The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Dom fell back into realspace, to find his wives consoling Tiffany.

“...not even my real name! My name’s Lorraine!”

Correction—Dom found his wives consoling Lorraine. Zoey squeezed her tight, pressed the terrified woman’s head to her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Lorraine. It’s gonna be ok. I promise we’re gonna fix it. It’s kind of our thing.”

Lorraine sniffled, returned the hug. She looked up, eyes full of hope. “You’ve done this before?”

There was a polite cough from Lola. “Not this specific scenario. Not as such. But we’re well prepared! Zoey is a martial artist, Dave’s a crazy super-hacker, and Master is a powerful wizard… apparently.” She turned to Dom, who mouthed ‘wizard?’ Lola only put her hands up in an ‘I don’t know!’.

“This is crazy!” Lorraine stood up and started pacing the room. “I just wanted a part time job! Norman had passed and the kids were all out of state, I was going nuts alone in the house. ‘Why not go down to work in the Caribbean for a year?’ I thought. “What could it hurt? And then suddenly I’m strapped into this ride, and it feels like my brain’s in a vice and—holy shit, look at me!”

Lorraine stared at herself in the bathroom mirror in shock. “Oh my god, I’m a fox!” She squeezed her breasts experimentally, then turned to look at her backside. “Look at this ass—my ass has never looked this good in my life!”

Dave blushed fiercely and turned to his laptop. “Um, Lorraine, you mentioned your late husband—my condolences—and grown children. …How old are you?”

She patted her new ass in the mirror. “I’ll be seventy-one on Christmas Day.”

Everyone exchanged a look as Dave typed. “Well, according to payroll, Tiffany Scott is 23 years old.” He poked around for a few seconds, then groaned. “Jesus Christ—look at this, Lola!”

He turned the screen to face her and after a moment she scoffed. “Fucking amateurs…”

“What?” Zoey asked it first, but everyone turned with the same question.

Dave cleared his throat. “Tiffany Scott, age 23. Partner, Norman Scott, age 75, deceased. Children, Norman Jr, age 50, Bridget, age 48. They didn’t even try!”

Lorraine slumped into a chair. “How can they do this?”

“Well, Ms Scott, the answer to that question is complex.” Violet adjusted her glasses with her shoulder. “It begins with the concept of the dimensional curve. You see…”

“I meant morally,” Lorraine interrupted.

“Oh, that’s simple.” Violet shrugged. “They’re assholes.”

Dom nodded. “Unbelievable assholes.”

They shared their room service with Lorraine, Lola graciously giving up an entire slice of cheesecake, and the woman’s fear and wonder gave way to confusion as Dom unpacked the current situation.

“Merch?” Zoey was intrigued. “What kind of merch?”

“He didn’t say. Their equivalent of t-shirts and pins I assume.”

“I don’t exactly need a t-shirt,” Lola interjected, “but I’d still like some of that merch—or a cut of the cash. Can we hire a ninth dimension IP lawyer?”

“Probably pointless, Mistress. Our minds likely cannot comprehend their terrifying apparel.”

Lola rolled her eyes. “Yes, Violet, trenchant insight. Thank you very much.”

Violet stuck out her tongue. “I’m permitted to make jokes, on occasion.”

Lorraine put up her hand. “I’m sorry, who or what is Margot? Margot is a person?”

“Yes,” said Dom.

“No,” said Dave.

“Kinda?” said Lola.

“They’re very nice,” said Zoey.

“It’s complex,” said Violet.

Lorraine rubbed her temples. “This is too big, too crazy. I need to get some rest—I’m heading back to my apartment.”

Dom pointed his sandwich at her. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. It might not be safe. Sorry. Dave, can she bunk with you?”

“Um… yeah, sure.” Dave nodded awkwardly and started packing up. “I can sleep on the foldout couch.”

“I’m sorry to be a bother.” Lorraine gave Dave a peck on the cheek. “Thank you, young man.”

He smiled, blushing. “Technically, you’re younger than me now—but anytime.”

The Vasquez family lay in the bed, watched a movie and talked. It was their coping mechanism when things got weird. Slowly they drifted off to sleep—Zoey first, as Wilford Brimley ran his simulation, then Violet after the blood testing scene. Dom and Lola stayed up to the end, half watching and half reminiscing about high school days.

“What happened to Billy anyway? Didn’t you two have a thing?”

“Billy!?” Lola was incredulous. “Billy was super gay. I used to cover for him when he went out with his boyfriend. Haven’t seen him in years—might live in Chicago or something?”

“Lola, did I ever tell you you’re the coolest person I know?” Dom ran a hand along her cheek. “That was a very sweet thing to do.”

She gave him a flirty look and traced a finger down his chest. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Master.” Her hand drifted farther down.

Dom’s expression was pleased but incredulous. “Really? Now? After all this business today? With some interdimensional asshole nipping at our heels?”

“Yes. Now.” Lola’s face grew serious. “I won’t let the evil, selfish pricks of the dimensional curve steal our happiness. We’re not their toys. I’m gonna fuck you—here and now—to stick a finger in their fucking eye.”

“Sex as an act of resistance. I think Bakunin would approve.” Dom nodded approvingly and moved a hand to her breast. “I love you, Mrs. Vasquez.”

Lola pushed him down on his back. “Don’t you forget it, Master.”

Dominick jerked a thumb at the sleeping women, inquiring.

“If they wake up, they wake up. But for right now, I intend to serve only you.”

Lola pulled down Dom’s boxers with authority, spent a minute stroking and sucking, then climbed on top. She stared him dead in the eyes as she lowered herself onto his cock, then kissed him as she bottomed out. They made love gently, quietly, trying not to wake the others—but neither of them could totally silence the moans and gasps. They breathed in time as Lola rode, kissing and smiling, giggling and whispering dirty talk to each other.

As Lola tangled her fingers into Dom’s chest hair, pumping fast, pleasing her Master, she felt a hand on her thigh. She glanced to her right, into the sleepy eyes of Zoey. She smiled at Lola, looking over the situation, then mouthed ‘love you’ to her beautiful wife before rolling over.

Dominick came a handful of heartbeats later, and Lola shuddered uncontrollably as her own orgasm ripped through her. She crumpled onto his chest, listening to his racing heart.

“I love you, Mrs Vasquez,” he repeated with ragged breath. They cleaned up and fell asleep in each others’ arms.