The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The misty emerald canopy of the jungle was near silent as it could be. Light wind came from the banks of the river and the lone nude woman sat in the mud as the twilight began to gather in the eastern horizon.

She hummed softly to herself and thought about her lost Tribe. The memories of the Masdi warriors’ exultant cries as they pinned the stragglers of the village to the ground still hurt her ears. Hidden in the village’s well, her silent tears had joined with the murky water at her chin as the Tribe was wiped out. The tears she had shed a month ago hadn’t really washed the grief away. She still felt it clutched about her heart.

So she had taken the poison and come to sit here and watch the night come in. Her hands unconsciously formed into claws and she dug them into the viscous mud. She had never expected to be called into following the Ritual of Endings.

Always her grandmother had been the Giver and administered the potions from the plants that the rainforest had freely provided to the Tribe. Always Kisiki had imagined herself as Giver, someday taking up her grandmother’s gentle skills.

Never, now.

Only memories that hurt too much.

So she had known the Ritual of Endings was her duty. She would join the rest of her Tribe in the After. She welcomed the dragging sensation in her body as the potion started to slowly pull her body towards death. She began to sing her own dirge out across the waters.

Wauukalaa rode the current alongside the mottled humpback whale. Cool bubbles from her shoulder hollows trailed from her symmetrical blowholes. She used her flat palm and pounded her companion’s side in enthusiastic rhythm to his long squeaking suggestion of an impossible sexual feat between the two of them. She laughed a bubbling screech in the whalesong to let him know he had tickled her humor. She sped up in the current, scissored her legs in a rapid blur that appeared boneless down to her white toes.

He modulated a happiness back at her, BrineDaughter, how does such a small head as yours contain so much living? Surely, it confounds the eldest wit.

She admired his gray flank. And how would you know, little Twist-As-Warm? I remember your first day outside your mother’s skin. I think you’ve always been confounded and maybe that’s why you swim so crookedly. She grinned.

He blew back a laugh.

It was the Season here in these ancestral waters. They were here for mating and bringing new life to the Family. The cycle of life had come around again and she was here with some of her oldest friends to celebrate the changes in her adopted Clan.

It was also a time to remember the grief of losing her own Family so long ago. It was a dim memory that still had sharp edges, despite centuries. She rubbed her humpback friend absently and manipulated the living field between the two of them so her long pallid fingers would bind to his side while she sent her mind into the Great Current. She would ride on his physical strength while she peered into the Current.

Then move deeply into the hidden world of the—.

What?

She extended her senses, catching the slightest strains of a song of grief that was flickering in and out of the Great Current. Intrigued beyond measure, she pitched a farewell song at Twist-As-Warm and kicked away from his side to head for the coast. Some being there was singing of a loss that mirrored her own thoughts and whispered within the bare shallows of the Great Current.

Only her Father had ever spoken to her within the Current in this way.

Only the Lord of the Brine had ever shared with her in the warm hidden world of the living Current and he had been dead for nearly her entire life. Though she had to be cautious, though she had to beware the Ancients who might discover her hidden existence, still she felt drawn into the shallows. The song pulled her and led to a muddy quick-moving expanse of a nameless river.

Though she was Kinspawn, she felt some connection to the unknown being sing-whispering its grief in such a powerful way.

Kisiki lay dying by inches in the mud. The warm waters lapped at her legs and her hands still moved feebly to claw at the soft mud. It would be dark soon and Kisiki was glad for the pulsing strength in her mind as her body fell into numbness. She had lost track of her throat and physical voice, but she still sang in her head.

Then the pale white-green demon came walking up out of the water.

Kisiki squinted her numb eyelids. The thing was female and nearly a pure wet white, though the hair, nipples and lips were a faint shining green. The eyes of the demon were large in the slender face, perhaps the size of her own closed fist. The thing moved with a swaying grace that made it seem boneless as it walked into the shallow and then up into the mud.

It crouched over her and Kisiki believed it might now tear her throat out and then carry her into the After.

