The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

As is the case with many great discoveries, results are not always in line with inquiry. In looking for the side effects of cell phone transmissions on the average consumer’s brain tissue, Dr. Belle Simon found something much more serious. Something that would change lives across the globe.

This is another tale in the seduction of the world.

Dr. Belle Simon was a scientist first. The accident that had re-ordered her thinking had not changed her incredible skills or talents in that arena. Simon’s complete focus on her world of spectrums and wavelengths, coupled with her hobbies of biochemistry, poetry, and urban mythologies had formerly made her the socially clueless scientist of the decade. No more. At first impression, she was a stunningly gorgeous woman of thirty-two. She was young, blonde, brainy and one of those people who could bring her talents to bear on a problem with complete focus.

She was also completely mad in the classic sense. She had been driven mad by the accidental invention of THE most dangerous device of the new century, the ‘Belle Cell’ digital phone.

The phone could transmit data in direct harmonic with the EM pattern of a mind in proximity. With the right kind of database support and computer modulation of that data, the phone was able to ‘pump’ hard EM data to a listener’s brain where it was imprinted on top of existing patterns.

For example, overwriting them if need be.

Maxine Bussock knew what that was like. After nearly seven weeks of being Ava Hopper’s on-call sex slave and reluctant giggle-girl, she was beginning to wonder why she hadn’t gone insane yet. For when Dr. Belle Simon had “promoted” Ava Hopper from her personal victim to her Slightly Mad Assistant, Ava had taken the role very seriously.

Even though Ava was usually not even in Washington, D.C., Max got a phone call from her every night. Just before bedtime, yet never quite the same time, just when Max would begin to believe that Ava was tired of the game—the phone would ring.

For seven weeks now, Max had tried to not pick up the phone every night.

Occasionally, Max spent minutes resisting while the phone shrilled away. Ringing. As Max pushed herself to the far side of the bed, concentrating on multiplication tables and wedging the pillow firmly over her head to mute the phone. Ringing. Knowing that her pussy was wet, her breathing getting faster, she resisted.

She was masturbating. The phone rang a beat that matched her thrusting hand. She came very hard and scrambled to pick up the phone before her body stopped shuddering. “Yes! I’m here! I’m here!”

“Hello, Maxi. Was that good for you?”

Maxine’s nerves and pussy screamed YES! as she sighed, “Every night, Ava? I’m falling behind in my work. You don’t want me to lose my job. You’ll lose the information I feed you from Treasury.”

“Yes,” agreed Ava with a smirk in her voice. “Here’s what we’ll do about that.”

Maxine had a new job.

The transfer from Treasury had been amazingly smooth. The background checks were done in only three weeks. Maxine had to wonder if Dr. Simon had that much pull in the government already, usually the background confirmation of clearance required months.

She was halfway through the intense orientation course for female agents of the MCC unit. Maxine hadn’t even known there was such an organization, but apparently, a female senator-elect in Belle’s ‘mental thrall’ had tipped the Doctor to the infant government agency. The special unit didn’t ‘officially’ exist. Normally, the NSA had nothing to do with crimes or internal affairs of the United States, but in order to make the Mind Control Crimes unit as secret as possible, it had been hidden in the administration of the National Security Agency.

However, Dr. Simon knew about it. That was Maxine’s new pose, she was an intern agent in the MCC. She both knew that she wanted the job, and wondered what Ava was really after.

This orientation course for Maxine and five other women was important to the MCC strategy. Up until this point, the only woman in the small MCC unit was their instructor, Special Agent Dana Scylla. Director Mitchum wanted to be able to balance the MCC’s fifteen agents with more women drawn from the CIA, FBI, and Treasury.

Maxine’s degree in psychology had gotten her into the short list. Max was impressed with the group she was joining.

She also suspected they might be able to help her before it was too late for them all. She just had to find a way to communicate her problem. Since she had been at the MCC training, Ava had stopped her nightly calls, just to keep a lower profile.

