The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I.

Each living thing is made up of prana, the sustaining force of life. As we breathe and interact with others, our pranic energies are channeled through nadis, or conduits, that vitalize us and perpetuate the balance of the universe. As we go through our lives, we share our pranic energies with those around us. Those who share similar levels are likely to become our friends and lovers. This sharing of energy, when the balances are in synchronization, can bring on feelings of goodwill and euphoria. When we are not in synch with those around us, the mood can often become sullen or worse.

Music, drugs, and other external stimuli can help to even out the pranic flow between us, those around us, and the universe at large. In many ways, this is part of why we like to listen to our favorite CD when depressed or why we like to go dancing in groups—and the more people in a group, the more efficient the music or other stimulus is in working toward that balance.

Every so often, though, a person is born with a drastic pranic deficiency. These Pranic Dissonants must, in effect, feed off of the energies of others in an ongoing and often futile attempt to create a balance within themselves.

This affliction is more common than many would like to believe. We have all surely met someone who suffers from Pranic Dissonance—be it that guy at the party who always wants to start a fight; or that one friend in your group who is always complaining and seems to literally suck the life out of the room; or even that loner who sits at the back of the classroom without ever speaking a word.

Remember that time you had a bad day and told your friends? It felt good as they comforted you and unconsciously allowed you to revitalize by sharing their energies. But, there was that one friend—the girl who always seemed to have a bad day, the one constantly seeking sympathy for her woes. Just as you were starting to feel better, she spoke up and told a story of her own troubled life and the sympathies turned toward her, instead.

That girl—the one who must always have had a worse day than you, the one who seems to feed off of everyone’s sympathy—she’s probably a Pranic Dissonant. It’s not her fault, really—she was born with a shortage and really does feel empty without being able to feed off the positive energies of others.

Or, maybe that girl is you.

Pranic Dissonance affects everyone who suffers from it differently, and can be quite dangerous to both the afflicted and to those around him. This is especially true of those who aren’t aware of their problem since they lack the knowledge and skill to strive for a balance. Some are unconsciously greedy and will take all the energy they can get their hands on. Others will close themselves off and fester inside.

Throughout history, Pranic Dissonants have given birth to many legends such as the dreaded Succubi who come to men in their sleep and feeds off of their energies during sex—a time when Prana flows quite heavily. Over repeated exposure to a Succubus, the victim grows weary and falls into a state of depression. Pranic Dissonants will often have the same effect on people.

Vampires are another of the legendary manifestations of this ailment. One can, in fact, absorb considerable amounts of pranic energy by ingesting the blood of another—though in most cases, the act of the bite and the closeness and intimacy of the act itself channels more energy to the “vampire” than the blood itself. In modern times, those who are enlightened and aware of their affliction might choose the vampire lifestyle without the need or desire for bloodletting—especially if someone has taken them under their wing and has taught them how to focus and manage their feeding.

The best way for someone to understand this more completely (without writing a 2,000 page text on the subject, of course) is not to explain it, but to show it in action. It’s far more interesting and compelling.

Plus, in this case anyway, there’s quite a lot of hot, steamy sex involved.

II.

Jiggy’s was a gentleman’s club, though the signs outside had recently been changed to read “Adult Playground.” As Trixie Prozanno strode along the mirrored entry hall, she wondered if the new signage meant that they were now more encouraging of female patronage, or whether it was an acknowledgement of the recent expansion of the services that the place offered.

Probably both, she mused as she took the last remaining seat at the bar. Normally, she preferred a seat at the other end—closer to the door and with the view of the main room obscured by the mirrored walls of the entry hall. The place was crowded, so there was really no other choice besides taking a table out in the main room itself.

If Jiggy’s hadn’t been located in the same building where Trixie lived and if she hadn’t become such close friends with her landlord “Mamma” Kat Becker, she would likely have never ventured into the place at all. Trixie was never into drugs and didn’t drink hard liquor at all. The end-of-the-day beer or two was about the extent of her party-animal nature—and that was primarily a tool to overcome the chronic insomnia that she’d had since a child.

