The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Hi all. This is my first web published erotica, and writing it was quite hard (in more ways than one!) since I had to go up against a lot of internal resistance (I come from a very sex-negative background.)

So please be gentle...though not too gentle. :)

This was not originally the story I had planned to write—I had quite a few others in mind. But I guess I ended up writing this one first, for various reasons. It was also highly experimental for me because I tend to be ultra-perfectionistic and revise and edit things far too often for my own good. I’ve tried NOT to do it with this work. I hope it comes out ok!

Many thanks to Fool’s Page for the idea of elfsluts, and the late, great Jack L. Chalker for getting me into this whole growth and transformation thing.

* * *

The Princess Transformed

Daphnia, princess of Erecia, stared at rage at the usurper to the throne. Rampillion, the Crimson Mage, stared back, a smirk crossing his cruel features. They had been facing off for minutes now, casting spell after spell at each other in a desperate battle of wills and magecraft. And though she hated to admit it, Daphnia knew she was losing.

No one had expected the overthrow of the ruling family. Rampillion had worked himself up through the ranks of the mages slowly but surely, exhibiting not only uncommon skill but a powerful intellect and great charisma. Behind the mask of the devoted and well-mannered student had lurked the mind of a madman. He had started as a mere neophyte but the moment was right, he struck with a coup d’etat that seized power from the throne in a matter of days. Before they knew it the royal family had been cast out from the castle, sent to heavens knows where, and she was almost taken captive herself. Only her own defensive spells had alerted her to what was going on.

She was too late to prevent the coup but not too late to fight back against the self-styled Crimson Mage. She mustered all her magical strength in a last-ditch effort to overcome his spell barriers, but it was no use. With a wave of his hand and another damnable smile, he sent the bolt of power she had loosed away. And then before she could erect her own defenses, he retaliated.

A cocoon of bright red energy flared from his fingertips and gathered around her. Daphnia gasped as she felt pinpricks of energy race through her body. A mage of no small stature herself, she knew how much power Rampillion must have channeled in order to make such a working. He was more powerful than she had given him credit for...but all thoughts soon left her mind as the spell began to take effect.

The first thing she was aware of were the bodily changes. She could sense but not see her ears lengthen and point upwards, and her hair, normally a mousy brown, turned golden and lengthened to the small of her back. Her skin darkened to a metallic sheen, and her feet grew small and dainty.

She collapsed to the floor as the spell continued to do its work. Daphnia had never really given thought to the size of her breasts before...they had always just been there, modest endowments on her small frame. But now, they surged outwards from her chest, swelling into twin protuberances easily the size of the melons she saw in the marketplace. Her hips flared outwards, and her bottom became full and rounded. Her entire body was being reshaped...reshaped into something else.

She knew what was happening to her even as she denied the reality of it—she was being transformed into an elfslut.

The creation of an elfslut was forbidden magic, and she had only ever even read of it once, when she was transcribing scrolls as part of her apprenticeship. No one knew who created the spells, where they came from, or why they had been designed in the first place. But exist they did, and when cast, they turned the victim into a hypersexed version of the elves of old, possessing curves and proportions that no normal woman would ever have.

But her mind...her mind remained untouched. She supposed that he must have adapted or modified the casting in order achieve that effect. She was still herself, with all her memories, her personality, her identity, but with an entirely changed body that looked nothing like what she was before. That was a cruel game of his—to entrap the last resisting member of the royal family in the form of an elfslut but the mind of a mage.

As the spell finished its work, her eyes became heavy-lidded with sleep, and she stared at the Crimson Mage in hatred as lethargy stole over her. The last thing she heard before succumbing to oblivion was the mage’s cackle in her ears.

* * *

When Daphnia came to, she was chained to the wall of the castle dungeon. She spent a long, restless night there, unable to do anything but shake herself about helplessly.

All that studying, that education, the struggle for perfection it the casting of spells...all useless now, it seemed. Doubt and frustration raced through her. What would happen to her now? Where was the rest of the royal family? What would happen to her kingdom? The princess of her kingdom, now reduced to a mere plaything.

