The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive


Chapter 8 — They Mostly Come At Night… Mostly

It was impossible to tell how long Lin languished in the crushing darkness. All she knew was that, at some point, the pressure of the bodies above her lessened. The throbbing bass faded. And she saw a light.

Numb and weary, Lin nevertheless crawled through the bodies piled atop her, inching toward the one slim hope she had of escape. Gradually, the stench of sweat and the stifling heat gave way to fresher, cooler air. It invigorated her, gave her strength, and she used that strength to wrench free.

There was a gap. A space wide enough for her to get out. The light became a door, and Lin lunged for it with all her might. Her freedom was brilliant, blinding, and she could finally breathe again.

When her eyes adjusted, the world resolved into a clear blue sky and sparkling azure waves. There were women sitting in deck chairs or standing around cocktail tables. Glancing back, there was no sign of the club Lin had just fled. A beach house stood in its place, and the door she had just burst through had deposited her onto the ocean-front patio, where some kind of party was underway. But the relief of escaping outweighed any curiosity to dig deeper into that particular mystery. The thought slipped through her fingers and disappeared into irrelevance as quickly as it formed.

It didn’t slip her notice that she was naked, though. The ravers had torn away every last shred of her outfit, right down to her boots. But when the ocean breeze felt this refreshing, it was hard to bring herself to care. Especially when none of the other women seemed to pay her any mind. Several of them were wearing little to nothing as well, so Lin moved among them without shame.

A glint of metal caught her eye, down near her foot. It was a chain. Slowly, carefully, she crouched and picked it up. The links shone with a mesmerizing gleam, and felt good in her hand. Heavy. Strong.

A feminine gasp drew Lin’s attention along the length of chain to its other end. It was fixed to a collar around the neck of some hunk with his head buried between the thighs of one of the party-goers. From the look of the flushed, smiling faces of women around him, and the scratches and red marks on his back, it looked like he’d been passed around for a while.

Lin’s breath caught in her throat. Her fingers flexed around the chain. She swallowed. Going from terrified and desperate to refreshed and free so quickly had left her body tingling with unresolved tension. And by a stroke of luck, here was some kind of boy-toy servicing any lady who needed it.

Her grip tightened on the chain. Why shouldn’t she have a turn? When else would she get an opportunity like this? Feeling a surging confidence, Lin yanked on the leash.

The man shuddered and turned, and Lin stared Max right in his beautiful, juice-smeared face. Her heart stopped, and instinct spurred her to shriek, but no sound came out. Her mouth was numb. Her entire face was numb. She brought her fingers to her cheek, and she found a hard, porcelain shell covering it.

She was still wearing the mask. Before she could freak out about it, though, Max crawled over to her on hands and knees. Lin had never seen him so disheveled, so humiliated, so...

Happy. Max had a look of animal joy in his eyes. His tongue lolled out like an excited puppy. Like there was nothing on Earth he’d rather do than exactly what Lin told him to do. There was no recognition there. With her mask on, he didn’t know it was her.

He’d never know.

Max gazed up at the goddess before him. He didn’t remember where he’d first seen her, when he’d first added her to his spank bank, but he must have had a shameful, sticky fantasy about her at some point. That’s what brought all these women together, after all. He was glad he did, though. So powerful, so regal. The impassivity of her mask made him yearn to coax out a smile of approval, even knowing that it never would. It would never frown either, no matter how many of his most humiliating secrets he confessed to her. There was something terrifying and deeply alluring about that kind of indifference.

When her finger hooked under his collar, he trembled. When she pulled him closer, he whimpered. And when she lifted his chin up to examine him, his cock lurched with delight.

Then she stood up, and Max cast his gaze down in deference, waiting for a command. He got a foot instead. It planted firmly on his shoulder, and even though he was easily twice the mass of this petite woman, she toppled him effortlessly. And before he could even grunt, a heavenly pussy was pressing into his face, and her divine weight pinning his head to the ground.

Max couldn’t breath, but still he gripped her thighs and pulled her harder onto his mouth. If he was going to drown, he’d go out with the taste of perfection on his inexhaustible tongue.

* * *

In time, the Red faded.

