The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Fiona’s eyes snapped open. Turning over in bed, a clock greeted her with the time: 7:00 am on the dot. She sat up, stretched and yawned.

“No time to waste” She thought cheerfully to herself. “Busy day ahead!.”

She pushed herself up off the bed and entered the small bathroom adjoining her sleeping quarters. Drying herself after a shower, she painted herself with bright led lipstick and nail polish and applied dabs of perfume from a huge bottle of Channel No. 10.

“What a dream!” She told herself with a puff of relief. Her capture by Psi Corps renegade and major league asshole Adam Devlin, her humiliation at the hands of mindfucked actress Mindy Mahone—it was all a fantasy brought on by yesterday’s vegetarian stew. Last time she would get that.

Returning to her room, she opened a bureau drawer to find her “clothes.” She took out a pair of lacey wringlets, which she slipped over her wrists; tied a lace bow around her neck; and placed a frilly headband above her forehead. Pulling on a red thong and following that with a pair of transparent red stockings, she shoved her feet in a pair of tall red stiletto heels. Getting back in front of a mirror, she watched herself gather her hair back, twist and pin it to an upsweeping updo.

“Dressed” like a French maid with the noticeable exception of the skirt and apron, she sauntered out into the apartments main chambers, swaggering into the kitchen where she poured some rice krispies into a bowl. As the cereal lightly clattered about she abruptly wondered what the hell was she doing.

“What the fuck!” She cried aloud.

“Have Mr. Devlin’s Breakfast ready at 7:30: Rice Krispies” a memory told her. It was a note from Mindy’s list, the one she had beat into her. Her capture, her humiliation, it wasn’t a dream, it was reality!

A grunt interrupted Fiona’s attempt to completely fathom her situation. Immediately, she put her arms back, clasped her hands behind her waist and submissively bowed her head. Her mind emptied of all thought except those of service to the man behind the voice.

“Good Morning, Mr. Devlin!” She cooed in an almost kittenish voice.

“Greet Mr. Devlin in a submissive posture, attend to all his needs.” Another one of Mindy’s instructions.

Devlin drowsily plodded into the kitchen, sinking into a chair and plopping a porn magazine in front of him. To Fiona, his presence filled her empty mind, dominating it, becoming its focus. Her real will could barely manage a squeak of protest.

“Milk!” He barked.

“Yes, Mr. Devlin!” Fiona responded like an obedient soldier, turned and retrieved the milk from the refrigerator. After placing it on the table, she resumed her compliant stance.

“I shouldn’t have to ask!” Growled Devlin.

The words bored into Fiona as if she had been hit in the stomach. She felt ashamed; she almost wanted to cry.

“Yes, Mr. Devlin.” She whimpered. She reprimanded herself: she should have anticipated his desire, now she strove to wrap her mind around anything he might need, might want. When he finished the cereal, she lifted the box.

“Any more, Mr. Devlin?”

He shook his head, and slid back from the table, returning to his bedroom. Fiona followed like a puppy. She served as his personal valet while he got dressed, pulling clothes from his closet, smoothing down the fabric after he put them on, fetching his toiletries, even combing his greasy hair. She found that touching him gave her an electric shock of ecstasy, she wanted to rub her hands on him, feel him with her body, but her commands demanded she refrain unless directed. Her attention was totally focused on him as she tried to determine what he wanted before he wanted it by any clue from his actions or body language, his mind being closed to her. She did not want to fail him again.

When he left, she called after him. “Have a good day, Mr. Devlin!”

Devlin gave her a slight smile. “Good work.” He told her as he shut the door behind him.

She enjoyed a sudden burst of heat in her loins, her body trembling, her knees knocking: she felt like a high school wallflower who just got a look over from the buff captain of the football team.

In the lonely silence in which Fiona remained, her old self slowly began to reemerge.

Clenching her fists, Fiona seethed. “That fuck...that unholy, shitty fuck! He rewired me into his fucking maid! Me! Fiona Matthews, Level 5 Psi Agent, rewired into a fucking maid!”

She pushed the anger from her; it wouldn’t do her any good to get mad, at least not now. He had left her alone: evidently he had so little regard of her powers and resolve that he thought he could just remake her and she would do his bidding, without even a thought of escape. Well, he was wrong. She COULD think on her own and she WOULD escape. She would make it back to Psi Corps, see this fuck caught and then she would have HER revenge.

