The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Timothy made faces at himself in the bathroom mirror, smearing the foam of toothpaste from his lip to draw a moustache on his reflection. He cackled excitedly as he smeared a white fluffy unibrow, and then finally he got a mouthful of water and spit it on the mirror, cleaning off the mess. Sort of. The sink was wet and covered in toothpaste.

The faucet was still spraying water when his foster mother walked in. She was dressed in a white blouse, with a black jacket and skirt, dark pantyhose, and dark blue heels. She was in her late thirties, slim as a beanpole, looking almost the same as she had when she’d done gymnastics in her early teens.

“TIMMY!” she screamed, setting her purse on the towel rack. “Go finish getting ready for school!”

He slunk away to his bedroom, and heard her muttering angrily. He felt his chest tighten, but he refused to cry. He’d only been in his new home for about a week now, and his new family always seemed to be upset with him. He was trying to enjoy himself, to be happy here, but they seemed set on not letting him.

“John! I’m going to be late for work! Will you help Timmy get dressed?” she shouted, running downstairs with the wet towel.

“Tina, I’m still getting dressed myself!” he shouted from the master bedroom, heading down the hall. He was in his undershirt and pants, and was buttoning up his blue striped dress shirt. “Timothy, god damn it, get your clothes on. You’re going to make us all late.” He was in his forties, and looked very much like an old time sitcom grandpa. Bristly silver moustache over a grim mouth that never showed Timothy a smile, his brow nearly always furrowed. He was a lawyer, and he brooded over cases constantly. His eyes were cunning and calculating, and Timothy couldn’t bear to look into them for too long.

Timothy sniffled, but dutifully dressed quickly and headed down for breakfast.

His foster sister sat at the table, munching at a piece of cantalope. She was wearing her school uniform, a blue dress shirt, green sweater vest embroidered with the school logo, and knee length black skirt. Her knee socks covered most of her shapely legs.

She was a senior, and her social life had been stunted by his arrival. She glared at him over the table, her ice blue eyes narrowing as she swept her long platinum blonde hair back over her shoulder. She and her mother shared hairstyles and the pale creamy skin, but the elder’s eyes were pale green instead. Unlike her mother’s meager flat chest, her breasts were full, and rivaled the melon she was currently munching on.

“Good morning, Princess,” murmured their father, leaning down to kiss his daughter’s cheek.

“Daaaaaddyyyyy,” she whined, but smiled up and kissed his freshly shaved cheek as well.

She took a gulp of orange juice, and pushed a plate of cold toast to Timothy. John sat down and began drinking his coffee, not saying another word to the boy. Tina came down, and rested a hand on her daughter’s shoulder, taking a cup of coffee from her husband.

“Now Angela, I have a late meeting today, so I’ll need you to pick up Timothy from school,” she said. Angela spit her mouthful of cantalope onto her plate.

“MOM! I was supposed to go over Becky’s tonight!” she whined. Her mother fixed her with a stern glare.

“Well, until Becky can give you enough money to pay for this house or your car, I guess my job takes priority.” John chuckled into his coffee cup.

“Daaaddyyy do I haaave to?” she whined. He shrugged.

“I gotta work on the Walker case, I may be at the office all night. I can’t guarantee I’d be able to pick him up, so it’s pointless to keep your plans as if I could.”

“Uhn!” she grunted angrily, and snatched her purse off the table. She knocked over her orange juice, and stormed out the back door. “You can clean that up, Timmy.”

“But, I didn’t—!” he pouted.

“Timothy, I had to clean up your mess in the bathroom, clean up the juice. I have to go get my briefcase.” She went back upstairs as John stood up and followed Angela out to the garage.

Timothy seethed as he grabbed a fistful of paper towels and wiped up the mess.

Timothy climbed into the backseat of Angela’s car, and she hit the gas before he fully had his seatbelt on. Her friend Becky, a soft voiced black girl, sat in the passenger seat. He gaped at the girl, before turning to his foster sister.

“Mom and Dad didn’t say—" he began.

“Shut up!” snapped Angela. “If I can’t go out to my friends, then my friends will have to come to me.”

“Hey little man,” Becky smiled awkwardly over her shoulder at him, and handed her cell phone back to him. “Wanna play a game?”