Agent Scylla pointed to an elaborate chair in stainless steel and leather. “This was captured two months ago from a college in Nevada. The computer hookup is in one of our labs under study. It’s about six hundred pounds of drug tanks and advanced logic boards and it connects into this rig here.” She used a stainless steel pen that expanded into a pointer to tap an empty junction plug. “Ladies, when you see something like this you will know it for what it is. The kind of person who creates this has a particular sort of mindset. Note the attention to detail, the fine leather seat, and the polished metal frame of the chair, cast in one piece. The people who make these instruments are obsessed. They don’t even realize how many signs they leave of that abnormal attitude. They have to follow these patterns of control in their own lives. They invent control mechanisms because of their own fascination.”

Agent Scylla made eye contact with the six women.

“As we discussed last week, you six are joining a unit where your own minds might be endangered in defense of normal citizens. Our felons do not think of you as agents, or women, or even human because they can control you through their inventions and techniques. They can do this, therefore they feel no reason not to do it. They are quite insane.”

“But as with any criminal, once you understand how limited their options are, you have advantage over them. Never forget, their advantage over you.” She paused and pointed. “Ms. Casey?”

The blonde spoke up immediately. “No mercy, no hesitation. They are true sociopaths.”

Agent Scylla nodded. “Right. Questions about what we’ve covered?”

Maxine raised her hand.

Agent Scylla pointed to her.

“What kind of damage is done to the typical victim? Can they be rehabilitated or can they only heal over the scars?”

Scylla walked back to the gleaming chair and casually sat the edge of it. “Usually, there is no cure. No way back. If the damage is not too great, then the victim might regain some normal sense of participation in society. Our data is limited but not promising. Most victims actually seek out similar experiences again. They take up dominance/submission relationships or join in bondage activities that they would have found unthinkable prior to influence.”

Maxine realized she was squeezing her thighs together rhythmically and it was making her hot. No way back. I am her toy.

“And while they might thank us for their freedom, post mind control victims look at all their relationships from a distorted perspective. Family and friends become sexual ciphers with potential to add to their feeling of isolation. There are no simple or casual relationships for these victims. They actually look at everyone as a potential Controller.” Scylla frowned. “I was in a takedown episode last year where an illegal unit of Anodyne SA blanketed the parking lot we were in with a harmonic device to cause confusion in the surrounding law enforcement people. They didn’t escape, but they tried.”

She looked up at the silent students and flipped her red hair over her shoulder. “Just confusion, mind you. But even five minutes with your mind disconnected from reality can have some pretty scary effects. Don’t forget that sensory deprivation was one of the foundations of mind control in the middle part of the last century.”

Maxine thought about the cell phone’s erotic gray fog grabbing her mind in the restaurant. That had been isolation like a buffer of white noise or the caress of a soft electronic blanket on my senses. Ironic that I was listening to Ava Hopper’s story at the time and thinking she was a poor deluded woman.

“So next week,” continued Scylla, “we’ll start to train you in some new techniques the Unit has developed to give you all an edge in resistance. Every second might count in the field if you come up against one of these felons.”

Maxine raised her hand. “But how sophisticated is the technology? Everything you’ve shown us is hand-built and very large. Only a kidnapped person is vulnerable to these things. Or someone who wanders into an installation.”

“True,” the agent agreed, “in ninety-five percent of cases so far. That’s why we work so closely with the FBI. We aren’t trying to do their work in nailing kidnappers. They find the patterns. We act as troubleshooters and experts on the perpetrators. The equipment being used is large if it uses multiple techniques like this chair. It is smaller if simple chemical triggers, or electronic stunning is the basis of taking the victim.”

Ms. Wellington raised her hand. “And since statistics show these inventions are most often found on college campuses, that’s why young men and women are usually the victims.”

Scylla smiled. “Yes. The greatest source of Controllers is academia. So over seventy percent of victims are college age women, twenty-five percent are college age men, three percent are working age women, less than one percent are law enforcement. You have a dangerous job ahead, but not because of mind control. When the fantasy begins to crumble, a Controller will usually resort to a gun or a pre-arranged explosion. These sociopaths unhinge pretty fast. That’s part of our challenge, secure the Controller, and then get the victim out.”