Fiona stomped toward the door. She put her hand to the knob. She hesitated.

Turning to the living room, she saw books taken from the shelves, some empty beer cans near the television, a computer game case on the floor. She just couldn’t leave that mess behind.

“What the hell!” She cried aloud. Again, Fiona tried to grasp the knob, but again she looked back at the room.

It seemed as if she could see the room on more levels than just plain sight: she could sense every speck of dust, every trace of dirt, every sense of the room’s order being out of place. All of these aspects annoyed her, irritated her like an itch needing to be scratched, she had to do something about them. When Mindy was here the room was spotless; was she going to let Mindy be better than her as a maid!?

“Concentrate! That fuck has done something to you!” Fiona screamed at herself.

But it was no good, the frustration with the conditions and the compulsion to do something about them were driving her crazy. Then Mindy’s voice came back to her, ticking off a list of things to do: clean the living apartment, organize Devlin’s computer games, etc. etc. etc.

Trembling with exertion, she broke, just like she would have to come up for air from underwater, and set about cleaning and reorganizing the apartment. Her compliance felt pleasurable: she felt a warm sense of self worth and purpose. She cursed this sensation even as she obeyed it. This wasn’t the end. She would break his control. Some way, some how.

Throughout the day, she followed a routine that Mindy had implanted in her, cleansing the whole place until it was spotless. After her work was done, she cleaned herself and sat in the living room to await Devlin’s return. Once again, she tried to leave, but she could not force herself out the door. The thought of leaving, to let the apartment once again fall into any trace of disarray overcame her. She could just as much go out the door as leave a child to drown. Fiona accepted that whatever Devlin had done to her, she would have to find a way to short-circuit it before she could escape. She sat down, meditating and concentrating for hours on breaking his hold.

When Devlin finally returned, Fiona shot up and greeted him with a pleasing smile.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Devlin!” She purred. “Will you be having speghettios again this evening.”

Devlin grunted, “Good. Just what I wanted.”

Once again, Fiona trembled with joy at meeting his desire. She fought against the euphoria, trying to stamp on it like on ants crawling from an anthill.

Fiona stood by Devlin as he ate, in her submissive position, making sure his every need was met. Then the two retreated for the living room where Devlin alternated between porn movies and video games, Fiona changing the cds and making sure that the man had a cold beer and full bowel of cheese curls as Mindy had directed her to do.

For most of the evening, Devlin barely acknowledged Fiona’s existence. Then, after he stretched, leaning out of his chair on his way to bed, he complemented her: “Nice job. Good to see you are settling into your new role.”

Fiona felt the surge within her as if she had just been given the highest of praise, indignant, she fought against it with all her will. For a moment, she succeeded.

“Fuck you very much.” She sneered, her anger getting the better of her discretion.

Devlin stopped, his lips fixed in a smirk. “You ungrateful bitch! You don’t know how good you have it. I could have made you a crack addicted brainless cum slut getting her brains fucked out in some back alley.”

Fiona fought to maintain her control. “What, you want a kiss or something dirtbag?”

“On your knees cunt!” He commanded.

Without hesitation, Fiona sunk to her knees. Evidently her newfound control only went so far.

In an instant Devlin was in her, as if he had plunged an invisible hand into her very being with the ease of burying it in a pool of water. As he surged through her, he grabbed her consciousness, dragging it with him, like a disobedient dog on a leash, taking her to levels of mental control she never knew possible, seizing power over bodily functions on the organic, cellular, molecular levels. On the way, he took control of the agents of human processes, making hormones surge, having cells divide and recombine, flicking dna switches on and off. It was a level of mental control that had only been theorized; now Devlin was showing the theory was reality. Fiona would have been impressed had she not been the subject. She endured the sickening feeling of her flesh creep, chemicals ooze, bones shift and muscles wan. Her body was expanding and contracting, metastasizing and melting. It was excruciating, not from any pain, but the unbearable sense of her body losing its solidity for the malleability of jello. She felt as if she had become a pulsating pile of writhing eels. She tried to scream, but nothing, not even air could come out of her tortured mouth.

Slowly, her body began to congeal, loosing its plasticity. She remained in her kneeling position, panting in horror, her vision blurred.

