The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Vivian sat at her desk, hopelessly aware of the mound of ungraded papers in front of her. It had been a blessing not to have to teach today, but she had to grade the final exams, and all she could see were Carol’s empty eyes.

She rubbed at her eyes. Of course she hadn’t gotten much sleep. Just as she dozed off, she’d hear something that could be a vine crawling in the window, or Carol surreptitiously opening her door, and she’d sit bolt upright in bed, wide awake. Now she was so tired, she almost wished Carol had come to get her. But whatever had been done to Carol, it hadn’t driven her to come get Vivian, alone next door.

What had happened to her? That thing, that plant, it must have taken over her mind somehow. And the back of her head... Vivian shivered. She could still feel the tough cord plugged directly into Carol’s skull. She had to get a doctor to see Carol, somehow, had to have them look at her, see if any of that vine—or whatever it was—had been left behind. Was running Carol, like some sort of remote control.

But was it? Was Carol still in there? She had lied to the policeman, and acting strange... but maybe she was drugged. An after effect of whatever it had done to her while she was lying back there... She had sure been enjoying herself when it was... screwing her? While it was inside her head. Installed. Whatever the word was for having something buried in your head.

Vivian sighed, and put her head on her desk. She had stayed at school to grade papers, she told herself. Or was it that she was afraid to go home? Afraid that Carol would feed her to that thing in the back yard? God, Carol’s eyes had been so empty...

Who could she call? It wasn’t like Carol would back up her story. Carol would say she was just fine. Never better. Maybe she was just fine. Maybe it felt great to be turned into a zombie. Maybe-

“Miss Laurence?”

Vivian looked up. Two students were standing in front of her desk. Claire DaSilva and Alicia Rombaux. She had no idea how long they’d been there. They shuffled awkwardly.

“A lot of work, huh?” Alicia said.

Vivian blinked. “Yeah,” she said, “lots.” Students. When they weren’t mocking her behind her back for being uncool they thought she was infallible.

“We, um,” Alicia said, “we were wondering if we could, um, see what we got.”

Vivian looked at them blankly, then gave a tired smile. Alicia and Claire were two of her better students, but she knew they were asking because summertime allowances depended on the answer.

Alicia was a very pretty blonde with a penchant for far too much dark eye shadow and blood-red nail polish. On her toenails, too, which she had tried to get away with touching up in class once and only once. Claire was her best friend, quieter, with short brown hair and very fashionable little steel-rimmed glasses. Vivian had worried that Claire was too quiet until she had seen her in physical education class. The small girl was a compact bundle of muscle, easily out-swimming the rest of the class. She was quiet in class, sure, but she shone on the athletic field. Just went to show that you never really knew someone from just knowing them in one environment. She’d like to get to know Claire and her muscular little body a bit better...

Vivian realized she was thinking things that she shouldn’t, and refocused on the present.

“Sorry, girls, but I’ve really only just begun. I’ll take them home with me and grade them tonight and tomorrow—I should have your grades then. You can call me at home.”

“Okay,” Alicia said, and turned with just enough flounce that she couldn’t be scolded for it. Claire pushed her glasses a touch farther up her nose, said “Thank you,” and followed behind Alicia as she swept out of the room.

How Vivian would love to hold that short-haired girl down and lick her all over.

Damn. Vivian shook her head. This was why she had stopped seeing her psychiatrist. Barbara had quickly ferreted out of her that she was a lesbian, and had no problem filing that under doctor-patient confidentiality. But if anyone found out that Vivian had these fantasies about her students... She wouldn’t just be fired, she’d be run out of town dripping with tar and coughing feathers.

Vivian would have thought that the terrifying thing that had happened—was happening—to Carol would have kept those sorts of thoughts well at bay, but it was the reverse. Her libido was in overdrive. Every time she thought about how she should save Carol from whatever it was that thing had planted in her, she kept flashing back to Carol’s soaking wet body writhing in the grip of the vines. Moaning, as whatever it was slid deeper in the intimate regions behind her black panties. Groaning in pleasure.

Coming, again and again. Like Vivian never had.