Ms. Velentia raised her hand. “In the FBI, I saw a marked tendency to analyze crimes and victims to such an extent that the emotional jolt of the aversion was reduced. We cynically referred to it as, ‘sucking the juice out of the crime’. Is that happening here in the MCC, or are all these statistics just to give us all the illusion that we’re safe and understand the problem?”

Scylla laughed. “Of course, statistics are usually used to create an impression of predictability in a world we all know in our heads is not predictable.” She smiled, pleased with the questions she was getting. “But I wouldn’t feel like a professional if I didn’t give you what ‘wisdom’ these studies can pass along.”

The women in the class looked at each other, some nodding. They were more and more sure this was a good place to be. This was a ‘good fight’. Mind control had to be understood and eradicated before it became part of the fabric of the culture. For if that happened, how long would civil trust remain?

How long would civilization last?

Scylla called them all to the front of the classroom.

“OK.” She pushed a wheeled cart to where everyone could see the screen if they crowded close. “This is a record that was made by a convicted Controller of his own process. It takes four hours to see the whole thing, but we’ve compressed the time cycle so you can see the brain’s activity change. Take note especially of what happens to the third line on the monitor. That marks release of endorphins in the brain. What you’ll see, as hard as it is to believe, is the brain basking in more pleasure the further into the process the subject is taken.”

She flipped the switch.

Five tracks lit up on the monitor, while a time counter in the corner of the screen started showing an accelerated clock.

“As Snyder showed at John’s Hopkins, and the Kosterlitz labs proved later, the brain can never have too much laughter, happiness, or sex. The brain has no limit for pleasure, only pain. Most mind controllers stumble into a process where the brain is literally fucked into submission.”

Maxine orgasmed. She flushed with shame staring at the monitor.

Scylla continued, “Also the reason there are so few ‘cures’.”

Maxine fished her hand into her slacks and realized belatedly she was pulling a cell phone out of her pocket. With heated concentration, she slowed her hand down. She focused on not opening the device. Do I have a rigged phone? When would I have gotten it? Or have I forgotten that I’m supposed to have one?

She orgasmed again. She tried to speak, but thoughts of pleasure kept her from making a sound. Then she stamped her heel down on her other foot. The flash of pain made the bliss retreat. Better now than never! “Agent Scylla? Here.” She quickly forced the phone into the senior woman’s hand. “I know it’s hard to believe, but this is a superior and dangerous mind control device. I’m under its influence myself. Please believe me.”

Each woman’s face immediately centered on Max; some were astonished, most were disciplined in their reactions.

Scylla shut off the monitor quietly. She looked at the closed phone in her hand. It’s too small to actually be a device. She looked into Maxine Bussock’s eyes. Absolute conviction. She’s holding herself on the edge. There may be something to this. Perhaps this is a repeater device for a transmission from elsewhere. A Controller with access to a MCC agent would be a disaster.

She flipped the phone open.

Maxine gasped, “Don’t turn it on!” Then pleasure flooded back into her mind, replacing the pain. She giggled. “Unless you want me as a sex-toy.” She slapped a hand over her traitorous mouth.

Scylla nodded. That cinched it. Maxine was controlled. She glanced down at the phone. “Damn! It’s already powered!” She pushed the power off switch. The lighted face went dark.

Maxine couldn’t move at all and a gray fog rolled across her mind. She couldn’t see. She stared off into space with a strange blankness to her lightly freckled face. The seven women felt a penetrating tingle behind their ears as gray fog blanked their vision. A few shoulders slumped. Eyes widened behind glasses. Ms. Wellington started to drool from slack red lips.

Maxine smiled with pleasure.

Dr. Belle Simon’s humorous tones burned through the fog as if they were incandescent flares from the surface of the sun. “Thank you, Maxine. Trained reflexes and quick thinking lose to planning again. It was so simple to wire the display to show power when it was dead and activate when it was shut off. Ladies, this is Belle Simon. You recognize my voice as one you must obey. It is impossible not to obey my voice. No matter how you feel about what I tell you, you must obey me. In fact, the stranger my instructions, the more strongly you are compelled to obey my voice. My instructions are more important than your own thoughts. Even when you know you don’t want to do what I tell you to, you find you have no resistance.”

