The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Tom returned to consciousness. It was a struggle at first, like waking from a deep sleep. Then his heartbeat began to slam against the inside of his chest as he remembered what happened. He was still in Dr. Beine’s office. It hadn’t been a dream.

Something was making his vision was gauzy. He could see, but everything seemed softened somehow. Whatever was going on with his vision, the hard reality of his situation still came through.

Tom was in the armchair still, although it had been reclined so his legs were elevated, his upper body and head now leaned back slightly. Control was returning to his limbs, but he could see it wouldn’t do any good: leather restraints bound his wrists to the armrests.

His legs were similarly restrained. Two narrow wooden platforms, previously hidden, had been extended out from beneath the chair. His spread legs rested on either one, each ankle bound by a leather strap. Bad as that was, it wasn’t the worse thing about his legs now.

For a second, his mind couldn’t quite process it: they had left his T-shirt on, but his legs are now encased in black, sheer-to-waist pantyhose. His uncircumcised dick was as visible through the nylon as the summer sun on a hazy morning. In contrast to the otherwise dark material, the hose’s center seam was laced with a silver thread.

What. The. Fuck. Tom tried to shout, only to realize he was gagged by something hard in his mouth.

He looked away from his legs—the sight of them adorned in nylons was painful, an affront that made him feel like less of a man—only for his attention to settle on his mother.

Oh my god. The thought echoed in Tom’s mind again and again as he looked at her.

Like him, she was in a reclined armchair, her legs elevated by the wooden supports, wrists and ankles restrained. Like him, they had left her top on, but her pants had been stripped off. Like him, her legs were covered in sheer, black nylons—no panties underneath. The silver seam lacing through the center seam that ran from her navel down to her pussy.

Her face was similarly covered in by a black pair of nylons, these too having that silver-threaded center seam. A ball gag had been placed over the mask. Tom understood his face must have been similarly harnessed—the stocking mask explained his gauzy vision.

The same metabolic quality that had made the sedative hit him faster than his mom also meant his system burned it off more quickly. She was catching up, though. Tom watched as she returned to consciousness, panic dawning on her as she saw both what had been done to her, and then her son.

They tried communicating in grunts through their ball gags, not that it did any good. Tom pulled against the restraints with everything he had, but to no avail. He tried shifting his weight back-and-forth to move the chair he was strapped to, but it was too heavy to do more than budge it.

Starting to sweat from the effort, he looked around the room for something that might help. His eyes caught sight of a clock on Beine’s desk. Jesus Christ, had it only been 45 minutes since they first arrived here? The quickness of what had happened to them added to the sense of surreal.

Tom wondered if this his fault. If he hadn’t been such an asshole, they wouldn’t have wound up in a trap set by a pervert. There was no way they would let them go, Tom knew—Beine would know they’d go the cops as soon as they got free.

He was so sorry to both of his parents, but especially to his mother. She was crying, the tears staining her nylon mask. He hoped she realized how much he loved her, here at the end.

The office door opened. Beine walked in, followed by the receptionist. Diane and Tom stared through their masks.

Biene was wearing nothing except a pair of navy pantyhose on his legs, and another pair pulled over his face like a mask. The receptionist was similarly nude except for the coffee-colored nylons over her face and legs. Neither of the nylons they were wearing had any silver seam.

Beine carried a vibrator in his hand. Not the kind Tom had typically seen in online porn, the ones that were shaped like a dick. Instead, this was one of those wand-style devices that had the blunt, white, plastic head.

Tom knew it was useless, but he raged at Beine anyway. The gag made his threats sound more like an early hominid trying to invent speech than anything human.

“You’re both scared,” Beine said, his cock hard in pantyhose. “That’s understandable. This treatment is very unusual, after all. It’s not taught by any respectable school of psychology, but one I came across with Marissa here while visiting a small town last year.” He gave a slight laugh, as if relishing the memory. “Nonetheless, I promise you, the technique will work. Your relationship will be stronger than you will have ever thought possible.”

Can you read my mind, fucker? Tom thought. I swear I will kill you and your cunt assistant if I ever get out of here.