With a start, Vivian snapped out of it. Gingerly, she reached under her desk. Sure enough, the front of her panties (white cotton, not at all like the sexy black things Carol had been wearing...) was damp. She may have been confused and afraid, but she was also turned on.

Being here wasn’t helping. She couldn’t stay. She had to go home.

It took only a moment to sweep the ungraded exams into a box, walk to the back of the room, and turn out the lights. It took longer to walk out the door.

There was a pickup truck parked in front of Carol’s house.

Vivian pulled into her driveway slowly. From the back of the house, a young woman in a baseball cap, ponytail pulled through the back, walked towards the truck. She was in green coveralls that matched the cap and the truck. Her coveralls and the truck shared some sort of logo as well.

Carol was following the ponytailed girl as she walked into the front yard. As Vivian slowed, then idled in the driveway, Carol stopped walking and looked over at her. Her face was expressionless.

Not so the young woman with the ponytail, who picked up a large plastic sack with a grunt, and threw it on her shoulder before turning around. She walked past Carol into the back yard. Carol kept staring at Vivian.

Tearing her eyes away, Vivian pulled into the garage.

Should she go out there? Her mind’s eye saw the ponytailed girl, last sack taken out back, tripped up and tied to the mound, shrieks cut short as whatever was back there plugged into her head, just like it had plugged into Carol’s. Then, later, a blank-eyed minion of whatever it was would walk out, get in the truck, and head out like nothing had happened.

She couldn’t let that happen. Vivian took a few deep breaths, squeezed the steering wheel, then got out of the car. She opened the side door and stepped into her thin side yard between their houses.

The woman with the ponytail was back at the truck. From here, Vivian could see that the back of the truck was empty. Carol was with her—signing something. Then, as the delivery woman tossed her clipboard into the truck, Carol handed her some money. The woman smiled broadly, thanked Carol, and drove off.

Vivian realized, even as the woman got back into the truck, she had been waiting for Carol to do something sinister. Jump the young woman, trick her into going into the thicket, something.

Not tip her.

Carol turned to walk back to the back yard, and saw Vivian. She approached.

“Hello, Vivian.”

“Hi, Carol.”

Carol smiled at her—but it was a strange smile, the mouth curling up under glassy eyes.

Neither of them said anything, then Carol broke eye contact and walked into her backyard. There were about twenty sacks there, their gaudy covers proclaiming them to be fertilizer. A plethora of brand new gardening tools lay around them. Carol bent and picked up one of the sacks. Straightening, she looked back at Vivian. Then she walked into the thicket.

Vivian bit her lip. Then she went inside.

She actually managed to start her grading, somehow. Whatever had happened to Carol, it hadn’t turned her into a slavering body-snatcher. Well, not slavering, at any rate. And Vivian had her grades due in tomorrow. She reached the bottom of the paper she was grading, and sighed.

Jesus, how could Harry Washington possibly think that the Louisiana Purchase happened after the Civil War? Vivian sighed. For that kid, being a zombie would be an improvement. She generously gave him a D to get him out of her class, and leaned back.

Twenty down, one hundred to go. She rubbed her eyes. With luck, she could get through over half of them tonight.

There was a knock at the door.

She froze.

There was another knock on the door.

Vivian got up and walked around the kitchen table. Maybe it was the policeman. She walked down the hall, crossed the family room. Maybe it was another student, wanting his or her grade. She looked through the peephole.

It was Carol.

Shit. What should she do? She looked again. Carol was just standing there. Her hands were in her pockets—did she have something? Vivian couldn’t tell. Why did she come to the front door? Carol usually just came around back. Of course, things were a little different now. Vivian looked at the doorknob.

“Vivian?” Carol asked.

Vivian’s mouth opened, then closed. Then, setting her chin, she replied. “Yes?”

“I would like to talk to you.”

“Okay,” Vivian said.

“May I please come in? I won’t hurt you.”

That’s what they all say, Vivian thought. Shit, she was being crazy. What was Carol going to do?

Overpower her, drag her out back, watch her orgasm in the mud.

“Scout’s honor,” Carol said.

