to you how you can serve me best. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?” I smiled dreamily. Speaking still felt too much like work, but I knew Maura knew exactly how I felt. Because she was in my head.

“Good fucktoy,” Maura whispered, sliding her fingers out of my cunt before offering them to Jennifer to lick clean. My soaked, messy pussy twitched in arousal, the sight triggering desires that my brain couldn’t make sense of yet. I needed more time to... to... the thought slipped away as fast as it formed as my fingers drifted down between my thighs to rub my slippery clit. All I could think about was masturbating, and how good it would feel to play with myself for a while.

My eyes slipped shut, my other senses shutting down as I let myself focus solely on pleasure. I distantly heard myself muttering, “I’m a good little f-fucktoy...” as I fingered myself to climax again, but it didn’t seem nearly as important as the fireworks going on in my cunt. I didn’t even know where the words came from, but they felt so right on my lips that I didn’t question them. I didn’t need to think about them. I just needed to repeat them. I just needed to cum. Cum for... for... oh fuck. Every time I tried to finish that sentence it just made me wetter.

By the time I finally managed to make myself stop, the apartment was empty. I frowned, trying to figure out why I expected to see someone there. Had I invited anyone over? I staggered over to the entertainment center and unlocked it with shaking, fumbling fingers. No messages. No reminders. Nothing about tonight at all... but Jennifer’s text history was open. Maybe it was time to finally put that fight to rest once and for all, show her that I didn’t care that she was gay. I could invite her over, we could hang out on the couch just like old times, and we could get comfortable with each other again.

My hand was already sliding down to my pussy as I began to type.