The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I.

As the afternoon turned to evening, Trixie Prozanno contemplated what she had learned over the course of the day. Aside from the fact that she was a creature driven by a hunger most so-called experts would have labeled “paranormal,” there was a lot she had only started to come to grips with and understand.

Was she a vampire? A succubus? Or something else completely? Was it wise to follow the models outlined by thousands of years of literature and mythology? Or was it better to, as Zarah Wilder had put it, figure out who you are by examining your own experiences and acting accordingly and with responsibility?

These, of course, were questions. That’s not what Trixie was interested in contemplating, right then. As she sat at the glass dining table and worked on her sketches for the outfits she’d been commissioned to design, she finally got her mind back on track. What did she know?

First off, Trixie had learned that her identical twin sister wasn’t a particularly good kisser, despite her air of wordily experience. Much as in life, Trish’s kisses were hungry, greedy—they took pleasure and gave little in return. Throughout her life, Trixie had been victim to her sister’s hunger and untrained feeding. Whether it was a matter of the strength of her unconscious will or something else, she would maybe never know. She did know that it would never happen to her again—and she would never do to someone else what Trish had done to her.

She assumed that the lack of any real close friends in her life had been mainly due to her lack of skill and awareness of her problem. Rather than being aware of her hunger, she had spent her life just randomly and unconsciously grabbing energy from wherever she could find it. Those who were drained of energy felt depressed and sad. After a time they must surely have realized that every time Trixie was around, these feelings were more prominent. Who would want to be friends with someone who was literally sucking the life out of them?

She knew that her imbalance of pranic energies made it so that she needed to feed off of others three to four times a day—whether she wanted to or not. It could be done by absorbing the energies of anyone or even from a group of people who were in the vicinity. It was far more satisfying, though, if those people happened to be sexually aroused while she fed—and the hunger stayed away for a longer period of time.

Trixie had learned that if she was careful about the greater balance, that she could feed just enough so that she could be sated without drastically affecting anyone around her—at least not over the short term.

Having spoken with Kathryn at length about the StareWare software used to enhance their abilities and sexuality, Trixie also now knew that she could easily pair up with any one of them and develop a sort of symbiotic relationship. The StareWare girls all fell victim to uncontrolled bouts of horniness—often at times that were simply inconvenient. If Trixie happened to be around when one of the spells occurred, she could feed off that energy and sate her appetite. For the StareWare girl or the Lucid-Z user, Trixie’s feeding had the effect of bringing her back down toward “normalcy” rather than down into a depression or worse.

And finally, though she hadn’t had a chance to try it out, yet—Trixie had the power to control people’s minds in the same way that Zarah had controlled Trish’s earlier that day. If she ignored the universal balance and sucked out a person’s energy and held it close, that person’s will would temporarily evaporate and she could easily manipulate them to do just about anything. It wasn’t something that she planned to use on anyone, but it was comforting to know that the power was there—just in case.

But now, as a knock came upon the door to the apartment, Trixie knew that there were other things to be done. It was Friday and it was Girls’ Night at the Prozanno’s.

II

In the grand scheme of things, no one’s plans had been completely derailed. Kathryn Becker wasn’t so far gone into her StareWare induced state of hyper-arousal that she wasn’t aware that things weren’t necessarily going to right to plan.

On her part, the agenda was quite simple—have fun, make sure that everyone else is having fun, and have some more fun. She was quite happy that Darla—who happened to be one of the original programmers for the software which runs BioLink units—had managed to tweak the code in the Lucid-Z production software. In its early production days—just last week, actually—the stuff had packed too much of a punch. An overdose could often bring on schizophrenia, psychosis, and even put someone into a coma. With the latest adjustments, it was really no more dangerous than marijuana—and packed a heck of a stronger punch.

Not that Kathryn needed drugs to get high—not anymore. In her day, she was pretty wild and would try just about any recreational drug and combine that with just about any sexual position or combination imaginable. Since she had started her daily regimen of StareWare programming, she’d managed to shave a few decades off of her age, increase her bra-size by several cups, and spent almost all day in a state of sexual bliss.

