The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The room was large, she knew, but she had trouble figuring out its proportions exactly. Partially that was because the lights were dimmed; mostly it was because her attention was fixed elsewhere.

There were women in lines throughout the room. They were all kneeling in the same position; asses up, legs apart. Many of them were bound with cords wrapped intricately around them, from toe to head. They were all nude.

Their breasts were placed on ledges in front of them…or on troughs really. At first, she thought the troughs were filled with some sort of mottled red liquid. Eventually, as she stared, though, she realized, with a disturbingly intimate shiver, that it wasn’t liquid at al, but living, squirming creatures.

They were like large worms, some as much as a hand and a half long, with small, caterpillar like legs along their sides. They crawled and slithered over each other as they moved hungrily from one pair of swollen teats to the next, pushing their backs against the nipples…and she saw that they seemed to have some sort of opening on their spine, which parted and engulfed and sucked.

Though she couldn’t see it clearly she knew that women’s breasts were heavy with milk. She also knew that the worms were their spawn. They had been pushed, already crawling out of their wombs, sliding out from widespread lips. Coated in their mother’s blood and fluid, they had struggled out, climbing up their bellies to the warm, sweet milk.

She looked, involuntarily at the spread cunts, trying to see if she could actually witness the moment of birth…and it was then that she realized that the women were not tied with cord. The things wrapped around them were alive, colored like the smaller worms in the trough, their bulk sliding over and around their skin.

As she watched one giant, fleshy head, dripping mucus from an open maw, thrust itself deeply into one woman’s spread cunt. The woman gasped and she gasped as well, imaging the feeling of that thickness splitting her, the hot, moist lips clamped on her breasts. The worms were inside them all, moving inside them, moving them. She felt her own hand, her worm hand, moving towards her folds, those delicious lips on her body that belonged to their pleasure….

“Not just to the worms,” said Miranda, close to her ear. “To me. Your cunt belongs to me, little sister.”

Julia woke with her heart racing…and she discovered a second later, with her pajama bottoms absolutely soaked through. She couldn’t remember ever having been this aroused before. The dream was incredibly vivid. She could feel the worms against her rigid nipples; feel the giant worm body pushing into her. She could see Miranda’s eyes, blankly feral, the tongue glistening as it flicked out to trace the cruel, predatory smile….

She touched herself, tracing the damp outline of her lips through the bottoms. She needed to get off desperately…but she suddenly remembered, she wasn’t alone. The room came slowly into focus as the dream leached away. It was Miranda’s room; Miranda, her sister, was lying beside her.

Julia was visiting for a week after finishing high school. Miranda had urged her to come up…and they were sharing the double bed the way they always did when Julia visited.

Which was usually fine. Because usually she didn’t have incredibly intense, perverse, erotic dreams in which worms fucked roomfuls of women and her sister dramatically claimed ownership of her cunt.

As if on cue, Miranda stirred in her sleep, shifting the covers. Julia found herself staring at Miranda’s large, heavy, nipples, clearly erect through the t-shirt she wore.

Julia barely stopped herself from moaning. She occasionally fantasized about other women, and had maybe possibly if she was forced to admit it at gunpoint fantasized about her sister a time or two…but that was a fair bit different from actually being in the same bed with Miranda and wanting to take those juicy hard nipples in her mouth…and then move down….

Julia swung herself out of bed all at once — so quickly and forcefully she thought for sure Miranda would wake up. But her sister seemed blessedly sacked out…and then Julia was in the bathroom, yellow pajama bottoms pulled down, fingers working furiously at her clit as she imagined that room again....her legs spread, her tits exposed, nipples stiff, ready, placed and waiting as the worms came…. and Miranda, wearing that clubbing outfit, sliding into place behind her, her tongue….

She gave a gasp of frustration and opened her eyes. So close, but she just couldn’t get there. And Christ, she didn’t want to think about worms or Miranda, or worms and Miranda. What the hell was wrong with her?

Her cunt was almost throbbing with need, but she deliberately ignored it, and went to the sink. Cold water; she splashed her face. Then she looked in the mirror.