When the light of the alien ray gun faded enough for Ben to see again, it took with it most of what he was. It took his academy training. It took his years of starship command. It took the relationships he’d forged, and his commitment to the ideals of Starfleet, and his self-control and discipline. All were consumed by the conflagration of unthinking lust that had swept his mind clear of anything but the need to fuck.

Ben needed to fuck so badly. His cock strained against the remnants of his uniform.

“Now do you see, Captain Thompson?” Queen Uukati crowed. She was leaning forward on her hover-throne, grinning madly. “The proud, noble human is little more than a beast when his reason is replaced by primitive instincts.”

Her words meant nothing to Ben. He thrashed against the gynoids’ grip, and their metal joints creaked under the strain. The Queen didn’t notice.

“Perhaps I’ll set you loose on your crew. Would you like that? A Starfleet captain reduced to a mindless fuck-beast, rutting his friends and comrades? The holographic recording alone will fetch an astronomical price. But in the end, I think I’ll be keeping you for my—”

A frenzied roar erupted from Ben’s throat. Lust-mad strength surged through him, bulging his muscles and giving him the force he needed to wrench free of the gynoids. With their grapple broken, they were suddenly powerless before him. One aimed its ray-gun at him, but he swatted the weapon down and tossed its wielder away as if she weighed nothing. Before the other could react, Ben threw the robot to the ground, forcing her face-down into the sand.

“What? No!” The Queen’s haughty mirth was gone, replaced by disbelieving horror. “This is impossible!”

Ben ignored her. He had a gynoid pinned beneath him, and wasted no time in tearing the last of his uniform away. Nude and furiously hard, the captain mounted his victim, plunging his cock into the gynoid’s defenseless pussy. It was hotter and softer and wetter than a robot had any right to be, but Ben was too horny to even consider that right now. All that mattered was quenching the inferno raging inside him. Every cell in his body blazed Red with the need for relief.

Other gynoids tried to stop him, tried and failed to pry him off the squealing, wriggling robot beneath him. But where they had seemed irresistibly strong before, now he was the unstoppable one. They couldn’t even slow his crazed pounding, and the recipient screamed in orgasm after orgasm. Ben only stopped fucking when the robot ran out of power and shut down, a sloppy, post-coital grin on her artificial face and clear lubricant drenching her inner thighs.

The next closest gynoid in reach got the same treatment. And the one after that. No matter how many of them Ben fucked into submission, his crimson lust only grew. Until only the Queen remained.

Without her guardians, she cowered pathetically on her hover-throne. “Please! Stop! I’ll let you all go! I’ll do anything! Just don’t—”

All trace of her scorn and malice was gone. It was easy to drag her off the vehicle, take that huge, gray head in his hands and look down into those huge black eyes. If he hadn’t been so horny, Ben might have recognized a hint of anticipation in them before he fucked her face.

In moments, her choked gurgles and defeated mewling morphed into whorish moans. Uukati’s delicate fingers cupped and kneaded his balls in one hand, and dove into the crotch of her royal regalia with the other. She might have even bobbed up and down on him if Ben had ever let go of her head and given her the chance. He only released her when her eyes rolled back in her head for want of oxygen, and her body collapsed in a gasping, semi-conscious heap. She was instantly forgotten.

It hadn’t been enough. Not even close. Ben still saw nothing but Red. Still needed to cum so badly. Every inch of him trembled with frustration. He needed more.

In the distance, farther down the beach, Ben saw more people. They hadn’t been there before, but that didn’t matter. He strode toward them all the same. Maybe someone over there could make him cum.

* * *

This is the life!

Trish sighed again, drinking in another lungful of Jenna’s heavenly, honey-scented hair. The pretense of massage had long since fallen away; Trish was openly grinding on her friend’s naked back, kissing, licking and groping anything she could.

Jenna hummed, stirring on the towel. “That feels so good, babe,” she said.

That loosened Trish’s grin a bit. Babe. That’s what she always calls Max. Does something about me remind her of Max? Was it just an innocent slip? Does she call all her lovers “babe?”

A pang of nerves fluttered in her stomach. Was this naughty little tryst on the beach not as special to Jenna as it was to her?

Those worries were swept aside when Jenna rolled over and smiled. “Why’d you stop? I loved what you were doing.”

“Needed a sec to admire the view,” Trish said, grinning back into that perfect face. “Like this one even better, though.”