Shit, why not, she decided. If she was here to “get” her, Carol wouldn’t have come to the front door. Vivian opened the door. Carol looked at her.

“May I come in?”

“Sure,” Vivian said, and stepped back. She closed the door behind Carol, who walked into the family room and sat down in her usual spot.

“Vivian,” Carol said, “you saw what happened.”

It wasn’t a statement, it was a question. Vivian sat down in the La-z-boy her brother had bought for her last Christmas.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“And now you think I want to... to get you.”

“Um... the thought had crossed my mind.”

This was crazy. Carol was at once Carol and not-Carol, her voice flat and devoid of inflection, her eyes dull. But the words were her words, spoken like the person she was. Had been. Whatever.

“Vivian, I’d like to.. like to explain.” Carol paused. “It’s still me. I’m still Carol.”

“Yeah? Then why didn’t you tell the policeman what happened? Why didn’t you report that thing and have him dig it up?”

“Because... because it’s part of me, now. When I was back there, I... joined with it. So I can’t let it be found. Not yet. People would not understand.”

“’Joined with it’ my ass,” Vivian replied. “It’s taken you over somehow.”

“It’s not like that, Vivian,” Carol said, voice flat. “It’s not. You must believe me.”

“So, what did you come over for, then? To ask me to join you?”

“No. If you want to, we would quite happy to have you. But no, that is not why I came over. I wanted to thank you for not telling anyone about us. And to reassure you that we aren’t going to,” Carol cocked her head, “’take you over somehow’,” she said, imitating Vivian’s voice. “We wanted you to know that. We don’t want you to be afraid.”

“Well, that’s very nice of you.” Vivian sighed. “Dammit, Carol, what am I supposed to do? My favorite neighbor has been taken over by something from outer space! And you’re not going to snap out of it, are you?”

Carol smiled, but it was the same movement of the face under empty eyes. “No, Viv, I’m not going to ‘snap out of it’. You must understand, I am very, very happy that this has happened to me. I like what I have become.” She paused. She had such beautiful deep blue eyes, even empty as they were now. “You don’t have to do anything.” Carol said, as she stood up. “I must go now. I have many things to do.”

Vivian stood up and trailed Carol to the door. Before closing it, her neighbor turned to look at her and said: “And Viv—I’m your only neighbor. But thanks anyways.”

Vivian watched her leave across the driveway in silence.

She woke the next day with a start. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up. She hadn’t dreamt at all—at least not that she remembered. Staying up until two grading the exams had worked its usual magic; she winced at the morning sun sneaking under the windowshade.

Her talk with Carol had both reassured and unnerved her. She held out an arm, turned it over. She certainly didn’t appear to have been taken over in the night. Of course, could you tell? Vivian thought about it. Yeah, almost certainly. Not that you’d be upset, of course—fait accompli—but you could definitely tell.

So either Carol had been telling the truth, or the critter simply wasn’t ready to enslave another person.

The clock on the bedside table read 9:25 in red, blocky letters, and Vivian stood up and stretched. One of the nice things about these houses—Vivian chuckled, distracted by the sudden thought that the thing out back almost certainly would lower her property value—was how quickly the hot water came on. A minute later, she was in the shower.

Her thoughts tumbled in kaleidoscopic profusion as she showered. She had always complained that her life was boring and dead-end, hadn’t she? Well, it was certainly exciting now. Of course, she had another third of the exams to grade before four. How odd to still need to grade exams while her next-door neighbor had just become the slave of some intergalactic plant. Shit, the soap broke.

Should she tell the authorities? I mean, yeah, on the face of it, she should. It was, frankly, obvious. And they could almost certainly do something, and since Vivian hadn’t been taken over they’d just round Carol up and burn the plant and things would go back to normal. But.

Did she really want that? How did she feel about this whole thing? It—or Carol, which seemed to be the same thing—said that Vivian was in no danger. What about other people? Could she handle Mrs. Harris from the house at the corner being enslaved? Okay, she was a bitch, but still. What about that pony-tailed delivery girl?

And how did she feel about what had happened to Carol? Sure, Carol said she was happy, but she was being told to say that. Could she be saved? Could they get whatever it was out of her head?