“I can see the rage in your eyes, Tom. I’ve seen it in other sons and fathers that I’ve helped—women tend to cry more in these situations.”

These situations? Fucker!

“I’ll tell you what, Tom,” Beine continued. “If you want to go to the police after your treatment, you can. If you still want to bludgeon me when this is over, you can. All you have to do is want to. But in order to want you, you have to not cum. Neither of you will understand this right now, but the rules of this game are quite simple: the pantyhose you are wearing on your faces and legs are special. If you climax while wearing them, you’ll be changed. It’s hard to explain, but things you think are wrong now you will realize are very right and healthy if you orgasm in those silver-seamed hose.”

Beine knelt next to Diane’s spread legs with the vibrator, positioning himself so that Tom would have a clear line of sight as to what was being done to his mother.

Marissa meanwhile moved towards Tom, her lacquered nails playing gently on the young man’s nylon-covered legs as her fingers made their way up to his dick. The receptionist’s big tits were capped by small, incredibly firm nipples. Despite everything, the sight of those tits was cock-stiffening to Tom.

“So remember that, the both of you.” Beine turned on the vibrator. “If you want to stay as you are—unhappy, a broken mother-son relationship—by all means, don’t cum. I think we will get you both off no matter what, but don’t worry. After it’s over, you’ll still have a choice.”

This was insane, but Tom believed him. He knew in his soul that Beine was telling the truth. What convinced him wasn’t just the drug-injecting armchairs, a supervillain aesthetic that belonged more in a comic book than here in their little piece of suburbia. It wasn’t even his beautiful henchwoman.

No, it was the casual certainty in his voice. He spoke about all this unreality the way a man discusses immutable if ordinary facts: the sun rises in the east. Water is wet. These pantyhose change you if you cum while wearing them.

Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, his mind screamed as Marissa knelt beside him, and began to masturbate Tom’s shaft through the pantyhose.

Diane felt the vibrator press against her pussy. Rubbing against the pantyhose, the material seemed to amplify the pleasure.

She fought against the pleasure. She didn’t know if she really believed all this insanity about mind-controlling hosiery. But Diane realized the magnitude of the violation—restrained, objectified with fetishistic clothing, sexually abused. This was a kind of rape, and her rapist wanted her to orgasm. She would fight with everything she had to at least deny him that.

“There—now doesn’t that feel good?” Beine whispered. He was firm but gentle. No doubt he’d done to this to many other female victims.

Like her friend Jody? Was he lying about Jody telling him all those things? Diane hadn’t given it much thought, but Jody had been wearing more dresses and skirts the past few weeks. Showing more leg, inevitably nylon-covered. Was that just a coincidence, or did Beine really have the ability to brainwash people?

Beine seemed to sense her drifting attention. “Now, now, Mrs. Martinez—focus on the matter at hand.”

He pressed the vibrator harder onto her clit. Diane’s groan rose from behind her ball gag.

“That’s it—just feel good while I talk with you. It’s all part of the treatment.”

Go to hell, you pervert! She hated what was being done to her, but she hated more that her body was responding to it. Her pussy was already gushing. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying again to return her thoughts to anything except where she was, and how her body was being made to betray her.

“Stop fighting it, Diane,” Beine said, smiling through his pantyhose mask. He placed his free hand on her leg. “Why do you want to fight feeling good? Being happy with your son?”

Because I hate you!

“You know, something similar was done to me, believe it or not. Visiting a picturesque, out-of-the-way small town, I had no idea that would be the most decision of my life. Had no idea I would be seduced in wearing a pair of gold-seamed pantyhose. No idea that they would change me into one of the Silken’s growing legion of nylon slaves.”

The Silken? She’d seen online a boutique shop out of Massachusetts selling premium hosiery under that name, but had never clicked through. Were they a cult?

“Of course, the golden-seamed ones change one’s memories to convert a victim into a new member of the Silken.” Beine continued musing while working Diane’s pussy with the vibrator. “If you have a memory of having pantyhose sex with your mother, or bisexual pantyhose relations with your college roommate, well, there’s nothing stopping you from continuing to act on that. Indeed, nothing stopping you from going further and further. Why stop at one’s mother? Why not have daddy join in?”

