The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

PART 1: THE INCUBUS’ CURSE

As a teenager, Wendy experimented with witchcraft, as teenaged girls sometimes do. She was unlucky, though, in that she succeeded in summoning an incubus—a male-aspected demon of lust.

Overwhelmingly handsome, commanding, and intoxicating, it introduced its goals to her honestly—it wanted to rape her, and for each time she orgasmed to its demonic cock, she would receive a curse that marked her as a whore.

She swore never to fuck the spirit, but night after night it whispered lewd fantasies in her ear as she tried to sleep, used its powers to make her breasts and pussy throb with need, and eventually she spread her legs for it and let it use her.

She orgasmed three times.

The incubus hadn’t lied. It left her with three curses. First, every Sunday, she would wake up horny, and become steadily more aroused over the course of the day, and be unable to achieve orgasm until she made a permanent change to her life that made her more likely to be raped in future.

Second, when any man saw her exposed nipples, her tits would grow a little larger, and she would become a little sluttier and stupider.

And thirdly, she could take no action, in any circumstances, that would make her less likely to be raped.

Wendy searched for a cure to the curse, but could find none. Nor could she resist her cunt on Sundays, no matter how hard she tried. The first Sunday, she tried to resist, but by lunch she was masturbating furiously without orgasm. She sobbed with frustration. By mid-afternoon she had taken all her panties out into the backyard and burnt them in an incinerator, vowing to never wear panties again, and after that she was able to orgasm.

The second Sunday she threw out the rest of her clothes, and bought new, sluttier ones.

On the third Sunday she started answering “housemate wanted” ads online, until she found one placed by a guy who set off all her “sex creep” warnings. She immediately moved in with him.

When she woke up on her third morning in the house and found that her breasts were noticeably bigger, she knew that he had entered her room while she slept and exposed her tits to look at them. She wanted to accuse him—but that might make her less likely to be raped, so she was unable to speak.

On the fourth morning, they were bigger still, with a sticky white residue on them. He had ejaculated on her in her sleep.

She wanted to move out. She wanted to scream. She wanted to call the police. All of these would make her less likely to be raped. So she pretended she either didn’t know what was happening, or didn’t object.

On the following Sunday, she tried one last time to resist the curse. Her cunt overruled her and, broken, she promised herself she would from then on shower and change clothes with the door open, so that her housemate could see her.

And see her he did. She struggled to always cover her tits with one arm as she showered or changed, but sometimes he did see her nipples. After a while, seeing she didn’t object, he would come in and watch her shower from beginning to end, staring at her barely-covered tits and naked pussy. And, in any case, he would inspect her and give her tits a sticky lotion-bath every night, and she would wake up with her fuckmelons a little larger and her brain a little dumber.

The incubus’ curse was powerful, and effective.

And by the time she woke up in the middle of the night—exactly two months after she had fucked the incubus—to find her housemate vigorously raping her in her bed, she was far too big-titted and stupid to even want to object…

PART 2: THE INCUBUS’ CHALLENGE

Katie and her friends fancied themselves teen witches, summoning minor demons for a laugh and using them for stupid dares.

Their latest was the Incubus Challenge. They would summon a demon of lust to haunt one of their friends for five days. The spell they had found suggested that if a girl resisted fucking the evil spirit for all five days, it would reward her with wealth and power. But if she gave in and fucked it, it would make her a prisoner of her lust—and more so for each night she had resisted.

Pretty, shy Lysa was the first to take the challenge. She fucked the spirit on the first night, and reported giggling that she could no longer stop people from touching her breasts. The friends immediately had fun pinching and poking and exposing her tits, Lysa powerless to move her hands to resist, but for all her blushes, Lysa reported that the sex had totally been worth it.

Raven-haired Anne went next, and she must have resisted all five days, because at the end of the week she received a full scholarship to the most prestigious college in the country.

Katie volunteered to be the third player, and accordingly the girls gathered that night and performed the ritual to summon the incubus.