She had a moment of anguish thinking of the Ritual of Endings spoiled by a river monster.

Instead, the thing leaned its dripping head closer and breathed into her mouth. Kisiki smelled something of fish and spice. Then cold wet lips, the thrust of a tongue, something even stranger in her head, like a tongue; also wet and yet penetrating and stirring to the numb grief she still could not shake off. She wanted to feel horror but she was too surprised by the sensations that were so exciting, so provocative. Something moved inside her head, something wet and hot and far too strange to ignore. The cool numbness in her skin seemed to melt into heat in her face and spread down her body.

Kisiki stared into the huge eyes. There were . . . tears there in the compelling darkness, tears that swam on the liquid surface of the dark orbs and drew her concentration deeper. Shock slammed her mind and she knew that this thing was not a monster in its heart. Somehow, it was Tribe-sister lodged inside the body of a monster. Somehow it was family. It was Tribe. The heat from its breath played over her eyelids and it thrust its tongue again into her quivering mouth.

She felt revulsion, some of it for herself. She didn’t want to believe this thing was Tribe.

She was dying now and moving away from Tribe. She was deep within the Ritual of Ending. Confusion. It was wrong to perform the Ritual when Tribe remained. She had made a terrible mistake. She had killed herself and there was no reason for it. She must live.

The heat of her violation by the River Monster was so foreign that she was terrified to feel Tribe kinship with the thing.

She groaned with the dread chilling irony of it. If she could die now she wouldn’t have to decide which evil was the more powerful one, the terrible fate of wrongful death by her own hand or the repulsive nightmare of a Tribe-sister that wore a monster’s body. But she was too much a student of her grandmother; there was no real choice. She tried to wrestle the numbness away, to kick out and fight for her remaining life. She must live. The coldness was so powerful. She felt as if she were the same temperature as the river’s mud beneath her ass.

The Tribe still lived. No sacred Ending could be accepted.

Above her the woman-thing groaned in sympathy.

Wauukalaa moaned with the sadness anchored in the human. This woman had some place in the Great Current. She was somehow a link to Wauukalaa’s human family. Though her mother and that blood were dead so many long seasons, this dark girl was Clan. Deep within this one frail girl were the some of the same dancing helixes that sang within Wauukalaa.

She spoke softly to her in Egyptian. Then she tried again in the language of the Phoenicians. “What of your family? What happened to you, little dark girl?”

Nothing. The poor creature didn’t understand civilized tongues. She tried her name, “Wauukalaa.” She pointed to herself. “Wa-uu-Ka-laa.” Then she put a long finger on the girl’s breast. “You are?”

The little one’s face twitched with the numbness. “Kisiki.”

Wauukalaa nodded. She used the Current and saw the virile mind inside this human. She leaned down and fastened her lips to the dark girl’s and breathed the Current into her again. Live, dark sister. Live. I need you to tell me more of your Clan. I need to know what mystery you represent. Live, then.

Kisiki was shocked when Kala moved from trying to talk to breathing into her mouth and she felt the arousal come like the rush of a bonfire suddenly lit within her skin. She tried to scream, but the small sound she could make was swallowed in the demon girl’s mouth and scalding lips pressed to her own. She arched against the mud as dizzy beauty cascaded down through her flesh. Popping sensations danced pleasurably along her bones. She could feel the suddenness as a vivid change in direction.

She was not going to die.

Kala was bringing her back to a new life. She loved the sensations. Kala was beauty and nothing that felt so good could be evil. She forgot what a bizarre sight the river girl was. Even her notion of horror changed. The magnificence erased her memory of the girl’s strangeness. Horror was not having Tribe. Anything else didn’t matter anymore. Not color. Not size. Not shape.

Tribe was everything.

It was starkly wrong to think this was truth, when each memory of exposure to something different had always meant death or conflict. The names of various other Tribes ran through her head. Enemies, all of them. Her brain lit with the idea that if she could kiss an enemy the way she was being kissed now, that she would have no enemy when she finished. She tried to understand how she could even think of such a thing.