Maxine drifted in the EM fog of passion. I did it. I trapped them. Dr. Simon let me do the right thing and we are all about to be fucked into submission.

She squirmed through a triplet orgasm.

Dana Scylla couldn’t see. She felt the voice was like a laser writing across her forehead. She remembered something about pleasure sometimes being an attack. She tried to question, to analyze her feelings. What am I feeling this pleasure about? That voice. That delicious voice. Is that valid? Should a voice seem so angelic and beautiful? Why can’t I see? Sensory deprivation is another element of mind attack. I must be under attack.

She tried to pinch herself. She wanted to generate pain to counter the attack.

The gray fog lit up again with heaven’s tones. “Ladies, you will always know my voice. My voice is beautiful. You love the way it sounds. You will never do anything to make me angry. You do not want to hear anger in my voice. My voice is the most beautiful thing you have ever heard. That is why you obey my voice. You know it is strange but it is also wonderful. There are no reasons to disobey. Nothing is as persuasive as hearing my wonderful voice. Whatever I say is law to you. You are shaped by my voice. My words must be obeyed. You get an intense submissive thrill from obeying me. You find me simply irresistible. You become horny for me when I order you. You want to have sex with me. Obeying me will give you immense sexual pleasure. Whatever you feel about my commands, you will be sexually excited to obey. Even the conflict between thinking my command isn’t your own attitude and carrying out my command will make you lust for more orders.”

Dana Scylla heard the gray fog swirl with the echoing electric voice as it stamped unbreakable patterns in her thoughts. She forgot her fingers. She forgot her statistics. She felt so alive. Everything was so clear.

What a wonderful hot voice. Damn, I’m so wet. Order me. Please!

“Ladies, I’m putting my assistant on the phone. Her name is Ava. I want you to follow her orders like good little girls.”

Silence lasted for a few seconds.

“Hello, ladies, this is Ava. I’d like you all to start masturbating your hot pussies and enjoy that. I’ve plenty of things to tell you crusaders for justice. You’ll think of yourselves now as a secret force inside the MCC, but working for us. I ‘christen’ you the Power Muff Girls. That is how you will think of yourselves.”

Max giggled, her thoughts spun.

Dana moved her fingers in her sopping wet cunt. She wanted to pull her pantyhose down but she couldn’t get the thought to her hand. She only wanted to listen and masturbate. So she stood in the gray fog with her hand up her skirt. I am one of the Power Muff Girls.

Dana made small moans. She couldn’t hear the others.

“It is very important to me that you keep your jobs with the MCC, ladies. So, that’s why you are a secret force. Remember that exposure to your MCC superiors will end the pleasure of being a hot Power Muff Girl. You want to do the right thing for me, you know Mind Control is bad, so you will lead a double life. Be good girls while watched as Special Agents, horny giggle-gals while acting as my controlled hot sexy Power Muff Girls.”

Dana nodded. Yes. That made sense. We are fighting for justice. We have secret identities. We are the Power Muff Girls.

“Your senior hot cunt is Maxine Bussock. Mad Max. She is the senior Power Muff Girl. You follow her commands when Dr. Simon or I are not giving you orders. Max, you are responsible for making sure your giggle-gals stay hot and horny. Repeat that, Max.”

Maxine gasped. “I am responsible for making sure they stay hot and horny.”

“And tell your giggle-gals what kind of mind you have, Max.”

Maxine groaned and giggled. My mind is a hot cunt. I think with my pussy. I like what you’re doing. I am your toy. I believe anything you tell me.

Ava’s voice roughed. She sounded as if she might be masturbating herself on the other end of the line. “Max, I’m pushing into your cunt mind so deeply and you are spreading your hot cunt mind for me.”

Maxine orgasmed harder than ever. “YES!”

Ava groaned over the phone.

Silence lasted for a few seconds.

Ava’s voice began again. “Ladies, what is your secret?”

A chorus of seven voices answered. “We are the Power Muff Girls.”

“Is Special Agent Dana Scylla there?”

