The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Presently...

Pandora Olympiakis studied herself gravely in the mirror for a few moments, then suddenly made a hideous face at herself, squinting her eyes almost shut, twisting her mouth and sticking out her tongue. The face in the mirror duplicated her effort and she had to giggle in spite of her irritation; it really had been a goofy face, even on her already goofy face.

I hate you, Dorrie O, she thought with typical teenage gloom. Seventeen years old, and you look fourteen—a scrawny underfed fourteen. She leaned back from the mirror and took stock of herself with a frown, a regular habit despite the misery it typically caused.

Her long gleaming black hair was pulled back from her face into a silky-smooth ponytail that reached the middle of her back. Her face was elfin, heart-shaped, with a small straight nose, wide expressive dark eyes and high, well-defined cheekbones. Her dark lashes and eyes were the best part of her face, she thought, and that was sad because they were usually obscured behind glasses. Being a generally rational girl she acknowledged that some day those eyes might be her most outstanding feature, and she had determined long ago to have laser surgery as soon as she was on her own and could afford it.

With a slight scowl she contemplated the rest of her body—her worst feature, she thought morosely. She was wearing a tank top and running shorts, her typical around-the-house garb. The tank top hung straight from the fine bones of her shoulders to the waistband of her shorts with only the slightest curvature to indicate her breasts. Her hips were only just beginning to show a feminine curve and her butt was virtually flat inside the green nylon shorts. Her legs were long and coltish, and she was certain her knees would be knobby like this forever. She did appreciate the smooth, slightly dusky skin she had inherited from her mother and her unknown father, and her bare feet were petite and finely-shaped, but otherwise she felt her mouth was too wide, her boobs were too small and she would look like a fourteen-year-old nerd girl forever. Aggravated, she made another nasty face at herself.

A wave of dizziness swept over her and her head suddenly spun. Swaying, she grabbed the edges of the sink, squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head with force, whipping her long ponytail back and forth. After a moment the disorientation passed and she peered at herself in the mirror, anxious that this might mean the onset of some mysterious brain ailment.

After a few moments spent in apprehensive examination of her reflection she decided that she hadn’t suddenly had a stroke or something and that her face didn’t look any different. Then she frowned—or did it? Were her lips a bit more full, a bit more red, than they had been? And her boobs—were they actually a bit bigger than they had been a second ago?

She was instantly angry with herself. Sure, Dorrie O, she thought, with vicious sarcasm. Your fairy godmother was listening in and read your thoughts and is going to turn you from an ugly duckling into a beautiful princess just in time for next week’s prom. She stuck her tongue out again at the girl in the mirror. She was saved from further study of her self-perceived ugliness by the sound of her mother’s voice from the kitchen announcing dinner. Quickly she splashed water on her face, toweled off and dashed out of the bathroom.

She never noticed that her reflection remained after she turned away, a finger on its chin and a tiny smile of satisfaction curling those slightly more full, subtly redder lips.

Myriam Olympiakis finished serving salad into her daughter’s bowl just as Dorrie came into the kitchen and slid into her seat. As she sat down herself, Myriam glanced at Pandora quickly, knowing that she had been in the bathroom again “taking stock,” as she called it. Her heart lifted slightly as she saw Dorrie’s face—Oh, good, she thought warmly. It looks like she might finally be taking my advice and trying some makeup—although I didn’t know I had that shade of lipstick. She looks so cute with a little makeup on. Then she was buttering Italian bread and passing it to the teenager across the table.

Their conversation was warm and comfortable, mostly about their activities of the day. It wasn’t until the spaghetti, bread and salad were all gone that she poured herself a second glass of wine (Dorrie was allowed only one and only with dinner) and asked with seeming nonchalance, “So, have you decided if you’re going to the prom next week, sweetie?” A knowing smile twitched at the corners of her mouth and Dorrie was instantly on her guard.

“Umm, no one’s really asked me, Mom. Besides it’s way too late to get a dress, and anyhow what kind of a dress could a toothpick like me wear?” Dorrie kept her eyes down on the remains of her dinner, thankful that she was not the blushing type.

