The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Excuse me, where would I go to be anally penetrated?”

The husky-voiced speaker was around 5′4″, with braided blonde hair reaching halfway to the ground, thick pouty lips, and melting green eyes. Tight, well-polished white leather boots outlined a pair of shapely calves, and a white uniform with gold piping revealed a slim figure with slight hips and flattish chest.

On the whole, Imperial Galactic Police Agent Zaral Felt made a fine picture of a woman. Or, to those familiar with his species, a fine picture of a man.

The contact he was going to meet had specified a location significant to the mating customs of Earth humans, apparently reserved for anonymous male-male pairings. Which suited Zaral, since he hadn’t had any good cock in months.

And won’t get any for months more, if I don’t ditch this communicator, he thought to himself, as his ship’s computer intruded its synthesized voice into his ear, interrupting his attempt to query a local resident for directions.

“Records indicate Earth-native sentient species include no felinoid forms. The dominant race is bipedal and furless, resembling the dominant race on your own home planet except in certain peculiarities of gender dimorphism, in which—”

“I know all that, Ship. Cut to the chase,” Felt muttered under his breath, knowing the communicator would pick up his barely-voiced words and relay them to his ship in its cloaked orbit far overhead.

“Your conversant is a housepet.”

“Oh,” said Zaral, looking in disappointment at the small, furry creature he’d just spoken to.

“Miaw!” it said, and leapt down from the short stone wall it had been standing on.

As it hopped down, Zaral noticed a sign on the door of the small single-story building behind it. “Men,” he read. Ah, this must be the place.

“What do you mean, there’s no such package?” John Smith, alias the alien spy Frbnglrr, shouted into the telephone.

“...error, or if you have further questions, please call back during business hours, or visit our nearest delivery office to speak with a representative. Thank you and have a nice day.” The recorded voice shut off with a click.

“Stupid primitive machines,” Smith muttered to the dead phone line, hanging the handset up in disgust. “Not like the robots back home, I can tell you that.”

Back on Smith’s homeworld, Genari the robot was servicing a vacuum cleaner.

“Oh, your hose... it’s soo... big...” she husked, rubbing the attachment between her breasts.

“800 Service Error. Seek maintenance” replied the vacuum cleaner, for the third time.

“Oh, all right already. Stupid primitive machine,” said Genari. “No sense of humor at all.” Her punishment now over since her batteries had run down, Genari had resumed the household maintenance duties for which she was not particularly well programmed once her recharge cycle completed. But after her earlier hours of functioning as a surrogate wall outlet, the sexbot was not feeling very charitable towards household appliances. She aimed a swift kick at the cleaning robot where it would do the most good.

“Beep Function restored,” said the vacuum, and trundled off to vanquish dust bunnies.

“Finally,” Genari sighed.

“Here it is, my home away from home,” John Park said, leading his mind-controlled date Sandra into his bedroom.

“Ooh, is that your bed? It’s soo... big...” Sandra husked, stretching out on the only piece of furniture not covered by dirty clothes or empty food containers or both.

What am I DOING? I sound like a cheap hooker. Why do I keep saying these inane things? Sandra thought to herself. He IS hot, though, she thought, catching a look at John’s crotch and realizing she was starting to stare. I wonder if he’ll... Inwardly, she blushed.

Mentally congratulating himself for commanding her to act like a cheap hooker, John stashed his coat and the hidden mind-control gun by an empty pizza box, and closed the door.

“That’s not the only thing that’s big, babe,” he said with a leer.

“Really? Why don’t ya show me what you mean?” answered Sandra, leaning back against the wall for a good view while she licked her lips and continued to stare openly at the slight bulge in John’s pants. What has come OVER me? she thought.

She wants it! John thought excitedly. It’s really working!

“Why don’t you show me the goods first, babe,” said John. “Let’s see your tits.”

Without hesitation, Sandra reached down to the edge of the midriff-baring white shirt she’d borrowed from her roommate Gina, and pulled the whole thing off over her head. As she sucked in her belly and jutted her chest forward in her best Cosmo-cover pose, a bright red blush started at her navel and quickly moved up to the top of her head. Sandra carefully held the pose, catching John’s eye with a wicked look and trying to ignore her own intense embarassment. I can’t BELIVE I’m doing this! she thought.

Her only black bra, a lacy thing nicely filled out by her C-cup breasts, showed starkly against her pale skin, now tinged pink with embarassment. John goggled at the cleavage she was eagerly pushing towards him.