With her new senses, everything seemed different. The cold metal of the shackles was more real, and she could somehow smell the stillness of the air as well as feel it. Side effects of the spell, she supposed. She could still sense the mana flow, but she could do nothing about it—another of the Crimson Mage’s devices. The newly transformed princess shook in ineffectual rage as she imagined him laughing that demented cackle again.

But what was the worse was the desire that she felt. It welled up in her loins like a living thing, tempting and tormenting her. She wanted sex. She needed sex. Sex of any kind—men, women, it didn’t matter. Visions of fornication danced in her head, making it spin. She writhed and twisted in her shackles, trying and failing to scratch an itch that would not be quelled. Daphnia the princess had no time for carnal activities of any sort, but Daphnia the elfslut could think of nothing but it.

When the morning came and her cell door was unlocked, she was panting heavily, her ponderous tits heaving. Then someone entered.

A man...who was he? A soldier of the kingdom, or her jailer, or even one of the kitchen staff...she didn’t know and it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was going to fuck her.

Without preamble, the man seized her wide hips plunged himself into her in a quick motion. She barely had time to moan in pleasure before he locked his lips to hers. They rocked together in unison for a while until with a grunt, her the man came deep inside her.

The afterglow was like a drug. Daphnia was no stranger to induced trances—they were necessary for her magical practice—but this was something else entirely. Her whole world seemed flooded with a haze of ecstasy, her body quivering in bliss. She lay in that euphoric state for what seemed like minutes, warm cum dribbling from her slit. It felt good! Like nothiing else mattered except that unending pleasure.

So it was no surprise that she didn’t notice the man leaving, nor was she aware of the several others that came in minutes later until they stood around her, grinning, erect cocks in hand. She supposed that she must have come here because they knew who she was...the ex-princess of Erecia. Or maybe they didn’t know and all they saw was a curvaceous, willing slut.

She didn’t think to ask because soon, her mouth was too occupied with sucking rigid penis after penis, feeling them swell in climax and deposit load after load of cum onto her tongue and down her throat. Those who were not fucking her mouth chose her other hole instead. Man after man took her roughly from behind, and she squealed in rapture all the way.

Hours later, they left her on the floor of the cell, huge breasts caked with semen, sweat-stained and well and truly fucked. She panted as she gazed at the ceiling, too tired to even move. The itch had finally left but she knew it would return. That was how the spell worked, after all.

* * *

That was to be her life from then on. The next morning, she was led stumbling out the cell into the bright morning sun, and then from there on to her new duties—which basically involved her fucking whoever wanted her.

No one seemed to know who she was, or care. The pennants of her family had been taken down and replaced with the standard of the Crimson Mage. It was like her entire lineage had never existed.

And no could anyone tell that the pretty curvy thing that was available for anyone had once been the princess of the land? She caught a glimpse of herself in a well once, en route to another fucking, and couldn’t help but gasp—her face had changed as well, with almond-shaped deep golden eyes and high cheekbones. She had always thought her nose a bit too large but now it was small and pert, her lips full and plush. All that combined with her prodigious chest and other curves made it hard for anyone to resist her.

Her daily schedule involved being taken by anyone and everyone. She serviced the kitchen boys, the house wardens, the stablehands and the random soldier or traveler that passed by. Gender was no barrier—men and women both found her overdeveloped form equally desirable. Each night she was brought back to her cell, where she would try and fail to forget the indignities of the day, often ending with her hands between her legs. The itch was furious and her thirst never seemed to be slaked.

She wanted more. She could barely admit it to herself but one man (or woman) alone was not enough. Though she tried to block it out, the memories of that first night in the cell kept coming back to her. She yearned to be the centerpiece of the orgy once more, where rough male hands would caress her overdeveloped body and penetrate her restless orifices. She tried to keep the desires at bay with calming thoughts and meditative practices, but everything she had learnt in her apprenticeship was nothing against the tide of elvish desire.

She wanted it...oh how she wanted it. Her whole body sighed and groaned with need, to be penetrated and taken. She caressed her overfull breasts, her stiff nipples and her leaking slit the entire night, but it was never enough. No matter how much sex she had during the day, the nights were the worst. Time seemed to drag on as she tried and failed to satisfy herself.

Then the day came when she got her wish.