Her mother wasn’t prepared to let her off the hook so easily, though. “C’mon, hon, I know someone has to have asked you by now. Surely you’re not thinking of not going?” Myriam did indeed know that someone had asked her daughter, but didn’t want Dorrie to think she’d been set up.

Unfortunately, she had forgotten that Dorrie was a sharp child. Dorrie’s eyes snapped and she glared at her mother. “You didn’t. No way, there’s no way you —” The look on Myriam’s expressive face, with its large eyes and generous, mobile mouth, betrayed the truth and Dorrie exploded. “MOTHER! You set me up, didn’t you. How—Oh. You know Jason’s mom from the store, don’t you. GOD! I can’t believe you did that, Mom! Sure Jason’s nice and everything, but now we’re both being used by our parents to relive their school years or some twisted thing. How—how demeaning, how, belittling! Jase and I barely know each other, but I thought—and then when he asked he was so nervous and almost miserable, I should’ve figured—Oh, now I know I’m not going! GOD!” Her rage was almost a living thing, and Myriam was a little taken aback in the face of it.

The older woman’s voice was soft, almost meek. “C’mon honey, it won’t be that bad, I’m sure. You are too old to not have more friends, and Jason’s a good boy, a nice boy, and he’s nice looking. Please, pet, just think about it. I know he’s already asked you and I know you said maybe. If it’s the dress you’re worried about, please don’t. Aunt Rachel told me she could get a beautiful dress at a really good price that would make you absolutely—”

Pandora’s sharp voice cut her off. “Enough, mother, just enough! Look, I’m babysitting for the Prestons tonight so I can’t talk to Jason till tomorrow, but you can bet I’m going to talk to him about this—this manipulation! If he’s like me he won’t want anything to do with this joke either!” She shoved back from the table, gave mother one last dagger-like glare, then stormed off to her room to change for her babysitting job.

Myriam sat there in the suddenly silent kitchen and felt a lump in her throat. When did she grow up? She thought sadly. As she stood and began clearing the table, the thought strayed through her head that her daughter was actually sexy when she was angry, and she felt sorry for the boys when Pandora finally came into her own.

Pandora was in a fury and was barely aware of changing into jeans and a tee shirt before storming out of the house for the walk to her job for the evening. She was still seething over her mother’s betrayal when she arrived at the home of Dr. and Mrs. Willis Preston about 20 minutes later. She put her best face on until after they left, and managed to cool down enough to play with 4-year old Nicky and 6-year old Lizbet until their bedtime at 7:30. Then, by herself in front of the television, her anger and hurt bubbled up again. Tears sprang to her eyes and something welled up inside her until the dam burst and she buried her face in a pillow, sobbing. Her life was so pitiful that her mother, once her best friend, was now conspiring with the mother of the school’s smartest boy to set up them up on a date. It was absurd and pathetic, and she wanted to die right then and there.

It certainly didn’t help that she’d had a crush on Jason Duryea since the seventh grade, when he’d still been a shy, somewhat nerdy boy. Since then, he’d grown into a quietly confident and even handsome young man with dark brown hair and sharp gray eyes, who had shown a surprising knack for basketball and soccer despite his bookish preferences. Although not precisely ‘Mr. Popularity’ in the school, he had his share of admirers and had stunned Dorrie when he asked her to go to the prom with him. Now she knew the reason behind the request and was crushed—mostly because it hadn’t been genuine interest in her that had sparked it but Jason doing something his mother had asked him to do out of charity for poor skinny Dorrie Olympiakis.

Her face was still buried in the pillow when she finally wept herself into a fitful doze.

“Pandora.” The voice was soft, warm, and seemed to bring her from somewhere far away. She blinked, looking slowly around, and realized she was sitting on the edge of the Prestons’ sofa, ankles primly crossed and hands clasped in her lap. She also realized she had no memory of awakening or sitting up, but was not upset by the knowledge. In the back of her mind a common-sense voice whispered dryly, Well, this is the kind of dream you get when you cry yourself to sleep, dummy.

She turned her head slowly, dreamily, and took in the Prestons’ comfortable living room. An odd light filled the center of the room where she sat, leaving all the corners strangely dark. Three people—two women and a man—sat in the chairs englobed along with the sofa by the sourceless radiance. They studied her intently, but she felt no fear; indeed, she felt nothing beyond a mild curiosity as to what was going to happen next in this strange vision.