A beer appeared on the bar in front of Trixie even before she had a chance to ask for it. She smiled at the ultra-efficient blonde bartender named Lindy. “Thanks, hun.”

As she took a sip from the cold bottle, Trixie suddenly got the feeling that she was being watched. It was a strange sensation, like the tickling of a thousand fingers running up and down her spine. Turning slowly, she gazed out into the main room of the club.

The woman, though seated at the stage, was obviously very tall—and lean. Her hair was perfectly done and she wore a low-cut dress that sparkled silver in the blinking lights. It was the woman’s eyes that really gave Trixie the creeps; bright, almost silver, they seemed to bore a hole right through the ribs in her chest.

“Did I miss anything interesting today?”

Trixie was so caught up in the strange woman’s gaze from across the room that she barely heard the conversation starting up beside her.

“Darla got the formula fixed,” Lindy explained to the newcomer at the end of the bar. “No more comas or schizophrenia, hopefully—unless someone is stupid enough to mainline it, of course.”

Words like “coma” and “schizophrenia” are rarely used in casual conversation, and the sound of them was enough to snap Trixie free of the hypnotic gaze.

“Good,” said Mamma Kat from her position next to Trixie at the end of the bar. “Hiya Trix. Looks like we got the stuff refined now. You wanna get lucky?”

“Lucky” was the slang term used in the place by the people who did Lucid-Z, a new designer drug that was going around the city. Though she often wished that Kat would keep conversations like this out of her earshot, Trixie was at the same time thankful that the woman considered her to be enough of a friend to freely discuss what was going on. She had never had many friends at all.

As near as she could tell, Kat and several of her new gal-pals had come up with some new recipe for the stuff. She wasn’t sure of the specifics—and was assuredly afraid to ask—but they made the Lucid-Z here somehow. It was drugs and chemistry—all very confusing, and definitely not up Trixie’s alley at all.

“No thanks,” she said. “I’m just here for the nightcap.”

“Maybe next time, then.” Kat smiled, then turned her attention back to Lindy. “Have we solved the leakage problem yet?”

Lindy, ever on task, was washing dirty glasses while they spoke. “No. Darla did a molecular analysis so we know what materials will work, but we still need to build the suits.”

Kat shifted a bit uneasily, her fingers opening and closing on the top of the bar as if trying to grab onto something that simply wasn’t there. “Hey, you’re a fashion designer, right Trixie?”

Trixie nodded. “Sort of. I went to school for it, but...” She could feel the eyes on her back again. The warmth of the gaze seemed to cause a sort of vacuum that sent a chill through her. Her nipples grew hard at the odd sensation.

“Listen,” said Kat. “I’ve got to get into the VIP room for my shift right now or else I’m going to explode. Could you stop by the office tomorrow sometime? I might have some fashion design work that could interest you.”

Trixie wasn’t sure if it was the prospect of work or the eyeballs running up and down her back, but she felt a sudden thrill of excitement. “Sure. I’d love to. Around lunchtime?”

“Lunchtime, it is.” Kathryn turned and headed toward the back room of the club. Though she was easily ten or fifteen years Trixie’s senior, during the past few weeks she had taken on the appearance of someone several years younger than her. In addition, she had somewhat miraculously developed a figure that would be almost too obscene for even a pornstar.

As Trixie’s eyes followed the club owner across the room, she suddenly found that the silver eyed woman had once again entered her field of view. She took in a sharp breath at the sight of the creature. When the woman’s slender hand rose and her finger wagged a seductive “come here,” Trixie found that her soul was already halfway across the floor. All that was left was for her body to follow.

“Please, have a seat,” the woman said when Trixie’s body finally arrived beside her.

“W-Who are you?”

“Me?” smiled the silver eyed wonder. “I am your future.”

III

Trish Prozanno was a little late getting home from work. It was well after nine in the morning when she stepped into the lobby at Amatory Place.

“Dare I ask what you two are up to?” she said, looking up at the two women perched precariously atop the stepladder in the center of the lobby.

