The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Alisha watched from her dorm window as snow softly blanketed the campus.

Brookrose College was a small, all-girls school tucked in hills of rural Pennsylvania. Founded by the Catholic Church in the 1800s, all its buildings were made of dark stone with slate roofs. To Alisha, a history major, Brookrose’s buildings always looked like medieval castles guarding against modernity, a place for girls to be sent when they were of age, but still needed to be protected from the real world.

It was getting towards late afternoon, the growing darkness conspiring to color the sky and the snow a matching, deep blue. With the snow coming down so hard, she was actually grateful for the thick, granite walls, the heavy, leaded glass windows, and the dark, carved wood that lined the inner halls. With four inches on the ground, and another foot expected, it felt wonderfully cozy.

She’d gotten special permission to stay on campus over Christmas break. It wasn’t that surprising a request. Word had it that every year, several girls’ parents decided they had more important things to do than hang out with their daughter. This year (Alisha’s freshman year, in fact) she’d been one of these.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” her mother, Joanne, had said over Skype. “Your father is getting called away to advise on some diplomatic thing or other. These international meetings, most of the business gets done at the galas afterwards, and it’s expected that the wife will attend them.”

Alisha had looked at the screen into her mother’s face. Dark, Mediterranean eyes much like her own, the brown hair shoulder length but with more body than Alisha’s straight, chestnut hair. Peering into a future version of herself, a young woman could do much worse than Joanne.

Alisha’s mother looked incredibly young for her mid-40s, and was married to a handsome, equally-youthful appearing man. Alisha’s father, Henry, in turn was an authority on Eastern European history and foreign relations. Together, they jetted around the world to one conference or another, meeting powerful people, doing important things. Theirs was a nice life.

She should be so lucky. Joanne had been a Brookrose alumna, and Henry had gotten involved in fundraising and board work for the school. While Alisha’s grades might have otherwise justified an Ivy League, she’d always been slated to go to Brookrose.

Not a bad school by any means. Increasingly, influential people were sending their daughters here. But compared to larger schools there was no question its breadth of offered courses, especially in the sciences where Alisha excelled, was limited.

Alisha had felt so pathetic, like asking to be invited to a party: “I mean, can I come with you guys? You know, stay in the hotel while you’re making world peace?”

“I talked to your father about that, and given how sensitive everything is concerning the Ukraine right now, he thinks it would be better if you stay in the U.S. He doesn’t want some spy hacking into your laptop to get at him.”

“Well, can I at least stay at home?” Alisha had asked Joanne. She’d grown up in a beautiful, Philadelphia suburbs home.

“That’s the other thing: we’re doing a big remodel. We’d been thinking about a remodel for a while, so makes sense for the kitchen to get gutted while we’re away and it won’t disrupt your father’s work. They’ll be doing windows too, so for a while the home will be without heat. Between that, no functioning kitchen, and with workmen coming-and-going in the house, it’s probably better,” Alisha interpreted that to mean safer, “for you to stay at Brookrose.”

A construction project over Christmas? Didn’t workmen have families to visit during the holidays too? It sounded stupid, but evidently the decision had been made. So now she was here, cheap Christmas lights ringing her single-occupancy dorm room.

There was a knock at Alisha’s cracked-open door, then Julie stuck her head in. “Hey, want to go grab dinner?”

“Sure. If I get lost in a snow drift along the way, tell my parents it’s all their fault.”

Julie laughed. “If we got lost, would either of our parents care?” She was Asian and taller than Alisha, but with a body whose lines were as straight as her long, black hair. Like Alisha, she was one of those left behind this Christmas, her parents having to go to Hong Kong to consult some major corporation through a crisis.

Alisha said, “I think they’d feel very bad while continuing to overachieve.”

“I can’t imagine being so focused on something I just ignore my family.”