Jenna ran her shell-hard fingertips over Trish’s forearms, sending hot shivers up Trish’s spine. Trish chanced a glance up and down the beach at all the other nude, oiled bodies.

“Don’t worry,” Jenna said, “Max is... busy right now.”

Am I that transparent? Trish still didn’t know how Max would react to her seducing his girlfriend. He could be pretty cool with stuff sometimes, for a meathead. Maybe he wouldn’t be threatened if Jenna got a little side action, as long as it was with another girl.

Of course, if he was too cool with it, he might want to join in. That presented a whole new mess of complications. Trish did her best to imagine how they could work something out, where everyone would win. Maybe they could convince him to just watch. Some guys were into that, right? The image of her working her magic on Jenna while Max sat there, allowed to look but not touch, had a certain, dirty appeal to it...

No guarantees he’d go for it, though. And if he didn’t, what would they do? Would Jenna leave him for her? It seemed impossible. Their relationship hadn’t just survived the transition to college; they seemed more in love than ever; a real power couple. But now Trish and Jenna had something too. Something new, but just as real. How could Jenna choose? Both lovers brought completely different stuff to the table.

For example... Trish had to admit, despite her incredible skills, there were places Max could reach that she’d never be able to. Well, with a toy maybe, but it probably wasn’t the same. Max was hunky and masculine in ways that Trish couldn’t be, ways that Jenna clearly enjoyed, given their frequent PDAs.

Ugh, now I remember why I only do straight girls in small doses. The boy troubles are never worth it.

“Don’t be like that,” Jenna pouted playfully. “You’ve gotta enjoy this now, cause it won’t last forever. It can’t. We have to wake up eventually.”

It was impossible to worry about what that actually meant while Jenna was stroking her arms, beckoning Trish lower. Of course Jenna was worth it. Trish sank, bringing her lips down to meet her new lover. Jenna’s antennae wiggled and brushed against her face, tickling her and drawing a giggle out before they kissed in earnest.

Trish moaned, and Jenna buzzed. And fuck, the honey flavor was so strong, woven with the taste that was distinctly Jenna. The more spit they swapped, the more Trish’s head swam. So good. She could drink in this beautiful babe forever.

Hands wandered for a while. Jenna’s roamed Trish’s back and neck, pulling the shorter woman in tighter. Trish let her fingers graze down Jenna’s mottled thorax, savoring the hard smoothness of her shell. When they found the place where the segmented plates parted and gave way to a hot, wet slit, Jenna’s back arched and they moaned into each other’s mouths.

“Fuck,” Jenna whispered. “This is so hot. I wish I’d known all along.” Her voice was clear in Trish’s ears even though their lips remained locked together, and nothing could be further from Trish’s mind than how that could be possible. All that mattered was giving and receiving as much pleasure as she could.

Soon enough, Jenna found Trish’s pussy too, and her fingers slid in without resistance as her thumb flicked back and forth over the lesbian’s clit. Trish opened her mouth to remark on how good Jenna was at that for a straight girl, but only a quasi-orgasmic gasp came out. Jenna caught her mouth in another kiss, and while their lips were pressed together, something pushed out of her and into Trish. Something thick and hard, strangely familiar and utterly inhuman and entirely Jenna. Less a tongue, and more a proboscis.

The sensation of similar appendages forcing their way into her had once terrified Trish. Now she accepted it joyously. Her cunt clenched around Jenna’s fingers in time with the clenching of her throat. Every time it pumped another glob of sticky pleasure into her, her entire body convulsed. Some distant, pleasure-drunk part of her wondered what it would be like to have something so thick and hard and pulsating... so strong and alive and welcome... between her legs...

So it was that Trish was completely unable to heed the sounds of a commotion on the beach. She ignored the male grunts and feminine cries and distant rumbling that grew closer with every moment. They weren’t Jenna, so they didn’t matter.

* * *

With a cleansing, life-giving gasp, Sophie broke the surface. With her body still so sensitive, every toss and turn of the surf felt like she was getting manhandled all over again, though never hard enough to do more than tease. She would need something else if she wanted to get relief. Saltwater streamed over her stiff, perky tits as she staggered toward shore.

