The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Hey honey, I’m home!”

Jim said as he walked through the door, suspending it to the side with one foot as he struggled over eight bags of groceries.

Karen looked up over the couch. Her mousy hair framed an adorable smile, revealing a thin gap between her two front teeth. “You left?”

Jim blinked, his legs wobbling in the doorway.

“Y-yes?” He let several bags fall to the ground, where they clinked on the floor like glass. “I was grabbing beer.”

“Beer for what? For us?”

Jim slid into the doorway and dropped the remainder of the bags. “For the D&D game tonight.”

Karen sighed dramatically. “Oh yeah, the game.”

“I know you don’t like having people over, but they’re just friends from work. They won’t cause a ruckus.”

“No, it’s okay,” Karen said with a warm smile. “You’ll be here, and that’s what I care about!”

She turned back to the TV. Jim didn’t know what the show was, some documentary of sorts. There was a bird on TV, flashing its feathers. Jim looked admiringly at his girlfriend. Sure, she wasn’t turning anyone else’s heads, but she sure turned his. He loved her, more than anything. Karen was about five foot two inches, and a little heavyset. But her light paunch did nothing to dissuade Jim from her loving curves, and she made a valiant effort to work out. At least enough as to perk up her lovely rear, and tone up her arms a bit. Her breasts were smaller, A cup, but on her small body they looked to be at least a B. And her brown hair cascaded around brown eyes, with long lashes and a smile that melted everything in the room. Her smile was what had caught Jim. It was cute, warm, and loving, more than any he had ever seen.

Jim picked up a few bags.

“Anything good while I was gone?”

Karen shrugged, and brushed a strand of brown hair from her eyes. “Nothing much. Watching Planet Earth.”

“Any good animal sex?” Jim asked with a grin, as he loaded the fridge with supplies.

“Jim! Don’t talk like that,” Karen retorted, her face contorted in a grimace. Her nose, which he found adorable, scrunched awkwardly. “They’re animals.”

Jim laughed. His girlfriend wasn’t really a prude, not really. They had sex from time to time, about once a week, and she really liked it. More than his previous girlfriends. But she certainly didn’t seek it out, and they never did anything more than plain old vanilla sex. Even handjobs were nearly nonexistent, and blowjobs were completely unheard of. Still, she could laugh at a joke. Even if it was one she found relatively tasteless.

He chuckled to himself as he put the beer away.

“Get anything good?” Karen asked. “For this party I have to endure?”

She rolled her eyes sarcastically, but her voice carried a soft, loving lilt Jim never failed to notice. Karen was an introvert, to all but perhaps Jim. She could put on a smile and pretend for a good half hour or so, but her idea of a good time was much more in line with Planet Earth than anything involving people. He had met her in a bookstore, pouring over a Philip K. Dick novel he had never heard of. She had no tattoos, and no interest to get any.

“You don’t have to endure the game. You’re not in it!”

Karen skipped up to Jim and leaned up, pecking him on the lips with a lightly freckled smile. “Course I have to endure it. My boyfriend’s the DM.”

She poked him on the nose and leaned down into the fridge. Jim admired her ass behind flannel pajama pants as she pilfered their fridge. She didn’t notice.

“Sooo, what’d you get?” she repeated.

“Nothing good,” Jim snorted. “You kidding me? These guys drink like fish. I’m not going to spend money on them. Sam Adams and Budweiser are all they’re getting.”

“Aaaand Succubrew?” Karen asked, turning around with a smirk.

She was holding a blood red bottle, with the silhouette of an erotic demon woman on the front. The words, Let Out the Party Within were pasted on the front. The beer had a 6.66% alcohol content according to the bottle, no doubt a gimmick.

“I didn’t buy that,” Jim said.

“So it just ended up in the fridge all by itself? Oh. So you won’t mind if I take one then.”

Karen was smiling.