“Me neither.” Must be nice knowing what your mission in life is, though, Alisha thought. Since losing out on going to an Ivy League, her future had felt purposeless. Maybe it was best she wouldn’t see her parents over the holidays.

Donning jackets and jeans barely adequate for the snow, they made their way over to the nuns’ residence. While many of the dorms and classroom buildings were four and five-story stone monstrosities, the nuns’ residence was a large and rambling Victorian house, complete with turrets and widow’s walk. It looked like a well-maintained version of the Addams’ Family mansion.

A campus with Brookrose’s aesthetics naturally gave rise to ghost stories. Secret passages utilized by lesbian ghosts to ravish young girls in their sleep. It was all so obviously stupid that they hadn’t bothered Alisha her first few months here. The past couple nights, though, alone as she was on her floor, had found her sleeping with one eye open.

She mentioned it to Julie as they walked. “I hadn’t heard about lesbian ghosts,” Julie said. “I mean, even if there were ghosts, why would they need secret passages?”

“Exactly,” Alisha said, feeling like she had to play the part of the confident woman. After all, 18-year-olds weren’t afraid of ghost stories.

Julie went on, “Of course, on my floor the story is that the secret passages were used by a satanic cult to kidnap girls, and brings them to hidden chambers underneath the school.”

“You’d think a Catholic school would do something about that.”

“Right? Like what are our tuition dollars going for? At least seal the secret passages so we don’t get kidnapped and raped by ghosts and/or cults.”

They stopped in the empty quad as they doubled-over laughing. Loud as they were, everything was eerily muted by the snow.

After a minute, Alisha looked around. There were no Christmas lights, or any festive acknowledgements of the season. In a way, that was better because it didn’t remind her of home. In another sense, it was worse because it did nothing to soften the place’s formal grimness. “It is a spooky place, though. I mean, for real.”

“It is,” Julie said quietly. “Doesn’t help being abandoned and trapped here.” Freshman like them weren’t allowed to have cars on-campus their first year. Not that it mattered. The school must have given the grounds crew off as well because no one was plowing or shoveling.

“No, it doesn’t. Look, not to be weird, but can I sleep over in your room tonight?”

Julie said with a smirk, “Won’t that just give the raping ghosts of kidnapping lesbians satanists a two-for-one target?”

“We can take our minds off that possibility by commiserating about how our parents left us.”

“You’re on!” Julie said as she and Alisha started again for the nuns’ residence.

Of course, neither girl knew then that they would never make it back to Julie’s dorm room.

As spooky as the campus itself was, there was no denying the nuns’ residence’s coziness, nor the hospitality they received there. A fire burned warmly in the dining room’s hearth. The crystal chandelier’s light was bright but soft.

When the girls had learned that they’d been stranded at Brookrose, they’d expected to survive on a diet of dining hall cold cuts and their own stock of Hot Pockets. Yet the nuns’ spreads the past two evenings had included lamb and steak, all on formal place settings.

Gone were the days of ruler-wielding nun stereotype. It had been replaced over the decades by older women that wouldn’t look out-of-place in any administrative or teaching profession.

Yet Brookrose’s nuns deviated from even this updating. They were surprisingly young for one thing. Sister Maggie, the eldest and the school’s chancellor, was in her early-40s. She was athletic enough to sometimes run sprints with the school’s field hockey team. With piercing blue eyes, mid-length blonde hair, and a radiant confidence, she was also attractive enough that Alisha had heard a classmate’s visiting older brother ask, upon seeing Sister Maggie walking across the quad, “Who’s the MILF?”

Sister Maggie was one of three sisters that was remaining on campus over the holiday, the rest visiting family or touring Rome. The other two remaining sisters—Bethany and Rachael—were very much in keeping with Brookrose’s tradition for nontraditional nuns.

Sister Bethany was in her early 30s. She was brunette with a sporty, sideways bob-styled haircut and sexy librarian glasses. The studious look seemed inconsistent with the school newspaper’s periodic reports on her powerlifting competition wins. Her thighs and ass were thick from thousands of barbell squats, her shoulders broad. More than a few of the gay girls on campus had had dreams of being held down by her.

