The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Worship Me

The world was a mysterious place.

Lana was staring at the statue of the Aztec goddess Chantico, who was a goddess of the hearth and family. She was busty and curvaceous in the extreme, with small parrot wings extending from her back. If Lana remembered her anthropology courses correctly, Chantico was turned into a dog as punishment by a man, for something or other. Leave it to a man to decide a woman was simply a bitch.

Right beside the statue was one from the other side of the world. It was actually two statues in one: Isis and Nephtys, set back to back and facing outward.

The one uniting feature of the three women was rather unsurprising: they were wives and mothers and reflected those virtues of ancient women that were meant to be the ideal. It was as utterly an anti-feminist sentiment as she was likely to find. Lana made a face and looked away.

Lana had half of her hair shaved and the other half was ear-length, folded over and colored an electric blue. A black tank top, tan cargo pants, she felt confident that she was the last person anyone would expect to create a perfect home to raise children in.

Still, she felt herself oddly drawn back to the statues and, turning, she took in everything she could about them. She noted the gracefulness with which their feminine bodies were rendered. There were small imperfections, places where the artists made mistakes, but those were few and far between.

“Rather impressive, aren’t they?” Asked a deep, masculine voice from behind her.

Lana blinked and turned to find a man who was bearded and wearing glasses, he wore a dark coat over a plaid shirt and some faded blue jeans. He was a hipster, perhaps a poster boy sort of image for the ironically unironic movement.

He was honestly sort of cute. Lana wasn’t sure if she was interested in him, but at least he didn’t give her the creeps like so many men did. In fact, he smiled as she looked at him and she found it disarmingly charming.

“I suppose, if you like big boobs and fat butts.” Lana said with a smirk. Her willowy form definitively fit neither.

“I like good art.” The man said simply, then he stuck out a hand. “Name’s Mike.”

Lana glanced down at the hand and waited a few long, awkward moments before finally taking it and shaking.

“Lana.”

“What brought you here?” Mike asked.

“Oh, I like history. History of all sorts, really.” Lana said, grinning. “I like seeing the weird things people believed.”

“Have any beliefs yourself?” Mike continued. It was honestly a bit personal for only just having met her.

Lana let her raised eyebrows do the speaking for her, forcing an awkward chuckle out of Mike, the Hipster.

“Fair, fair” Mike responded, holding his hands up defensively, as though she were holding him at gunpoint. However, he disarmed her with another grin. “Personally, I think it’s a load of hooey. But looking at the stuff about the older gods has always been fascinating to me. The things people used to believe.”

“I think modern believers lack imagination.” Mike added

He smirked, as if daring Lana to contradict his assessment. She didn’t, though. She turned to look at the statues of the women goddesses and smiled to herself. The depictions of the women were clearly done by men, with their full breasts and figures, yet the idea of goddesses, that is, gods that were women, was something that felt very different than most mainstream religions. There were Wiccans, of course, and modern followers of older religions, but the dominant religions were very patriarchal.

Then again, as she read the fact placards next to the goddesses, even religions featuring female deities weren’t necessarily immune or even stellar examples of non-patriarchal societies.

Isis, Nephthys, and Chantico were all perfect wives and mothers. Even with the strength of deities, that strength was focused into specific gender roles, reinforcing them not just from a societal standpoint, but with the cultural background that was pervasive in the extreme.

“Actually, one of the reasons I ask is that I work for a contractor that’s working with the museum.” Mike said unprompted, he then took out what looked like a VR visor.

“If I give you a sneak peek on what we’re working on, maybe you’d be willing to go out for coffee some time?”

Lana rolled her eyes a little at the weak addendum, but she was curious about the VR visor in his hands. What in the world could that have to do with the museum?

“You don’t need to agree to the date to test it out, I just thought I’d throw that in there.” He handed her the VR visor, still smiling.

“What is it?” Lana asked, holding the visor gingerly as though it might bite.

“It’s a virtual tour simulator,” Mike replied, as though expecting the question. “If you put it on, you’ll still be able to navigate the library, but it will give you overlays and other visuals to enhance the museum experience.

“And don’t worry, I’ll be with you the entire time in case something goes wrong.”

“Goes wrong??” Lana stared suspiciously at the visor, then began to hand it back.

“No! No,” Mike said a second time, a bit more gently and his hands going up defensively once more. “Like I can help you troubleshoot if it stops working or whatever. The device is harmless, but if it stops working correctly, I’ll be here to help.”

Lana turned over the bulky device in her hands as she considered it. In spite of his continuous flirting, she had no real reason to distrust Mike. Well, that wasn’t wholly true either, Lana corrected herself. Most women needed to have a certain level of distrust with men to start with, lest they be taken advantage of. But if he was contracted with the library, she supposed she could complain to the library if his behavior veered any further past the lines of professionalism than he had already crossed.