She was called to the barracks one day. When she got there, a soldier on duty motioned to the other end of the room and what lay there.

It was...a raping bench. A simple enough construction of wood and metal, where sluts like her could be locked in while the soldiers had their way with her. She looked at it with equal trepidation and desire. She knew what was going to happen to her, and she wanted it as much as she hated it.

She tried as best as she could to act normal, but her nether orifices were raging with the heat of an inferno. Finally, she was going to get some. She walked over to the stocks, acutely aware of male gazes across the room follow the swaying of her full buttocks, curved hips and massive breasts. By the time she had reached the stocks and they had been fastened around her, Daphnia was almost delirious with desire.

She came the moment the first man entered her. It had been a long time in building—the last day had been a busy one for the castle folk and so her services were not required. She had spent a long and sleepless night masturbating helplessly and cursing Rampillion’s name, and so when the first shaft entered her hungry slit, it was like water to a drowning man. The raping bench kept her thrashing to the minimum, so her flailing limbs didn’t hurt her or her partners as one orgasm after another rocked her sex-starved body.

It felt so good to just let loose, to succumb to the desires rushing through her body. There were no troops to command, no responsibiities, no duties...just plain desire. Elfsluts had to do nothing—could do nothing—except engage in carnal activities with wanton abandon. Here, her hands and legs restrained and her insides being plundered repeatedly, the oversexed nymph who was once the Princess Daphnia felt free for the first time in her life.

She moaned and squealed in pleasure as man after man mated with her. Some used her hips as handholds, some her oversized breasts. The first time a rough mouth seized a turgid nipple she thought she might faint. They had grown along with her breasts, sticking out from the colossal mounds like rivets, with aurolae the size of tea saucers. Another man came to stand in front of her, and she took his shaft eagerly into her mouth, licking and sucking it until it deposited a creamy load down her gullet.

This was no gentle joining of souls and bodies. This was raw, animalistic sex of the most furious and debased variety. She spread her legs even wider, amazed at her wantoness. She wanted to be taken harder, deeper, until that damnable itch had been scratched into extinction.

The men obliged. As the orgy wore on, they unlocked her from the stocks, and then flipped her over and took her in even conceivable position—on her back, over the chairs in the room, behind, like an animal, and standing up. A particularly enterprising soldier even took into his head to place his member between her huge breasts and use them for his pleasure—Daphnia complied eagerly by licking the head of his shaft as it popped out from between the massive mounds until, with a groan, the man came all over them.

The ex-princess lost count of how long she had spent on the rack, or how many men had had their way with her. Time seemed to lose all meaning, becoming instead endless rounds of pleasure. So much cum was shot into her warm slit that it began to ooze out from her, dripping onto the cold stone floor in puddles of white goo.

Finally, the orgy came to an end, the men leaving her worn and tired body on the cold stone floor. Every inch of her voluptuous from was spattered with semen, and as she got up shakily to begin the long walk back to her cell, she blushed in shame at the steady flow of juices down her legs—not all male either.

The princess cursed her new body, the spell that made her, the Crimson Mage Rampillion, and cruel fate itself. But at the same time she also exulted in the tingling feelings that ran up and down each and every limb. She had never felt so fulfilled in her life.

* * *

It was one day coming back from her normal activities that she saw him loitering at the side of the corridors. She had by now become familiar with each of the staff of the castle—having sex with them in all positions, day in and day out, tended to do that to you.

This man (was it even a man?) was different. It was a hooded figure in a long cloak that awaited Daphnia as she exited the kitchen, reeking of sex from sucking off the cook and licking the scullery maid. He beckoned to her and for some reason she felt compelled to go over to him.

“Princess Daphnia, we have a proposition for you.” did he even know she was the princess? Who was this person?

“I am she.” she replied guardedly. Some of her old manner returned, and she found herself standing up a little more upright. Who was this man, to speak to royalty in such a manner?

“Not all in the kingdom are satisfied with Rampillion’s rule. We who are not would like to enlist your services in ending it.” even mysterious strangers wanted to have her. She opened her mouth to retort angrily but the man cut her off, as if reading her mind.