“Thanks, ok,” he said. He started to play Tetris, only half paying attention to the girls’ conversation. It wasn’t until he smelled burgers that he looked up.

“Angela, can I get an ice cream?” he asked, smiling in anticipation.

“Do you have any money?” Angela sneered, sipping her soda.

“No, I’m eight!” he responded, crestfallen. “Come on, Mom will pay you back!”

“Angie, get it, I’ll pay—" Becky began. Angela held up a palm, and the girl fell silent.

“Don’t. Encourage. Him.” she bit off each word angrily, and as she set the bag of food in Becky’s lap, she pulled out of the drive-thru. “He can get something to eat when we get home.” She glared back at him as they sat at the stop light. “If you can’t pay, you can’t get what you want. That’s life, get used to it.”

Becky gave Timmy some of her fries when Angela pulled the car left towards her street, and she was so intent on ignoring him that she didn’t notice. He handed back Becky’s cell phone as they pulled up to the house, and gave her a sweet smile. She was the youngest in her family, she knew well the torment of older siblings.

The two girls went into the den and dug into their burgers and fries. Angela turned on a movie channel and turned up the volume. Timothy went to his bedroom and buried his head in his pillow. He fell asleep sobbing.

In his dream, there was a great plain of dry, pale green grass. In the center of this plain was a great golden and silver zebra. A white lion ran across the distance and snapped the zebra’s neck with one bite of his diamond teeth. He tore out the zebra’s belly, causing a spilling of rubies and emeralds. He crunched the tasty gems, then left the kill.

Next, a black bird with feathers of knives landed and picked out the zebra’s coppery eyes, then tugged the zebra’s vitals out of his belly. They were like glittering guitar strings of light.

Next came a white bird, her feathers glowing slivers of pearls. She landed on the zebra’s forehead, and picked at his skull until his brain was bare. Sapphires filled her silver beak, and then she flew off as well.

Finally, the sky grew cloudy, and out trotted a topaz dog. Its wheezy cackle filled the sky like thunder. It’s claws dug up the earth as it ran, and it too began to feast on the zebra. Once it had its fill, it turned to face Timothy.

He was a tiny baby monkey, sitting in a cracked cradle, his body covered in fluffy white fur. He saw other monkies, but they were all different colors and none were his family. He cried and whined, but all ignored him.

The dog... the wolf? It cackled again, and he realized—it’s a jackal! The jackal approached his crib and sniffed him.

His fur was shed, slowly, and the fluffy white grew in between the topaz shards covering the jackal’s body. His crying weakened until he fell silent. He could barely draw breath. The jackal lapped it’s rough tongue over his face.

YOU ARE IN THE OTHER WORLD, THE WORLD OF FLESH AND FUN! it cackled happily. It climbed into the crib with him, and licked his body. Nearly all of his fur was the jackal’s now. His skin under the fur was clammy, going cold and pale. He could barely keep his eyes open. WANT TO PLAY?

Timothy couldn’t respond, and the jackal’s licks became nips and bites. Their eyes met briefly, and Timothy nodded, smiling. The exultant joy in the jackal’s eyes was something he hadn’t felt in a long time, and he wanted to.

LET US HAVE SOME FUN! the jackal cackled.

The sky fell to the earth, and the sea flooded them both, and everything went dark.

Timothy stumbled out of bed, and went downstairs to eat breakfast. He passed by the Sugar Flakes, the chocolate donuts, and opened the freezer. He reached past the Freezer Pastries, the waffles, and the microwave bacon-egg-muffin sandwiches. He grabbed a slab of Dad-John’s steaks, and tossed them in the oven. He snapped his fingers and the dials on the oven twirled upwards, to quickly thaw the meat.

He got into the fridge and drank the last of the juice straight out of the carton. He tossed the carton into the garbage, and went into the den to watch cartoons while he waited for the steak to cook.

With a wide-mouthed yawn, Becky walked into the den and stretched, popping her back. She wore fuschia silk shorts and loose fitting top, embroidered in various flowers. She grinned lazily at him, stroking her fingers through her sleep-mussed hair.

“Morning, squirt,” she murmured, sinking onto the other side of the couch, the middle cushion between them.

