The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

There are myths and legends that abound in the old world. Stories that have taken on a life of their own, that have been told and retold so they are famous to all. However, in the tellings, changes come in, subtle at first, but they grow with each telling and shift the story so slightly. Thus, the truth of the tale becomes lost beneath morals and fables and remains hidden. Until now.

Once upon a time, there was a town called Hamlin. A nice town, a town filled with the sort of Middle Ages people, people who believed in the simple life. A town no different than any other in the country or for that matter, on the continent. And so it was.

Until the day they came. They were small at first, only a few at a time. But they grew and grew and grew until their numbers became so large there was nothing anyone could do but try to avoid them. They were everywhere and they were unrelenting.

Rats. Thousands of them, although at times they seemed more. Vermin that scurried forth through streets, alleys, rooftops, sewers. They snuck into homes and ate at food, spread germs and caused an uproar. Within weeks, the small town of Hamlin found itself at the mercy of this plague, with no end in sight. Traps, poisons, cats, nothing worked. A few rats died, but there were always more to fill the vacancy. There was seemingly nothing anyone could do.

And then the Piper came.

He was a tall man, thin but handsome with sandy blond hair and an odd gait. He wore the outfit of a minstrel, which was what he claimed to be. He arrived in town and headed straight to the office of the mayor where he made an offer: For three bags of gold, he would rid the town of every single rat and make sure they never returned. At the end of his rope, with seemingly no other way to end the suffering, the mayor agreed, although he didn’t put much hope in the Piper or his methods.

The Piper went to the town square and stood in the direct center. He reached into his bag and pulled out his shiny pipe, gleaming in the sunlight. He placed it into his mouth, took a deep breath and began to play. It was a lively tune, music for a dance, his fingers flying over the length of the flute, changing the melody so it came out loud and strong, echoing through the streets of the city.

Slowly at first, the rats began to gather. At first it was only a dozen. Then they grew. Just as they had come in numbers into Hamlin, they came to the squares, running through the streets, a moving carpet of fur as they felt themselves drawn to the sound of the music. The Piper moved through the streets, down to the river, the army of rats following him as he went. He waited until he reached the very edge of the river, then stepped aside and changed the pitch. Like lemmings, the entire horde of rats scurried off the edge and fell into the river. The air was filled with squeaking as the Piper’s spell broke and the rats realized they were drowning. Within minutes, the squealing ended and the corpses of the rats began to move away with the flow of the river, leaving Hamlin behind forever.

The townspeople were overjoyed, happy beyond words that they were finally rid of the creatures. They cheered the Piper, who merely bowed his head and smiled. They were indebted to him and he knew it. Which was why he was so angered when the mayor only offered him a single bag of gold for her services. And not even a full bag at that.

The Piper was not a man given to anger, but he was enraged right now. He believed that when a person made a deal, they should stick to it, no matter what. The mayor simply smiled and reminded the Piper that one bag of gold was better than nothing. Still seething, the Piper took the bag and left.

You know the rest of the story, don’t you? How the Piper used his magic flute to have all the children of the town follow him? How they traveled to a secret mountain hideaway where they were never heard from again? Well, none of that is true. That is the part that’s been misinterpreted through the years. What follows is what the Piper truly did for revenge.

He returned that night to the town square and, just as he had that afternoon, put the pipe to his lips and played. It was a softer tune, though, a quite melody fit for a lullaby. Which, in a way, was what it was. It played throughout the town, into every home and shop, into every corner and building. There was nowhere it did not extend, no one in town who could not hear it.

The effects were immediate. Most of the townspeople were in bed already, so no one would have noticed if their sleep became deeper. Not that anyone would have, since anyone who heard the music felt a heaviness come over them, a fatigue that could not be denied. They fell asleep where they sat or stood, their bodies slumping onto what support there was or falling to the floor. Not just people, but animals as well, dogs and cats falling in the alleys, horses in their barns. Within minutes, every living being inside the town of Hamlin was fast asleep, unable to awaken no matter what the circumstances.

The Piper smiled and stopped playing, heading over to the Mayor’s mansion. It was time for his payback to begin.