At the very top of the ladder stood Stephanie, the woman Trish had met the previous morning. A few rungs below her stood Lindy—the mildly strange girl who served as the building’s superintendent and manager. Lindy had her hands on Stephanie’s legs to provide support as the older woman was doing something with the large, ornate chandelier.

Lindy, like Stephanie, was also relatively new to the building. She’s only arrived a few weeks back—along with the rest of Kathryn Becker’s new group “friends”. Small and perky, the young blonde was little more than a work drone. That fact didn’t bother Trish in the least, but it was rather hard to get the girl to open up. Work. Work. Work. That’s all she seemed to do. People really need to kick back and have some fun once in a while.

“It’s a little thing I made,” Stephanie said in response to Trish’s enquiry. “I saw that Lindy was having a hard time dusting this thing—what with all the gold leaf and detail—so I offered to install my automatic duster.”

“Oh, well that makes perfect sense.” Trish unlocked her mailbox using her BioLink unit. It was too early for today’s mail, but Trixie rarely checked it so there was a good chance that yesterday’s was still inside. “I’ve got lots of stuff in my place that sucks to dust. How does it work?”

“An electrostatic charge is sent through the thing. The charge reverses the polarity and all the dust just sort of falls off. You trigger it every few days or so and it never needs cleaning.”

“How much?”

“Every few days.”

“No,” Trish said with a chuckle. “How much does it cost?”

Stephanie frowned as if the notion of charging for her inventions were some sort of novel concept. “I’m really not sure.”

“Well, it’s the weekend and we usually have cocktails at our place at around seven.” Trish strode past the ladder and headed toward the elevator. “Why don’t you come by for a drink, tonight? You can also check my place out and come up with an estimate—anything you can do to make cleaning easier would be great. Trixie’s rather uninspired in that area.”

“I’ll try to do that,” Stephanie smiled.

“You can drop by, too, Lindy.” Trish said as the doors to the elevator opened.

Lindy, robotic and emotionless as ever replied, “Thank you. I’ll try to fit that into my schedule.”

Upstairs, Trish’s overly tired mind fumbled a bit with her digital keys, as it were. She had had her BioLink unit for nearly a year, yet she still often found herself patting her pockets for her PDA out of habit. The weekend was here, though. A good day’s rest and a few nights of partying and she’d be as good as new by Sunday.

Inside the luxury apartment, Trish set the mail down on the table by the door—all bills that could be dealt with later. A sound from down in the living room—or sounds, really—caught her ear and Trish turned to investigate.

Stepping toward the sunken living area, her eyes grew wide. There on the sofa lay a man whom she had never seen before. He was sitting sideways with his feet up on the cushions, his head hanging back, and his cock standing straight up out of his pants. The sounds she had heard were definitely the low, gravely pants coming from this man’s slack mouth.

Even more disturbing was the sight of Trixie—normally shy and uninspired Trixie. She was kneeling between this man’s legs and gripping his manhood like a joystick. Either she was unaware of Trish’s presence or she just didn’t care. Either way, Trish’s identical twin continued stroking him with her fist as she brought her mouth down to lick the tip of his prick.

“Hot, isn’t it?”

Trish gasped at the whispered voice behind her. Before she could turn, she felt the air being sucked out of her lungs as if she’d been suddenly flung into outer space. A hand rested on her shoulder and Trish found herself unable to move. Her arms and legs grew weak and rubbery, but the ethereal iron grip wouldn’t allow her to fall to the floor.

“Who do you want to fuck more?” Zarah Wilder whispered huskily into Trish’s ear. “The man? Or your sister?”

The woman’s voice carried upon her hot breath and drifted into Trish’s ear like a flicking tongue. The question triggered a horror response within her as well, but her frozen body found that it could react to neither the terror nor the stranger’s lusty words. Unable to breathe due to the invisible hand around her throat, Trish could only issue a clenched gurgle as she failed to respond to the question.

“Probably the man, huh?” Zarah actually brushed the tiny hairs on the back of Trish’s ear with her lips as she spoke. “Something new, right? After all, you’ve been fucking your sister your whole life, haven’t you? I mean, at least on a figurative level...”