“Pandora, look at me.” Now that she had been told to, she turned her attention toward the speaker, one of the women, and fixed her gaze on the figure sitting in an overstuffed armchair across from the sofa.

She wore a simple gray blouse and black skirt outfit that was at once sensible and sexy. The blouse was open halfway to her navel, revealing that she wore no bra, and the skirt ended well above her knees, revealing long, silky legs ending in dainty feet clad in roman sandals. Her face was aristocratic but not arrogant, with high cheekbones, a proud nose and clear gray eyes that were now gazing steadily into Pandora’s own. A cascade of gleaming, silken black ringlets tumbled down her back and over one shoulder. Her hair...so much like mine..., she thought distantly.

“Hello, Pandora.” She smiled affectionately. “You have turned out well, my child, very well indeed. We are very pleased with you. Now it is time for you to fulfill your destiny, Pandora. Tonight we will give you the tools to begin the task you were born for.”

Pandora didn’t frown—she couldn’t—but she was puzzled. “Please, who are you? What do you mean, the ‘task I was born for’? What destiny?” The questions were churning inside her brain but her voice was soft, vague, and she felt enveloped by fog with none of the urgency in her head coming out.”

“Ssshh, my sister, all will be made clear.” This voice belonged to the other woman and Dorrie turned her head toward her now, oh so slowly.

She was the embodiment of sex, Pandora thought immediately in that place where her brain was still working. She had the same black hair and gray eyes as the woman seated before the teen. The resemblance pretty much ended there. She stood next to the other woman’s chair, clad in the absolute briefest of hot pants made of some shimmery fabric that seemed to change color as light played across it. Above the tight waistband was a perfect, slightly round belly with a beautifully formed navel, which in turn sat below a truly amazing pair of breasts barely encased inside a crop-top tee shirt on which were printed in petite, almost dainty letters “I’m The Goddess—Gotta Fuck Me”. Below the short shorts her legs seemed to go on forever, neither too thin nor too flabby. Her feet were clad in a pair of old-fashioned low-rise hook-and-button boots in rich gray leather. The heels were at least four inches high and capped in silver filigree. Her skin was a creamy light golden hue, not really tan but not white either. Her face was astonishing in its beauty, framed by glistening black hair that was stacked on her head in an elaborate style that left tendrils trailing enticingly down to frame her face. Jealousy burned dimly in Dorrie as she took in the whole package. In that tiny still-aware corner of her voice, Pandora growled and thought I want... without finishing the thought. She simply wanted what this woman had—all of it.

Now this vision smiled down at the mesmerized teen, beautiful lips parted in a warm smile. “Yes, Pandora, you are indeed our sister, and our child, and you shall be our salvation as well, soon. Do not fear us, but welcome us.”

The sole male in the room now called Dorrie’s attention to him by clearing his throat. As she swiveled her gazed toward him he rose from his chair and moved toward the sofa.

He was a large, imposing man with a clear family resemblance to the two women. He was clad in very tight black jeans that revealed the powerful solidity of his legs—and, the teen noted in muted wonder—the substantial package with which he had been endowed. Around his trim hips was a belt bearing a holstered pistol of some sort. His shirt was also black, apparently made of silk, and open to his navel to reveal a broad, strong chest covered with dark curly hair. The hair on his head was thick, long and wavy, and as black as the women’s, and my own, thought Dorrie, curiosity beginning to burn away some of the fog of this dream. Curiosity, and the beginnings of a tingle between her legs.

The man spoke, his voice deep but not threatening. “Pandora, we know of the stories your mother told you regarding your father. While she believes them to be true, they were merely images and memories constructed by us and given to her to mask the reality of your conception and birth.”

The seated woman spoke next. “In truth, dear sister, our father is yours as well. Your mother was chosen to be the vessel to bring to this world the being who would be the new bridge between our world and that of mortals. You, Pandora of Olympus, are that bridge.” Her keen eyes were steady on Pandora’s face as she let this sink in.

“My mother...a vessel? ‘Of Olympus’? your...world? Who are you? Who is my father?” Her voice was still distant, almost unemotional, but the need to know was beginning to burn in her, as well as other needs she wouldn’t yet acknowledge.

