The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive


by Pan

Chapter 5:

Session A64:

“It’s important that your children are happy, isn’t it?”


“People who have sex three or more times each week are happier, aren’t they?”


“Your children should be having sex three or more times each week, shouldn’t they?”


“But they can only be doing that if they know about it, can’t they?”


“Your son knows about it already from the textbook, doesn’t he?”


“But Lucy doesn’t know, does she?”


“Someone needs to tell her, don’t they?”


“You and I are the only ones who know about it. Who do you think it should be?”


Session A119:

“You don’t like talking to your children about sex, do you?”


That had been true before I’d gone to work on her. Now, it was something Mom avoided obsessively. She wouldn’t even talk about things we’d discussed under hypnosis in the past.

“You are constantly thinking about sex.”


“If you talk to your children about sex, you won’t be able to stop.”

Pause. Mom’s eyes widened very slightly. As far as she was concerned, she’d been sex-obsessed for her entire life. In reality, it had only been a few days, and I don’t think she’d processed how her old attitude worked in combination with her new state of constant horniness.

“If you talk to your children about sex, you won’t be able to stop. You’ll keep on talking about it—your filthy thoughts spilling from your mind, revealing to the world what a deviant you really are.”

Mom’s pupils narrowed with fear, and the pause stretched on.

“Your head is so full of filth, if you open your mouth, it’ll be like unleashing the flood. You’re a pervert, through and through, and refusing to talk about sex is the only way you can prevent that from being public knowledge.”

Maybe I should have stopped talking, but I felt like I was onto something. And the more vivid the painting I pictured, the more likely it was to work.

“You’ll talk about your deepest, darkest fantasies. You’ll let on that you sexualize everyone around you, everyone you’ve ever met. Everything you’ve thought about while getting off…you’ll be exposed to the world for the freak that you are.”

Mom’s mouth fell open, and she nodded.

“Good,” I said. “It’s important that you never, ever discuss sex with your children, no matter what the circumstance.”


“When will you discuss sex with your children?”

“Never,” Mom said, in a low monotone.

“Can you think of any situation where you would discuss sex with me?”


“What about with Lucy?”


“What if she came home with a big biker, and told you he was going to knock her up. Would you talk to her about sex then?”

Mom shook her head.

“What if they started having sex in front of you?”


“What if…”

I leaned in close.

“What if when they were done, the biker started grabbing your tits?”

Mom’s eyes fluttered, just for a second—maybe bikers are one of her secret fantasies?—before shaking her head.

“What if Lucy did?”

I could see Mom’s eyes threatening to roll back in her head with pleasure, and I smiled.

Session 43:

As soon as we got back from seeing Marcie, Lucy jumped me. I thought I’d seen everything, but the wild look on my sister’s eye was something new.

And after she’d sucked two loads of cum from me (getting herself off several times as she did), my sister insisted that I hypnotize her.

She didn’t just agree. She insisted.

“You will never disobey me, will you?”

“No, Master.”

“You will do everything I ask you to, won’t you?”

“Yes, Master.”

It was tempting to wake her up and tell her I was going to fuck her. If it was really happening in real life, there was no way she could refuse. Right?

I was still a little shaken from seeing Marcie’s blank stare again, and so I firmly pushed the thought to the back of my head.

There was a smart way to do this. And the dumb way…

It wasn’t worth the risk.

Marcie had been just as unresponsive as the last time I’d seen her. We didn’t do much, just chatted to her. At her, really. She didn’t respond, except when we said anything sexual.

At the sound of anything sexual—even anything remotely sexual—she would silently cum.

It was creepy as hell, and just about as hot.

With a shiver, I set my mind to the task at hand.

“What do you know about nudism?”

My sister’s blank face tilted almost imperceptibly to the side.

“Like, nudist colonies?”


Session A120:

“If Lucy makes you do something sexual, you only have two choices: You can do it, or you can talk about it with her.”



As the pause continued, I realized that maybe I was jumping the gun.

“If Lucy makes you do something sexual, would you tell me what your choices are?”

“Some of them, yes.”

“If Lucy makes you do something sexual, one choice is to do it.”


“What are some other choices?”

“I can talk about it with her.”

“That’s not really a choice, is it?”

Pause. I pushed on.

“If you talk to her about it, you’ll reveal to the world what you are. What you think about. You’ll reveal your deviance. You’ll be exposed.”


“Talking to her about it is the worst thing you can possibly do.”


“So it’s not really a choice, is it?”


“What are some other choices?”

“I could walk away.”

“If you walk away, she might want to talk about it.”


“If you walk away, she might want to talk about sexual things with you.”


“Walking away just delays the conversation. If you refuse to engage, that’s basically the same as talking to your daughter about sexual things, isn’t it?”


“Refusing to talk about sexual things means you’ll have to talk about them, doesn’t it?”


“Actively refusing to talk about sexual things is the same as talking about sexual things.”

There was a long pause, but eventually my mother nodded.

“What else could you do?”

“I could lock myself away.”

“If you do that, if you avoid the situation, Lucy’s going to want to talk about it.”

Pause. Nod.

“You’ve raised intelligent children. If they want something and you refuse, they’re going to want to know why.”


“If Lucy does something sexual and you avoid the situation, you’ll need to talk about it.”


“Avoiding the situation is the same as talking about sexual things.”


“You will never, ever talk about sexual things, will you?”


“If Lucy does something sexual with you, what options do you have?”

There was a long, long pause. I watched my mother carefully, but she showed no sign that she was going to wake up.