Katie had never seen the incubus when she summoned it for her friends, but now that she was the victim, it appeared to her clearly—brutally handsome, virile, commanding, seething with dark, violent passion. She felt her hormones go into overdrive just being near it. Her pussy wettened instantly, soaking her panties, and she was maddeningly aware of her throbbing breasts and diamond-hard nipples.

It whispered dark, filthy fantasies in her ear. When she lay in bed at night, she could sense its nearness, almost pressing against her, almost licking her nipples, almost prying her legs apart to get at the warm wetness between them. Almost.

She resisted the first night, and the second. She became alarmed at the dreams she was having—wet, erotic dreams of forbidden acts, things she had never found sexy before, things that scared and revolted her. She dreamed of fucking her male friends—sometimes by cockteasing them into her bed, but sometimes because they held her down and gang-raped her. She dreamed of being nude in public, of masturbating in front of her family, of being caged like a dog.

On the third night, she couldn’t sleep at all. Her cunt was so wet she was soaking the sheets, yet she didn’t dare masturbate for fear of inviting the incubus in. Her mind was a non-stop reel of increasingly extreme erotic thoughts. She pictured each of her orifices being penetrated by cocks, being ejaculated into by cocks. She dreamed of the incubus—of fucking it, of serving it, of being one of a dozen nameless interchangeable nude pets crawling at its feet and worshipping its demonic dick.

On the fourth night, the incubus hovered above her as she lay in bed, the tip of monstrous cock millimetres from her cuntflesh. She could feel its pre-cum dripping onto her labia.

She tried to ignore it, but shutting out the outside world just drew her attention to the loop of degrading thoughts running through her mind.

She looked it in the eye. It was so beautiful, she wanted to lose herself in it, and be its slave.

It smiled at her, and changed its form, shifting through the appearance of every man she had ever fantasised about.

When it changed to look like her father, it was so wrong, so taboo, so abhorrent, that she couldn’t help herself. She gasped, and parted her legs, and immediately she felt the incubus’ cock slide into her.

It was the best sex she had ever had. She orgasmed on each and every thrust of its member into her receptive fuckhole. It whispered that she was a slut, a whore, a degraded sex-object, and she cried out in agreement at every insult, clinging to the demon with her body, crushing her tits against it, hugging its perfect cock with her vagina. It ejaculated into her again and again, and the thought that she was being forever made impure by a demon’s seed just made her cum even harder.

At the end, she wondered what rules the incubus might have for her. She imagined it would be something titillating but harmless like Lysa having to let people play with her tits. Maybe she wouldn’t be allowed to wear panties?

But she had resisted the incubus for not one night, but three, and it had other ideas. It took her sexual bliss away so that she would understand when it told her the rules, and she suddenly found herself shivering and sober, the demon’s cock still inside her, fully aware of the degrading position she was in.

“One,” it told her. “No birth control, no abortions. You are a breeder now.”

She squeaked, and it fucked its cock deeper into her no-longer-willing pussy to silence her.

“Two,” it hissed, “you will visit every man who has ever met you on more than one occasion, and you will be naked and aroused when you visit him, and you will invite him to rape you. You will never again be capable of giving a man any indication, by word or deed, that you do not consent to any sexual act he wants to perform on you. You will visit these men starting with the ones who you least want to get pregnant by.”

She felt her breath catch with horror. This couldn’t be happening. The rules were supposed to be cute and naughty, not life ruining!

“And three,” it said, “at any time you are pregnant, you will not wear clothes, you will not stand on two feet except at the command of a male. You will crawl. If you want male attention, you will not speak, but instead you will moo like a cow.”

And as she started to cry, it ejaculated into her one last time, and then vanished into the night.

She lay there in her misery for some hours, and then got up and showered. She didn’t bother to dry herself afterwards, but instead got into her car, fully nude, and started the ignition. With one hand she started to masturbate.

Naked and aroused, it had said. Starting from the men she least wanted to get her pregnant.

She knew whose face had finally made her spread her legs for the demon. She knew whose baby she most feared being made to have.

One hand desperately fingerfucking her pussy, and the other on the steering wheel, Katie set the car in motion towards her father’s house…