The vision in hotpants crossed the carpet now, to kneel in front of Dorrie, who was given an unrestricted view of the awesome cleavage revealed by the slutty tee shirt the woman wore. “Yes, Pandora, you are of Olympus—the Olympus. We are your siblings, Aphrodite—" She placed a perfect hand on her bosom; “Ares—" The man nodded gravely; “and our wise sister, Athena.”

Dorrie blinked owlishly, trying to absorb the information pouring at her. “Then my father is...is...”

Athena rose gracefully to her feet and stepped to Aphrodite’s side, resting a hand on her sister’s head. Ares moved to the Love Goddess’s other side, and all three gazed at Pandora unwaveringly as Athena spoke in a soft voice. “Your father, child, is Zeus, Father of the Gods, Master of the Lightning, and Ruler of Olympus.” She knelt next to Aphrodite. Ares was only a beat behind her in kneeling as well. Pandora looked at them side by side on their knees at her feet, and felt a sensation of...rightness...sweep over her. People belonged at her feet, something inside her whispered enticingly. People should worship her. She was a daughter of Olympus, a child of Zeus—it was her due.

“Soon, Pandora of Olympus,” Aphrodite breathed in a sensuous, whispering voice that drove into the teenager’s brain. “Soon, you will become the portal, the gate by which the power of the Olympians will return to the plane of mortals.”

Athena’s voice, while still more calm and reasonable than her sister’s, still had an edge of dark excitement to it. “Yes, child, it’s true. We have come to you in the world of your dreams because we cannot yet walk the Earth as we once did. But you, you will open the door that has been barred to us when your power is unleashed, your fire ignited.”

Ares eyes were shining and his growing excitement was evident both in his voice and in the bulge growing in his jeans. “Pandora of Olympus, we have come to you to unlock those gifts bestowed on you by our father before your birth, gifts that will bring to the Realm of Men the New Age of Olympus.” He passed a hand in a wide sweep over her entire body, and her clothing faded away as if woven of mist. Naked, she felt no chill, yet her nipples were bullet-hard and gooseflesh on her arms and legs betrayed the rising arousal she felt inside.

Aphrodite slid her lush and luscious body, suddenly as naked as Dorrie’s, up the teen’s trembling form until their breasts were pressed tightly together and they were face-to-face, eye-to-eye...lip-to-lip. Her voice trembled with lust as she breathed soft words. “Let my key, my gift, open the first of your locks.” She closed her eyes and pressed her beautiful mouth against the girl’s unresisting lips.

An explosion of sensation swept across Pandora’s body, every nerve-ending responding in joyous unison to the contact of those otherworldly, perfect lips on hers. Her head swam and she let out a small involuntary squeak of ecstasy. Her virgin pussy spasmed as though penetrated by the perfect cock and her back arched with the intensity of the first real orgasm she had ever experienced.

It seemed an eternity—and also but a moment—as her body subsided from the crest of that powerful wave. She knew instantly that something was vastly different and was hesitant to open her eyes. After an unknown space of time, though, she did, and looked once more at the three figures kneeling before her.

Her body had changed. Where before she had been almost flat-chested, her breasts now swelled gloriously from her ribs, beautiful, perfect round with just the right, natural amount of sag to them to assure her they were her own flesh. The nipples were large and placed neatly in perfect, round aureolae. Her skin was now the same creamy golden hue that Aphrodite possessed, even and flawless and sooo smooth to the touch. She could see the ends of her hair, still ravens-wing black, silky and gleaming, but it now sported a curl that she instinctively knew she could enhance or mute at will. Her belly was smooth as well, slightly round and perfect, with a jewel of a belly button centered above the neat ‘v’ that led to her exquisitely formed pussy. Her legs were now long, smooth columns of perfection that ended in dainty, perfect feet begging for worship. She ran perfectly tapered fingertips briefly over her face and knew that, while she still looked like Pandora Olympiakis, her face was now Pandora Olympiakis without flaw or blemish, perfect and beautiful in contour and dimension. She also knew without seeing that her once-dark brown eyes were now a clear, sharp gray, like those of the beings kneeling before her.