“Not in the way that you think. We want you to spy for us. Tell us what is happening in the castle rooms, the antechambers, and the places that our spies cannot reach. Do that and we will try to help you in any way we can. Perhaps even find your lost family, or reverse the spell cast on you.”

Thoughts whirled in Daphnia’s mind. There was a resistance? There were others who stood against Rampillion? Reverse the spell...could she but hope?

“Why should I trust you?”

“Why not?” replied the figure. “You have nothing to lose. All you have to do is listen to gossip while you continue your daily activities. You have been servicing the barracks all this while, after all.”

How did they know that...their spies must be good! Daphnia blushed, hoping it did not show on her bronzed skin. Well, she had been, wasn’t really her! It was this damned spell! She still had difficulty reconciling her physical actions with the thoughts she had inside, just as how her self-conception of herself as a mage was still at odds with her new, ultra-voluptuous form.

“We understand the difficulty of having to have your needs...constantly attended to.” continued the figure. “It is a winning proposition for both of us. What say you?”

“Agreed.” She found herself nodding without even being conscious of it.

“Excellent. I shall be waiting here every tenday. Whatever you learn, however silly or innocuous it may be, tell me at this hour. And now, princess, I bid you adieu.” And with those words the figure vanished in front of her. She blinked. Instantaneous displacement...that was powerful magic indeed. She doubted that even in her prime she could have cast the spell that easily.

Whatever the case was, it seemed like it was the right thing to do to ally herself with these people. With any luck, it might mean striking back at the hated oppressor. As well as a chance to be rid of this cursed body.

* * *

Spying was easier than she thought. No one saw her as anything other than a tool for their pleasure, a sex pet and pleasure slave. So it was all too easy to walk into room after room under the pretense of being summoned their for entertainment (which was sometimes true) and simply listen to conversations that were happening. No one seemed to talk about anything important or interesting—it was all just castle gossip and idle chatter, from what she could tell—but she followed her orders to the letter.

She also had to admit to herself that it wasn’t all work. No, it was exciting as well. There was something about the feeling of complete anonymity thst turned her on even more than the artificial horniness induced by the spell. They people she was spying didn’t even see has as a person, just an object to be used. And used she was...over tables, in bed, in the stables—licking, fucking and sucking in all manner of means and ways. She couldn’t fault them for their imagination.

All of it served to soothe the constant itch in her slit. She had to be careful to maintain anonymity—to not speak unless spoken to. It was easy enough—no one expected the pretty young slave to talk and so she didn’t, putting her hungry mouth to other uses instead.

One day as the sun was setting, Daphnia happened to pass by the slave quarters. Her own “accomodation” was the dungeon she had been kept in since her transformation, but she knew that since the overthrow of her family, there had been other slaves hired as well. It was something that she would never have even considered had she been in power, but...there was little an elfslut could do to effect any changes.

But a doorway was open and she happened to peek inside and gasped. There was the most beautiful and attractive specimen of manhood that she ever seen—a tall, well-built and lightly muscled, with short black hair and dark jet eyes. And his cock! She had seen her fair share since her transformation, but this was something else—veined, rock-hard, and curving upwards splendidly, all 10 inches of it. And he was stroking it furiously, eyes closed in desperate need.

What was a fine looking male like him doing must be another spell, Daphnia realized. Elfsluts were exclusively female, but there existed a variation of the spell that worked on males, turning them into the equivalent of what she was.

She felt herself moisten just looking at him. The poor dear looked like he could use help. And she was just the one to give it to him. Before she knew it she had stolen into the room and approached the masturbating slave.

What did one say in a position like this? “Hello” seemed pat and trite, and...she was distracted from her train of thought by the actions of the man in front of her. How she would like that long, hard thing in her mouth and in her -

“Who are you?” She looked up in surprise. The slave had noticed her. His eyes rove over every inch of her voluptuous body and she felt herself blush at the attention she was receiving.

“ one. Just another slave passing by.” she found herself replying. “It looked like you could use some help.” she finished lamely.

The slave continued to stare at her. “Yes.” he said matter-of-factly. “I would like to mate with you.”