God, it was living in her head. Telling her what to do. Running her like some sort of puppet, only it seemed like Carol was happy to be its puppet. Of course, that’s the way to do it. Make your slaves want to be slaves and you had no worries.

Vivian realized that, no matter what Carol had said, sooner or later she’d have one of those roots plugged into her, too. A happy, glassy-eyed Vivian, helping her master to get everyone she knew.

And that thought was both frightening and attractive.

Shit, maybe she was lucky to have grading to do. She’d worry about Carol later, after she had her grades in. She and the thing she answered to weren’t going anywhere.

Vivian looked at her gardening jeans after she emerged from the shower, but decided that even if she finished early, gardening was definitely not on the agenda, so she got dressed in an old pair of blue slacks and a light blouse.

The papers were on the kitchen table where she had left them. She poured a glass of O.J. and set to work.

Sometime that afternoon, she had lunch, and returned to grading. An A here, a C there. The same distribution as usual. Two cheaters, one student she simply couldn’t give even a D to. Lots of Bs and As. Both Claire and Alicia got A minuses.

And then, at quarter past three, she was done. She rubbed between her eyes with a thumb. Time to drive back to school and hand in her grade report.

She hit the garage door button, but stopped before getting into her car. There was a strange car parked in front. At first, she wondered if it was another delivery of some sort (something for Carol’s new friend in the backyard), but no, not in a little Acura.

Then she heard the voices next door. Carol was talking to someone. Someone young. Someone-

Claire!

Vivian ran to the edge of the garage. Sure enough, Carol, in a broad-brimmed straw hat, was talking to Claire. Vivian’s student was in shorts and a tight black shirt, and was squinting behind her glasses at Carol.

With a feeling of anger—which surprised her—Vivian strode out into the sunlight. What was Claire doing here? More importantly, what was she doing talking to Carol? It was silly to think that Claire would know how dangerous Carol was, but she had to somehow get her away from Carol before... well, before anything.

“Hey, Claire!” she called, hurrying towards them.

“Hi, Miss Laurence,” Claire replied, waving. “Nice to meet you, Miss Thompson,” Vivian heard her say, then she walked across the front lawn towards Vivian.

Vivian looked at Carol, who stood there blankly staring back at her. “What were you talking to her about?” she demanded of Claire.

“Oh, she was out front when I parked,” Claire said. “Why? You don’t get along?”

Vivian blinked. “No, no, it’s just that... that she’s not home a lot.”

Claire looked blank.

“So, you came to ask about your grade?” Vivian blurted.

“Yeah,” Claire said. “How did I do?”

“You should have called.”

Claire looked puzzled. “I was passing by. What, is your house a mess?”

Vivian stopped, then chuckled, at herself as much as at Claire’s question. “No, no, my house is fine. It’s just that I might not have been home.”

“Well, like I said I was passing by. No harm done.” Claire looked into the garage. “So what’d I get?”

“You got an A.”

“Sweet! I thought I would. I really worked hard this year.”

“Yes, you and Miss Rombaux both got A’s.”

“Cool beans! Okay, I’m gonna take off then. Thanks, Miss Laurence.”

“You’re welcome, Claire.”

She watched the girl in her shorts and baby T give a little hop as she walked back across Carol’s lawn, waved back to her as she got into her Acura, and watched as she took off out of the cul-de-sac. Then she walked over to where Carol was standing, light glinting off her sunglasses.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t know what you mean. I was merely talking to the girl.”

Vivian opened her mouth, closed it. “Look, just...”

“You should calm down, Vivian. I’m not going to hurt anyone. I’m not some sort of monster. It’s me, Carol.”

Vivian looked at her, but her eyes were hidden behind the dark plastic shades. They glinted in the sun reflected from the driveway.

“Um. Well, I’ve got to turn in my grades.”

“I’ll see you later, then,” Carol said, pivoted in place, and walked back into her yard.

She made the whole trip in a tizzy. Seeing Claire there had made her realize that she couldn’t just let it happen. No matter how much it aroused her—yes, there, she admitted it, it turned her on—she couldn’t let that thing enslave innocent people. She should go to the police right now. To the CDC. To someone.