“The gift of God-like Beauty, from the Goddess of Love,” Aphrodite intoned, breathless herself from the feedback she’d received from her half-sister. Her eyes were shining, and she licked her lips and chuckled throatily. “It is also the gift of perfect attraction, dearest sister. None shall be able to resist you—man or woman—if you will it otherwise.”

Now Athena, also naked, rose up, her breasts high and conical and clearly indicative of her stimulated state. She brought her face close to Pandora’s and whispered, “Now for my gift, dear sweet sister.” Her mouth moved over the girl’s newly perfect, lush red lips and their eyes closed as the sensations roared through them.

Pandora was rocked by another orgasm, as powerful as the first but different. Once again her back arched, thrusting her now perfect breasts out, and she keened deep in her throat as she came in a huge eruption that blanked out her senses. Now, though, in addition to the orgasmic energy that coursed through her she felt an explosion of light in her mind, a roaring sound like a titanic waterfall as sheer knowledge thundered into her newly opened and expanded mind.

She gasped as she opened her eyes again, then a beautiful, beatific smile came to her. “My brother, my sisters...It’s all true, and all so wonderful.”

Athena’s smile was as satiated as Aphrodite’s. “The gift, little sister, of God-like Knowledge. It is also the gift of perfect control over the faculties of your mind, which includes the ability to know and manipulate the minds and perceptions of others.” Her eyes twinkled with pleasure at the sight of her new sister’s awakening. “As well, of course, as the wisdom to employ the gifts carefully. Mortals are so fragile, you know.”

Pandora’s laugh was a rippling wave of delight. “I do know!” She turned her clear gray-eyed gaze to her brother god. “Please,” she murmured, her voice a sensual purr. “Please, Ares, reveal to me your gift, that I may begin my task and return our father to his rightful place.” She opened her arms and her legs and beckoned her brother to her, eager to accept her destiny.

In answer, Ares rose and, moving with a deliberation almost ceremonial, began to unzip the black jeans he still wore. “Pandora, my sister, I may not impart my gift to you that way now, may not take you as you wish me to.” He pulled his huge erection—purple-headed, throbbing and powerful—from his fly. “You will receive my gift though, and someday you will receive me as you wish to now.” As the naked goddesses moved from Pandora’s feet, he carefully straddled her, placing a knee on either side of her hips. Understanding her role, the teenager-turned-goddess closed her eyes and parted her lips, accepting the head and shaft of the God of War’s cock easily into her warm and willing mouth.

Although until now Pandora had never even seen an actual penis, she took Ares’ shaft easily, sliding it along her hot, mobile tongue until she felt it touch the back of her throat. She knew with certainty that this ease was part of Aphrodite’s gift, and opened her eyes to look up into Ares’ face to see if he was appreciating her newfound skill.

Ares was more than appreciating it. His face was slack with pleasure, eyes closed and mouth open, and it took all the will he possessed—the will of a god—not to thrust deeply into her perfect oral depths and blast her throat with his hot seed. He moved his hips slowly, trying to prolong the moment, but he knew he would not be able to withstand the onslaught of ultimate ecstasy that was roaring toward his brain from his cock.

For her part, Pandora was reveling in the sensation of a man’s cock thrust deep into her throat. She felt as though she could suck on it forever, expertly working her tongue, cheek and throat muscles to induce a mind-bending orgasm in her brother. She felt a joy welling up in her, that she had a destiny no mortal could ever comprehend, a glorious and shining destiny that would bring forth a new age upon the Earth. Capriciously, she moved her tongue under Ares’ shaft in a way that she knew would result in an explosive orgasm.

She was right, of course. The god’s eyes flew open in an expression almost of shock, then with a single, surprised “Oh!” he thrust his hips spasmodically forward until his shaft was buried to the hilt in his newfound sister’s willing mouth. Then he bellowed as he came in an explosion of hot cum jetting down Pandora’s eager throat. It seemed as if he was pouring his entire being down her warm and fervent gullet.

Pandora also came again, her mind blanking in a sparkling riot of color as her orgasm blasted through her body. It seemed that she could now cum with only the slightest stimulus, including the pleasure of her partner, and she did so with abandon. It was several moments before she could breathe or even see clearly. Ares slumped to the floor, quivering with aftershocks, and Aphrodite and Athena held him in their arms, sharing warmth and sensation and watching their new sister come into her own.