He licked his lips. “Mmm... ah, no, all the way. I want to see your tits, not just your bra.”

Her face turning an even deeper red, Sandra slid the strap of her bra over her left shoulder, twisting that side forward to show John; then reached both hands behind her back, pressing her chest even further forward as she did, and undid the clasp. Her perky breasts, nipples stiff as little pebbles, tumbled out into view as she pulled the bra off over her head. Tossing the bra away, she clasped her hands behind her back and jutted her chest out again. “You like what you see?” she purred.

“Ohh yeah... you are one hot babe,” John said, staring hungrily.

“Gonna do something about it, big guy?” Sandra teased. What am I SAYING? He’ll think I want him to... well, I do, but... she thought frantically.

“Ohh yeah...” John said, clambering onto the bed and sqeezing one breast in each hand.

Todd Darby groped me exactly that way in eighth grade, and I clobbered him for it, Sandra thought. Now, it still makes me feel cheap and used... yet strangely excited...

“HONK! Heh, heh, heh...” said John.

In the outdoor Men’s room in Maple Park, Zaral Felt was trying to combine business with pleasure. “Ooh, yes,” he moaned, as the burly man’s erect member gently eased into Felt’s ass. He gripped the pipes at the back of the stall they were fucking in and breathed deeply. “Tell me about... the device. Ohh, it’s so big!”

“The ‘device’?” the big bearded man muttered slowly. “Uh... ok. It’s a foot long, as big around as your fist, and harder than concrete. I haven’t had a sweet, firm ass like yours in months. Ohhh...” He slid his cock all the way into Felt’s butthole, pressing his body up against Zaral’s and pushing the smaller man against the toilet.

“Ohhh, yesss... oh, give me all of it, yeah... ooh... is it stolen?” Zaral asked, pressing himself back against the larger man and raising his butt as much as he could.

“Ohhh... noo... it’s... one hundred... ooh... percent... yeahh... all... mine...” the big man grunted, starting to thrust his cock in and out of Zaral’s ass in a slow rhythm, pounding the smaller man against the back of the stall.

“UNNH! Ohhyess... did... OHHH!... yousay... OOOH... yours? OHYEAHMORE... Ididn’t... OH!... thinkthisplanet... HAYES!... hadthetechnology...”

“Mmm... yeah... I made it... oooh... myself... ohyeah... justfor... oh!... littleboys... oooh... likeyou... oohyeah! Ohh... justfor... OHH! You! Yeah! OHHH!” Shuddering, the man came, his massive body pressing Zaral harder into the toilet, the buckle of his undone belt making a deep mark on Zaral’s inner thigh.

Still wrapped in the larger man’s sweaty body, Zaral was taking a moment to savor the encounter when he was suddenly seized by panic. He BUILT a mind-control device! This man is the criminal I’ve been pursuing all along! He contacted me only to lure me out here! I’ve got to do something!

Trying to draw a weapon would just reveal that the gig was up, but maybe he could contact his ship. Stealthily he reached for the communicator bud, where he’d left it on top of the toilet paper dispenser, as the big man slowly withdrew from him and bent to buckle his trousers.

Swiftly, he placed the communicator bud in his ear. The voice of his ship’s computer came through immediately.

“Your contact, who was delayed, is approaching the building now. Perhaps you have concluded your recreational activity with the ignorant Earth-native human?”

On the other side of the galaxy, Princess Thrrmm was concluding a very enjoyable evening with her latest conquest, Deke. She’d had to block his memory of several parts of their date so far, but that was to be expected with his program of conditioning not yet complete. It would not do to have him recall spanking Ssalea at the Princess’s command, or servicing Adelia with his deft fingers in the privacy of an alcove off the main hall while the Princess looked on with salacious enjoyment. The Princess liked to keep the followers and hangers-on of her small social circle in line but properly enticed—many of them had undergone some version of the mental conditioning Deke was in the midst of, of course—but remembering the details, at this stage, would only confuse the poor boy.

Deke just knew they’d had a good date that was likely to get better.

Genari, the Princess’s robotic handmaiden, opened the door for them and took the Princess’s shawl and Deke’s overcoat.

“You may attend us in the blue room, Genari,” Princess Thrrmm told her, and the robot nodded before turning to put up the coats.

