The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Jim was not the sort of person who believed in anything beyond his normal realm of experience. He wasn’t sure he believed in God, and he certainly didn’t believe that things like aliens or magic existed.

Jim was from a small town, work was hard to find and he was lucky that he had a job at the timber mill. Often after work he and the boys would head for the local bar and have a few drinks before heading home for the evening. Jim had no one to go home to, so he usually stayed for a little bit longer, having a few more drinks and flirting with the barmaid. Susie was married, and he had no chance with her, but he liked to try.

Jim was single, but it wasn’t by choice. A couple of years back when he was a newlywed, 18 years old and still wet behind the ears, he discovered that his beautiful, hot, bride was still sleeping with some of her old boyfriends. He quickly kicked her out of the house and had not seen her again, except for a brief appearance in court to finalise the divorce. Since then he’d had a string of short-term girlfriends but had not found anyone serious. Now in his mid twenties, he guessed it had made him a little bit bitter, but he was sure if he found the right girl she would change his mind in short order.

This day was a Friday; he would remember it for the rest of his life. He was walking home along the side of the road, past the forest out towards the lake where his modest home stood on the water’s edge.

Jim was wishing that he hadn’t had those last two beers now that his bladder was threatening revolt, and he decided he’d better heed its wishes. He quickly stepped into the tree line and took care of the call of nature. After a moment, feeling mightily relieved he turned to head back to the road when the incident happened.

There was a noise, it had been there for some time, but Jim had not paid any attention to it. Now it was so loud that he could not help but notice it. With a rumbling tremor, the ground shook, knocking him off his feet into the undergrowth. He looked up and saw to his amazement some kind of metal object blazing its way over the treetops before ploughing heavily into the forest beyond.

Jim thought that a plane had crashed and began charging through the undergrowth to see if he could help.

He stumbled drunkenly through the forest for a few minutes before he could see the small blaze before him. There had been a lot of rain the last few days so the water and dampness was managing to hold the fire at bay for the time being. Jim charged into the vicinity and began to yell out for any survivors.

“Is anyone in there?”

The only sound was the crackling noises from the burning wreckage. Jim made his way around, skirting the heat of the wreck, still calling for anyone who might be inside.

He saw what might have once been a window, and within it he thought he could see someone moving.

He was torn with indecision, if he didn’t go someone might be killed, but if it was not someone then he may die.

After a moment he decided to try and help.

With a holler, he flung himself forwards, barrelling through to the burning wreck, trying to find some way of gaining access.

After a few moments of searching he realised it was fruitless and he could not get inside the hull of whatever this plane was.

It was then he also realised that the fumes had started to have an effect on him. He woozily looked around and mentally kicked himself for being so stupid, seconds before he passed out.

Jim looked down at the green grass he was standing upon; slowly he looked up and looked around. He knew something was wrong but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He watched the cars moving around the town square as he stood on the grassy centre area. It was late afternoon and he could see the sun starting to set in the distance. He was snapped into full awareness as the nearby fire station suddenly sprang into life. The door rolled back and the fire engine, sirens wailing, rolled quickly out onto the street and headed off towards the forest, where he’d been walking home.

Suddenly he realised. Somehow he had managed to get back out of that fire and get himself back to town.

He looked at himself, up and down. He didn’t even appear singed, let alone burnt or dead, which is what he had been expecting.

He was confused, there was no possible way he could have escaped the fire, perhaps someone had rescued him?

Slowly he sat down on the low wooden bench behind him, staring up at the town’s war memorial to fallen soldiers. He reached out and touched the cold grey stone monument; it was real. He was awake.

What the hell was going on?

Jim dropped his head down into his hands, and closed his eyes trying to remember.

“Jim, did you see the fire?” yelled Susie as she ran out of the bar across the street.

“No, where is it?” he said, automatically covering for himself.

“Up on Old Forest Road, the way you go home. Good thing you haven’t headed off yet or you might have been caught up in it.”

“I think I might head up and see if I can help.”

Jim stared from within a group of onlookers as army trucks blocked off entrance to the forest. They had appeared in the last few minutes, and like ants, the soldiers had spread out securing the area. Realising there would be nothing to see now, Jim decided to head home and try to work out what had happened.

After convincing the soldiers that he lived further down the road, they eventually let him past them and he made his way down to his modest little house.

Jim threw back a glass of scotch, and then put the glass down on the coffee table. He pressed his head back into the cushions and closed his eyes. Trying to remember what happened, he kept running the events over and over in his head. Each time the story stopped after he charged into the blaze.

His eyes snapped open, and he quickly turned his rough tradesman’s hands over to stare at his palms. His right hand was burning, as though he had just grabbed hold of white-hot iron. He screamed out in agony, as the intense pain shot through his mind, and then his body went stiff and he fell out of the chair to the floor, unconscious.