She never drank. She was the good girl, always the metered one to Jim’s drinking. Even his cursory D&D drinking received a look of shame from his loving girl’s pretty brown eyes, and the feeling of guilt had led to Jim drinking only when he could use the peer pressure of his D&D games as an excuse.

And yet she wiggled the bottle in the air excitedly.

In his confusion, Jim had already forgotten about the puzzle of where the beer came from. “You never drink,” Jim stammered.

“I’m allowed to indulge,” Karen replied. She walked off towards the TV, bottle in hand. “Enjoy your game, dungeon master!”

Jim blinked.

Moments later, Karen came back red in the face to grab the bottle opener, and Jim relaxed.

Karen didn’t know what had come over her. She hated beer. It activated only the bitter taste buds, and Karen was convinced the world was only pretending to enjoy it to seem interesting. Besides, it made people lose control of themselves, and that was more than a daunting premise. Karen couldn’t imagine it. One’s own life was the only thing they had control over; why ruin it for a bit of transient entertainment, only to replace that the next day with one hell of a painful head, some vomit, and irreplaceable actions?

Still, something about the beer had looked… well, fun. Karen shrugged, and popped the bottle cap. A small hiss came out, and Karen could swear that the lights had flickered as she did. She looked around for a moment, but Jim hadn’t seemed to notice from his computer in the other room, setting up his game of Dungeons and Dragons.

She settled in for Planet Earth, watching a family of capuchins traverse the trees of their home. She took a sip of the Succubrew tentatively.

Her eyes went wide. It was… good! It wasn’t sweet, by any means, but good. It tasted kind of like cinnamon… or no, chile? Something bitter, spicy, sweet, but- Ah, forget it, she thought. It’s tasty. That’s what matters.

She leaned back into the sofa, and let out a groan as she took a light sip, then another, larger gulp. She didn’t even notice as she tipped the bottle back and drained nearly half of it in one go, until she let out a low burp into the empty living room.

“Ah, excuse me,” she whispered to the empty room. She blushed, and looked around. But, no one was around, so why did it matter? Forget it.

She shrugged and finished the bottle off in another gulp before tossing it onto the couch next to her. This time when she burped, she let it echo around the room, and she blushed lightly. For a moment, she thought of how strange this was, and how much more orderly she usually was. But the thought was fleeting; after all, she was watching TV. She could get the empty bottle later.

She lounged on the couch, letting her arms and legs fall to the side, dangling them off the edge in an entirely unladylike position. Her ass, unbeknownst to her, stretched against the couch, her hips widening to accommodate a shift in her body shape, her structure, to make room for the growing cavity between her legs. She adjusted unconsciously, and her thighs slid together, thicker, closing down the thigh gap between her legs. Her butt wobbled, inches of fat padding onto her body, but centered around the single area. She felt warm—no, hot—and her heart felt full of cinnamon.

The capuchins were fighting one another over territory, and she laughed as they bared their teeth at one another in contest. She thought to what Jim had said earlier. Had there been any good animal sex? Nah, but maybe there would be. Wouldn’t that make Planet Earth more interesting. Animal sex. Or better yet, people sex. She’d want to watch that way more than animal sex.

Wait a minute, Karen thought. That’s just porn. She giggled. Of course people were filmed having sex so often. They were practically animalistic themselves! Humans weren’t so different from their capuchin counterparts; they bared teeth over women, could be dirty and crude (cue Jim’s animal sex jokes), cared about family (cue Jim), and fought enemies for the territory. She scratched her stomach lightly while she picked her teeth. Humans pretty much were animals.

And they too just looooved sex. Just like Jim. Just like her! Of course, not as much… Okay sure, not so much. But more and more! Karen tried to think about how much more lately. She certainly felt like she’d been a more involved and interested lover lately. Hadn’t she? But she couldn’t recall all the sex they’d been having. She reached down between her legs and touched her nether regions. She was certainly moist like she had been partaking more!