Princess Thrrmm would never have glanced at the vacuum cleaner trundling down the long hall towards them if it hadn’t been behaving oddly. Such devices were normally beneath her notice, but it kept banging against the wall and muttering “800 Service Error,” and the prospect of the Princess having to move out of her way for a robot immediately kindled her irritation. She resolved to speak sharply to the errant appliance; but when they drew closer it began to shake, vibrating with increasing violence until it fell over on its side. A bulge formed in the metal skin of the cleaning robot, and as Princess Thrrmm watched on in fascinated horror, that skin began to tear.

Three gleaming red eyes appeared in the center of the hole, and the vacuum cleaner’s torn hull began to bulge even further. Silver hooks appeared at the sides of the tear, widening it, and suddenly a small shape full of claws and blades and spikes and those three evil red electronic eyes launched itself out of the carcass of the cleaning robot directly at Princess Thrrmm’s face—

—and smacked into a piece of statuary Deke had grabbed from an alcove in the wall and swiftly interposed. As the thing frantically clawed the lewd statue, Deke smashed both against the floor, over and over, until little bits of claw and spike and eye and broken-off pieces of statue were mingled on the floor in a disordered pile the cleaning robot wouldn’t be sweeping up any time soon.

“Assassin robot,” Deke muttered, doggedly mashing the vacuum-killer into scrap.

“Well, I never liked that statue much anyway,” Princess Thrrmm replied.

Gina had a part-time job stealing other people’s mail.

Or so every other person who came in seemed to think. Listening to whiny customer complaints at an express delivery service’s local offices wasn’t the world’s most satisfying job, but it did keep her in CDs and clothing while she was in school.

As the line in front of her counter snaked around, Gina noticed out of the corner of her eye the shifty-eyed, rat-faced man slipping in the front door just before her co-worker locked it for the evening and headed back to the loading docks to punch out. Right before closing, just my luck, she thought to herself, Probably lost his shipment of porn. Something about him seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

John Smith nervously looked around the package delivery office, feeling his tail twitch where he’d taped it to his leg. There was a familiar sort of horror about a large bureaucracy on any planet, but offices on primitive worlds always seemed worse to him, achingly slow at even the simplest of tasks. He wondered how long it would take to trace his package, the mind-control device that seemed to be delayed in transit, and speculated about the Princess’s mood if he hadn’t located it by the time she next deigned to contact him. A delicious shiver of shame ran through him at the thought of how his incompetence had led to this situation. Perhaps she would... punish him somehow. He licked his lips.

Such thoughts occupied him as the line cleared away in front of him and the other customers slowly trickled out, until John Smith and Gina were the last two people left in the building.

“Yes, can I help you?” Gina said, resignedly glancing at the clock in the office behind her. At least I get time and a half for overtime, she thought.

“Yes, I have a package which seems to be held up in reaching me and I called to try to trace it but your telephone robot was not very helpful and it said I should try at the office, so—”

“—OhmyGod!” Gina interrupted, suddenly realizing where she’d seen Smith before. “You’re that lech from the gym! You stole my clothes, you asshole!” Reaching around for some sort of weapon, Gina’s fingers closed on a three-hole punch, and she lobbed the weighty office gadget at Frbnglrr’s head. He ducked, and winced as it bounced off his shoulder.

“I don’t know what... there must be some mistake...” Smith stammered, blushing and looking around to see who had heard Gina’s accusation. Somewhat to his relief, the office was now empty.

“There’s no mistake, you disgusting pervert! You snuck into the women’s locker room and stole an armload of panties! I saw you!” Gina continued to hurl office detritus—a stapler, a tape dispenser, a framed photo of her officemate’s cat—at the unresisting Frbnglrr, who, now bright red in the face, was ducking lower and lower as he tried to take the blows on his back and shoulders, or perhaps to disappear into the floor entirely.

“Please... I’ll never do it again...” Smith, nearly grovelling now, stammered out.

“You’re damn right you’ll never do it again, you creep! I’m calling the cops right now!” Gina picked up the phone by her desk and started to dial.

“Please, no! I’ll do anything... anything you want, just please, don’t—”

“Shut up,” Gina ordered. Smith emitted a whimper, but was otherwise silent. Gina paused with her finger on the last “1” of “911.” It was pretty satisfying to see this guy grovel. Maybe she should teach him a lesson before turning him in. Or maybe instead of, if he seemed to have learned well enough.

She looked around. The shades were drawn, so nobody outside had seen this little confrontation; and no noise from the back room meant her co-worker had gone home before all her shouting and throwing of staplers. So no-one would know. What the hell?

“If I don’t turn you in,” she asked the cowering pervert, “would you fuck a sheep?”