The morning sun filtered through the lounge room windows, bathing Jim’s sleeping face in its warmth. Slowly he opened his eyes and groaned. He realised he was facedown on the rug, with a mouthful of carpet. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling for a moment. Raising his hands up, he looked at his palms and found a nasty looking scar on his right hand. Perhaps he had been burnt yesterday and hadn’t realised it until he had sat down, and calmed down last night.

He ran his fingertips down the scar; it was healed and looked as though it was quite old.

Jim was confused, and pondered this as he climbed to his feet and headed into the kitchen for his morning coffee.

Jim made a coffee and boiled the jug. He poured out the water into his mug and savoured the warmth of the liquid in his throat as he savoured every drop of its normalcy. Everything here seemed just as it had yesterday morning, and yet he knew something was out of place.

He decided to jump into the shower and see if some hot water would make him feel a bit more like his normal self.

Jim slipped off his dirty work clothes, and turned the shower on. He listened to the running water for a moment, and then as the steam started to build up he climbed in and closed the door. Happily he soaped himself up enjoying the prickling sensation of the warm water. As he ran his hand down over his belly he was shocked to feel another new scar. He looked down in disbelief and found a scar as long as his hand running across his flat and toned stomach.

As he ran his hand over it, it too felt as though it had been there for years.

He was very confused now; he knew that these scars had never been there before. He pressed his hand against the scar and he thought he could feel something hard inside his belly. Suddenly, as if in response to the pressure, a great white-hot bolt of pain shot through his mind.

Jim was thrown back against the wall, fighting to keep upright as eventually the pain subsided.

“What the hell is happening to me?” thought Jim as he started to really get worried.

“...delay.”

Jim looked around, where had that voice come from. He poked his head out of the shower.

“Who’s there?” he yelled.

“There has been a processing delay.”

“Who the fuck is that, you’ve picked the wrong house on the wrong day.” Jim jumped out of the shower; ready to pummel whomever it was that had been stupid enough to break into his house. Dripping soap, he quickly searched the house and found no one.

“What the hell is going on?” he wondered as he walked slowly back to the shower.

“I have told you, there has been a processing delay. It took me longer to assimilate into your mind than I had predicted.”

“Alright, very funny, whoever that is you can quit it now.”

“I assure you I am not attempting humour. In your English language you can refer to me as Scinar, that is who I am.”

“Oh really, and who can I be, Santa Claus?”

“I detect a sense of sarcasm in your mind James.”

“No-one calls me James, who the hell is that?”

“Ahh yes,” said the voice, almost as though it was reading through something. “You are referred to as Jim, my mistake Jim.”

Jim was going crazy now; he couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from.

“Kevin is that you? Where have you got the speaker hidden? I’ll kick your arse when I catch you.”

“I am not your friend Kevin; he is at home with his family. See for yourself.”

Suddenly Jim found himself standing naked in Kevin’s lounge room as Kevin chased his kids out of the room; they were all running around in their normal Saturday morning frenzy.

Kevin’s wife Libby walked in from the kitchen and Jim tried to cover himself, and began to apologise profusely. Libby walked straight past him as though he wasn’t there and continued chasing up the kids.

A second later he was back in his own hallway, standing in a cold puddle.

“Ok what the hell was that?”

“As I said, Kevin is at home. You have now seen the proof.”

“You’re saying I wasn’t there, I was just looking?”

“Yes, something like that.”

Jim grabbed a towel and started drying himself; he walked with a purpose into his bedroom and pulled out his clothing.

Jim’s teeth were firmly clenched and he was dressing automatically, and trying not to think too much.

“I sense that you do not understand Jim.”

“So you’re in my mind now?” yelled Jim, as he slapped himself on the side of the head.

“Desist, I cannot allow you to harm yourself.”

Jim suddenly found that his arm would no longer do as it was told. He was horrified, and sat there desperately trying to move his arm.

“What are you doing to me?”

“Cease trying to harm yourself and I will return control.”

As soon as Jim thought that he would stop, he suddenly found he had control of his arm back.

“That is better. As you are my host, I cannot allow harm to come to you.”

“I’m your host?”

“I hope we will have a very prosperous partnership.”

“Where did you come from?”

“I sense that you know, but you do not want to believe the truth.”

“You’re out of that ship?”

“Yes, I will show you.”

Jim found himself standing in the middle of the fire, as he watched himself from yesterday, running towards the burning wreck. He watched as he frantically searched for a way in and eventually he succumbed to the fumes.

“I sensed that your intentions were selfless and I could not allow you to perish in this manner,” said the voice from nowhere.

The side of the wreck suddenly rolled back like the flap of a canvas tent. A green beam emanated from the hole and quenched the flames lapping around Jim’s body. Jim watched as his body then somehow rose up in the air and just floated inside the wreck. He followed himself inside and found that he was inside a strange looking contraption. It was mainly in darkness, and he sensed that this was because the ship was shutting down due to the damage from the crash. His body floated inside and was laid down upon a large black metal slab. He watched as the light bathed his body and burns he didn’t even know he’d sustained were healed. Jim looked at these places on his arms and could not see any evidence of any damage at all.