But what she did was to turn in her grades and drive home. Busy with hundreds of year-end tasks, none of the other faculty even noticed her other than to say “Hello”. None of them asked her why she seemed so distracted. None of them thought she was acting strange.

The sky had clouded over when she turned down her street.

Carol’s car was gone. Vivian stared into the open garage.

She parked her car. Not bothering to unlock the back door, Vivian quickly stole next door and stuck her head around the side of the garage wall. Sure enough, Carol’s BMW was missing. She pulled her head back.

Now was her chance—she could go back behind the house and... and what? Destroy the plant? With what?

Well, she had to see it. It was cloudy, but still daylight, and at the least Vivian could get a better idea of what she was up against. She crept down the side yard.

Shit, what if someone was borrowing the car? Carol wouldn’t normally let anyone behind the wheel of her baby, but she wasn’t exactly ‘normal’ any more. The backyard looked empty, though. There was an obvious trail into the thicket now—Carol had apparently dragged all those sacks of fertilizer back to where it was.

Vivian slowly crept down the path.

She pushed aside the overgrown azalea, and peered above the high grass in the little clearing. Nothing was visible yet—with mounting tension, she tip-toed through the weeds.

Like it could hear her.

There was a rustling at her left, and suddenly her heart was in her throat. What if it grabbed her? It hadn’t gone after her before, but it had been busy with Carol—what if it was ready to make another slave by now?

The bluejay launched itself from the bushes into the tree above, and began to scold her.

Vivian exhaled. Still, maybe she should go back. She knew, just knew, that it was running Carol like a remote control car, and she didn’t want that to happen to her.

Did she?

Torn, she lingered in the middle of the clearing. It was totally still—the creek gurgling ahead of her, little dust motes floating above the shaggy tops of the grass around her. The jay had disappeared.

She couldn’t stay here forever. Forward or back. Forward or back.

She took a step forward. Then another. She had to see. The path that Carol had made by her frequent trips back here was obvious—if anything jumped out at her, she’d have time to run away. Maybe. But she had to see it.

In the darkness under the trees, she could make out the place where it had been. Where it had held Carol down and drilled that thing into her head. Where Carol had cum, again and again, while it touched her between the legs and inside her skull. She recognized the place, but she couldn’t see the hole from here. Vivian stepped forward again, into the shadow.

Carol had been busy. Where the muddy hole in the bank had been was now a small mound of fertilizer. And, sure enough, from a hole in the top of the mound emerged dozens of vine-like strands, thick as rope, running off into the underbrush that surrounded the heap. But there was something else, something lying against the bush at the bottom of the mound.

A pod.

Vivian’s eyes widened. It was straight out of the body snatchers, a huge pod, long as a man—or a woman—but flat, like a pea pod. It was dark green, solid looking, with a network of veins standing in relief on its surface. It looked very strong, thick, vaguely like a cabbage leaf but a deep, deep green.

Vivian’s eyes followed along the thick cord from one end of the pod back up the heap to where it disappeared into the mound of fertilizer.

She couldn’t bring herself to get any closer. It didn’t appear to have noticed her, but she just stood and stared at the pod, wondering what was growing inside.

Then she heard Carol’s BMW turn off.

Panicked, Vivian turned to scurry down the path, stepped on a root, and fell.

No, not a root.

The vine writhed and twisted away from her, and Vivian, not crying out, scuttled away from it. It didn’t come after her. Sitting in the grass, she looked at the vine a few feet away. It waved a bit, then settled back to the ground.

It had been behind her. It could have grabbed her at any time. Even if it hadn’t known she was there, and she didn’t believe that, it certainly could have grabbed her when she—stupid, stupid—stepped on it. Why didn’t it?

Hearing a door slam, Vivian lurched to her feet. Carol! Quickly, quietly, she snuck back down the path. She reached the back yard, and peered around the honeysuckle.

Carol was in the yard, looking at her.

“Hello, Vivian,” Carol said.

Vivian licked her lips. Carol just stared at her. Slowly, Vivian stepped out of the brush out onto the grass.