Dana felt a sudden rush in her mind. “Yes?”

“You are Max’s second in command. Are you hot and wet? Having fun with your fingers?”

Dana felt a twisting weirdness in her mind. Hours of counter-control instruction were somewhere in her brain, but she could only use a small portion to search. “Yes!”

“Have any fetishes, Dana?”

“No!” She was sure about that. Her psyche profile was solid.

“You do now, Dana dear. You have a fetish for hose. Your hottie code name is HoseBunny.”

Something went white hot in Dana’s head. She thumbed her clit. “Oh! God! No!”

“Isn’t that frightening? Doesn’t that feel weird? Suddenly seeing hose as so important to your sexual needs?” Ava’s voice shivered with wonder.

“Yes!” Dana sobbed. Her fingers slurped faster. She imagined walking about her apartment in only hose and heels. She thought about shopping for stockings. Fancy ones. Special patterns. Unusual colors. Racks and racks of hose and women passing her wearing tight binding stretchy shimmering lovely hot sexy pantyhose. Hose is my fetish. She felt a new kind of orgasm tickle down her hose-covered legs. She gasped and pushed more fingers into her cunt.

Ava’s voice husked. “HoseBunny wears pantyhose on her head when she’s feeling really horny. Like ears. Like a fuck-bunny. Cum, Dana!”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaah! Yes!” She bucked in the fog, dreaming of cum drenched hose pulled over her nose. She floated in the hot daze.

“Now that we have a pecking order. Listen closely, ladies.” Ava’s voice whispered.

Seven minds came to immediate focused attention.

Ava finally closed the phone minutes later and smiled tightly. She walked across the office fingering her nipples. Her nipples were hot peaks with her breasts cupped and lifted from below in a skimpy leather corset. She wore leather knee-high boots with six-inch heels. The egg-shaped vibrator in her ass gave her cheeks a delightful shiver.

She felt evil.

She was amazed at how good she was getting at this role of Slightly Mad Assistant. She found the petite Belle Simon pouring over schematic diagrams of some new electronic device.

“I think we have our stiletto high heel in the door at MCC.” Ava flashed a plastic smile. “It’s amazing to feel like a complete bitch and be high as a kite at the same time. Do you realize that I orgasmed just listening to them moaning? I adore controlling other women even though I can’t stand acting this way.”

Belle looked up and smiled brightly. “A hard pattern of activity to explain based on science, wouldn’t you say?”

Ava shivered and dripped arousal. “That’s an understatement.” I love her voice.

“I’m coming to believe that the brain is a more powerful instrument than science has ever suspected, Ava. Even my invention is only scratching the surface of what is possible. I’m beginning to wonder what really powers sentience. What resources does the mind have that we cannot see? What can explain a brain forcing a body to move faster than others of similar training, size, and desire? Such records are broken every year. What force does a mother use to lift a car from endangering her child? Science says that there is nothing there but statistical deviation and amusingly imperfect anecdote.”

She paused. Her eyes glimmered with intense longing as she stared at something only her twisted mind could conceive. “I wonder.”

Ava shivered again. She thought about innocent lives being ground up in the mad plans of her boss. Her solid center quailed. Her hot smile didn’t waver to her frustration. She wasn’t in control of the way she behaved and barely in control of what she thought. “So what are you working on?”

“I seem to have improved my device again. This modification should allow detailed recordings to be made of minds. Certain patterns can be tagged and if I choose, substitutions can be made without any verbal instructions being needed.”

Ava thought about that for a moment. “Like cut and paste? A mind processor with editing?”

“Crudely, yes.”

“So what good is that? The voice connections are a sure thing.”

Belle smiled. “Well, with the right transmitter and some planning, I could say, take your mind, Ava, and patch in a recording of a nun’s perfect faith in her own modesty. Then the outfit that you’re wearing would cause you immense unending shame. Or I could take your sense of obsessive devotion to me, and patch that to the minds of a session of Congress. Then the government would smoothly transition to my personal direction.”

Ava froze.

Belle’s smile was radiant. “There is something to be said for science. And as you know, a Mad Scientist’s work is never done.”