Finally, there was Sister Rachael, both the baby and runt of the group. Olive skin compared to the Maggie’s lily whiteness, and Bethany’s light sprinkling of freckles. Petite where Maggie was tall and Bethany average. She had flowing hair, and smoldering eyes. Even though she was in her mid-20s, Alisha and Julie had both mistaken Rachael for a fellow student the first day of Physics 110, before the young nun started her introductory lecture.

The one thing Rachael shared with her peers, however, was how well-endowed she was. All three women had healthy D-cups. It wasn’t something Alisha would ordinarily notice. Tonight, however, all of them were wearing tops that were more form-fitting than Alisha had ever seen them in before.

Maggie’s black turtleneck hugged her body, setting off beautifully the opal necklace she wore. Bethany’s long-sleeve T-shirt was a spandex blend that clung tightly to her. Rachael’s white sweater wasn’t super low-cut, but still surprisingly revealing given her vocation.

Julie and Alisha having broken bread with their three hostesses the last couple of nights, a certain familiarity had settled in. Sitting down to find an expertly-roasted chicken at the table, Julie said, “If this is how you guys eat every night, sign me up for the sisterhood.”

“We’re always hiring,” Sister Rachael said, sipping a glass of milk.

“I can’t imagine how much weight I’d gain with this cooking the rest of my life,” Julie said.

“A chubby, Asian nun would really defy stereotypes,” Alisha said.

Sister Bethany laughed. “I’d have her on a lifting program. A vein-poppingly ripped, Asian nun would also defy stereotype.”

“Thank you, ladies, I’ll share with the archdiocese these most interesting outreach ideas,” Sister Maggie said. “In the meantime, Alisha and Julie, how’s your day been? Staying warm despite the snow, I trust.”

“Kind of boring, honestly,” Julie said.

Alisha agreed. “I’ve reached the end of the internet.”

Maggie said, “Come now, you’re both bright. I’d think two young ladies with such impeccable grades would have found some worthwhile research project during this idle time.”

Bethany looked over her milk glass. “Maybe they are doing something, and they don’t want to tell us.”

“Idle mind, devil’s workshop, et cetera,” Sister Rachael chimed.

“No, really, we’re actually not that interesting,” Julie said.

The firelight played off the dining room’s carved root and marble mantlepiece. It reflected off her water glass, made the opal of Maggie’s necklace glisten a spectrum.

Maggie touched the stone, seemingly idly, but her eyes were on Alisha only. The opal’s color caught Alisha’s eye. She’d never seen one so beautiful. “Surely there must be more than that, Alisha,” Sister Maggie said.

Her eyes still on the necklace’s stone, Alisha felt herself relaxing. Relaxing enough, in fact, to be honest. “Why not waste time? My parents didn’t send me to the best school I was accepted at. Then they abandoned me over Christmas. What’s the point of doing anything?”

Julie looked over at her friend as if she’d lost her mind, but Maggie was pleased with the answer. Bethany and Rachael didn’t seem offended either.

Maggie let her necklace go, and the opal fell back against her black turtleneck between her heavy breasts. As it did, Alisha suddenly came back to herself, felt very embarrassed at what she’d just said.

As the student blushed, Maggie assured her. “Thank you, Alisha. I very much appreciate your honesty. We can feel adrift when things do not go our way, and some weak, evil little part of us wants to give up. But what if there is a purpose to why you and Julie are here? A purpose not just in coming to this school, but to this very dinner table tonight?”

“You mean God?” Julie said, the words lightly basted in sarcasm.

Maggie sipped at her own milk glass like a cat. “On an abstract level, isn’t everything? But I mean in a more temporal, material sense. We wanted you girls to be trapped here with us over Christmas.”