Sex with one’s parents? Jesus Christ, this sicko is into incest!

“That’s what happened to me. I was made to cum while wearing golden-seamed hose, and my memories were changed. I know intellectually that I never really had sex while wearing hosiery with my sister and brother, for instance, when we were all in our 20’s. I know intellectually I didn’t take my sister through her hose while we were drunk in her dorm room. I know my brother didn’t give me a blowjob through a nylon mask after a fraternity party. I’d kept a journal at the time, after all, and surely would have recorded something so momentous.

“But when the Silken made me cum in their special hose, I had those new, wonderful memories burned into me,” Beine continued. “It became a part of me. Thus it became easier to last year convert my dear brother and sister into Silken slaves too.”

Diane was sweating in her mask now, both from the vibrator’s ministrations and the panic that shooting through her like an electric current. He just admitted to sleeping his sister and brother! Oh god, he wants me and Tom to have sex?

“I am grateful for what the Silken gave me. The pleasure. The familial closeness, which had frayed in later life with my siblings. As a therapist I certainly wanted to give others that too. However, it occurred to me that changing memories changes the person. Was there another way? And so, with the Silken’s permission, I developed hose like you’re wearing now. It uses much of the Silken’s original technique, the skin-hugging nylon a means by which to deliver through the skin the chemicals and hormones that open a person to being changed.

“But instead of altering memories, these operate on a simple behavioral theory. Deliver a massive reward of exquisite pleasure, and with the aid of certain chemicals, the person’s ethical system is reorientated without the more invasive means of memory rewriting. A gentler of method of induction, in other words.”

He was raping her and her son, and then sitting here talking about how more ethical it was compared to his own rape. Stop! Just stop this! Diane thought. But Beine kept musing.

“To be sure, it lacks the—well, there’s no other way to describe it, hard as it is for a man of science such as myself to believe—magical elements of the Silken’s traditional conversion. So no being able to sense the presence of other Silken. Also, one being converted by this method can still choose to resist the conditioning.”

Diane might not have understood precisely what Biene was talking about, but she could feel the warmth rising in her loins. Get a hold of yourself, you dumb bitch! she told herself.

Beine noticed her fidgeting in her restraints. It pleased him greatly. “It feels good, doesn’t it, Diane? Do you know who else is enjoying themselves, though? I’ll tell you: your son.”

Diane knew it was a trick, a psychologist’s way to focus her on what he wanted. It worked all the same. Her attention moved from her own body to Tom and her son’s beautiful tormentor.

Marissa had positioned herself in such a way that Diane could see her son. It was sickening to Tom dressed in women’s nylons, sickening seeing her strong man restrained, masked, and gagged. Sickening, especially, seeing Tom’s big cock massaged by Biene’s pet slut. It was terrible—Marissa was positively trying to milk the cum out of it.

Yet Diane could not take her eyes off the scene. Was it the raw wrongness of what she was watching that made it so strangely compelling? The vibrator pressing into her pussy? Or was it the strange chemical brew Beine had talked about, seeping from the hose into her pores?

“Your boy has a very big cock, Diane. Look how big it is, trying to break free of those nylons.”

She did see. She could not, in fact, believe how big Tom’s cock was—like a battering ram. Her husband Alex was well endowed, but her son’s uncut dick was even bigger.

“Now, imagine that big cock inside of you, Diane. Imagine you both in your hose, and your son ripping through your nylons’ crotch, wanting your pussy so bad. Imagine how that big cock of his would make you feel.”

No. She said it in her mind, but she could not take her eyes from her son, laying there helpless, being jerked off by a big-titted sex slave. The nylons encasing his cock made it more enticing. A gift waiting to be unwrapped.

“You two would be so close, being lovers. All the silly problems that brought you to my door fading away. You would treat him like a man, because that what he is. Being a man, you’d understand he needs his balls emptied so, so often, doesn’t he?”

The answer echoed in her mind: Yes.

It was almost as if Beine had heard it. “And he would treat you like his woman, like his vessel. No more worrying about broken curfews or getting some classmate of his pregnant. Why would he when he’s got so tight a pussy right at home? That big baby-maker of his inside of you, every night, fill you with its gallons of hot cum.”