The edges of Zarah’s vision began to blur as the lack of fresh oxygen began to have its effect on her. She watched as her twin worked her mouth over the entire length of the man’s thick wet shaft. With skill that Trish would never suspect her sister to posses, Trixie lathered the nine inch shaft with the thick saliva from her throat. Low guttural moans escaped from both of the bodies on the sofa.

“You didn’t even know you were doing it to her, did you?” Trish’s frozen joints stiffened even more as she felt Zarah’s hips pressing against her ass. Zarah’s hand reached around a slid open the belt around her cotton work slacks. “In your selfishness and greed, you didn’t even notice that you were slowly but surely sucking her life clean away.”

The arousal and fear in Trish’s mind mixed with the haze as she desperately fought for air. Zarah’s fingers brushed lightly over the bottom of her tightly drawn corset—a staple of Trish’s undergarment wardrobe for several years. It made her feel sexy and, by the increased rate of Zarah’s breathing, it was obvious that this stranger found the discovery arousing, too.

“Will you look at you?” Zarah moaned, her teeth taking a little nibble of Trish’s ear. “All dressed up with no one to fuck. Can you see it yet?”

See it? See what?

Trish didn’t have time to figure it out, though. Her slacks slid down over her athletic hips as Zarah’s long fingernails traced a line down toward her silk covered pussy. The teasing was intense as she—completely unable to move or breathe—felt Zarah’s other hand gliding lightly over the curved bone of the corset still hidden beneath her blouse and blazer. With a stranger’s hips and stomach pressed against her back, hot breath in her ear, fingers gliding over her body, and an invisible hand around her throat, the entire universe was starting to mist over like a morning fog over a seaside New England village.

And then she saw it.

Just as Zarah’s fingers slipped beneath the elastic of her panties, slid slowly over her mohawk trimmed pubic area, and made their brief initial contact with the swelling lips of her cunt, the world turned inside out. Air gushed into her lungs and her brain managed to unclench itself. She probably could have moved freely at this point, as well—but in her desire to breathe and experience the sensations of Zarah’s touch, she didn’t bother. Newly oxygenated blood raced through her arteries and tingled like a limb that had gone to sleep. Her knees buckled slightly and forced the stranger’s fingers into her pussy. She made no effort to flee.

Before her, as the fog swirled out and away from the center of her vision, Trish could see the energy flowing between the strange man on the sofa and her sister who hovered over him. Vivid and colorful tendrils of energy came from every pore of his body and were eagerly absorbed by Trixie’s hungry flesh.

Looking up from her oral ministrations for the first time, Trixie smiled at her sister. “You hungry? I’ve got some breakfast sausage here for you.”

“Go,” Zarah whispered heavily.

Trish found herself stepping out of her fallen pants and walking toward the sofa. Even if she had wanted to stop, she wasn’t sure that she could. As she got closer, she could begin to see some of the hot waves of pranic energy changing course and reaching out desperately in her direction like fingers beckoning her forward.

“Have a seat,” Trixie winked, her spit drenched fist still holding the turgid cock tightly. “We need to talk.”

Trish slid the blue silk of her panties aside and hoisted a trembling leg up over the man’s hips. The strands of newly visible energy from his body finally tickled at her pores. With a sigh, she allowed Trixie to guide the saliva lubed cock head past her swollen outer lips. That sigh turned into a gasp as Trixie’s hand pulled away and Trish slid its full length into herself. Beneath her, the poor man’s body was completely limp and lifeless, but his penis throbbed and pulsed like a beacon drawing her safely into harbor.

“Feel for the balance of energy,” Trixie whimpered as she took her sister’s face into her hands and brought their noses together. “Don’t be greedy, just find that balance.”

Trish began to slowly rise and fall atop the nine inch cock. She could feel the power surging around her and, while familiar, she was experiencing it with open eyes for the very first time. With each slow, deliberate thrust she felt everything attaining a balance. Despite the immense pleasure, heightened by the fact that she could now see and understand what had been happening throughout her life, Trish somehow wanted more.