That afternoon, though, Kathryn had come to some realizations about her current position in life. It had started with a meeting with Trixie Prozanno—a tenant who had lived at Amatory Place since just after Kat had first bought the building. Over the years, they had developed a moderately friendly relationship but beyond the brief discussions when Trixie came down to the club for her nightly drink or two, there was never much else between them.

Today’s events had changed all of that. During their meeting, Kat had started to have one of her so-called spells. True, if she had tried to fight it off, she probably could have kept her attention focused long enough to finish the meeting. But it really wasn’t part of her nature to fight against her inner desires. It was so much more delightful to just give into them so long as no one got hurt.

Kat had suggested that she and Trixie continue their meeting at another time. Sure, it would have been easy to trip the switch in her mind, produce a few ounces of Lucid-Z laced sweat, and turn Trixie into her temporary sex toy for the duration of the drug’s effect. Kat wasn’t a “pusher” though. Of course, she was more than happy to provide visual stimulus in the form of exotic dancers, physical stimulus in the form of the “special” girls who worked in the back room, and even drugs to help with that extra tug to get over the hill—but those were only for the people who really wanted it. She would never force her lifestyle upon others.

Trixie had never seemed outwardly happy before today. She had always seemed content to visit the bar and have a few cocktails. She would talk to the girls and some of the customers, but she never showed any interest in the sexual aspects of the place. It seemed that, to Trixie, Jiggy’s was just a bar where she could come and get a few drinks and hang out before bed. She never freaked out about anything she saw and, over the years, Kathryn had even gotten to the point where she was comfortable sharing the details of some of the “darker” things that went on at the club. Still, the girl had been accepting of the things she saw and heard, but had never shown any interest in any of them for herself.

She was different, today, though. As Kat’s software-induced lust began to boil over, Trixie had declined the request to leave. When Kat opened the fly of her shiny vinyl pants and slid her hand down into her crotch, the normally detached girl got up and came around the desk. She crouched down behind the chair and wrapped her arms around Kat, fingers tracing circles around her straining nipples.

“It’s okay,” Trixie whispered, her lips gently brushing against Kathryn’s ear as she spoke. “You’re really going to like this.”

While her arousal was still on the build, it felt to Kat as if a breeze had started in the room and was gently blowing straight at her face and back toward Trixie’s crouched form behind her. Each time she inhaled, the ethereal breeze grew stronger. Within a matter of seconds, Kat had both hands shoved into her pants and Trixie’s hands were kneading her tremendous StareWare-enhanced breasts roughly.

Suddenly, Trixie swiveled the desk chair around and straddled the frantically writhing Kat. She grabbed the club owner’s face tightly and stared right into Kat’s soul. Looking up at the creature from within the daze of her arousal, Kat could see her own essence dancing around in her golden, swirling eyes. Her cheeks flushed and felt as if she were outside on a blustery winter day—the heat of her flesh stinging in the blistering cold.

Then there it was—Nirvana. The mystical winds froze and hung between the two women like two magnets held a slight distance apart. The pull was strong, but the resistance was sweet. Beyond the scope of the desk chair and the two bodies holding fast in close proximity, there was nothing but blackness sprinkled with flashes of light so rare and beautiful that their colors had yet to be given names. Kat’s orgasm started in her cunt, lunged upward like a train and shot out of her chest. It all ended up somewhere inside of Trixie.

Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Kat wouldn’t know how much time had passed until much later. It took forever to build and explode, yet somehow it just didn’t last long enough. Frustration at the thought that the feelings were beginning to wane danced with the already present ecstasy. Like the firm grasp of a seasoned bondage mistress, it spun Kat’s soul around and slung her headlong back into it all.

This time, the orgasm didn’t begin anywhere—it began everywhere and was everything.

When Kathryn normally found release from her unnatural lust—usually under the skilled ministrations of her favorite lover Marti Velasquez—things always seemed to be clear for a while. It was during these times when Kat got her best work done and could go back over her previous decisions to make sure that they made sense outside of the lusty haze that she normally worked within.

This time, though, Kat’s moment of clarity was an was stronger and lasted so much longer. She could see everything this time and she knew that her previous post coital periods might not have been so clear at all. And so, after a bit of cuddling and recovering, Kat had finished up her meeting with Trixie and spent the rest of the afternoon assessing her situation.