The vibrator felt so good. Rubbing her clit through the nylon, waves of pleasure pushing her relentlessly to the shores of orgasm. It was only a matter of time now, Diane knew. Her conscious mind still tried to resist the idea, but there was no denying her body and some part of her soul wanted her son’s cock.

Being so close to cumming expanded her yearning. Her eyes drifted from her son’s dick to the slim hand fapping it. From there, Diane’s eyes settled onto Marissa’s nude back and nylon-covered ass. The girl was sitting there, whispering into Tom’s ear as she worked his shaft through the pantyhose. Precum glistened in the office’s muted light.

Diane had never been fascinated in the female form before—she’d been in college just before bi-until-graduation had become a thing—but there was no denying the woman’s beauty.

“Look at her. Exquisite, isn’t she?” Beine asked. When Diane did not even grunt a nod a response, he pressed the vibrator harder into her, making her yelp. “Answer me.”

Yes. Diane Martinez nodded even as she admitted the truth in her mind. She wasn’t sure if her pussy had ever been this wet before in her life.

“Thank you for being honest with me. Marissa is amazing. So good at pleasing men. So good at pleasing women. She accompanied me on that trip to Arclight, when I was converted—she was captured by the Silken then as well. And I remember cumming so deeply in her. All that seed gushing into that tight, young, yearning pussy. Even better, all the other Silken, my new family, men and women wearing their nylons and slave masks, watched.” Beine had removed his free hand from her leg, now masturbating himself through his hose with it.

The image of the handsome Dr. Beine being made a pantyhose slave, surrounded by nylon-clad worshippers—Diane could see it in her mind’s eye. More than that, she could see herself among them. As the vibrator kept working her pussy, she imagined her son in his nylons being there too.

“Such a beautiful moment—my new family watching me cum with my old.”

Old family? It was enough to draw her attention away from the beautiful Marissa. Diane’s eyes were wide as she stared at Beine through her nylon slave mask.

Beine saw the look in her eyes, and smiled at his victim through his own pantyhose mask. “Oh, you didn’t notice the resemblance? Marissa is my daughter.”

“I so love having my daddy’s dick in me,” Marissa whispered into Tom’s ear. “Sex with a parent is so special. Giving yourself to someone that loves you unconditionally.”

Tom felt like he was on a crashing airplane, everything out of control. A sense of inevitability. He had stopped pulling at his restraints.

Marissa was jerking him off through the pantyhose, and Tom could see drops of his own precum glistening on the nylon. The nylons were magnifying his pleasure, his cock so hard right now it was almost painful. Was it just the perversity of it all making him more hot, or was it that these pantyhose were special?

She had said something about how the silver-seamed nylons worked—a different method of enslavement from the ones used on her and her dad. Just like with her father, there had been an earnestness to Marissa’s voice that conveyed to Tom she was telling the absolute truth. That truth—that he and his mother were being changed—made everything he was feeling that much worse, that much scarier.

Her hand felt good on his cock. So fucking good. An image of him fucking some of the sluts in school while making them wear pantyhose flashed through his mind. A natural response, associating pleasure with an object making him feel so good. But Tom understood that this was the very mechanism by which Beine and his daughter were going to alter him and his mom.

“Just imagine, Tom, giving yourself to your mother. All your cum. And her accepting it. Like a good mother should.”

He could imagine it. He was imagining it, his mind showing him the scene as if it were a movie.

“Look at her, Tom. Look! Your mother is a beautiful woman.”

He had been looking away, not wanting to know what was being done to her—the sound of the vibrator and her gag-muted moans had been bad enough. At Marissa’s command, however, he glanced over. It had been an automatic response, looking at something when someone mentions it to you.

Once his eyes again fell on Diane, though, Tom found he couldn’t pull them away. He hadn’t looked at his mother—really looked at her—in a very long time. He had never appreciated how age hadn’t touched her unlike many a friend’s mom. Her nylon-clad legs were tone, but more shapely that the girls he had been messing around with at school. And her face…even through the pantyhose and ball gag, there was no denying that Marissa was right: his mom was beautiful.