“Morn,” he muttered, flipping through the channels. She tucked her feet under her, and sniffed the air.

“Your mom cooking?” she asked, peering into the kitchen.

“She’s not my mother,” he snarled, and tossed the remote onto the coffee table. He headed into the kitchen. Becky bit her lower lip, but didn’t move. She felt sorry for the kid, and wasn’t sure how to make things easier for her.

He took the steak out of the oven, and tilted his head back, squeezing the warm blood into his mouth. He smacked his lips, then started hungrily gnawing on the barely cooked cow flesh.

He washed his hands and face, and went back to his room to get dressed. Becky watched the morning weather report. Timothy took a quick hot bubble bath, and when he came out, Becky and Angela were on the couch watching music videos, fully dressed and made up.

He leaned against the door, hiding in the shadows of the hallway. Angela was wearing her tight pink jogging pants, the ones with the yellow and orange JUICY on the ass, and a loose silver jersey of her favorite basketball team. She had a tight longsleeve blue shirt underneath. Becky was wearing a mellow canary yellow ribbed button-up sweater and a long flowy green skirt. His stomach did a little flip as he gazed at his foster sister’s friend; she was very sweet, and rather pretty, and the tight sweater showed off how her breasts were even bigger than Angela’s.

John and Tina were in the kitchen, eating breakfast. Becky smiled at him as he walked to the kitchen, but he was glaring at his foster parents.

“Are we still going to the mall today?” he asked. Tina looked at John, who shrugged.

“Sure, after we finish eating,” she said. She didn’t bother asking if he wanted anything to eat. He poured himself a glass of milk, and went to sit in the den with the girls.

Mummy, and daddy, and sissy makes three. The African ... she looks fun...

She is nice, we won’t play with her. Timothy asserted, gulping the milk.

They left the shoe store, Angela and Becky each with two new pairs of shoes, and Timothy still empty handed. Three stores, and still not a single purchase. But he was unusually chipper, even when they passed the toy store without a second glance.

They stopped at the fountain to grab a bite to eat, and Timothy hopped on top of the table.

Becky dropped her fork, and stared at him, trembling. His eyes! His left eye was the same color it always was, but his right eye was so strange. The pupil was like honey, the iris a glassy brown, and the surrounding area was a grayish white, with veins of gold going through it. She looked down at his leg, and wrapped around his calf was a dark brown tattoo of a wolf gnawing at its own left front paw.

“Nawt a wulf,” he grinned, in an unusual drawl that gave Becky the shivers, dropping to all fours and gazing into her eyes. “Eez un jackal!” he whispered. His grin went from sinister to friendly, Timothy’s familiar affection for his foster sister’s friend showing through. He touched her cheek, and she saw a tear creep into his right eye.

“Run, Becky...” he whispered, his voice shaking a little, “We won’t play with you, but you shouldn’t be here for what’s gonna happen.” She nodded, unquestioning, and turned to go. When she turned the corner at the pretzel shop, Timothy’s smile gave way to the scavenger’s leer once more.

“TIMOTHY! GET DOWN FROM THERE. RIGHT. NOW!” He turned to glare at Tina. Her pink lips were tight with disapproval. Her slender finger pointing at his chair. John set his tray down, shaking his head.

“Boy, we’ll go home right now if you don’t listen to your mother.” Timothy’s eyes widened and he gave a sharp, brief snarl.

“She isn’t my mother!” he growled, and gestured to the seats himself. The adults sat down, but Angela remained on her feet. He turned his gaze to her. “You. Take off your shoes and your jersey.”

Angela glared at him, her hands obeying him and started pulling off her shoes. Her arms began to twitch and jerk, her fingers quivering as she fought his command. She folded her arms over her stomach, grabbing the bottom of her jersey, and tugged it up and off. A tear went down her cheek, as he gestured to John.

“Daaaaaddyyyyy,” he mocked her sing song whine, as Angela’s body turned and shuffled over to stand before her father. John turned his face, contorted in fear, to face his daughter. “Pull down her pants, Daaaaaddyyyy.”

John placed his hands on Angela’s hips, and she whimpered as he yanked them down her slim legs. He was bent at the waist, his hands at her ankles, and his face was almost touching the crotch of her black lacy panties.