He made his way through the large house, stepping over the bodies of sleeping servants, sidestepping a butler who collapsed on the stairs leading up. He stepped into the mayor’s bedroom and gazed at the bed. The mayor lay, asleep, next to his wife. She was his age, in her forties but still quite attractive. Lush brown hair flowed around her head, highlighting her pretty face. Apparently, the two had just made love, their bodies entwined around each other. The Piper smiled as he took in the wife’s ample bosom rising and falling with each breath. He put his pipe back to his lips and began to play again. It was a variation of the tune he had played before, quieter and more personal and its effects were just as instant.

The mayor’s wife opened her eyes and sat up, pulling away from her oblivious husband. She stood up and approached the Piper, her eyes as blank as her mind now was. The Piper bent his head and she instantly fell to her knees and reached to his pants. She undid the clasp in front and reached in, pulling out the Piper’s hard cock. She didn’t pause before taking it in her mouth, running her mouth over the shaft.

The Piper continued to play as she sucked at him, her lips running up and down his rod, her nails tickling his balls. She had no fears, no worries, nothing to do other than suck away at the Piper, trying to bring him pleasure. He ran his fingers over his flute as he felt himself build, his pleasure seeming to power the spell his flute created. The woman’s breasts bounced slightly as she moved forward and back, sucking away at him, her tongue tickling at the tip of his cock. A loud whistle burst forth from the pipe as he came, his wad blasting down her throat and her tongue eagerly licking it all away.

The Piper broke away and finally let the flute move away from his mouth. He swiftly redid his pants, then helped the naked woman to her feet. He led her downstairs and to the door, where the maids of the house stood, wearing the same expressions as the mindless woman following the Piper. The Piper opened the door and was greeted by a sight that would awe any man.

Standing before him, unheeding of the chilly night air, was the entire female population of Hamlin. Young and old, fat and thin, it didn’t matter what family they came from or what their appearance was, they were there. Some were pregnant, some were old enough to be the Piper’s grandmothers and some could barely walk. Mothers held their infant daughters, sisters stood by side and all swayed in place, their faces blank, awaiting orders. Many were naked or at least in nightshirts, their nipples tight from the cold air.

The Piper smiled and began to play his flute again, repeating the melody from before. He began to walk out of town, towards the mountains and the legion of women followed him. With robotic steps, their minds lost in the music the Piper played, they followed him out of the town and away from their loved ones, to a place where the Piper would get to know the best of them much better.

It’s not every day that a village wakes up to find that all the women have vanished. It was chaos, as sons cried for their mothers and sisters, husbands for their wives, fathers for their daughters. Their cries were in vain however, as the Piper had spirited them away. Search parties were formed and moved about the countryside for weeks, but there was no trace of the Piper or the women. It was as if they had vanished into thin air. The parties returned with the sobering knowledge that their refusal to pay had driven the Piper to take away all their women.

Did I say all? Not quite. There was one girl, a lass of sixteen, who did not follow the call of the Piper because it was a call she could not hear. She was deaf, you see, a blessing in that she did not fall into the Piper’s clutches. A curse in that it left her wholly alone, without her mother or sisters, home to village populated by men, many of whom cast an evil eye on the sole female around.

She vanished herself a few months afterwards, after several attacks from horny men, including the mayor who had caused it all. She fled to the mountains, to escape the pain of being a reminder of what was lost and a target to those who desperately wanted female company, whether it was willing or not. A search party was organized, but they found no trace of the girl. All they found was her scarf lying by the side of a hill, a hill that might have resembled a tunnel, save for no entrance. Many believed that she had been eaten by animals, her body dragged off. But some believed that the Piper had taken pity on such a pretty girl and had allowed her to enter his secret kingdom, to live with her friends and mother and sisters as well as the Piper.

Needless to say, Hamlin did not survive long after. The men scattered to different villages and lands, seeking to escape the painful memories and seek new companionship. The village remained vacant for years afterwards and was eventually destroyed to make way for a new village, one that would not fall victim to such a curse.

That is the true story of Hamlin. And as with all tales such as this, there is an epilogue. There are many who believe in the magic of the Piper, believe that he is still alive and the women of Hamlin with him. They say that if you stroll the mountains and listen carefully, you can hear sounds. Sounds of excitement and joy, sounds that echo pleasure and desire. And above it all, is the sound of a flute, playing continuously, its music the sole thing these women hear and the only thing important in their lives. And that if a women were to hear it, even today, the walls of rock would open and the Piper would invite them into his lair.

Is this the true story of Hamlin? The only way to find out is to go the mountains and listen close. But, if you’re a woman, don’t expect to come back.