She blushed again. Even after her many encounters, she was still uncomfortable with the idea of talking about sex. Her upbringing was that of a noble lady. All those lessons on decorum, on proper behavior...useless now. when she was bent over a table, screaming her lungs out as she was fucked roughly, decorum was the further thing from her mind.

Still...the Resistance could use another ally. Or so she told herself as she bent down to wrap her lips around his member. In truth, she just wanted to be fucked. Today had been a slow day, all meetings and discussions—which meant little time for fucking elfsluts. Her slit leaked even more, and she hoped that he wouldn’t (or maybe she hoped that he would!) notice it.

Their eyes met and she nodded. Before either of them could say another word she had reached forwards and placed his penis in her mouth. It was hot, almost burning—he must have been really close to coming before she arrived. She laved the member with her tongue, sucking the head back into her throat and biting it ever-so-gently at times.

She looked up at her partner, seeing his eyes roll back in response to her expert ministrations. Over the last few months, she had grown used to the size and shape of men’s cocks...each whorl and vein and line. She played him like an instrument, her tongue moving deftly over the smooth surface of the member...and then when he was ready, she leaned forwards to place her bronzed boobs around his erect shaft.

She squeezed the huge mounds together and flicked her tongue over the tip of his head, and then within moments, he had spurted all over her expansive chest. She licked it off slowly...she had grown to like the taste of cum. Whether it was something caused by the spell or an acquired taste, she didn’t care, but she loved it anyway.

The slave breathed heavily, coming down from his orgasmic high. He ran a large hand through her shiny blond hair, panting in release. “You are beautiful.” he suddenly burst out.

She blinked in surprise. No one had ever called her beautiful before! She blushed again—or at least she thought she was blushing, there was no way to tell. It seemed so strange, they just had met, she had sucked him off, and then he said she was beautiful.

Daphnia didn’t know what to do, so she settled for hopping back and spreading her legs slowly, aware of the gaze of the male slave on the puffy lips of her sex. She touched herself lightly, undulating her wide hips, and then, in a sudden fit of naughtiness, flipped herself over to present her rounded behind to him. Being watched turned her on more than she could have imagined.

Within seconds his member had become erect again, and he moved forwards with sudden determination. THe transformed princess felt a thrill run through her. The main act was here. They locked eyes again, and she felt hers roll back in her head as he entered her. Gods, it felt so, so...good!

This was unlike the rough handling and usage she was used to. It was slow and gentle, deliberate and purposeful. As their coupling progressed she realized that as a male sex slave himself, he would have plenty of experience, and it showed—as they rocked together, he paused occasionally to fondle a huge breast, twiddling her nipples with erect fingers. She groaned in need and he captured his mouth with his, their tongues duelling together.

She could tell he was restraining himself. She leaned over to whisper in his ear that it was ok. Slowly he increased his speed and she began to move her hips against his as well.

The transformed princess let herself relax into the slave’s measured thrusts. As her orgasm approached she realized that she didn’t even know his name. And yet here he was, pumping his huge member deep into her inner folds. Daphnia wrapped her legs around his waist and urged him to go faster, harder, stronger, deeper...and he obliged as best as he was able to, with strong lungues that set her ablaze with passion. She began to scream in fulfillment and raked her nails down his back, but all it did was make him redouble his efforts. After a few minutes, both of them stiffened in their mutual climax, and she sighed in bliss as she felt the pulsing of his cock paint her insides white.

She reached up to bring his head down for a kiss, feeling his muscled chest press against her own. A mixture of her juices and his dripped drop her thighs onto the floor, and its volume made her realize that he had probably been as pent up as she was.

“What’s your name?” she whispered into his ear.

“Briva.” he whispered back. His voice was low and husky, and Daphnia was amazed to realize that just hearing it made her wet and horny again. It was this godsdamned elfslut body, aroused at the smallest and slightest of things. Either that or...well, maybe she just really liked him? She had no idea. This was all just so new and wonderful to her.

He pulled out of her and she caught herself looking hungrily at his shaft, still erect and slick with their combined fluids. It looked like he hadn’t had enough either. Their eyes met and an unspoken message passed between them. Within seconds he had re-entered her and they were rolling and moaning in ecstasy on the cold castle floor once more.