The yellow pajamas were cute rather than sexy, and that summed Julia up too. She had her sister’s fair hair and fair coloring, but not Miranda’s stunning cheekbones, nor, for that matter, her stunning tits. She’d always been the pretty one; Miranda, six years older, was the stunner.

She’d sometimes envied her sister a bit…though at other times, she’d been rather relieved at her own low profile. Julia was sure Miranda had slept with a couple of guys at least by the time she’d been Julia’s age. Julia hadn’t…and she was glad she hadn’t, pretty much. She’d made out with a few boys, and there’d been some groping, and that was all. Why rush things?

Miranda had always teased her about being too cautious. But she wasn’t really cautious. She just figured there was time enough, and why sleep with some boy she wasn’t all that into? Miranda on the other hand; sometimes seemed like she felt she had to live up to her looks — like she trying to pull off a sensuality or an earthiness that didn’t necessarily fit her all that well. People were always saying how shocked they were that Julia was so different from her sister, but deep down she didn’t think they were that different. Which is maybe why they’d always gotten along so well.

Though…Julia shivered as a misbehaved finger feathered across her still incredibly engorged nipple. Things seemed a little different on this trip, didn’t they? Suddenly, Miranda’s sensuality didn’t seem put on at all, not even a little bit. That black sequined mini-dress she’d worn out clubbing, with the ridiculous side-boob cleavage—that should have made her look desperate, at best.

Instead, it had been…well. It had shown up in Julia’s dreams, and she was sure she wasn’t the only one. The bouncers hadn’t even checked her fake ID; they would have given the green light to a ten year old just on the off chance that Miranda might smile at them. The bartender seemed to feel much the same way. And she was a woman. A married woman, by the ring.

Julia bit her lip as she slid her hand down again into her pajama bottoms. Watching the way people watched Miranda last night…it had been surreal, and funny, and almost unbearably sexy.

She saw the bouncers again; two very big, guys, one black, with a shaved head, one white with self-consciously raffish, but still sort of appealing stubble. They’d been laughing together when Miranda had just cut in front of the line…and they’d stopped as if someone had flicked a switch.

That wasn’t the only thing that had seemed to operate on a switch either; their erections had been sudden and very, very visible. Miranda hadn’t even pretended not to notice; her eyes locked on the black guys, and she motioned him down so he could hear her over the music. She’d whispered something to him, and his dick had gotten impossibly harder and bigger. It looked like it was going to rip through his jeans.

She didn’t know what Miranda had whispered, but she found herself imagining now…. She’d turned back as they were going inside, and she’d seen the two guys moving away, leaving the line behind. What if…what if Miranda had told them that it would turn her on if they fucked each other?

Julia breathed harder. She could imagine them in the alley, thinking about Miranda’s tits, thinking about the way the mini-skirt clung to her ass as she swung away on her heels, the one undoing his belt, the dick so hard he gasped with pain as he pulled down the pants — and then the cock standing out, magnificent and rigid, uncircumcised.

Julia imagined Miranda imagining it, her tongue in her mind delicately licking the tip, then swallowing smoothly, taking the whole length up to the balls…his groan as he thought about her thinking of him. The other guy, the white guy, already up against the wall, legs spread, his thick erection out before him, moving his hand up and down, begging him to fuck him for her…

Julia wondered for a second what they’d use for lubricant, and then, without really knowing why, imagined one of the worms from her dream, its blind head poking almost comically out of the guys anus. She imagined the fissure on its back working, pulsing, stretching the ring so he gasped, and then a wet eruption of mucus from inside it, coating him.

It slid out then, leaving the way free, working itself around to cling to his desperately rigid member— and the other guy stepped up without any more preamble thrusting hard. And Julia imagined Miranda pushing her way into the club, a little smile on her face, knowing they were out there, hard for her, cumming for her….

And what about that bartender? She’d been short, dark-haired with a Mediterranean nose and a clingy silver blouse. The press at the bar had been such that Julia figured they’d never get served, but Miranda had caught the woman’s eye, and she’d just about dropped the beer she was carrying. There were goodness knows how many people ahead of them, but the bartender came straight over as if pulled on a string. She leaned over towards them, the scoop neckline exposing the tops of her dark breasts. Julia didn’t feel bad about looking, since the woman’s own eyes were glued to Miranda’s tits.