From the other end of the vessel a small trolley-like object rolled into view. A small metal object was on top of the trolley, about the size of a normal chicken’s egg, along with something that looked like a coin. They also appeared to be made of this same black metal.

Jim watched as his shirt undid itself and his abdomen came into view. A new red beam shot out of the darkness and appeared to burn into his flesh. He watched in horror as a hole was opened into his stomach. He could see his insides, but there was no blood or any other evidence that surgery was being performed. The egg rose up off the table and floated into the hole, and then the red beam shot out again and closed the hole up as easily as it had been opened.

The beam then repeated the process on his right palm, this time the small metal disc the size of a large coin was inserted and then healed up.

Jim looked down at the scar on his hand and pressed his fingers into it, he could feel the metal disc inside his hand.

The he watched as his shirt and appearance in general was tidied up, and then he vanished from the table and appeared an instant later in the town square.

“So what are you saying?” asked Jim as he once again found himself in his house. “You’re talking to me through that stuff you put inside me?”

“No. I am saying that I am inside what you call the egg; it is my containment unit so that I may survive outside of my normal vessel. I am living inside you now. You have become my new vessel.”

Jim didn’t know what to say or do. He had fallen onto his couch and had lain there for hours, running this whole scenario over and over in his head.

“I can sense your unease Jim. When I integrated my containment unit into your physiology I also tapped into your rudimentary mental structures.”

“Well stay out of my thoughts. The last thing I need is some little green man in my head.”

“I am not green Jim, I believe you would refer to me as silver.”

“Whatever!” yelled Jim as he slumped back onto the couch.

“Ah-ha!” Jim yelled as he sat upright, he had been lying there, thinking for quite some time. “I’ve got you! If you did all you say, how did I get back to town seconds after I thought I had left?”

“Humans!” said the exasperated voice. “Time manipulation is child’s play to my civilisation. It was necessary to utilise you in this manner so that I would remain hidden. The authorities will now believe that you were not in the vicinity of the wreckage of my fine vessel.”

“So you’re telling me you can travel in time, and you can change location too?”

“Precisely Jim, that is exactly what I am informing you of.”

Jim lay there for a moment and then was finally able to move past his own immediate predicament.

“Why are you here?” he asked quietly.

“Finally you are moving on to more important questions.”

“Well?”

“I study. I observe and record. If I deem it prudent I will also conduct experiments.”

“Why?”

“Do not fear my people Jim. We are not planning to invade or anything so mundane. I sense the ideas flooding you mind from too many years of old science fiction films.”

“Ok so what are you doing then?”

“Films are a strange invention are they not? I have always been intrigued by them, and now by integrating your experiences from your memories I can view them in the correct context. I think this partnership of ours could prove very fruitful for us both.”

“What do you want?”

“Ah yes, my apologies Jim. We study you to catalogue your planet, your species and your effects on this world, and your potential impact in the future if you were to find your way into the universe.”

“So you’re some kind of intergalactic voyeur?”

“That is not precisely how I would describe it, no.”

“So what...”

“Enough, I require more information from your mind. Sleep now!”

Jim’s body slumped back onto the couch, sound asleep.

Scinar’s mind stretched out and began to rifle through Jim’s memories like the pages of a book, reading every minute detail with avid interest.

Jim woke suddenly and found himself sitting upright watching TV. It was dark outside and the clock up on the wall told him it was nearly 8pm.

“What’s going on?”

“I am watching this fine invention called television. There is an old film playing, which I found reference to in your memories.”

Jim stared at the screen for a moment and saw some sickly sweet old 1950’s Doris Day movie playing.

“You’re watching a Doris Day movie?”

“Yes, I found that your memory of this film was incomplete and I wanted to complete my databank of it.”

“I probably watched ten minutes of it and then changed channels to wrestling or something, because they’re all so bad.”

“Well that is not all I sensed in your feelings.”

“Huh?”

“I also encounter an interesting emotional state called lust.”

“Not for Doris Day I can tell you that!”

“No, you are correct. However there is a scene with Bikinis which you enjoyed, from a lustful perspective.”

“Oh that movie, yeah I remember,” he said with a bit of a grin.

When he had been younger he had caught a bit of this film on TV. His mother had been watching it. There was one bit where they showed a bunch of girls on the beach, all wearing those old retro bikinis with the conical pointy cups to emphasise where the nipples would be. In his young, hormonal state Jim had thought that these girls were pretty interesting. He had excused himself from the room to consider them further in the privacy of his room.

“Yes precisely. It is interesting that even the memory of this can still elicit a response from your mind.”

“Yeah, well some things kind of just stay with you.”

“I think I would like to explore this further.”