“You are one step away from being a total whore, you skank!” Devlin bellowed maliciously. “There are a lot worse things than being a maid. So please don’t piss me off or you’ll find out the hard way!.” He stomped off, leaving Fiona in her recovering stupor.

Dizzy, Fiona wobbled up and stumbled about erratically. Aside from her lack of vision, her body felt...heavy...as if someone had turned up the gravity a notch. Worse still, she felt a concentration of weight in her chest and her ass, throwing her center of balance off. When her vision started to clear a bit, she made her way to her bathroom, gripping furniture for balance as she went.

Pressing her face close to a mirror, Fiona began to see her features come into view as her vision improved. She gasped. The face looking back at her was recognizable as her own, but it had been visibly altered. First, her hair color had changed: from dark brown to a bright, blinding peroxide blonde. Against her natural olive skin, it gave her an exotic but tawdry appearance. Her hair wasn’t the only thing that had changed color: her eyes were no longer their brown but a pale blue. Her well-chiseled cheekbones were now layered with plump flesh, repainting her maturing face with a more juvenile look.

Involuntarily, she licked her lips. “Hot!” She told herself, and then shook her head. “No...this is wrong. This is...”

Her protest was cut short as she realized the source of the weight in her chest: her bird like breasts were now mammoth balls, firm mountainous orbs with wide areola and thick nipples. Her eyes wide, she let her hands fall over them in disbelief.

“Nooooooooo!” She cried in protest, but even as she did her hands began to squeeze and then knead her tits, creating a ferocious tingle that began to spread across her body. She pressed them together and sighed through pursed lips at the mirror.

“Ssssssoooo sssssexy!” She told herself before crying out. “What am I saying...doing...!” Pleading to her own body to stop, she stared at herself: her lithe athletic form had become buried under a long, fleshy voluptuousness. Her waist had cinched to near impossible thinness while her hips were now so broad she could hang a world on them. Turning to look at her behind, she found it still firm but, chubby, softer and rounder. Her old body had been sculpted for cat like agility and wired strength. The one Devlin had made—soft, smooth and curvaceous—was meant to be looked at. She was an exaggeration of a porn star in one of Devlin’s movies.

Clenching a fist, she struggled to get enough control of her arm to shove her fist through the transfigured reflection of herself. But instead she felt her nubile form, her arms were her lovers, toying with her nipples, tummy and clit.

“Ssssssoooo sssssexy!” She told herself over and over.

Suddenly, a wave of tiredness came over. She turned to see the clock. 10:00 on the dot.

“Be in bed by 10:00 pm unless directed otherwise.” Mindy had directed her.

She trudged over to the bed, stripping herself of her attire and fell asleep the moment she hit the bed.

For days afterward, Fiona kept a truce with her new role: she complied with her responsibilities, doing no more and no less, without protest. She was at least grateful that Devlin had strengthened her back so that she could clean up the place with her new huge tits. She tried to stay clear of mirrors as seeing herself only turned her on.

It wasn’t long though before Fiona’s plucky ambition began to reassert itself and she started to poke away at Devlin’s rewiring of her will. She was sure there was some way to weaken it. They had a saying in Psi Corps: anything that was done could be undone. So Fiona completed her daytime tasks as fast as possible so she could spend the rest of day finding a weakness in Devlin’s work until he came home. It was like twisting a stubborn lid on a tight jar but finally after a week of trying, the top popped: she was able to crowd out enough of her compulsions to make a run for it.

Fiona discarded her maid’s uniform and scoured Devlin’s room for something she could wear, finally settling on a button down shirt, the ends of which she tied together in a knot, and a pair of shorts that fit tightly around her hips.

“Crap, I look like Daisy Duke!” She complained, but sped out the front door, the hallway and finally onto the street.

Fiona found herself on an anonymous block of old and neglected warehouses. When Devlin had taken her she had been in Brooklyn. Now she could be anywhere: Brooklyn, the Bronx, North Jersey, even Connecticut. It didn’t matter, she had to get as far away from here as she possibly could, far, far away from Devlin’s reach; then she could contact Psi Corps.

Fiona only took a step before a diesel truck’s grinding purr cut through the silence. Thanking her luck, she tried to wave it down: if this body was good for anything it was getting the attention of any red-blooded American male or lesbian. Indeed, the truck came to a halt with a hiss. The driver leaned out.