“Can I get you…anything?” It was loud and Julia could barely hear her. But it still sounded like a come on.

Miranda smiled sweetly. “Oh, yes,” she said. Julia couldn’t make out the rest, but she saw the woman shiver, and then nod eagerly. She hurried away, to get them a drink presumably. Julia turned to say something to Miranda about the ID situation, and was startled to see the bartender shove determinedly through the crowd to their side. Now that she was next to them, Julia could she was wearing some extreme black heels. Even with them on, she was quite short.

She said something that sounded like, “Where?” Miranda casually patted the bar. The next minute the woman was leveraging herself up, her rear wiggling under her black skirt. There was some confusion around them as she jostled, and startled patrons pulled their drinks out of harms way, and then she was sitting on the bar, her chest rising and falling more enthusiastically than the exertion could really account for. “What the fuck…” someone said close by….and then no one said anything as Miranda casually rolled up the woman’s skirt and lowered her mouth to the very naked, very wet slit. Had she come to work without underwear, Julia wondered? Had she taken them off just before….?

Miranda’s tongue flicked out once, gently, and the woman’s whole body shuddered in an obvious climax. Miranda licked her again. Julia felt her own clit throbbing; she knew she was soaked. She knew other people around her must be affected as well. Se could feel the desire like electricity, undulating from crotch to crotch, hard erection to damp, needy lips.

She couldn’t take her eyes off Miranda, though, and that beautiful tongue. It reached out again, and the woman thrust her hips helplessly, desperately. Her nipples were clearly visible through the silvery top, her hand, wedding ring and all, clutched spastically in Miranda’s hair.

Miranda looked up, smiling, her lips and chin damp. Her nipples were visible too. One of her breasts had actually worked itself out of the dress, and hung free, the dark aureole shamelessly lewd. Somebody close by Julia’s ear groaned. Julia may have made a noise herself. And then Miranda’s lips were by her ear, the words clear even over the pounding music.

“Go ahead, Julie. I don’t think she’s going to card you.”

A firm pressure on her ass and she was moving forward. The slit seemed to fill the whole bar. She could see the damp folds, the black pubic hair.

“I don’t,” she said, and she felt Miranda push her head down. Then her own tongue was in use, tasting the bartender delicately at first. But the woman didn’t want delicate; she bucked, and Julia responded to the desperation almost despite herself, She grabbed the woman’s hips to give herself more leverage, thrusting hard, then backing off to tease the clit, trying to do to the woman under her mouth what she desperately wanted for herself, her cunt dripping, begging for release….

Miranda chuckled as she pulled her back. “So much for shy little Julia! You’re a quick study, hmmm? But we’re going to move on now, baby. Kiss her goodbye, all right?”

Julia wanted to suck more; she wanted to make her cum. But more than that she wanted to be Miranda’s absolutely; wanted her own cunt to be her sister’s. So, instead of sliding down to finish the job, she stepped forward.

Her own small breasts pressed against the woman’s larger ones as their tongues found each other. Julia knew the bartender was tasting herself on Julia’s lips, and that made it sexier. The woman’s hand moved down, under Julia’s skirt. She hiked a leg up to give her better access, desperately wanting the fingers to push aside her panties….

And then Miranda pulled her away again. “Be good, Julie, sweetie,” she said, and kissed her herself on the lips, briefly, but with a sensuous suddenness that made Julia moan like a hungry bitch.

The bartender, watching, moaned too. And Julia suddenly knew that this wasn’t an interlude or a passing incident for her. The glance at Miranda’s tits, Miranda’s tongue inside her —that was this bartender’s whole life now. Miranda wanted her to be a horny slut who spread her legs for anyone, and that’s who she was from now on. She’d sit up on that bar for the rest of the evening, letting anyone put anything in her. Begging anyone to put anything in her. And as for the rest of her life….