“Now, Angela... over Daaaaaddyyyyy’s lap,” he said, dropping to sit at the edge of the table, clasping his hands in his lap.

Angela circled to her father’s side, then eased herself onto her stomach over his thighs. Her shapely rump stuck up in the air, and John blushed as her plump chest settled against his leg. She sobbed quietly as her father rested one hand between her shoulder blades and the other at the top of her panties.

“Now, DAAAAADDYYYYY,” he snarled, his lips curling into a vicious smirk, “SPANK HER!”

The older man closed his eyes, begging softly “please stop” as his traitorous hand slowly raised above his head. Then, with a hissing intake of breath from Angela as she braced for it, his palm came down with a loud SMACK on her right buttock. The flesh jiggled under the sting, and even after the first slap he could see the bright pink rising to her pale skin. He continued to punish his daughter, taking a deep breath before every fierce slap of his hand.

Angela sobbed, curling her arms around the back of her head. Tina struggled to rise, watching as her husband gave their daughter the kind of punishment she hadn’t seen since she was Timothy’s age. John did not open his eyes, but his hand unerringly found the center of her right buttock, now a bright cherry red. It was a sharp contrast to the porcelain white of her left cheek.

“Put her down,” he said, calmly. John pushed Angela from his lap, shuddering in frustration. Angela rose to all fours, and looked up at him through a veil of her long straight hair. Her eyes were wide with fear and humiliation, already bloodshot from her crying. “Now, Angela, lift up your arms.”

She stood, her face contorted in a scowl as she raised her arms. He gestured at Tina.

“You, go fetch some soap from the store over there. John, take off her clothes. Time for a bath!”

All three sets of eyes went wide, but they moved as one. Tina turned, her heels clacking loudly but as steady as a metronome as she headed to the beauty store. Angela’s eyes and fists clenched, but her body remained rigid. John grabbed the hem of her shirt, and tugged it up and off her outstretched arms. Her stomach was a flawless curve, coming up to her jutting ribs, and finally the plump swell of her breasts. Her black lace bra matched the tiny black panties she had below. John gathered her hair in his hands, and tied a ponytail at the back of her neck, like he had when she’d been a little girl; Tina had been very specific about washing their daughter’s hair.

“Timmy, stop, pleeeease,” she begged, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed. John crouched to one kneed, and tugged her panties down her legs. She stepped out of her underwear, and lowered her arms down until she stood like a T in front of her father.

“Hey! What happened to your peepee?” Timothy snapped, hopping off the table. He leaned in close, staring at her crotch. She had hair down there, shaved close to the skin and in the shape of a triangle, but they pointed to a pink slit.

“Girls don’t have a penis, they have a vagina,” explained John, as he stood to unhook her bra.

Timothy clutched his head, as the Jackal gave him some insight. The boy shook his head. Ewww, grown ups were so gross. She really DID need a bath. Timothy stared, transfixed by the brief jiggle of Angela’s breasts as her bra slipped off. She lowered her arms to her sides, and John had to lean against her back to pull her bra off.

“Touch her boobies,” Timothy commanded, staring in awe at the tight pink nipples atop her healthy round breasts. John’s fingers clenched into fists at her sides, and he gritted his jaw. Timothy snickered, as Tina came back, blushing bright crimson and tears coming to her eyes as well. “YOU HAVE TO TOUCH HER!”

John’s fingers slowly uncurled, only to cup his daughter’s tits. Timothy looked at Tina.

“Pour the soap into the fountain, then take off your clothes too,” he grinned. Tina opened the soap and began to squirt it into the water. “So, John, how do you like Angela’s boobies?”

John closed his eyes, squeezing her breasts roughly. Timothy frowned. He glared at John, and waited.

“I... I like them,” he ground out at last. He rested his cheek on Angela’s shoulder, and began to sob as well. Tina, finished with the soap, shrugged off her jacked and began to unbutton her blouse.

All the other patrons of the mall watched in horror, and as others left stores, or came down to the first floor, began to gather around the fountain.

“Better than Tina’s little boobies, huh?” he taunted. John nodded his head silently, tears pouring down his face, down Angela’s shoulder and over her breasts. Timothy stared, waiting for him to speak.