“Can I help you?” He called

“Yeah!” Fiona responded. “I need to get out of here. Can you give me a ride?”

“Sure....I guess. Where ya going?” The driver asked, opening up the passenger door.

“Where are YOU going?” Fiona asked.

“White Plains.”

That sounded good to Fiona, it was just far enough from here to be safe for her next course of action. “Then that’s where I am going.”

“My name is Tobey Keeth. My friends call me Tobe.” He told her as he fired up the truck again and headed down the street.

The drive to White Plains took a little over two hours. Fiona’s savior was a rough and tumble man, thin, his skin tanned by the sun and stinking of cigar smoke, his face grooved with the lines of middle age. Fiona soon found out he was one of those self-involved people who have a near infinite capacity to talk about themselves, without noticing whether or not the person they were speaking to was paying attention, and/or without giving anyone else the chance to get a word in edgewise. This was fine with Fiona, she did not want to explain who she was and why she was on the run. So she listened only enough to know when to nod politely and make light laughs at his lousy jokes.

Besides hearing his life story, Fiona was also picking up his thoughts, which were mainly comprised of an appreciation of her exaggerated body. She tried to screen them out but to no avail; that basic Psi Corps skill was lost to her, probably from something Devlin did. So she endured his mental comments, toning them out with his verbal ones.

When the journey came to an end at a White Plains grocery store parking lot, Fiona grasped the truck door handle and prepared to make a b-line for a pay phone she had seen nearby.

“Ok...this is it...thanks for the ride! Been a pleasure.”

Tobe’s face fell. He was hoping something more might come from his kindness.

“Hey, don’t you want to get a drink or somethin’”

“Can’t. Gotta run.”

“Aw, come on...just a drink or two! What will be the harm in that?” Tobe thought to himself.

Fiona hesitated on springing out of the cab.

“Ok. Just a drink or two.” She blurted.

“What am I crazy!?” She complained to herself. But after all, the guy had helped her out, would it really hurt to reward him with a little more company? She was far enough away from Devlin and it would take a while to get in touch with Psi Corps.

Tobe led her to a corner bar where they got a booth.

“What do ya want?” He asked before heading to the bartender.

“Man...say scotch! A woman that loves scotch. That would be great.” He mused to himself.

Fiona wanted to say ginger ale, but blurted “Scotch! I love scotch.”

Tobe smiled and went to get the drinks. Fiona cursed herself. Maybe it was a good idea to pay this guy back for his trouble, but this was going a little bit too far.

The truck driver returned with the drinks and both gulped them down. Tobe took out a couple of cigars and offered one to Fiona. She raised an eyebrow giving him a “You must be joking” look.

“And if she liked cigars...that would be fantastic. She really would be the woman of my dreams. Please like cigars.” Tobe was thinking.

“Oh is that a cigar!? Oh great! I love cigars!” Fiona exclaimed.

“Ok...I’ve never smoked a day in my life...what’s going on!?” she complained to herself even as she took a lit cigar, inhaling to let its smoke burn the back of her throat. She figured it must be the residual effect of her duties as a mindfucked maid; it had made her too compliant. She tried to shake it off.

“Alright Tobe, thanks for the drink and...cough...the cigar, but I really got to go.” Fiona told him as she rose to leave.

“Oh stay and lets talk. I haven’t even told you about how I broke up with my ex.” Tobe said firmly.

“Come on...” He thought to himself. Just listen. Would it be so hard to listen? You’d be interested. It would explain all about me.”

Fiona sank down into her seat as Tobe told the story of how his ex never really understood him. She hung off every word, as if he were the greatest storyteller ever telling her the secret of the universe. As the hours ticked away, the drinks kept coming, Tobe talked on and on and Fiona was no closer to getting in contact with Psi Corps. Fiona suddenly awoke to the realization that something was horribly wrong. Everything she had done since leaving the truck, it was because Tobe had asked it, either mentally or vocally. And she had done it! A creeping chill of fear went up her spin as her stomach sank.

“Oh shit!” She thought. “Whatever he says...I’ll do it! Holy fuck! This whole escape...it was a trap...a set up...Devlin must have known this would happen if I tried to escape.”