High cheek bones, youthful skin. Thick, moist lips that, were they on any other woman, he would have instantly concluded were set on this earth for the purpose of sucking dick. Large, dark eyes that right now were taking in both Tom and Marissa. The look in them—so hungry.

“I like that your mommy keeps that lush, brown hair of hers so long.” Tom could feel the moist warmth of her breath against his ear as she whispered through her mask. “So many women cut it after they have kids, thinking it’s a more mature look. But not your mother—she keeps it long and feminine. See how it spills out from beneath her mask? Practically crying out to be pulled while she gets fucked from behind.”

He had always known that his mom kept her hair longer than her age cohort, but never understood how big a deal that was until now.

“You could be the one pulling it, Tom. Pulling it like it was meant to, a built-in leash all women should have. Pulling it as those big balls of yours pour into her.”

It was sick and twisted, but despite all that—or because of it—his dick was dribbling precum nonstop now.

Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum! he repeated to himself.

“All of your problems with your mom?” Marissa continued. “They would fade away so quick with a gush your cum. All my dumb arguments with my dad stopped once we started fucking. When you start having pantyhose sex with a parent, well, it helps you focus on what’s important. Meaning each other.”

He had to resist cumming—he had to. Tom was so afraid that he’d think like Marissa if he came. It terrified Tom because her argument already sounded plausible to him. Was there any hope of resisting this line of thinking once he shot his load in these silver-seamed hose?

He was going to look away from his mother’s body—really, he was—until he heard Dr. Beine say to her, “Oh, you didn’t notice the resemblance? Marissa is my daughter.”

Tom’s would-be enslaver had admitted to being her father’s fucktoy much earlier. Evidently, Beine was using a different technique on Tom’s mother, delaying the reveal for more effect.

Beine had been speaking to his mother in a low voice. Glancing over at Tom to confirm that the young man was paying attention, the doctor spoke louder now: “That’s right, Diane. I fuck my daughter. Every day. She has my cum in her pussy right now, in fact. See? It’s not so unusual. It wouldn’t be so big a deal for you to do the same thing with your boy.”

Tom heard his mother’s moan. It sounded like surrender.

“You could have your pussy fucked full of Tom’s cum everyday, Diane. Imagine running your errands while filled with your own son’s seed,” Beine said. “Imagine your own son’s cum dripping into your pantyhose while you go grocery shopping or make dinner for your husband. Imagine the rest of the world being dumb to your secret—a secret only you and your son share, a secret that binds your love. Can you imagine it, Diane? I know you can.”

Tom watched in horror as his mother’s body began to shake. “She’s going to give in, Tommy!” Marissa hissed. “Watch your mommy cum like a good, obedient slut!”

“That’s it, Diane, that’s it!” Beine said, fapping his own cock through his navy hose. “You’ve denied yourself too long. Go ahead and cum! Go ahead and cum thinking about your son’s thick cock shooting its load into your pussy!”

Don’t, Mom, don’t! Tommy screamed in his mind.

It didn’t matter. Diane could not control her body anymore as the orgasm detonated from her clit. Her back arched, and her spasming limbs pulled against her restraints. The screech that emanated from behind the ball gag was that of animal in heat.

Marissa was triumphant. “Oh Tommy, look at your mommy cumming! Just like the Silken made Daddy cum, just like Daddy made me cum, and just like you’ll cum soon!”

Diane’s orgasm finally ceased, and she lay in the armchair, spent and listless. Beine set aside the now-slick vibrator, and Tom could his mom’s black hose were soaked by her pussy. Then Beine reached up to unfasten Diane’s gag. “How do you feel, Diane?”

For a moment, she was silent, her movements languid. Maybe it didn’t work on her? Tom felt hope.

Then his mother spoke. “I feel…so good, Dr. Beine.”

“Does your pussy feel good, Diane?” The doctor walked around the chair, releasing her restraints.

Her limbs free, Tom watched in shock as one of his mom’s hands began masturbating her pussy through her hose, while the other began twisting a nipple through her blouse. “It feels amazing…but it still wants more.” Her voice dripped with desire, even though there was uncertainty in it too. She was an explorer, cast by the storm of her orgasm into a new and wonderful land.