She giggled. If she wasn’t, she’d have to fix that!

She reached over absentmindedly, one hand still caressing her lower body, and reached for the beer. She tried to take another sip, as her hand pressed inwards. She moaned into the bottle. It tasted so good!

Her panties, a thick white affair, were pushed aside, allowing her fingers to delve deep into the world of musky, sexy, pleasant, cinnamon nether-regions. She felt her outer lips only briefly, getting them slick with juices, and pressed inwards, allowing her fingers to dance inside, and out, and inside.

She didn’t even notice that she was sucking on the bottle, not until it got near the back of her throat and she nearly choked. It just felt so right to have the bottle in her mouth, to be able to savor that sweet, spicy taste. Her fingers were rubbing, hard, beneath flannel. There were three—no wait, four—fingers inside her body. She was hot, and her nipples were tenting the fabric of her shirt like obvious little buttons. She couldn’t care less. She wanted that bottle shoved inside of her.

One of her fingers skipped down, further, towards her—nope, she thought. I’m not that horny!

Her hands retreated to safer, more relevant pastures, and she pressed a thumb into the cavity of her vagina. She had never done anything like this before! She tried to think of the last time she had played with herself, let alone put all five fingers of one hand inside her vagina! It had to have happened before, because it felt so right, so good, so dang pleasurable! Her fingers wiggled, and it elicited goosebumps up the sides of her skin. Her nipples tented further against her shirt.

Her hands didn’t stop for a second, playing against her towards a rising crescendo. She was sticky, gooey, and her nethers were wet, her thighs sliding together thick and warm as her hand plunged against itself. She groped at her breasts with her other hand, feeling up her smaller breasts, pulling on her breasts and moaning around the beer bottle.

The bottle itself, already forgotten, was nearly down her throat, and she was constricting it in and out of her mouth, using muscles she didn’t even know she had to pull it in and out, in and out, in and out. It was slick with spit from the back of her throat, coating her lips in something slimy and gooey, and she loved every bit of it. The label was beginning to peel, and she tried to pull it off with just her mouth, twisting the bottle in her mouth and tickling the back of her throat. The gag reflex didn’t seem to bother her anymore this time around; it was cool, how far she could work the bottle inside of her.

Her whole hand slipped inside of her vagina, and she let out a low, sensuous moan, that seemed to fill the whole apartment and reverberate around the bottle in her mouth. Her eyes rolled back in her head; she didn’t know what her hand was doing in her vagina, but she loved the feeling of every finger writhing inside of her, every gooey digit pressing against her. Her other hand pulled tightly on a nipple, and she had long since given up on pressing through the shirt, opting instead to go under and around, where she could cup her whole breasts.

She was spread-legged on the couch now, feet on the coffee table, one hand plunging wrist-deep inside her vagina, the other groping a boob while her mouth gyrated around a well-worn, sticky beer bottle. She could feel an orgasm building, a rising crescendo approaching. Her fingers worked harder, her body arching, her butt pressing against her hand as she rose up to meet her—

“Jeeze, can you get that?” Jim shouted from the other room. “It’s gone off like three times!”

Karen blinked. Her feet were on the table. Her hand was—sticky, and covered in her juices. She pulled it from her body, and her vagina let it go with a light schlurp. It remained open lightly, distorted in a way it had never before been. Where it had previously been small, flat against her body and smooth, it was now distended and open, a flower in full bloom. She paid no mind, reaching for a tissue to wipe up her hands. What had she been doing?

The doorbell rang again. Karen was dizzy, her body electric with the sensation of every touch of her clothes. She wiped her hand with the tissue quickly, and tried to wipe up the inside of her thighs, which were thick with juices.

No one will notice, right? She thought hesitantly. She gulped.

The doorbell rang again.

“I’m coming!” Jim shouted. She could here movement from the bedroom.

She was shaking. Why? With ecstasy, with fear of being noticed? No, she thought. I just wanted more.