“Hey looks like their closing. Why don’t we go back to my place?” Tobe asked her.

Fiona turned pale: that was not an innocent question. She could sense the picture in his mind of what he wanted to happen there. Devlin had told her she was only one step from being a whore; this must have been what he meant.

“Tobe...Tobe...look, no, please no...I have to tell you something...You...”

But it was too late “Come on.” He cut her off. “Lets go.”

Fiona smiled, “Sure. Lets go to your place.”

In the car, Fiona feverishly tried every technique in the Psi Corps book to get some semblance of control to stop what was going to happen from happening.

The car came to a stop before a run down trailer home. “Here it is, baby, nothing special. Come on inside.”

Fiona obeyed, following Tobe into his humble home. In the unkempt living room, he turned to her, putting his hands suggestively on her wide waist. She cringed as she saw his mind forming a desire, a distinct vision, a careful, thought out fantasy that he had always wanted. And she knew if he asked, she would do all of it without hesitation.

“Tobe...You’ve been very nice.” She whimpered, hoping to win a reprieve from being compelled to submit.

“Come on, Hon.” He said.

“Lets just talk...” She urged

“Just show a little appreciation.” He thought.

In an instant, his desire was upon her, crashing upon her like a landslide, burying her will, filling her being. He was the playwright and she the actress: she had to play her part. For the moment words would do. Initially, he wanted thanks and praise.

“Tobe...I never thanked you properly. You’re so great. Nobody else would have done what you’ve done for me. You’re the best...in fact...you’re my dream guy!”

“Show me you REALLY care.” Tobe told her with his thoughts, sending a vision of what he thought he should get for his kindness.

“You deserve a reward for being so good.” She said in a kittenish voice.

Fiona wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips on his, her tongue against his, savoring his taste of nicotine and alcohol. To her, in her state, it was sweet to her as was his touch.

Tobe smiled. He was liking this; he wanted more—he wanted her to want him physically. He wouldn’t make the first move toward a more sensual act, but if she did...

And through his yearning, Fiona felt a yearning for him, a deep hunger for his body, for his sex. Fiona tried desperately to push away these feelings, but she knew she was helpless. His fantasy for her took her, moving her like she was a wooden drawing model: she could not protest, she could only endure, she could only perform. Her mind became altered to make the performance: sure, he had helped him after all, why not show him a little appreciation and give him what he wanted. Was that so wrong? She started to undo her shirt.

“Jesus...no...please no.” Fiona had still enough sense of herself to plead to herself, to him, but Tobe was on a roll, every time he took this woman to the line, she crossed it, and there were more lines to cross now. Tobe wouldn’t stop; and Fiona couldn’t.

“Oh yeah, lets do it.” He murmured in thought.

Fiona picked it up and responded, pulling Tobe into his bedroom with a childish giggle.

This was too good to be true, Tobe thought to himself, he had always wanted this, a girl totally turned on by him, turning him on.

Following the lead of Tobe’s fantasy, Fiona pushed him back on the bed, Fiona reached to her shirt and pulled it open, exposing her breasts, jiggling and heaving from deep lustful breaths.

“Oh god no! Please no!” Fiona pleaded inwardly. There had to be a way to resist, she had to find some strength to pull away, run away. But every time she sought to thwart one command, Tobe made a new one for her to obey.

“That’s it honey, give me a show!” He thought hungrily.

Fiona took his mental picture and made it reality. Sticking a finger in her mouth suggestively, she drew it down her cleavage, then her hands traveled to her chest, cupping her tits and squeezing the nipples. God, she was so turned on for him, it was driving her crazy. She slowly writhed her way out of her shorts before advancing upon him, naked. Tobe was taking her through a deeper labyrinth of desire and Fiona followed.

“Oh fuck!” She moaned to herself, she couldn’t believe this was happening, she was becoming a complete slut, without any inhibition, a total anathema of herself and she was being forced to love every minute of it.

“Oh honey, feel me...feel me!” He begged in his brain, he was too afraid to ask, thinking she might refuse and spoil the moment. But she couldn’t refuse the very thought: she leaned over him, her fingers slowly undoing his pants, releasing his cock which sprouted up like some obscene plant: she stroked its soft skin, making Tobe lean back with a moan and then gave it a gentle squeeze. Had her powers, everything she had ever done at Psi Corps come to this, squeezing some loser’s dick in a trailer? Her humiliation clung to her like molasses.