There were definitely a lot of opposing agendas going around. Jenna Carlisle’s, of course, was the dominant one. In her fucked up mind, she had the vision of programming the whole city, the whole country, and eventually the whole world—turning each and every person into some lust driven creature. And, for some obscene reason—no one seemed to think that that was a bad idea at all.

Kristy Reynolds certainly had her own agenda—though hers was only for herself. Though she’d always put on a happy face over the years that she had worked for Kat, she knew that poor Kristy had always wanted to escape from it all—to get away and forget the personally degrading things she did with her body just to stay alive. Kat had always enjoyed the business, but Kristy had merely dealt with it. So, given the opportunity, Kristy had merely advanced her escapist agenda by pushing deeper and turning herself into a mindless fuck-slut.

And Kristy’s agenda had been capitalized upon by Jenna. Unaware of anything but the constant pleasure, Kristy probably didn’t even know that she was now nothing more than a living piece of a giant chemistry set.

The other piece of the living drug lab—or rather, the modern erotic art sculpture—was different, though. Allie had done it to herself by choice. Granted, she might not have been of sound mind and body when she had made that choice for herself, one out of two ain’t bad. Kat had suspected that Allie had had some sort of psychotic break due to repeated overdoses of the then-dangerous Lucid-Z. Still, at least a part of the girl had made the conscious choice.

Additionally, Allie and her partner Karen—who was now happily working the back room in her own StareWare and drug induced daze—presented another set of problems altogether. It was a problem that affected Jenna’s nefarious plans and Kathryn’s more “do whatever you want” take on it with equal impact. Those women were once undercover narcotics officers. With their failure, it was a sure sign that others would follow in an attempt to bring down their budding empire, yet again. Something would need to be done to put a stop to the raids—and they obviously couldn’t keep dosing entire SWAT teams with Lucid-Z and dumping them back out into the streets to fight off their new addictions—that was just too cruel.

There was Lindy to consider, as well. Though she had a strange sort of Master/Slave relationship with Jenna—one that Lindy had asked for of her own free will—Kat also knew that Jenna had added a bit of programming that would eventually cause the young blonde girl to seek freedom from those obligations. It was already starting to become obvious that her programming was working since she took more and more initiative each day.

True, the girl showed no signs of becoming any less organized and efficient at the tasks given to her—and those levels of efficiency were quite remarkable in and of themselves. Regardless of any programming that the StareWare had done to her, Lindy was robotic and determined in her desire to serve. Still, the girl’s loyalty to Jenna was fading each day and there was always a chance that she would eventually decide that she no longer enjoyed her position as “service drone” for the building and for the sexual needs of the StareWare afflicted members of the group.

And finally, there was still the question of Drew McGreggor. On the surface, the young woman who was working with Jenna on improving the StareWare’s effectiveness seemed to be in with the program. To Kathryn, though, there had always been something that bothered her about Drew. More so in recent days, there seemed to be a dark side of her that had the potential to be even more evil than Jenna’s plans for the world. True, it could have all been something Kat imagined in her Swiss Cheesed mind, but she wasn’t about to let her guard down. At least Drew’s best friend Darla seemed to be assimilating herself into the group nicely.

By the time the afternoon had progressed toward its end, Kathryn had fairly well managed to cover all of the ground she had wanted to think through. The several hours of clarity had been a nice break and a good chance to assess everything. For a while, though, she was scared that whatever had happened between Trixie and her had totally negated the effects of the StareWare. She worried that she’d need to start all over again.

Thankfully though, the heat in her cunt and at the core of her imagination was starting to come back on its own. She had formulated a good plan for the coming weeks and had carefully written in all down so it wouldn’t get lost in the haze. It was time to draw the lines in the sand. It was time to regroup and fortify.

And, of course, it was time for Friday Night Cocktails at the Prozanno’s. Maybe someone there would be interested in helping Kat take care of that itch down there between her legs. Maybe an old friend—maybe someone new. It didn’t matter so long as they possessed some sort of body part that could sufficiently stimulate the ever yearning folds of her pussy.

III

The Amatory Place building was originally a hotel for business travelers back before the Great Depression. The upper floors were mainly luxury suites with full amenities for long term guests. The lower three residential floors were smaller efficiency units for those on shorter stays. As such, the lower floors were little more than large rooms with an attached kitchenette area.