“Yes, they are,” he choked out, as Tina stepped out of her skirt. She had a matching blue bra and panties, plain cotton. Her breasts were barely a B cup, she didn’t really need a bra at all. Angela lifted a hand to touch her father’s, and she turned to gaze into his eyes as Timothy focused on his foster mother.

“It’s ok, Daddy, I love you,” she whispered softly. “It’s ok, it’ll be ok, Daddy, I love you.” She whispered it, over and over, as if wishing hard enough would make this a mere nightmare. He smiled weakly, as he kneaded her firm mounds. He tried to not think about how stiff her nipples had become under his skillful fondling.

“I love you too, Princess, I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“Boring. BATH TIME!” Timothy shouted, shoving Tina into the water. He turned to the other two, and noticed the crowd. All of them had begun to strip and climb into the fountain. John roughly shoved Angela into the fountain, matching Timothy’s actions, and began to create a lather of soap in his palms.

He rubbed his hands all over Angela’s smooth wet body, and she squirmed slightly under his touch. They continued to whisper apologies and love to each other, and Tina splashed on all fours over to her daughter. She pulled Angela’s legs apart, and slid between them. She began to assist her husband in lathering up their daughter.

“This food is horrible,” grumbled a young man, munching hesitantly on a taco. His older companion sipped from a tea cup, and Timothy’s nose crinkled at the bitter smell. He stared at the boy in black, and got the distinct mental image of knives scattering into the sky.

“I saw you, last night. You were eating a metal zebra,” he gasped. Tina pushed Angela out of the fountain, and sobbingly begged her to run away, as she clung to her husband. Angela struggled on all fours across the tile, slipping about and making slow progress.

“Holy shit, that was you?” Raven laughed, kicking the third chair out for Timothy to sit on. He ignored the seat and glared at Raven. “It’s pretty rare for someone to remember the Other Side. You’re a special little boy, aren’t you?”

“My mommy says I’m special,” mocked Ghalitar, sipping his tea. Timothy snapped, and kicked the table over.

“SHE. IS NOT. MY FUCKING.” Timothy widened his stance, and flung his fists down to his side. “MOOOOTHEEEEEEER!” The teacup shattered in Ghalitar’s hands, and he leapt to his feet, yanking the shards of china out of his flesh. Raven snickered and followed the sound of flesh slapping on tile.

Angela tried to crawl, but her knees and palms kept sliding on the wet tile, her skin slippery and glistening with soap. Raven admired the round squeaky contours of her ass and well-developed tits. He began to reach for her hips, when Timothy waved his hand at the fountain, and the water shot out like a tidal wave. In mid-air, the liquid turned solid, icy spears stabbing at Raven. He rolled to the side, slipped on some ice, and landed with a thud on his back.

“MY TOYS! NOT YOURS!” Timothy stamped his feet petulantly, and used the thick icicles to make a prison around Raven. He turned back to Ghalitar. The unusual accent crept back into his voice, and it deepened a bit. “LEAF MEH ALOON! PLAY TEM, PLAY TEM!” he bellowed, the windows of the local shops vibrating.

Ghalitar took one look at those topaz eyes, and magically whisked himself out of the mall. Raven used his magic to teleport out of the icy prison.

“Bad girl, running away,” he sneered, when they were gone. “Into the corner!”

Angela squirmed and made her way on all fours to the nearest corner. Their audience, all the shoppers of the mall, had sunk to their knees and held their hands to their chests, as if mimicing a dog begging for a treat. Their eyes, though, darted about, some weeping, some clenched shut against this horror, some staring at her as if making the most of a bad situation.

She rose to her knees, resting her hands on her thighs, rolling back her shoulders until her nipples and her nose were touching the cold brick.

“Rub her face in it, John.”

Her father grabbed her ponytail, and like a bad puppy who’d peed the carpet, John rubbed her button nose roughly against the brick wall in the corner. She coughed and breathed through her mouth, and then she tasted blood. Her father was sobbing.

“This is boring, I want some new toys,” he pouted, then turned towards the toy store they had passed earlier. “TOYS! TOYS! TOYS!” He clapped his hands happily, and the three members of his foster family made their way to the toy store.