Julia had a vision of the woman, hugely pregnant, her tits even larger, straining against that same, now hopelessly inadequate silver blouse. In the fantasy, she was enthusiastically, even frantically trying to bring off three guys at once — the two bouncers, and Ron, Miranda’s (ex?) boyfriend.

The bartender deep-throated Ron, her hands skillfully toyed with the others’ balls. Then she’d switch, sucking each in turn, sucking, stroking, coaxing. They all came together, covering her face and silver, now utterly ruined blouse. As if the sperm had set her off, she screamed…and her babies came.

Caterpillar worms, seemingly endless numbers of them, crawling from her swollen cunt lips, two, three, ten…too many to count, a moving carpet covering her as they came out, crawling up towards her breasts, drawing trails in the cum that coated her. The men, more excited than ever by the slick worms, were erect again; she licked the two bouncers, enthusiastically, hardening them further, while Ron moved around behind her. He thrust hard into her anus as a final worm crawled out of her cunt, this one bigger and thicker, undulating out in coils.

And even in this final moment of pleasure and degradation, covered in cum and milk, a great worm coming out of her cunt, while two men fucked her mouth and another fucked her ass, it was still Miranda’s tongue on her clit that filled her thoughts and hardened her nipples; and she came because she knew she was fulfilling Miranda’s will.

Julia stopped, and flexed her cramping hand. She leaned her head forward against the mirror. Then she pulled back, and bashed her head against it, not too lightly.

She needed to stop. She wasn’t getting off; she was just winding herself up more and more. She wasn’t sure where all this energy and all these fantasies were coming from. She hadn’t even thought she’d gotten that good a look at the bouncers, or the bartenders, but there they were in her skull, disturbingly vivid. She could still taste the bartender. She realized with a start that she had been licking her own fingers, wet with herself. She withdrew them at once, and washed, with soap. She refused to acknowledge the tinge of regret.

Her pajama bottoms had come off sometime during her marathon session. Resolutely, she put them back on, pointedly refusing to touch her still inflamed lips as she did so. She clearly wasn’t going to come; all she was going to do was spiral off into more and more disturbingly hot nightmare visions of Miranda and worm sex. Enough already.

She turned off the light, and stepped out again into the darkened house. She took a step or two back towards Miranda’s room…but no, she didn’t think so. Sleeping with Miranda, with those breasts…. Not happening. In the dark hall, she turned around and headed towards the living room. She’d just sack out on the couch. It wasn’t too cold; the couch was pretty comfortable. It should work.

Without light, moving through the strange house, she felt oddly disconnected. Whose dream had that been, anyway? Who was having these fantasies about worms. Or about her sister? Her past seemed, at this moment, hazy and distant and strange. She could remember scenes and incidents— Miranda in her punk phase patiently drilling her on the virtues of different Sonic Youth albums; Miranda taking her to get her ears pierced when Mom and Dad wouldn’t; Miranda beside herself with fury when she found out that Julia had “borrowed” and then somehow managed to lose her favorite jacket.

But all the memories seemed generic and unconvincing; a washed out montage from a past that didn’t exist. Her fantasies — those naked women, Miranda as sex goddess — seemed more real. It was like the dark house was a skull, and she was just a thought, sliding through the mind of some vast, inhuman thing. It wasn’t her dreaming of worms and Miranda, it was Miranda and the worms dreaming of her.

Which meant, she thought, feeling herself moisten again, that she had no will, no self. She was whatever they wanted her to be. Like that bartender, whose name she didn’t know. Who didn’t even have a name, anymore; who was just a hole and a womb.

She felt like she had been traveling through the dark forever. Without thinking, she stopped. Without thinking she sat. Without thinking she waited.

The light came on. She wasn’t in the living room.

She was in the middle of a large space, sitting on some sort of raised slab. She heard, vaguely, voices around her. She didn’t understand the language, and she didn’t look around. She just looked in front of her, at her sister.

Miranda was magnificently nude. Her impossibly heavy breasts sat impossibly forthright and firm on her chest. The dark, wide aureoles surrounded huge, engorged nipples. Julia felt her mouth water and her clit tighten as her eyes traced down Miranda’s curves, to the central, beautiful mystery; those slick, hot folds….