“Do you like the feeling of being a Silken slave, Diane?”

She didn’t pause from touching herself to answer. “I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s wrong. But I love it.”

Tom felt the world spin off its axis. The worst was yet to come, though.

“What would make your pussy feel more full?” Beine asked.

She turned to look at her son. Through her pantyhose mask, Tom would see his mother lick her lips. “I…want to see my son cum, doctor. I know it’s bad, but it’s the truth. I want…I want to see him cum in those pantyhose.”

Oh god, oh god—no, Mom, please no! Tom prided himself on being the tough varsity jock. He hadn’t cried since he was a child. Tears were welling at the edge of his eyes now, though.

“Well, you heard her, Tommy,” Marissa said. “You want to be a good boy, don’t you?”

Tom shook his head “no”.

Beine turned towards him. The doctor’s erect cock pointed in his pantyhose at Tom like the barrel of a cannon. “Diane, please talk to your son. He needs his mother now.”

“Tom,” his mother began, “I know this is scary. I was scared. I’m still a little scared, actually. Nothing has really changed, though. I’m still your mother. I still love you, like I always did, even when we were fighting. I still want what’s best for you. And I know this will sound crazy, but I see now that what’s best…is for you to cum in your pantyhose.”

Tom kept shaking his head. Marissa was still stroking his dick, and he was close—so fucking close—but all the fear and anger in him was a dam, holding back his raging torrent of seed.

His mother knew it too. “I know you love me too, Tom. So please cum. It would make mommy so happy to see all that scrumptious seed on your hose.”

“Go on, Tom, make your mommy happy,” Marissa said.

“Make your mother happy, Tom,” Beine said. “Make her happy and find happiness yourself.”

Tom closed his eyes as if trapped in a horror movie. Oh god, please make this stop! Make HER stop!

Diane stood, undid her blouse, and unfastened her bra. They slipped to the floor, and she stepped over them as she approached her son. “Tom, look at me.” Her son refused. “Look at me!” The tone of her voice, the kind a mother used when her child was in serious trouble.

On instinct he opened them, and the sight of his mother’s bare breasts held his gaze as though it were a hostage.

She was standing no more than a foot away. Being so close to her while exposed like this, it made Tom’s rock hard dick a volcano set to blow. “That’s right, Tom, look at me. Look at your mother. A Silken slut. Look at me when you cum. Look at your mother’s body and imagining it’s me your cum is shooting into. Imagine us fucking, Tom, mother and son—fucking in our hose.”

Oh my fucking god, I can’t hold it, I can’t hold it! Tom thought. Marissa was pumping his cock faster and faster through the nylon. “Look at his dick!” Marissa cried. “Dad, he’s going to cum! He’s going to cum in his pantyhose for his mommy like a good boy should!”

“Obey your mother, Tom, and let your healing begin.” Beine said.

His mother looked at Tom’s dick, precum weeping from it now. “That’s right, Tom—let all that delicious cream out of you! I know now how much boys need their balls emptied. Now go ahead and cum, Tom! You know you want to, just like I did! You were so brave and strong for resisting, but it’s time now to accept it. Cum—think of fucking your mother’s pussy, and cum!”

NO! Tom’s mind screamed, but it was too late. His young cum boiled up from his balls, raced up the length of his long dick. Finally, the seed erupted from his cockhead, white cream straining through his black pantyhose.

“Look at him go—he must have had a gallon in there!” Marissa chirped as she pumped every drop from him. Beine stared with approval at Tom’s erupting cockhead.

“That’s a good boy, Tom, that’s a good boy,” his mother said.

The orgasm was the most intense Tom had ever felt. It echoed down to his very soul.

When finally, breathless and sweating, his cum ceased to flow, he looked down at his dick. His jizz covered his lap.

The cum on his nylons was a symbol of his defeat. His surrender. He was broken. He could feel it while he came, some switch deep inside of him being thrown.

Marissa, hands slick with his semen, undid his restraints. He looked at his mother as his gag was removed. She smiled at him through her slave mask.

He didn’t smile back, though. Not yet. He could feel he had changed, but did not yet know to what extent.

He was about to find out.