“If Lucy does something sexual with you, aside from going along with it, do you have any other options?”


“If Lucy makes you do something sexual, you really only have one choice, don’t you?”


“If Lucy makes you do something sexual, you won’t talk about it.”


“If Lucy makes you do something sexual, you’ll do it.”


Session 43:

“You like seeing how powerful I am, don’t you?”


“Hypothetical: you start dreaming about my power.”


“You dream about it every night.”


“It becomes an obsession.”


“You’re obsessed with me showing off my power.”


“You’ve seen what I can do to Marcie, and it turns you on more than you can imagine.”


“But Marcie is just a teenage girl, isn’t she?”


“What would really show you how powerful I am?”

“If I…”

Lucy trailed off, but I don’t think it was because she was thinking.

I think it was because she was afraid of giving me the wrong answer.

Session A124:

“If you keep forcing Lucy to be the one to take your clothes off, she might want to talk about it.”


I smiled. Once you worked out how someone worked, they were like putty. Sexy, obedient putty.

It had been almost two weeks, and every day had followed the same basic pattern: Mom would come home, and Lucy would make her remove her top.

“You don’t want to talk about it.”


“You can’t talk about it.”


Lucy, of course, had been more than happy to follow my instructions. She’d first raised the topic of nudism at dinner. Mom had gone bright red, and—exactly as expected—changed the topic immediately.

My sister hadn’t dropped it, however. Later that night, she repeated it, loudly: “I want us to live more naturally.

“I want us to all be nude at home.”

Again, Mom just blushed. Before she could come up with a new subject, however, Lucy stood up.

“This is who I am, Mom,” she announced, and removed her top.

I’ll tell you, the sight of my sister’s perfect tits falling into view…it’s never, ever going to get old. Her rosy-pink nipples, growing hard as they met the living-room air. The slight wobble of her breasts as she lowered her arms, and threw her sweater onto the couch.

It’s always hot, but knowing that I was sharing the sight with my blushing, constantly-aroused mother?


For the next few days, Lucy didn’t ever wear a top inside the house. Her boobs were out for every meal we had together as a family…with Mom’s work schedule, that wasn’t many, but damn were they memorable.

I sort of missed watching her strip whenever Mom left, but…well, the plan was working.

For her part, Mom was entranced. Not like she is when I put her under, but like, whenever Lucy and her were in the same room, she couldn’t look away.

She wasn’t turned on, she was just…fascinated.

(She wasn’t turned on…yet.)

After a few days, I could sense that Mom had started to relax. She no longer tensed up when her topless daughter bobbled into the room; by the end of the week, she barely even glanced down at Lucy’s magnificent, ever-present rack.

That was when we moved to the second stage.

Despite running it in hypothetical without issue, I still got nervous when the day arrived. When Mom came home to find Lucy waiting for her, wearing nothing but a pair of panties, a determined look in her eyes.

“This is what you want,” she said softly, and began unbuttoning Mom’s work shirt.

In response, Mom went still. She didn’t say a word, she didn’t resist—she barely breathed as her teenage daughter raised her arms and stripped off her shirt. She looked ahead, not at either of us, somehow looking through us as Lucy undid her bra, and Mom’s bosom fell into view.

It wasn’t until Mom breathed out raggedly that I realized I’d been holding my breath as well.

This was it.

This was what I’d been dreaming of for so long.

Over the last few months, I’d seen glimpses of Mom’s tits. I knew that they were large—slightly bigger than Lucy’s. I knew the color and shape of her nipples, I knew that they sagged more than my sister’s.

I knew that they were perfect.

None of us said anything—Mom avoiding eye-contact, looking everywhere but at her two children, me openly staring at her boobs.

It became a routine after that. She’d get home, Lucy would strip her.

And she wouldn’t get dressed again until she next had to leave the house.

“You’re going to start taking off your top as soon as you get home.”




“Our house is a nudist house.”


“You’re always going to be topless when we’re at home.”


“You don’t want to talk about this with your children.”


“The best way to avoid talking about it is just to go along with it.”


“Say it.”

“The best way to avoid talking about it,” Mom said, a slight quaver detectable in her monotone, “is just to go along with it.”

“As soon as you get home, you’re going to take off your top.”


The next night, as soon as Mom got home from work, she took off her top.

Session C17:

“What did you dream about last night, Richard?”


“What was she doing?”

“She was…on her knees. In front of me.”

“Would you tell me what she was doing there?”


It hadn’t been easy, coming up with a believable hypothetical that required Richard to tell me about his dreams. I’d managed to find an obscure study about subconscious sexuality, and convinced Richard that the updated results required detailed information from all cross-sections of society.

I’d told him it was important research. That was Richard’s key, his button: science.

It had taken time, but eventually—it worked.

“She was…going down on me.”

“Did you enjoy the dream?”


“Not at all?”

There was a pause. I pressed on.

“Did you achieve orgasm, in the dream?”


“Do you think you would have enjoyed it if you had?”

Session C19:

“What did you dream about last night, Richard?”


“What was she doing?”

“She was riding me.”

“Did you enjoy the dream?”


“What did you enjoy about it?”

“Seeing her happy.”

Session C20:

“What did you dream about last night, Richard?”


“What was she doing?”


“What were you doing?”

“I was…taking her.”


“From behind.”

“While she slept?”


“Did you enjoy the dream?”


“How much?”

“Very much.”

“Do you want the dream to come true?”


“Not at all?”


Richard didn’t respond.