The obvious downside to this arrangement, at least in the mind of Stephanie Twooley, was that this meant that she had to share lavatory facilities with everyone else on her floor. Thankfully, though, Kathryn (and now Lindy) had taken this into consideration when renting out units in the place. The fourth floor was rented only to couples—with the women using the facilities at one end of the hall and men using the ones at the other. The third floor was for men only, and the second floor, where Stephanie now lived, was for women. Thus, the facilities closest to Steph’s apartment were really only shared amongst half of the floor’s tenants.

This resident conscious arrangement gave Stephanie the confidence to go to and from the restroom in nothing more than her bathrobe. True, there were no rules against male visitors on the floor, but the girls had devised a clever signaling system to help alert each other. If the handle of the fire extinguisher pointed toward the stairs, all was clear and there was no danger of a man catching sight of a less than appropriately dressed resident. If it pointed the other way, it might be a good idea to toss on a pair of pants.

Unless, of course, it didn’t matter to you—which seemed to be the case with a few of the girls on this floor. Tonight, though, the handle pointed at the stairs.

“Did you get everything arranged in there, yet?” Lindy asked from her standing perch atop a low stepladder. Her blonde hair was tied up in a neat bun and she wore a short denim coverall dress with a skirt that barely hung below the bottom of her crotch.

“Yes, Lindy. I managed to get everything crammed in there,” Stephanie smiled. “There are still a few things running akimbo, but I’ll manage somehow.”

“Thank you again for the wonderful things you’ve given us for the building. And thanks for taking time out of your day to help me install them.” Lindy said, her legs shifting slightly at what appeared to be some sort of arousal she felt at the thought of Stephanie’s gadgets.

She finished refitting the glass dome over the hallway light and stepped down from her perch. “Are there any problems with your place which require my attention?”

Most people probably wouldn’t have noticed, but to Stephanie it was quite obvious. She found herself marveling at the young repair woman as she picked up the step ladder and moved to a position beneath the next ceiling light. Lindy’s movements were so exact—she exerted the perfect amount of energy to lift the short ladder to her hip and adjust her weight to precisely even out to her new center of gravity. Her gait as she walked was an exact balance of stride length and physical exertion. Nothing was wasted—neither time nor energy—as this young woman performed her task at hand.

“Everything seems to be fine so far,” Stephanie said as Lindy seemed to float effortlessly to the top of the ladder. “Are you going to be stopping by for cocktails at the Prozanno’s when you’re done?”

Lindy gazed down, her hands working blindly yet maintaining that remarkable precision that Stephanie found so impressive. “I have to see if my Jenna needs anything from me tonight. If not, I might stop by—especially if you have some new piece of equipment to share.”

Stephanie smiled. Lindy shared her passion for tools of efficiency, but she wondered if she might also enjoy some of the less practical pieces of work she had secreted away from her overbearing ex-husband over the years. Her collection of homemade sexual appliances was not only impressive and creative, but it had probably been one of the key factors to her being able to keep her sanity over the past few decades.

“I’ve got an automatic vegetable peeler that you might like,” Stephanie said. In her mind, it was peeling a cold, gigantic cucumber, be she assumed that in Stephanie’s mind it was probably peeling onions. “I’m not sure you’d have much use for that, though.”

“You never know when you might need a fresh peeled zucchini,” Lindy winked. Maybe she did share a similar secret sexuality as Stephanie. True, Steph definitely didn’t have any lesbian tendencies, but it was still nice to be able to share sexual innuendo with someone. It was liberating and was something she’d never been able to do with Richard. Wham. Bam. Sleep. Never so much as a thank you.

As she started to walk away still marveling at the level of efficiency with which Lindy performed, a thought struck Stephanie and she turned just before entering the bathroom.

“Lindy?”

“Yes, Steph?”

“These lights you are changing—they aren’t blown out, yet.”

Lindy nodded. “No, they aren’t. But they are rated for 300 hours and they’ve been burning for 298, now. They’re due to go any time, now, and it’s easier just to do them all at once.”

Stephanie shivered in delight at the efficient perfection of Lindy’s response.

