The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Britney’s head felt groggy. Where was she? The last thing she remembered was getting pulled by that undertow— she’d seen her mother go under, and she’d been aware of Kenzie there, right beside her— then she’d felt it seize her too.

And then… they had washed on the shore— and then… there had been that mist… and now—

She realized her eyes were still closed. Opening them might make things clearer for her— yet lifting her lids took unexpected effort— as if a smaller version of her had to stand on her own cheek and shove up to get them to raise— and she could be at once the tiny standing figure and the dormant, closed-eye giant— she tried harder— almost feeling like she really did have to be pushing up to make it happen.

Her eyes opened— the room she was in struck her immediately as clinical— like it had once been used as a lab— what was she doing inside of it?

She tried to get up— this made her immediately aware of her situation. She had been restrained— she was in a padded chair that kept her reclined at a forty-five degree angle— mostly lying down but partly sitting— and the chair had almost— they were like stirrups— her legs were set out apart from each other.

When she looked ahead, there was a large, blank wall. Or nearly blank— suspended on it was a large mirror, and it reflected herself back to her.

Not only herself.

She was in a chair, her legs set apart by those almost-stirrups, sitting on the cushioning, forcibly reclined at a forty-five degree angle— but there was an identical chair right next to hers— if her right hand hadn’t been bound down to the armrest, she would have been able to put her hand over and rest it on her sister’s arm— which she might have done, for the sake of comforting her, if movement were possible.

It was not— but the chairs were essentially as close to each other as movietheater seating. Britney, of course, only went to see cheerful movies that were as modest in their content as she and her mother and sister were in their dress— but she still had the touchstone of reference.

Britney found she could turn her head to look at her sister right beside her— that was possible— but then she could only see her sister in profile.

Whereas, if she looked ahead at the rectangular mirror which hung a quarter of the way down the wall and across a respectable expanse of it, she could see her entire sister— her full face, not just the profile of it— her black hair— the water had wrecked Kenzie’s perpetual effort— it had frizzed it, and made the heat-straightening kink itself— so Kenzie’s hair was tending towards its natural curl, albeit chaotically, unevenly— misshapenly.

Kenzie’s eyes were still closed. She hadn’t woken up yet.

Britney looked at her own reflection— her brown, flat, lank hair, the facial features she always recognized in her father’s face, and his in her own— what was going to happen to her now? She wished she could move her arm, not because she wanted to comfort her sister now, but because she wanted the companionship. If she could have used her arm, she now would have moved it to shake her sister awake.

It was boring to sit here and just watch Kenzie sleep— boring to just sit here and look at herself. Why had she been the one to wake up faster? It didn’t seem fair.

She frowned at her reflection. She should be more panicked than she was, probably. Some part of her was delusionally clinging to the fact that so far nothing bad had happened to her— yes, she’d been knocked unconscious and brought here— and strapped to this chair— it was only striking her now that she was naked, that her body was bare. She always kept herself covered up so it wasn’t a familiar feeling to her— her mind had skipped over it. Okay, so they’d taken off her clothes too— but they hadn’t done anything physically violent to her— there were no bruises, no cuts, nothing to suggest some surgical abomination about to happen— so in Britney’s mind, this meant that no harm was going to happen.

It was a stupid piece of self-comfort. People didn’t restrain other persons to chairs because they wanted to do nice things for them. But nothing bad had happened yet, and in her mind, Britney was taking refuge inside of that.

She heard a hissing noise, and looked for it source— looked past Kenzie.

There was another cloud of mist rising— was she going to be forced back into sleep again? There must be grates under the chairs— but no— when the mist reached Kenzie’s face, she began to stir— when it drifted past further, and Britney inhaled some of it too, it only made her feel awake— more awake than before, even, like she’d been highly caffeinated.

Kenzie opened her eyes— it seemed to have been less of a struggle for her— she searched the room and came to the same conclusions that Britney had, Britney read that in her face, even though she was now again regarding it in profile— they were both restrained in the same way, in the same chairs, directly beside each other, together— and it was easiest to look at each other through their reflections in the mirror, to make eyecontact there, since they could not turn their bodies and face each other head on.

Kenzie opened her mouth to say something, but it was at that moment, the lights shut off.

It was still possible to see— just dim— the mirror glimmered, and to Britney, hers and Kenzie’s reflections were now only dark shapes, indistinct forms.

A flickering, reeling sound— and now an image was being projected on the blank wall, on the mirror, a transparent image— somehow the mirror hadn’t caught what was being reflected on it; it was still only showing Britney and Kenzie, restrained as they were— and now with the colors of the projection, they were both bathed in eerie light, perfectly visible— naked and tinted whatever were the colors of the image.

Britney frowned. She didn’t like the image— it was a moving image— it was footage, she realized. Two women together who looked so similar in their twenties like she and Kenzie— they might even have had the same agedifference as Britney and Kenzie, twenty-two to twenty— no— but they couldn’t be—

One of the women broke the kiss she was sharing with the other. “Fuck me, sissy, “ she rasped. “I want to feel you in my pussy.”

Sisters. Britney wanted to throw up— Kenzie’s face looked equally nauseous in the mirror; the whole image was tinted, it was shaded— but it was never just natural colors, the colors that would have been in the room around them when the footage was taken— the colors of the image were constantly changing— red to orange to yellow to silver to blue to purple to red to orange to yellow to— the colors shifted, the colors washed, they pulsed— and yet the content of the image was always clear, because everything was always shaded in the same ratio to everything else, every object distinct— they were all just constantly changing colors.

