The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

6. HELLO

Why am I recording this? Who’s going to read it?

I will, the next time I’m born. Or manifest. Or whatever. While these somewhat civilized monkeys were screwing each other’s brains out for the book to glean enough manna for me to act, to some extent it is a mindless machine that reacts to circumstances, while I am the brains behind the operation. So I was taking in the notes from my last incarnation. About ninety years ago, in rural England. The book had been part of a collection of a Swedenbourgian free-love promoting Baron with a large country house, an already amorous if discrete social-scene that bordered on being a cult, and enough political clout to be ignored as long as he didn’t rock any of the highest society boats. It lasted a good long time, I was careful not to grow too large that time, at least at the start. But things do get out of hand.

Learn from experience, I say. I’m not even sure if what I read are from a previous version of myself or from some kind of cousin. But an hour with the fucking ape’s minds and an absorption of the other reading material in this house brought me up to 1978 pretty fast, and made me understand what I was and what I could do and what I had to do to survive independent of the great unthinking unfeeling cosmic muffin, or however you want to describe it, that my essence had been torn from to guard the book. More about that later, my future self.

7. NOW — UPSTAIRS

I float up the basement stairs into the kitchen, a simple ball of glowing light is all I am at this appoint, to near the refrigerator where Troy and the adults were still going at it. The kids slowly stopped soon after control was returned to their minds, but the adults and Troy were perpetual fucking machines. “This is great!” I thought. “I’m in a really good place. A good horny oversexed place. Everybody orgasm!” I send to the kitcheneers. Even Sam, who’s recovering from the almost dozen orgasms he’s had in the last three hours, his limp dick drooping down while munching Gail’s fur pie cums again. As I pass by I check his heart, which seems the weakest of the bunch and boost its muscles and clean out some plaque buildup—I’m not used to altering their physical bodies yet, though the book has instructed me how to, and warned me to go slow and careful. So just enough for now to get through the rest of today’s sexual gymnastics safely. A quick glance at the others tells me that they are all OK, but tired and dehydrated.

It’s only then that they notice me and the basement crew as we pass by heading for the main hall, called a “living room” though it actually isn’t alive, where I can address my new charges.

The kitchen six grab quickly at whatever clothes are closest and follow us. I take a position at the end of the room and float higher, seven feet up at top, so all can see me.

“What kind of dumbass thing are you?” Sam angrily asks. “What did you do to us?” I am beginning to regret the boost of energy I’ve just given them all.

“Be quiet. I did nothing to you or to cause this. I am here to fix not to break. Humans Stella and Rose brought this about—plus some blame must to go to Vicky.” Carl looks at Rose and she blushes.

Sheila says, “It’s true, I know that look.”

Why use up the limited manna available when problems can be solved easily without. “You are all thirsty. Your bodies have all lost a lot of fluids. Betty—Sam—first bring a round of drinks out here and then I’ll explain as best I can.”

While we waited the others tried to question me. I hover stone still, and after a while they started to pay attention to what they were wearing. Most had managed to find their own clothes, and when others were wearing them, managed to swap back to something resembling normal, except for Aram. Out of the dirty laundry hamper he had grabbed one of Annette’s dresses and wears it, and was only now noticing, and as he caught on so did the others. Troy started sniggering and then the others started laughing, except for Annette who shrieked “My new dress!” He’s not really any larger than she is, just bulges in different places.

Aram pops some buttons off as he hurriedly strips, causing Annette to shriek some more. “My new panties!” as Aram stands there in some tight thong pink marvels, tiny yellow daisies patterned upon the front. Just for fun I give him a full, bobbing erection when he notices that Annette’s tits have shaken out of her shirt and her nipples have hardened to cherry red. “Get them off. Now!” Annette demands, her chest bouncing. She bends and yanks them off Aram and his released stiffy leaps up and loudly smacks her on the cheek leaving a dick-head shaped mark of pure white cock cream under her right eye. Troy rolls on the floor laughing.

“Apes” I think. “More fun than a barrel of monkeys.” I was enjoying myself like a kitten with a ball of yarn—a dozen plus two balls of human yarn.

Sam and Betty return with trays of drinks, soda for the teens, beer for Carl and Sam. Andy is offered a beer, but declines and guzzles a cream soda instead. Betty has also gathered up what clothes were left in the kitchen and has them bundled under one arm. Seeing Aram she hands him Carl’s huge shirt, which he dons, his stiff pecker covered again but tenting it out front, making it wobble as he shifts his weight from foot to foot and then the head and shaft pop out from between the lowest buttons. I make it so that it doesn’t occur to him to tuck it in, and also so that the others can’t suggest it. All the women are trying not to look at it, and not to be caught by the others looking, but all are sneaking peeks, as the guys are, “strictly for comparison purposes.” The exception is Vicky who openly gapes at the sight. Carl feels relieved, Aram is big for his overall size, but “Little Carl” is still king penis. Vicky’s head bobs in time with the ruddy uncircumcised foreskin as it swings and sways freely. “Apes,” I think again.

Time for me to grab their attention. I start to grow and form the ashes, half burned papers, semen soaked latex, and other left-overs from the brazier into a purple-orange stretched oval sphere, slightly wider at the bottom for balance, using the sparkly bits to give a diamond like twinkle to my outer surface.

“It’s an egg,” Stella blurts. Good, that impression of mystery and vulnerability is just what I’m after, no good being too threatening when I’ll need to convince them to eventually act on their own.

I start, “This is how it is...”