When she finally did regain her senses, Pandora looked at the three before her, still in a daze. She felt no different, really, than before Ares had exploded in her waiting mouth. Ares, recovered somewhat, looked at her with a shaky smile and said bluntly, “You will be dangerous to mortals, sister mine.” He saw the quizzical expression on her face and grinned. “The gift of the Sword, from the God of War. Look closely upon yourself, Pandora of Olympus.”

She looked down her body, past her perfect breasts and perfect belly, then gasped. There, where her perfect pussy had been, now sprouted a huge erection, thick shafted, thickly veined, and crowned with a perfect, circumcised purple head. As she gazed in wonder at it, it throbbed slightly, and she felt it, and knew that this was as much a part of her as her fingers and toes.

“Now think on it for but a moment, child.” Athena’s voice was soft, affectionate. “Merely will it to be so and it will be gone.”

And indeed it was. With a thought, Pandora sent it away, watching it shrink neatly back until it was once again inside her, hidden inside the neat, moist folds of her still-virgin, nearly hairless pussy.

Ares grinned again. “It is also the gift of fertility, sister. You are now fully capable both as woman and as man, and are able to impregnate—or not—as you choose.” His grin was broad and lewd. “None will be able to resist you, Pandora of Olympus, regardless of their preferences. And none will want to, after they have had a taste of you.”

Slowly, the trio of old gods rose to their feet, once again clad without seeming transition in the garments she had first seen them wearing. She was once again clothed as well but her clothes no longer fit her as they had before she had fallen asleep.

Despite her newfound store of knowledge she was still a bit puzzled. “If this all a dream, how will all of this —” With a wave she indicated her new appearance and the other gifts—“How will all of this be there when I wake up?”

Athena and Aphrodite looked at each other and smiled. Ares, like any big brother through the ages, grinned and said “Maybe it won’t, little sister, maybe it won’t. Maybe you have to earn it, before all of it comes true.” Athena snorted and slapped his brawny arm.

“Ares, you are ever the brute!” She turned shining eyes to the new hope of Olympus, so recently an average teenage girl, now a goddess. “This manifestation was merely our reaching across the divide and touching trigger points in your mind that were in place at your conception, dear sister. This has all indeed been a dream,” her smile widened to a grin. “An enjoyable one for us and I hope for you. But the changes were physical and permanent. You are new-made, Pandora of Olympus, and a goddess.” Her gaze was soft, as were lips when she put them on the girl’s cheek in a tender kiss. “You are well-made, as well, and will not fail us. I know this in my heart.”

Aphrodite too leaned in and kissed her other cheek, her musky scent stirring erotic visions in Pandora’s mind, but her kiss was sisterly and affectionate rather than lustful. “As I too know it, Dorrie dear. I know too that you will know the paths you must take and the choices you must make in order to return Olympus to its rightful place. Trust your instincts, sister, and know that we are ever-watchful over you.”

Ares kissed the top of her head, one large scarred hand resting on her shoulder. Then he pulled back and with another grin said, “And I know, Pandora, that—slip of a girl though you appear—there is the steel of Olympus in your spine and the blood of Zeus in your veins. These will be your weapons amongst these feckless mortals, and I eagerly await the results of your campaign.”

Her grin back at him was as feral as his had been. “Brother, they won’t know what hit ‘em.” They chuckled together, and the two older goddesses looked at one another as if to say, “Oh my, what have we wrought?”

Then Athena was drawing Aphrodite and Ares back into the shadowy corner of the room, and bidding Pandora to awaken, “for your time is nigh, and the world and Olympus await.”

With one last “goodbye” she watched them fade into the darkness and smiled, filled with a new sensation—the sensation of family. Yes, with her new insight she realized and remembered that the gods of Olympus were a contentious, squabbling lot, as fond of fighting among themselves as overseeing the lot of the mortals of Earth. Despite that, for the first time she felt a part of a larger purpose and knew that the gods had literally created her for this moment. That bothered her not at all. In fact she couldn’t wait to get started. She let her consciousness seep back into normal sleep, eager to awaken and begin her task.