Kissing an enemy and making them part of her new truth.

A spark quivered hotly between her legs and danced on her sweetest spot.

Wauukalaa groaned with the taste of the dark girl. Without conscious appreciation, she felt attraction for the flesh that was so much more like her own than the creatures of her adopted family under the waves.

She lusted suddenly for the sick injured flesh of the dark one and she realized that she was warping the mind inside that flesh with her heated response. As strong as the girl was, she wasn’t prepared for the Current, wasn’t able to stand it and take it in. Some substance in the girl’s body was binding with her helixes and the Current was heating those small changes and fusing them solid.

She ought to stop but the sweetness of the dark girl’s presence, the sorrow that was so glorious—. The slight pause flashed by and she was drawn in and past the decision.

Shifting position, she sheared her lips away from the warm sweet breath. She directed the Great Current into the girl’s being while she spread her white thin legs and brushed the suckerfish from her loins and womanhood. Then she sat her hot slit down on the dark one’s face. Pushing and pulling the Current through the little human, she wished her vitality. She demanded strength of life from her.

And there was an answer within the little dark sister.

Arousal returned. Living celebration shared. A cool tongue pressed into Wauukalaa’s hot slit and they were joined instantly in a single purpose.

Live. Tribe. Family. Banish aloneness.

Kisiki was vaguely aware that it felt totally erotic in a way that she had never known, but the thought passed as she was consumed by the dance of her body, pleasure beginning to pulse through her like repeating blasts of heat from a white hot stick driven through her body, searing her brain, ripping open her thoughtless mind, the undulations guiding her, seducing her, transforming her... the heat of her loins irresistible, spreading through her like beautiful poison, calling outward through her passion-inflamed mind a dance of lust.

She wasn’t dancing with a pale monster on a bank of mud.

She danced with her Tribe-sister. Kala was a greater Tribe than the one she had known.

Kala. The Breath-Giver.

Wauukalaa nursed the girl through the night, alternately giving her life sustaining power from one searing pair of lips to another and turning then to receive blessing from mouth to sex—a cycle of life that soaked down into the dark sister’s helixes.

Kisiki grew much stronger.

As dawn began to lighten the wide river, Wauukalaa tried but was forced again to give up the notion of talk with her new sister. She just didn’t have a common tongue. The BrineDaughter hadn’t walked the land in a long time, hadn’t spoken to strangers in nearly as long.

She laid a finger on her dark sister’s breast. Better? Heal? Move now?

Kisiki frowned at the sensations that spread from that single point of contact. She sensed concern and wasn’t sure how that could be. She reached up with a hand and was glad her arm did not drag with the cool numbness this morning. She gently rubbed the pale arm. “I think I’ll be fine. I’m just tired now. The danger is past.”

Wauukalaa stared at her mouthing words. It meant nothing. She pulled at her lower lip with her fingers.

Kisiki nodded understanding, “You don’t understand me. I don’t think I can live in the river, if that is where you come from, but we are Tribe.” She shuddered inside as her old mind tried to come to grips with the strange face and form before her as her Tribe-sister.

The damp white hair swung as Wauukalaa shook her head with no idea what was being said. She slid her fingers fully across the dark breast and thumbed the nipple. Better?

Kisiki’s eyes glazed a bit with remembering the heated lust of the long night. “Yes.” She shook her head. Oh, how shameful to be played like a musical instrument! How I have changed! This Kala has made me over into a lover of women. Or perhaps even something else?

Wauukalaa smiled, exposing her elongated canines. Then she blew her warm breath in Kisiki’s face.

It dazed the dark girl immediately. When her thoughts cleared—the river girl was gone without a trace—not even the muddy bank showed her passage.

And dimly aroused to be abandoned so strangely, Kisiki turned back toward the jungle. She is not gone. She is still with me. But I want more. The Masdi will give me their blood. I will add the Masdi to Kala and start anew my Tribe. It is just. I am Kalakisiki now.

She walked into the emerald shadows of the canopy and the jungle swallowed her whole.