“Hi, Carol.”

“What do you think of it?”

“Um. It’s... very impressive.”

“Yes. It is.”

“Can I... can I go?”

The old Carol would have laughed. The new Carol merely said “Of course.”

Tense, Vivian walked past Carol, half expecting to be grabbed. Nothing happened. God, she was being parano-

“Vivian?”

Vivian stopped, turned slowly. “Yes?”

“I know very little about gardening. It needs nourishment. You are an expert gardener. Would you,” Carol paused, “would you advise me?”

Vivian’s eyes widened. “Um. Advise you?”

“Yes. I wish to know how to help it grow.”

Vivian closed her eyes. Then she laughed. This was too much. She had to re-evaluate this whole situation, it appeared. Shit, what did she know? It had grabbed Carol, yes. Done something to her to turn her—no, she didn’t know that. She was acting like a zombie, but only sort of. Maybe it was some sort of telepathy, and Carol wasn’t a zombie but instead some sort of ally. Maybe.

She had to see the back of Carol’s head. That would tell her.

Carol was looking at her patiently, blankly.

“Sure, Carol,” Vivian said. “I’ll advise you.”

“Thank you, Vivian,” Carol replied, and gestured. “Come inside.”

Vivian sat at the counter. Carol poured some iced tea, and handed her a glass. The ice cubes clinked.

“Well,” Vivian finally said, “you’ve fertilized it wrong.”

“Tell me,” Carol replied.

“You should spread the fertilizer out. Mounding it up doesn’t help any. And why did you pick that sort of fertilizer?”

“The person at the hardware store recommended it.”

“Yeah, for general use. But you are trying to grow something specific. Even if you don’t know what it’s, er, needs are, you should consider the soil and the light conditions.”

Carol was just looking at her, but Vivian could tell that behind those glassy eyes every word was being recorded. In Carol’s world, gardening was now very important.

Illogically flattered, Vivian continued.

“For what we have in our backyards, you’ll want to get something with zinc in it...”

At some point, she stopped. Her glass was empty.

Carol just looked at her. She looked back.

Then Carol’s mouth moved. “Thank you, Vivian. Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome, Carol,” Vivian replied.

Another awkward pause. Vivian was almost getting used to them.

“Would you be willing to help me? Give me directions? Show me where to put things?”

“You mean, out there?”

“Yes.”

The rabbit hole led deeper. She could say no. She could. She probably should. But what she blurted out was “Yes. But only if you’ll let me look at your head.”

She expected Carol to look confused, or angry, but what she should have expected was what happened. Carol just looked blankly at her.

Then she said “Okay. You may look at my head.”

Vivian swallowed. “Really?”

“Yes.”

She stood up, the stood grating back over the tile floor. Carol just looked at her.

“Now?”

“If you like.”

Carol’s gaze remained fixed on the spot where Vivian was, as Vivian walked around to where Carol stood next to the kitchen island. Gingerly, she touched Carol’s black hair. Carol didn’t move at all. Vivian thought about that night, trying to pick up Carol, that thin, tough vine plugged into the back of her head. She knew right where it was.

Slowly, Vivian lifted Carol’s hair with both hands, pulling it away from the center, looking for a hole, a dent in her smooth skull.

Instead, there was an amber colored patch.

Vivian’s brows knotted. Dead center in the back of her head, exactly where Vivian had felt the root plugged into her head, Carol had a small glossy circle. Vivian ran a finger over it—it was smooth, hard, and slightly warm . It looked almost exactly like amber.

Tree sap.

It was amber.

It had sealed her head back up. It had poked a hole in her skull, and when it was done it sealed it with tree sap, which had hardened into this half-dollar sized patch.

Slowly, Vivian let Carol’s hair swing back to cover it.

Well, she certainly hadn’t imagined the events of that evening.

“You will help me with my gardening?” Carol suddenly asked.

Of course, now the question was: had it sealed up the hole from the outside?

Or the inside?

Vivian swallowed. Slowly, Carol turned her head to face Vivian.

“Yeah,” Vivian breathed. “Yeah, I will.”