It wasn’t there, though.

At first Julia thought, with a vague mingling of disappointment and anticipation, that Miranda was wearing some sort of strap on. But then she realized it didn’t look right. It wasn’t rigid for one thing. And it was moving. Between her legs, it was thrashing back and forth, blindly but somehow sensuously. And there was something familiar about it….

Suddenly it clicked. It was one of the worms from her dreams. Mottled red, covered with veiny folds, its legs thrashing. It was pushing into Miranda, or pushing out. Julia watched it in fascination. The chanting got louder.

“Almost, baby,” Miranda said. Her voice dripped sex. Julia trembled; the orgasm she had been pursuing seemingly for hours was tantalizingly close, a wave coming towards her, in which, she knew, she would soon be obliterated utterly. Miranda took a step towards her. The worm between her legs undulated. It was slick with fluid. Julia knew her own sex was as well. She realized that she, like Miranda, was completely nude. The people gathered around the dais could see her arousal clearly. She was open to them. For them

“It’s not fucking me,” Miranda said. “It’s part of me. It’s joined with me. We are Nyarlathotep, now, little sister. He that comes before.”

“Comes,” Julia said. Her words didn’t seem hers. Nothing seemed hers. She was someone else’s need.

“Yes,” Miranda said. “Yes.” The thing between her legs caressed Julia’s lips, sliding up the slit. She felt its legs fluttering eagerly. But not entering her. Not yet.

Miranda leaned down to lick her ear as delicately as the thing licked along her cunt. Her voice was a whisper, but Julia understood that she was speaking for all those gathered — the women chanting with their dripping cunts; the men chanting with their erect, beautiful pricks, and the masters, the worms, sliding among them, taking who and when they wished. And the great Thing, waiting for the opening of its master.

“Virgin sister, I betray you,” she said. “Of my own will, I sacrifice you to my lust.”

“Yes,” Julia said, echoing her sister. The worm’s legs against her clit were unendurable. She spread her legs, her lips, trying to take it inside her.

Miranda laughed again, in her ear. “Eager little girl. Just like at the club, when you first licked cunt. So eager.” She nipped her ear, and Julia moaned. “You will be an ideal womb for That Which Comes.”

She lifted her mouth from Julia’s ear and spoke in a loud, ringing voice..“Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn.”

Julia came. It was the words that made her come, she knew, an instant before the thing below stopped its teasing, and thrust deep inside her. There was a sharp tear of pain as her hymen broke. She gasped as the worm inside her thrashed, goaded to a frenzy

“Ohhh,” Miranda said. She was panting, her breasts rising and falling raggedly, her hips moving involuntarily against Julia. “That’s…it likes the blood….”

There was something about seeing Miranda, the sex goddess, her betrayer and older sister, losing control, that sent Julia over the edge. She drove her mouth onto her sisters, biting her lip hard. There was blood in both of their mouths. Julia heard the chanting grow louder, and came again as the worm pulled back to thrust again. She felt it explode inside her, and she came hard as the blood from Miranda’s lip dripped down onto her breasts, her sister’s seed planted deep, already growing in Julia’s stomach.

Even as the orgasm rolled over her, Julia was anticipating orgasms to come. As the vessel, she would serve them all. While the Great Beast grew in her, she would crawl like a worm, used by men and women and most of all by the worms. She could feel already the thick, king worms pushing into her virgin ass, pulsing as their length entered her. And the Shoggoth would take her again and again, driven wild by the thing within her, as her belly grew and her breasts engorged till they were even larger than Miranda’s. It would lift her in its coils, its tentacles in her mouth, in her anus, filling her.

And then It would come, the child that was not a child. It would crawl out of her, in nightmare and glory, and her reward as the mother would be that she would be the first it took, the first its great member violated. Miranda flipped her over and entered her ass, and she screamed with pleasure and pain and the thought of pleasure and pain to come. She would be a part of His Dream; the world would be a part of His Dream of blood and cum, betrayal and meat, sliding inside her sacred, foul, spasming cunt for all eternity.