The comment hung in the air. The room was so suddenly quiet that the fire’s crackling was loud as gunfire by comparison. Alisha looked at the nuns. Something in their eyes now, how they looked at the two students. Was that yearning? Lust? Alisha noticed the sisters’ nipples peaking from beneath their tight tops.

What the fuck? Alisha looked around the room. They were trapped, weren’t they? The snow storm, the isolated campus. Her body suddenly felt like a coiled spring, primed to escape.

“What do you mean…trapped?” Julie ventured, the dread rising inside her as if she and her friend had just stepped into a horror movie.

“Trapped to be breeding stock. But it’s probably easier just to show you,” Sister Maggie said, tapping her opal necklace three times. In response, the stone started to throb with glow color. “It’s time.” The girls did not realize it, but Maggie was talking through the jewel.

Behind Alisha and Julie, the wall’s wooden panel retracted. The girls turned to see two figures stepping from the hidden passageway.

Both were nude, one looked like a twenty-something copy of Maggie, the other a twenty-something version of Bethany. Their naked flesh was perfectly smooth and hairless, glistened as if covered in a thin glaze of vaseline. The clones’ long hair was similarly wet-looking, slicked back tightly against their skulls.

Their tits were large and firm, their bellies taut, their eyes knowing and hungry. Each held in their right hand a larger version of Sister Maggie’s throbbing opal.

The unreality of it all made them horrible to Julie and Alisha. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

The worst was that instead of pussies, between the clones’ legs were massive, erect dicks.

The cloned Bethany raised her opal stone, and a beam of shot from it, striking Julie mid-scream. The Asian girl slumped to the ground, unconscious.

The clone of Maggie was raising her opal stone for Alisha, but she flung herself onto the hardwood floor. The beam instead struck Sister Rachael, but didn’t affect her.

Alisha’s mind was screaming: Get up! Run! She obeyed, charging out of the room with speed she didn’t realize she was capable of. She raced to the heavy, oak entrance to the nuns’ residence, pulled on it with all her might.

Locked!

Alisha was about to throw herself through a nearby window, but Sister Bethany—the real one, not the nude Clone Bethany—grabbed a handful of Alisha’s hair from behind.

“Got you!”

Instinctively, Alisha threw an elbow into Sister Bethany’s face, splitting the weightlifter’s lip. “Oh, this one has fight in her!” Bethany said, ignoring the blood running down her mouth and easily placing the student in a headlock from behind. With her free hand, Sister Bethany reached between Alisha’s legs, rubbing the girl’s jeans into the cleave of her pussy. “There’s no fighting what’s going to happen to you, though,” Bethany hissed. “No fighting what’s going to be put in this tight pussy, just like it was put into us!”

Alisha was crying now, screaming loud enough that Bethany eventually stopped rubbing the girl’s pussy, and used her free hand to cover her mouth. Still holding her from behind, Bethany marched the girl back into the dining room. The Maggie clone raised her jewel again, preparing to stun Alisha.

Sister Maggie’s voice cracked like a whip: “Wait.” Maggie removed her opal necklace as she approached, then gently caressed the side of Alisha’s face. “I admire her fire. She’s earned the right to see what’s happening as it all unfolds, and to understand why. Of course, young lady,” Maggie held up the opal to Alisha’s eyes, “you’re going to need to calm down a bit so that you can learn.”

The opal’s rainbow radiance shined before. Despite her best efforts, Alisha found she couldn’t look away. She felt herself calming, her will to resist Bethany’s iron grip slackening. Finally, all the resistance fled from Alisha’s limbs, and she docilely stood before the nuns and clones as Bethany let her go.

“There,” Sister Maggie said smiling, “now we can have a conversation. But first, you’ll allow me and my sisters to get more comfortable. It’s so hot in here, isn’t it?” And with that, Sisters Maggie, Bethany, and Rachael peeled off their clothes.