A few minutes later in the shower, Stephanie luxuriated in her first lesbian fantasy. Fifteen minutes after that, she was quietly going through her clothes and picking out the perfect outfit. Nothing too sexy, but something cute, flirty and fun.

After all, it was going to be her first night “out with the girls” in over eighteen years.

IV.

“These are really good,” said Kathryn with a pink lemonade and tequila in one hand and one of Trixie’s sketches in the other. “I love the way the outfit and the equipment all sort of work together as a single unit. Very hot.”

Stephanie, some distance away on the living room sofa perked up slightly when she heard Kat’s observation. She grabbed her own drink and started toward the dining room trying desperately not to look overly interested. “Do you mind if I take a look?”

Trixie chuckled. “I’m not sure this kind of fashion is really your thing, but feel free to have a gander.”

Though nothing more than a crude pencil sketch with a few splashes of color, the drawing painted a perverse picture of lust and sexual hunger. A woman sat atop some sort of half barrel type contraption. She was completely covered from head to toe in a perfectly tailored latex outfit that seemed as much a piece of clothing as it was an extension of the skin on device between the woman’s legs. Her massive breasts—the size of basketballs if one could imagine a chest that large—jutted straight out from her perfectly chiseled torso. Over each exposed nipple was a hose or tube of some sort that seemed to be some sort of milking device. In the sketch, the tubes splayed out like wildly waving tentacles. Straps around the woman’s neck, waist, and legs were attached to some sort of spring looking device—something that appeared to Stephanie to be designed to keep the poor thing from collapsing at the pleasure that this mummified woman was obviously experiencing.

Since she had yet to venture down into Jiggy’s on the first floor of the building, Stephanie had no way of knowing that much of the imagery in this sketch was already realized—with actual writhing women, real tubes and mechanical phalluses working in perfect unison. Had she been aware of that little fact, her response might have been more drastic than what actually came out.

Gulp.

“Well then,” Kat grinned. “Maybe it is her thing.”

The three women were so engrossed in the sketches that they didn’t even notice that Trish, Zarah, and Lindy had gathered together on the sofa. Lindy, being flanked by the other two, let her head roll back as they ran their fingers lightly over her chest and the exposed flesh of her stomach.

“You like gadgetry, right? You’re an inventor, of sorts?” asked Trish.

Steph’s eyes grew wide. Sure, she loved gadgets and mechanical doodads that made life easier. And she certainly liked making use of her secret collection of inventions. But this—this exquisite masterpiece wasn’t a mere gadget. It was a perfect blend of human and machine all wrapped up in a slick rubber shell. This thing was in a league of its own.

“Um. Yeah. I like gadgets.”

“Let’s just say, for fun,” Trixie explained. “that the person in there was sweating a lot.”

Gulp. Sweat. A lot of of it.

“And let’s say that, for some reason, that sweat had some sort of value to it.”

Gulp. Yeah. It was some sort of sexual ambrosia that Stephanie suddenly wanted to taste.

“Would there be some way to make something that could reclaim that sweat and maybe funnel it into those tubes coming out of her chest? Purely from a hypothetical and practical standpoint, obviously.”

Gasp. Yeah. Or maybe funnel it onto Stephanie’s tongue where she could taste the salty, sweet confection.

No one, not even Stephanie would ever be certain as to the cause of her arousal at that moment. Was it her secret sexual lust for sexual machines, robotic devices, and biomechanical hybrids? Or was it the invisible pranic disturbance that swirled outward from the three sexually engaged girls on the sofa some twenty feet away? The answer probably didn’t matter anyway.

“Um—yeah. I suppose I could come up with something that would do that...” Stephanie’s legs shifted uneasily in her cute little skirt. Beads of sweat were forming along the admirable amount of cleavage that her button down blouse and lace bra had created. “Is this for real? Or just a little fantasy game you guys play?”

Before Trixie or Kat could answer, a scream rang out from the sunken living room. Stephanie turned and saw it, her jaw hanging low, her eyelids unnaturally high. Trish, on her knees in front of the sofa, had her head rammed up Lindy’s short skirt and her face buried deep in her crotch. Zarah ran her almost unnaturally long tongue over the blonde girls ear while a hand reached under the shirt to play with her perky little tits.

“Erm...” said Kat. “You kinda need to get used to that sort of thing. It happens a lot around here.”