The terrible, wonderful sailors had abandoned her, it seemed. They’d had their fill of her—even if she’d been left wanting more—and their ship was already shrinking on the horizon. Perhaps they saw no reason to keep around another mouth to feed once they’d gotten their use out of her holes. Or perhaps they were more interested in slaves who had a bit more fight in them. Slaves who didn’t become wanton sluts the very first time a cock was shoved in their face.

Burning with shame and need in equal measure, Sophie stepped onto a sandy beach. At least I’m not underdressed. There were men and women dispersed up and down the beach in ones and twos, walking, swimming and sunbathing, all nude.

The urge to cover herself up warred with her arousal. Despite the abuse she’d just gladly endured, she couldn’t possibly countenance the thought of someone seeing her hard nipples and drippy pussy on display in public. Even if nudity was permitted, she doubted her sluttiness would be. But on the other hand... if Sophie didn’t advertise how unbearably horny she was, how would anybody know how badly she needed to cum? They’d just see some poor, shy girl, uncomfortable with her own body and its stupid, uncontrollable desires. Nobody could possibly want to fuck someone so insecure.

In the end, her modesty won out. Covering her breasts with one arm, and her crotch with one hand, she cringed her way down the beach in no direction in particular, unable to meet the gaze of anyone nearby. It didn’t stop her from stealing glances at the cocks she passed, hoping one might twitch, hoping its owner might notice her and ignore her defensiveness and take her the way she needed to be taken.

But none did. Sophie just got more and more red and embarrassed until she felt like she might explode like an overfilled balloon of anxiety.

And that’s when she saw him.

Swarthier than her sailors, and more powerfully built. Such a strapping body wouldn’t be out of place on a museum pedestal in a graceful pose, sculpted from marble or cast in bronze. Those arms could move Sophie however he wanted. Potent. Irresistible. And his cock. Oh god, his cock. It was incredible.

She could tell because he was currently pistoning it in and out of some milfy blonde, her blouse open and her pencil skirt hiked up. Judging from the way her fingers were wrapped tightly around the edge of the cocktail table she was bent over, he was doing a good job. And from the other women strewn about the beachfront patio, panting in post-coital exhaustion, it seemed he had done it more than once.

Sophie stared at the fucking man for a time, entranced by the sight, until the milf cried out. When she finally sagged, insensate on the table, the man pulled out, his cock still mouth-wateringly erect. Heedless of his last conquest or any other, he stalked off, in search of new pussies to claim and enervate. He hadn’t spotted Sophie, because of course. Why would he? Why would Sophie stand out when there were plenty of other, prettier, more confident women on the beach?

Her chance was slipping away. All she had to do was call out, get his attention somehow. Maybe she wouldn’t even have to beg him. Maybe he would just sense her desperation and give her what she craved. Or maybe he wouldn’t care about what she wanted and use her like the meat she was. Equivalent outcomes, really. All she had to do was shout. She opened her mouth.

All that came out was a pathetic squeak. No matter how badly her pussy urged her on, Sophie couldn’t muster up even that much assertiveness. But what else could she do? Follow him around like a little runt in search of scraps, standing nearby and hope he might see her in the corner of his eye? It was the only plan she could think of.

Trembling and flush, Sophie followed in the wake of this mesmerizing stranger. She never noticed the other man on the patio, nor the petite woman in a mask riding his face. And they never noticed her either, so deeply they were enjoying each other.

Nobody noticed the black clouds gathering on the horizon.

* * *

Snippets of recognition flashed through the haze of sweat and sex. Ben recognized a face, and a name followed it like a ship struggling to crest a storm-tossed wave.

Professor Gardener...

She had been a math professor back at... Starfleet Academy? No... back in... college?

The thought was swallowed by a fresh surge of blind lust. A different face tickled the same part of his brain some moments later. Darlene?

Ben caught a flash of memory, of a couple pubescent summers spent ogling this woman, making juvenile comments about her to... someone. He shook his head and redoubled his thrusting into the face’s owner. His confusion vanished, sinking into the churning depths before the first paroxysm of ecstasy rippled through the woman’s body. Then she was spent, and he was off in search of the next one.