Trixie’s hands felt warm on Trish’s face as she stared at her virtual reflection just inches before her. Out of her still cloudy peripheral vision, Trish saw Zarah move and embrace her sister from behind while she rose and fell in synchronized bliss. It was the first time Trish had actually laid eyes upon the stranger and it felt good to put a face to the raw emotions she had elicited. The woman didn’t look all that powerful.

As Zarah leaned forward and nibbled lightly at Trixie’s ear. Trish found herself spiraling out of control. Her tongue lashed out instinctively and she was suddenly kissing her twin sister in a way that wasn’t sisterly at all. Tongues danced, lips opened and pressed to one another. Bodies pressed together in ways that sent sparks through the cloud of energy that engulfed the writhing foursome.

It would be several more hours before Trish learned the full truth of what was happening. She would learn that both she and her sister were born with an energy imbalance. She, unknowingly, had fed from her sister’s energy throughout their entire lives. She would be scolded for her greed and not noticing that her presence in Trixie’s life had contributed greatly to the poor girl’s constant failures and sadness.

There were many things that Trish would soon discover about herself, but the most important was that she knew and could control it—thus freeing her sister from her pranic bondage and allowing Trixie to thrive as her own person for the first time in her life. Trish would also learn that they happened to live in a building that provided the strongest source of prana that Zarah had ever encountered—due in no small part to the sex drugs being made on the building’s first floor.

There would be plenty of other people to feed upon—without sending any of their lives into a spiral of emptiness.

Right at that moment, though, Trish’s cunt continued to ride the slick cock. Her face had delicious and sinful tongue sex with her sister’s. As Trish’s cheeks and chin began to shine with saliva, she was both repulsed and delighted by the previously unknown power and confidence that Trixie was putting on display.

“Wait until you get a load of this,” Trixie wheezed as she drew Trish’s hand down into the slick wet folds between her legs.

Zarah moved around to the head of the limp man beneath them. In the back of Trish’s mind she heard the words, “Cum and then sleep.”

He came.

And like a bolt of lightning shot out of a cannon aboard a spaceship moving at the speed of light, Trish and Trixie felt the energy sear through them. Trish collapsed feeling energized and spent all at once. Trixie ran her fingers through her sweat soaked hair and smiled.

“Now. No more sucking the life out of me, got it?”

Trish nodded dumbly as the cock went limp inside her.

IV

For the first time in her life, Trixie felt good. Not just the “yeah, I guess I’ll survive another day” kind of good, but the kind of good that makes a person sing in the rain. Having been given a nightlong lesson about her existence, the solution for her lifelong depression, and some training to curb her daylong hunger, Trixie was ready to take on the world.

While Zarah continued to explain the facts of their new lives to Trish, Trixie headed down to Jiggy’s to keep her appointment with Kathryn. Last night, when the offer was first put on the table, Trixie probably could have taken or leaven the possibility to do some work in her chosen field. Today, though, things were different. True, whatever strange request that Kat might have for her wouldn’t likely launch her into the celebrity designer stratosphere—but it’d be somewhere to start.

It was nice to feel ambition.

“As you may have noticed,” Kathryn Becker began after ushering Trixie into a chair across from the desk, “there are quite a few of us who are running around this building who aren’t quite in their right minds.”

Trixie nodded. “I’d noticed. That Lucid-Z stuff seems to be pretty popular.”

“It’s a bit more than that, I’m afraid.” Kat explained. “At least when it comes to much of the staff here and a few of the girls you see helping out from time to time. Have you ever heard of StareWare?”

Trixie nodded. StareWare had been all over the news for the past several days due to some seriously harmful side effects of using the line of self-help software. Just the other morning, the company had been forced to pull its product off the market until a full investigation could be completed.

“Don’t tell me that you’ve messed yourself up using it...”

Kat shook her head and smiled. “That depends upon your perspective, I suppose. The thing is—we did get our hands on some of the software that never saw the market—and it was one of those programs that got a few of us so that we can produce the Lucid-Z.”

