The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The CEO of Good Girls incorporated was a very hands-on kind of man. Running an illicit business simply isn’t done through delegation. It was especially true of a business offering brainwashing services. Customer dissatisfaction was the least of anyone’s worries if the patients weren’t completely and helplessly loyal at the end of their treatment. Yes, the CEO needed to oversee every step. The task being highly exciting was nothing but a happy coincidence.

He didn’t know what the confused young woman was saying in the soundproof chamber, behind the one-way mirror, but it didn’t matter much. She was safely strapped to the chair, and the medical ventilator mask supplied her with a sweet-smelling relaxant. It wouldn’t do to have her panic, after all, even though she had no idea what was going on.

“So, what do we have here?” He asked to the labcoat-clad employee standing next to him.

“Kelly Belle Jordan, daughter of Douglas Jordan.”

“The oil tycoon?”

“The very same. Daddy thinks his princess is past the age of emancipation. He wants the standard therapy, but with more focus on a daddy’s girl personality. While she will be married, the future husband works for the client, so Kelly will stay close.”

With a nod, the CEO mentally reviewed the treatment Good Girls inc. was most known for. With prolonged, continuous hypnosis, the female patients were stripped of all mental strength and confidence. No matter how they tried to resist, they would eventually become impressionable, weak willed and utterly needy. With this new personality, the patients are made desperate to become one of the titular good girls. Dependant, submissive, and receptive to the further treatment that molded them to the specifications of their new master.

“What is her forfeit personality like? Will there be any problems?”

“No, she’s just your typical so called modern woman. She isn’t so much strong-willed and independant as she was told she should be. She should succumb like a charm.”

“Very well. Please proceed, then.”

For how long have I been here? Kelly wondered. She was bound all over, unable to move her limbs or head more than an inch, with no change in sight. She knew it wasn’t just a nightmare, that something had happened to her, and that something else would, soon. But she couldn’t escape. She could even get a grip and focus on what she needed to do. She felt sluggish, on the edge of falling asleep, and every attempt to concentrate just dissolved into comfortable passivity. All she had left was the vague certainty something sinister was happening, and that she was forced to be content enough to just let it happen.

Then, the machinery around her head whirred to life. A pinch of panic gripped her heart then, as flashing pictures and jumbled voices started flooding her senses, but there also surged the energy of hope. Someone WAS trying to do something to her. She had an enemy. She could snap out of her trance and fight!

But it was not to be so easy. While adrenaline did let her pierce the unnatural relaxation somewhat, she expected visions of sex, words of submission; something that would make sense with the situation, something she could feel outrage at. But where she expected the clear cut arch-enemy of slavery and evil, she just saw your average zapping session on a weekend bender. The VR headset and noise-canceling headphones were clearly just feeding her random-ass TV footage. Righteous wrath gave way to confusion, and she quietly slipped back into her half-slumber.

The only resistance she could muster, then, was small bursts of concentration where she attempted to make sense of the video stream. There had to be patterns. Hidden traps. It was too sinister to be nothing, dammit. She was a guinea pig in an experiment, she just needed to know what it was. But every attempt ended up completely fruitless. She never found any rhyme or reason. Not to the videos, even less to her captivity. Kelly persisted, for she had no idea how long. She had to; it was proof of her individuality. But the all-importance of normalcy eroded with each failure to understand. Slowly, progressively, she fought less and less against the drowsiness. Tired and frustrated, she lost interest with her situation, and just let herself sink into the quicksand.

With a smile, the CEO ran his fingers on Kelly’s toned stomach. He felt her shudder softly, then go back to an idle state. As expected. The week of initial treatment had run its course, and the patient was now completely pacified. Were he to remove the headset now, he would see a blank stare on her face. Getting rid of resistance was the primary concern for brainwashing processes, and the one Good Girls Inc used simply relied on the mind’s sense of futility. Kelly had completely given up, and the only reason she still hated the noise feed was because she wished it could let her sleep peacefully. She had disconnected, and found a new sense of belonging in this place.

She could no longer understand the man’s touch as a new chapter in her captivity. It was, to her, just a new, pleasant sensation breaking the monotony. And so, when the CEO caressed her skin upwards, gently cupping her breasts from below, she just heaved her chest, eager. She was ready for the second stage. With great care, he installed the electrodes on her skin and the small bullet vibrator in her vagina. Then he walked out of the room, and gave the order to switch the programs.

The random video feed progressively cross-faded into a soothing pink spiral, accompanied by gentle music. Mellow male voices told Kelly to relax and dream. Relieved from the non-stop gibberish, she obeyed. Something clicked behind her, and the gas pouring into her mask started smelling slightly different.

“Thought suppressant administered.” Stated one of the doctors. “Waiting a minute for it to tell full effect before starting re-educational treatment.”

The drug seeped into her mind, filling it with cotton balls. It had little effect on an alert mind, but it would keep her passive and subdued. She was now receptive, ready to soak up any emotions and words like a sponge, unable to raise any objections. A necessary step, as she had to assimilate a harsh, but very important lesson.

She saw several people emerge from the spiral. All girls. All looking at her with mocking, cruel grins. Insulting words and hateful laughter came out of the headphones. Pain surged from the electrodes.

“Stupid slut.”

“Good for nothing.”

“You sucked cock to get that job.”

“Bitch.”

Kelly quickly started moaning in distress, but it didn’t stop. She vaguely had the instinct to challenge those women, but her thoughts crumbled before they could form, and three more insults went right through to her heart before she realized it. As it went on, relentless, her anger and fear gave way to despair and guilt. What had she done to these girls? How could she make them stop?

The devices, upon detecting this state, switched to another part of the cycle. The abusing girls faded away, replaced by handsome, friendly men.

“You’re very beautiful.”

“You’re so fun to be with.”

“Let’s have dinner together.”

“Good girl.”

The electrodes were now buzzing gently, as if her body received their loving touch. A deep sense of relief and gratitude washed over Kelly. She had never been one to enjoy male attention too much, but in this moment, it was everything she didn’t know she wanted. She drank deep of the affection presented to her. How close their rugged faces were to hers. How tall and strong they were, even how they praised her. It all felt so good, she rode that high for what felt like hours.

And when her joy started to fade, so did the men. With a whimper, she realized the hateful women were back. Only this time, the relentless abuse was broken, from time to time, with spoken sentences. “Girls are bad”. “Girls are hateful”. “Other girls only want to hurt me”. “If I listen to girls, I’m a bad girl too.” She didn’t agree. She didn’t know what to do with them, really. But they repeated, every now and then. They wouldn’t leave a permanent mark on her subconscious. Not yet. For now, she was still very much vulnerable to the emotional abuse. Her self-esteem crumbled just a little bit more.

Thankfully, this too faded away. The men were back. And they were just as nice as before.

And she kind of liked how her pussy quivered every time they said “good girl”.