“Oh suck it...suck it.” He sighed, now emboldened to say what he wanted.

Fiona had never performed a blow job before, it disgusted her, but she could not but obey, his dreams guiding her actions, sliding the prick into her mouth, making a hollow in her tongue to cradle it. He started to groan more deeply, thrusting his dick into her, deeper and deeper with her moving faster and faster.

“Oh you love this baby!” Tobe moaned.

And she did, this was all she ever wanted, to suck cock, his cock. Her frail resistance and shame evaporated, even as she strove to cling to it as it was all that was left of what she truly was.

She could sense Tobe getting ready to cum when she suddenly realized his desire to take her doggie style.

“You are one hot slut!” He told her.

She released him, turning over to her knees, lowering her body, to expose her ass and pink pussy. She nodded, she was a slut, she wanted to fuck, her body was made to fuck, she was hot and driving this man crazy...this was what she wanted, needed.

“Shit, this gets better. Oh talk dirty!” Tobe thought to himself.

“Ohhhh Tobe...fuck me, fuck me like the bitch I am!” Fiona bellowed. “Oh god...I am a slut...a total slut!” She moaned inside. What made it worse is that she liked being a slut. Tobe thrust is cock in and started to pump her, grabbing her tits and squeezing them.

“Tell me how much you love it!” He growled, hungry to hear her say what he wanted to hear, that he was a stud, that he was hot, that he was great in the sack. “Tobe Oh Tobe...oh fuck me...so good...you’re so big...filling me...soooo gooood! Fucking me like I’ve never fucked before, my stallion!”

Fiona felt as if they were ready to explode from the grasping. The pounding became quicker and quicker, she felt a wave of ecstasy build and build.

Yes...YES...YESSSS!!!!!! Ahhhhhh....Aiiieeeeeeee...my stud!” It was absolute jibberish but Fiona knew it was what he wanted to hear: expressions of total rapture from his fucking.

Tobe was ready to explode, but he wanted her to cum first, there was something else he wanted.

“Cum honey!” He growled

At his command, she did, the orgasmic wave drowning her. She writhed beneath him as she came, banging her fists against the bed. “AHHHHHHHHHHH” She screamed. Tobe was astounded by his prowess: he was always the first to cum.

“Come on slut, you can’t stop can you. You just want some more of this hot cock!”

Fiona slid off hiss cock and writhed around to face it, wrapping her mouth around the throbbing pole, sucking and licking it in its entirety until he finally fill her mouth. She swore nothing ever tasted so good.

The rest of the night, Fiona played out Tobe’s fantasies, orchestrating as many as his endurance would allow. She remained in his bedroom for hours doing these things, stopping to eat bad food or drink cheap booz.

Fiona woke up the next day, drowsy with a hangover, aching in places she didn’t even know she had, with Tobe lying at her side, his arm over her, a dreamy grin on his face. His unconsciousness had freed her, though only temporarily if she didn’t get away from him before he woke. Slowly, silently, she slid out of the bed, making her way for the living room.

“No one ever need know about this.” She told herself. “I can just forget about this. It never happened. I just leave and that’s it.” In fact, there were tricks to make her forget, to erase her memory of this entire episode. Once she got her control back that would be the first thing she would do.

Before she reached the exit, Tobe stirred. “Hey baby, come back to bed.”

Fiona turned and marched back to the man, slipping back under the sheets. “Tobe...I got to go.” She pleaded.

He laughed, brushing her cheek. “Baby, I ain’t ever going to let you go, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Maybe if she explained who she was, what she was, what had been done with her her. Maybe he would understand. She should have done this sooner. “Please. I think we have to talk.” She pleaded.

“Oh, don’t think.” Tobe said have jokingly, half seriously.

And in an instant, before she could utter a squeak of protest, Fiona’s ability to think for herself shut down as if it were being a light turned off. In that void, flowed all of Tobe’s desires for her to be: to love him, to lust for him, to listen to him, to praise him, to need him, to do anything he said, to be less intelligent than him. She would do all those things for him and more. She was his entirely.

“Anything you say!” Fiona laughed, pressing her body tightly against his.