“What? It taught you the recipe or something?”

Another head shake from Kat. “No. Our bodies actually produce it. Yours does too, really—but in much smaller quantities—during periods of sexual arousal. Plus, we can actually reroute the flow of the chemicals so that it can be secreted through our pores and glands or excreted through various other bodily fluids.”

“You? You can you do that?”

This time, Kat nodded. “Yes, but it’s really Kristy and Allie who are making it full time. They sort of got a little carried away with their StareWare sex drive settings and so they are sort of 24 hour sexual automatons who produce the Lucid-Z. It’s extracted from them right out there in the main room and stored in tanks below for distribution.”

It all started to make a little sense. In her mind, Trixie had thought that the two girls out on the main dance floor were just some sort of erotic performance art display that catered to a strange fetish that she wasn’t aware of. Granted, Trixie’s awareness had been generally dulled over the course of her life and things today seemed much more obvious to her—but the simple beauty of hiding the drug’s production center right in front of everyone’s eyes was quite exquisite. Drugs are made in labs, not by exotic dancers hooked up to bizarre sex machines.

“The problem is that these girls,” Kat continued, “are pretty well gonzo when it comes to awareness of the world around them. They tend to get a little carried away with the constant sexual stimulation they thrive upon. During orgasms or other times when their concentration falters, they will accidentally leak the stuff out in their sweat. We’ve fine tuned the stuff so it’s not really dangerous anymore—well, no more so than any other drug—but we still don’t want to accidentally expose people to the stuff unless they chose it.”

Trixie frowned. She understood what was going on, but she couldn’t quite figure out where she was supposed to fit into the whole thing. It seemed like a biological problem, not a fashion issue.

Around then, Trixie could sense the pranic energy levels in Kathryn beginning to swell—the club owner was becoming aroused right here in the middle of the meeting! Worse still, Trixie’s unpracticed mind was having difficulty processing the sensations from the club owner’s pranic overload.

“So what we’d like you to do is to create some sort of an outfit made of latex and rubber that will capture any leakage that happens to come out from areas that aren’t hooked into the milking tubes. Obviously, it not only needs to be functional, but it should look really hot so that the customers continue to think that it’s an art display and not some sort of factory.”

After considering it for a moment, Trixie realized that it would be a fairly easy task. And, due to the profit margin of the drug, she could probably demand a pretty fair penny—both for the job and as an incentive for her continued silence on the matter. Then again, if Kat continued to get hornier and hornier—which she seemed to be doing—then there was a definite danger of her agreeing to perform the task with the simple promise of a bit of steamy girl on girl sex.

Having been unaware of it all through her whole life, Trixie had never really been affected this way before. Well, on a physical level, she probably had been. Now that her mind was aware of the energy and knew how to see it, measure it, and feed off it with focus, the mere awareness of sexual arousal in the room was enough to compound the experience. It wasn’t just the flow of energy within Kathryn, but it was the knowledge of what that energy meant that was getting Trixie all worked up.

“I’d like to continue this discussion,” Kathryn said, suddenly rising behind the desk. “But I’m afraid that I have a more pressing issue at the moment.”

“If it’s all the same to you,” Trixie rose and met Kat’s wavering gaze, “I’d like to stay and help you out.”

The sexual side effects mentioned on the news were definitely in play within Kathryn. Zarah had talked to Trixie about the high levels of energy contained in the building, as well. At first, they had both assumed that it was due to the fact that everyone was partaking in the sex drug, Lucid-Z. After hearing about Kristy and Allie—the human drug factories—Trixie had assumed that their software-inspired nymphomania was rather unique. Now, though, she was certain that there were plenty of people running around in this building with considerably altered sex drives. Kathryn was obviously one of them.

“I’m not sure you understand what you’re getting into,” Kathryn protested. “Come back in a little...”

Trixie came around the desk and placed a hand atop Kathryn’s massive breast. “No dear, it’s you who don’t know what you are getting into, I’m afraid.”