Their clothes falling to the floor like leaves in autumn, finally all the young nuns were left standing in thigh highs, the nylon of which was as sheen as the wet-looking skin of the clones.

In her black stockings and high heels she slipping back into, Sister Maggie stood no less proudly than when Alisha had first laid eyes on her giving a welcoming speech to the incoming freshman class. Maggie’s back straight, her tits’ fullness was on display. They were impossibly pert for how large they were. Then, Alisha noticed a single, white bead of milk starting to form at Maggie’s nipple.

Maggie noticed it herself. “Oh, yes, I’m a mother. We all are. These feed my babies.” She took her milk glass from the table. Alisha’s eyes widened as she watched Maggie refill the glass by expressing from her own tit. “We like the taste too, though, don’t we, sisters?”

Bethany and Rachael chuckled their agreement.

Alisha managed to whimper, “Babies?” It was disturbing to realize that the three young nuns had been drinking their own milk right in front of Julie and Alisha the past few nights. Maggie’s mentioning of babies along with what Bethany had said about Alisha’s pussy being filled by something was absolutely terrifying.

Sister Rachael was now only in taupe thigh highs and healed mules. She took the Bethany clone’s cock in her hand, then eased the clone’s head to her nipple. The Bethany clone closed its eyes and practically purred while Rachael masturbated it.

Sister Rachael then looked over to Maggie and Alisha, sighing as she felt the pressure being released from her heavy breasts. “Our babies grow up so quickly, don’t they?” she said.

“That’s Bethany-2,” Sister Bethany said, naked but for her red thigh highs and, incongruously, sneakers. “I had her over summer break this year. But I don’t mind others nursing her and making her feel good. It takes a village, am I right?”

Maggie drew close to Alisha. “You know, dear, I just realized you never had a chance to eat anything this evening. It’s going to be a busy night. Why don’t you have a little something now?” She placed her manicured fingers behind Alisha’s neck, applying the gentlest of force to guide the girl to her dripping nipple.

Alisha fought it as best she could. “No,” she moaned, resisting Maggie’s embrace.

But then Sister Maggie again brought the opal before Alisha’s eyes, and the girl found herself drinking from Maggie.

“Yes, that’s very good,” Maggie breathed as Alisha’s tasted the older woman’s sweet warmth. “We have to express constantly, or it starts to hurt. It’s the only bad thing about being a slave to Lord Foeto.”

Alisha was generations-removed from when the Catholic laity had bothered with Latin. The name of what the sisters served may as well been spoken in an alien language.

From behind, Sister Bethany undressed Alisha as she drank, starting by pulling down her jeans and panties. Sister Maggie allowed Alisha’s lips to break contact with her nipple only long enough for Bethany to remove her shirt. Alisha was disgusted to find that she felt a sense of loss when the milk stopped flowing in her.

As her top was being peeled off, Alisha saw that the Maggie clone—Maggie-6, though Alisha didn’t know that yet—had stripped naked the still-unconscious Julie. Maggie-6 was masturbating her cock against the Asian girl’s ass now, the slickness of the clone’s skin serving as her own lubricant.

Bethany removed Alisha’s bra as she began to suckle again. Bethany then began kissing the girl’s naked back and pressing a finger to her clit. “She’s wet already.”

Alisha’s heartbeat was racing fast. As if sensing the girl’s embarrassment at how her body was reacting to the sisters’ assault, Maggie said soothingly, “It’s okay, Alisha. It’s perfectly natural for a girl’s body to react that way. Mine did too, when I was made to learn the secret of Brookrose.” Maggie gently pushed Alisha from her breast, then kissed the girl’s milk-dewed lips.

As they did, Maggie-6 jizzed on Julie’s naked ass, and Bethany-2’s cock erupted in Sister Rachael’s hand.

Maggie smiled at the sound of the cumming clones. She said to Alisha, “Now, little girl, it’s time you learned Brookrose’s secret too.”