A New Reality

The visor looked bulky, but it was light in her hands and when Lana put it on her head, she found that it didn’t weigh her down at all.

At first, all she saw was black, countering Mike’s point that she would be able to navigate the museum in it. However, she felt a touch on her shoulder and then heard a click as something touched the visor at the side of her head where it began to curve around. A blue screen appeared saying welcome, and then a second later it became less opaque, and she could see the museum around her.

The blue faded away and welcome changed to “Loading…” which blinked continuously along with an orange status bar that got longer as it progressed. Lana turned to Mike.

He shrugged a little and said, “sorry, forgot to tell you to turn it on.”

His voice was a bit muffled, but he continued, explaining, “the visor will also give you information audibly, so it has noise cancelling features. However, if it detects someone trying to talk to you, it should filter that information in.”

When Mike stopped his explanation, Lana found that it was indeed incredibly quiet for a moment. However, a second later a soft sound of pleasant music seemed to be playing. The audio was so quiet that she wasn’t sure if she was actually hearing it, or if her brain were compensating for the quiet with some sort of audio illusion.

Lana turned to look at the goddesses again. The first one she saw was the golden statue of the Aztec goddess, Chantico.

A soft, woman’s voice spoke into her ear, but with the surrounding silence, it felt as though the woman were speaking to her soul. “Chantico. She who dwells in the house.

“The deity of fires in the family hearth. She once broke fast by eating Paprika with Roasted fish and was turned into a dog by Tonacatecuhtli as punishment.”

The first Bitch. Lana thought again reflexively as she listened, of course that’s what a man would think of.

As Lana continued to listen, she discovered that Chantico was actually a more complicated figure in the Aztec mythology. There were allusions to military aspects as well as stonecarvers and others. Ultimately, however, the representation that was before her was of a well-endowed native woman who was kneeling in a subservient manner.

As she examined the statue, the visor whispered words to her that were in tones outside the range of conscious hearing, and yet her subconscious still processed them: fertile, submissive, mother, nurturing, weak mind, strong heart.

Consciously, Lana realized she was spacing out and she recovered, shifting her gaze to the sisters Isis and Nephthys.

The two were so alike that they could have been twins, but the artist was talented enough to make slight alterations to them as well. Isis’ eyes were a bit wider, Nephthys’ hair was a bit longer, but they were still sisters in the end. Like Chantico, both women were kneeling, though they were pressed back to back with hands offered up in supplication. They were slightly less curvy than the Aztec goddess, but they still had bountiful breasts and narrow waists.

Like Chantico, she was given their stories and their portfolios. Isis was a goddess associated with the preparation of the dead and a healer. However, she was also a mother and a role model for women to aspire to. Nephthys was literally the goddess of the house, aka the domestic goddess.

Yet, even as Lana’s thoughts filled with derision for the archaic roles, other thoughts competed for supremacy in her head, guided by the subliminals pushed out by the visor. The domestic life for women was archaic, but it was also fundamental to the human experience another thought countered.

After all, the Egyptians rose to prominence thousands of years ago. As such, their culture only cemented the idea that women had played the roles they had in society for thousands of years. Her higher reasoning argued with that too, though. Yes, women had been oppressed for thousands of years, that didn’t make the roles right or proper.

Still, another thought intruded, how much simpler would life be if Lana simply subscribed to the same beliefs that had ruled humanity since the dawn of their species? Entire deities had been crafted around the idea of women taking care of the home and preparing the domestic environment. Goddesses were so often mothers because only women could play that role. Only they could bear the children, only they could feed them, it was only natural therefore that they were also the primary caregivers, sacrificing power and desire in order to protect and raise their offspring.

No. Lana thought. That’s wrong, men can be primary caregivers too.

But the counter thoughts were also there: sure, men help raise children when they can. But men had to hunt, and then they had to fight, and now they were required to make the bread that fed the family. The world asked so much of men, it was only right that they asked women to manage the home and be there for the children.

Lana shook her head, as if trying to shake off some sort of invader. She placed her hands to her ears, but they landed instead on the hard, cold plastic of the visor.

“Is everything okay?” Lana heard Mike ask.

“I’m fine- … fine… just…” Lana wasn’t sure what she could say that didn’t sound insane, “just having a mental argument.”

“And losing?” Mike added in, “you didn’t seem happy with the outcome.”

Lana giggled at that, which was weird enough in itself, she never giggled.

“I guess I was, but, really, I’m fine.”

Mike held out his arm for her, and without knowing why, she linked her arm in his own. Something told Lana that she never would have accepted a man’s arm like that under normal circumstances. But, then again, the current circumstances were hardly normal.