She pulled the bottle from her mouth and looked at it. The label had peeled away, revealing a small set of words printed on the glass behind the Succubrew logo. Loosey Goose Lager, the new label read.

Karen didn’t know much about alcohol, but shouldn’t the type of beer go on the outside of the label, not hidden behind the label?

It was no matter. Karen was horny. Her nipples still poked from behind her shirt, she was still ready to get off, and she really wanted a fist up her vagina.

Jim looked at her for a moment as he opened the door, slightly puzzled. “Did you light some incense? It smells like cinnamon in here.”

Karen shook her head, confused. “N-no?”

Jim smirked. “Ho dang, Karen. I thought you said Planet Earth was on the up and up.”

Karen looked down at herself. He could tell what she had done! She must be dripping, her panties must be soaking through her flannel. “What? No, it’s nothing, I just—“

Jim pointed at the TV with a laugh. “Look!”

Karen swerved around. Two capuchins were riding one another, howling into the air as they humped one another.

“OH!” Karen shouted, just a tad too loud. She pointed at Jim with the empty bottle, teasingly. It glistened with her spit. “Shut it you.”

Inside, she was a pool of fluids, held together by a thin surface tension and ready for any human contact to burst. She could see it now, Jim touching her, she collapsing against him, melting into his arms and spreading her legs while he put both his arms up her vagina. She didn’t question the mental image, didn’t question how that might fit—it was all she wanted right now. Her panties squished lightly.

Jim laughed and opened the door.

His friends entered. Karen didn’t know all their names; she had tried before, and quickly, and often, forgot them. It didn’t matter. She had never before notices how hot they were. Before, she had thought most of them were bland, but now it was all she could do to stop herself from jumping them as soon as they entered. Her mind flashed, and she saw them, all four of them, Jim, and each of his players, entering her, all at once, their torrid penises inside her throat, inside her vagina, their hands in both of those holes—she wanted it. No, she needed it. A light moan emanated from her lips unbidden.

“Karen, you remember Callum”, Jim said as the first entered, either ignoring or not hearing her.

She stammered, and squished.

Jim continued, but Karen didn’t notice.

“I uh, I have to go,” Karen replied, interrupting Jim’s excited welcomes to his friends.

Jim turned around, still holding the door for the last of his slightly overweight, somehow indescribably sexy friends. “What?”

Karen backed out of the room, painfully aware of her own awkwardness, hoping beyond hope that her regular introversion might mask the strange sudden feelings inside her, and perhaps too the squishing wetness of her body, the gleaning sweat, and how badly she needed something in her throat and nethers at that very second. She ran from the room, not giving Jim, Callum, or his confused friends a second glance.

She slammed the door to the bedroom behind her and threw herself on the bed, collapsing into the covers. She bit a pillow and moaned and immediately thrust her hand up her vagina, past her wrist nearly immediately, as she imagined somebody, anybody, coming inside and fucking her. It could be Jim, Callum, her grade school math teacher, as long as somebody with an engorged penis could come in here and make love to her, she wouldn’t care.

Her vagina was wider than before, distended. Her once smooth labia were engorged and wrapped around her wrist, distorted in a way that would not recover. She could feel the shape of her body cavity, different, wider, easily accommodating her lithe wrist and nimble fingers.

She moaned into the pillow, loudly. Part of her wondered if anyone could hear, but she was beginning to get past the point of caring. Just having the pillow in her mouth was beginning to get to her, and she started shoving feathered bedding down her throat while pressing her hand against her pussy. Her wrist slid further in her vagina, and she let out a guttural moan and came.

She could hear Jim outside, stammering and confused. She didn’t care. Forget it; she wanted them to hear, wanted all of them to hear. It was embarrassing, it was lewd, and it didn’t matter. She wanted someone inside her! She balled up her fist inside her vagina and started thrusting in and out, bent over the edge of the bed, and lost herself to the motions.