Red colored the edges of his vision. Red throbbed in his veins, making his cock lurch, pulling him onward like a divining rod. He growled in frustration, and the sky growled back. Have to cum! Need to cum! Ben stomped along the beach, each angry footfall kicking sand up into the electrified air. The atmosphere was cooling rapidly, and it only made his cock—with juices still drying on it—yearn for another hot hole to fill. Maybe the next one would make him cum.

People on the beach were running now. He didn’t know if they were fleeing from his fuck-rampage or from the approaching thunderstorm. He didn’t care. Now who would he fuck? Who would make him cum? Ben bellowed, and crimson lightning crackled overhead in reply.

A flash cut through his Red-hazed vision. There was still someone out there who wasn’t running. Two women, rolling on a sandy towel, making out. One had a tight, toned body, short hair, and a mischievous grin. The other was a breathtaking creature, insectile features imitating a voluptuous form.

Their faces scratched at the memories trapped beneath the roiling Red. He couldn’t stop, though. He needed to cum. Ben forced through the hesitation, swatting away the names that tried to attach to the women before him. Those thoughts would only get in his way. Nothing could get in the way of him cumming.

The bug woman, lying beneath her lover, saw him first. There was no shock or surprise from her. She merely retracted... something from the other’s mouth and smiled, as if she’d been expecting him. He’d get to her in a moment.

The girl straddling the bug didn’t see Ben approach, nor did she sense him looming over her. Her first indication of Ben’s presence was his hands on her shoulders, flinging her off her lover. She landed on her ass in the soft sand, naked and vulnerable, glistening with sweat and tanning oil.

Lightning flashed again, searing the image of her face in Ben’s mind. All the women he’d used so far had been shocked or confused when he’d taken them, but had quickly become infected by his overwhelming lust. This one had a different reaction.


In an instant, the fever broke. The Red evaporated, and Ben froze. Trish. He remembered her. She was his friend. And he had never seen her so afraid.

Afraid of him.

Ben shot upright on his bed, gasping for breath.

* * *

Uukati inhaled sharply. For a moment, her large, dark eyes rolled around, struggling to focus in the diffuse light of her chamber. Limbs and digits flexed, trying to banish the tingling sensation pervading her entire skin.

I... I lost control.

Despite the warnings, she had delved too deeply into the humans’ dreamscapes. The intensity of their subconscious desires and heightened emotions had dazzled her, like the scintillating corona of a star. She had forgotten to be wary of its gravitational pull. Rather than observe from above, she’d fallen in among them. And from there, her ability to bridge minds together for communication had instead merged their dreams.

The Researcher’s brow furrowed. Had one of them influenced her?

She dismissed the thought as impossible. Their nervous systems were barely even developed enough to sense her mental presence when they were conscious. Asleep, they couldn’t even regulate their own thoughts and impulses.

No, I was careless. I divided my concentration between too many minds, and compromised my objectivity.

The observations of the dreams had been contaminated by contact with one another. That could not be denied. And yet...

Much of the data was still useful. Invaluable even. No matter what emotion the humans encountered, be it fear or delight or anger, sexuality suffused their entire experience. Could a species be so singularly obsessed with the pursuit of pleasure? Could they truly be that enslaved to their basest biological needs? What would that existence be like?

The image of Uukati’s own likeness, the simulacrum from the darker male’s dream, came unbidden to her mind. Was that really how he saw her? A tyrant to be overthrown? A female to be conquered and rutted? Even though she had watched her doppelganger’s molestation from an outside perspective, Uukati tried to imagine being in its place. Her head held firm. Her mouth filled... Body used... Unable to stop him...

The Researcher’s thighs squirmed on her seat. Her face and neck tinged purple. Then she let out a noise, something between a moan and a whimper. Instantly her hand covered her mouth, and she checked the chamber to make sure she was alone.

First I mishandle the experiment, and now I’m... I’m vocalizing? Never before had she lost her composure this way. And they had barely completed the first cycle of testing. If she found this task too... unsettling, her entire role on this expedition would be cast into question. Had the Overseer’s confidence in her been misplaced? Was she truly ready for these kinds of responsibilities?

A deep breath steadied her thoughts.

No, now was not the time for doubts. From among all the others, Uukati had been selected for this mission. She had proven herself then, and she would prove herself again.

Settling her mind back into more disciplined, methodical patterns, the Researcher began compiling her report. With a few... judicious omissions.

In the interest of efficiency, of course.