It became a regular thing for them. After both had finished their duties for day, they would meet in the garden, or above the castle, and fuck each others’ brains out. Sometimes it was slow and gentle, and at other times fast and furious. It took the edge of the constant sexual frustration each of them experienced, and made her life a lot easier.

She wanted to know more about him—where he came from, why he was here—but he confessed shamefacedly that the working that had given him the body of sex slave had also robbed him of all his memories. That sparked a sudden surge of compassion in her, and she found herself kissing him, and from then on they proceeded to their favority actitity together.

One day, as they lay together after an especially long session, she turned to ask him a question.

“Would you be open to joining the resistance?” She felt that she had to do her part for the rebellion. She was the princess, after all.

“The resistance? There is a resistance?” She could sense his hesitation and decided not to push the issue, instead deciding to idly trace patterns on his broad chest.

“No, nothing...I was just talking to myself.” Daphnia sighed and nestled herself into his embrace. It felt so good to be here, well-fucked and in the arms of a...friend? She guessed that they were friends. Friends united by common need and desire.

* * *

As the months passed Daphnia grew more accustomed to her changed body. But nothing could quell the constant heat between her legs. Not the constant fuckings, or the interludes with Briva when she had not been used enough during the day. The itch could be scratched but it would always return. It was something that she grew resigned to, as well as other things besides.

The rapid hardening of her nipples whenever a man so much as passed by. Having to resist the urge to stroke herself at every available opportunity. She got used to never seeing her feet—her new breasts were so large that all she could see when she looked down were twin balloons of bronzed flesh. She had to be aware of them at all times, lest she bump into a stray wall or door and collapse moaning onto the floor.

And walking! Something that was so normal and humdrum was now so different. Her transformed hips and new proportions meant that instead of simply walking in a straight, proper, line as she had been taught, she instead swung her hips in a motion that was geared to tantalize and arouse. She knew the effect that her swaying walk and overdeveloped chest had on men and women alike, and some part of her desired the attention as much as another hated it.

Some of the guards and the councilmen who used her were actually quite attractive. As a princess she had never any time for dalliances, or the whispered words of the chambermaids in the corridors, but now...she found herself growing to appreciate the muscles of the soldiers, the smooth long legs of the maids in waiting, and the rough beards of the ministers. She found Briva the best looking of them all (but then again, like her, he was made to be) but now when she happened across a man who caught her fancy, it was a small matter for her to walk in front of him, to “accidentally” bump her huge breasts against his arms, to smile coquettishly and present her full ass to him—and in a few minutes she would find herself on her back, or on all fours, moaning as she was taken roughly and with complete abandon.

Such was the fate of an elfslut.

* * *

She continued her meetings with the hooded informant. She was impressed by his professionalism—his gaze was always locked on her eyes and never once strayed to other parts of her anatomy. Maybe he had seen so many elfsluts that one more didn’t bother him in the least, whether or not it was a former princess. She didn’t know and couldn’t bring herself to ask, so she simply relayed all the information she had managed to obtain.

“You’ve done well, princess.” he said one day. “My superiors will be pleased.”

“And so when will these...superiors deign to meet me?” she asked acidly. Somehow when she was with this man (?) her old royal air seemed to return.

The informat didn’t bat an eye. “When the time is right. Your information has been very helpful so far. We have been able to make great progress.”

Daphnia couldn’t for the life of her fathom how idle kitchen gossip and tales of weapon-cleaning would be useful..there was some information about troop movements in the barracks, but—she didn’t dare to ask.

Instead, she asked the question that was foremost on her mind. “What are the chances of the spell being reversed?”

There was no reply. She didn’t know whether to be happy or sad about that.

“Continue with what you are doing. We will be in touch.” And with that the figure disappeared.

Daphnia bit her lip and fondled her breasts absently. She hadn’t had enough sex today (only twice, barely enough to sate her appetites) and the itch was beginning to worsen slowly. The was too much to hope for that it could be undone that easily. As a mage herself, she knew how difficult it could be to unwork magic of that caliber.

That was it, then. Just stay the course and continue to gain information, and then hopefully one day the resistance would come through for her. Nothing to do at this point but hope.

Her nether regions tingled with renewed need. It was time for her to go to see Briva again.