Britney really didn’t know much about sex. She knew what it was, and what it was for— reproduction, which this depravity could never result in— she had a very scientific knowledge of sex— but her knowledge didn’t really go beyond that. So all of this was completely outside of her experience, of what she could even understand. Pleasure was only a vague concept in her head— something she’d never experienced— she’d always been good, she’d never touched herself— had kept her mind carefully in reins, had never thought lewdly— so she couldn’t help but be confused— clearly the two sisters were being lustful, and lustfully incestuous— but why were they doing it, what were they trying to make happen…?

The sister, who the other sister had begged for fucking, ducked her head down between her sister’s legs. The camera was focusing on her face— pressing into her sister’s private region— and she was— she was licking her sister there! Licking her sister there, and stuffing some fingers up into her sister’s entrance. Britney would have clenched her legs together in sympathetic disgust if the stirrups weren’t trapping them— but the second sister was licking, and sticking her fingers inside, pulling them out, putting them back in again, while the sister taking this was moaning wantonly, writhing, letting her head loll on her neck.

Then her entire body snapped, and the moan was guttural, a sound of pain. “Sissy!” The woman cried. “You just gave your sister an or— or— ORGASM!”

Her whole body convulsed, but it seemed to feel good for her— Britney couldn’t even imagine what that would be like, and she didn’t want to try. None of this was anything that she wanted to know— all of it was so dirty, so shameful, so wrong— she rejected it completely— but there was nothing else in this room to look at— there was nothing else here—

No. She could look in the mirror— and she could clearly see her sister, looking equally disgusted and shocked— she didn’t think it would be worth it trying to say anything outloud because the audio track was of such high volume that it drowned out all other sounds in the room; it would cover the sound of her voice if she tried speaking.

But it was enough, just in that moment, to look into the reflection and see her sister, see that Kenzie was thinking the same things that she was— that Kenzie was as horrified as the situation they were in— potentially even as mystified by the thought of an orgasm— something she may not have ever experienced herself, either.

Making eyecontact with Kenzie through the mirror restored Britney to herself slightly, undid some of her disorientation.

She was further confused again when another person appeared in the room.

Or not quite a person— she was transparent— like a hologram— she looked like a Japanese woman, in her mid-twenties— but her outfit was lewd, as lewd as anything onscreen.

What she wore, even in the hologram, must surely have been meant as a school uniform at one time— but even holographically, it looked too small for her; the blouse beneath the yellow sweater rode up, showing most of the hologram’s midriff— the sweater bulged out, barely able to contain the hologram’s large breasts— the plaid skirt barely got past the area of her genitals— it looked more like a bad halloween costume than anything real— the tie was around the hologram’s neck instead of being around any kind of collar. Who was this? Britney hadn’t even known holograms were real— not until today—

“Ladies,” The hologram said, brightly— “It’s good to see you’re both awake— and good that you’re both watching too. Are you starting to see how erotic sister-incest can be? Can you feel it as something that’s starting to corrupt you?”

“Who are you?” Kenzie shouted— and she had put so much audio into it that it was audible over the audiotrack of the playing video.

The Japanese woman smiled. “I’m an instance of artificial intelligence— and I think perversion is just so beautiful. You’ll think so too, once we’re finished. Just keep watching for now. I’ll send someone in to see you for a few minutes.”

The hologram disappeared, just as quickly as it had manifested itself. Britney and Kenzie were left staring into each other’s reflected eyes.

Why would anyone— artificial intelligence or not— choose to present themselves so shamefully? Kenzie mouthed— brilliant— Britney had never thought of mouthing— she just shook her head to convey that she didn’t know.

The problem with looking at Kenzie was that the image was projected over the mirror— so she could see Kenzie clearly, but not without seeing what was happening on the screen.

The two sisters were still… fucking… was the word they used for it— the one being licked and having fingers put inside her was crying.

“You… KEEP… making your sister… CUM!!!!” she howled. “The pleasure, it’s too much— it’s— you’re pleasuring your sissy so well!!” She sobbed; but it was an ecstatic sob, she seemed to be happy she was suffering this way— and the sister licking only licked out harder.

The colors shifted in that pulsing way they had. It made Britney’s disorientation feel worse— she saw the same thing in Kenzie’s face— in fact, the way the colors kept washing and throbbing was making Britney dizzy. She felt like her head was spinning— Kenzie’s head seemed to loll on her neck too, as if she was having trouble keeping her head up.

The door opened then— and for one brief second, Britney hoped— because the figure who was coming in through the door was their mother. And she wasn’t bound up like they were— somehow, whoever had taken them— probably that instance of artificial intelligence, although Britney was foggy on how a hologram could move bodies— but what had taken them had somehow missed their mother, and she was still free and she would save them—

But that was only Britney’s belief for a brief second. Because when she really noticed her mother, what she noticed was that her mother was naked; a fact that was so inappropriate the only reason Britney’s eyes were still open was complete shock. She and Kenzie had never seen their mother naked, never; and there was an expression on her face, a look in her eye, that they had never seen, either.

“Good afternoon, daughters,” Elizabeth Gregory said, as she walked over to stand in front of where her two daughters were bound reclined in their chairs.

“Mom,” Kenzie said— the audio had faded in volume to only background noise— had the instance of ai done that? “What’s wrong with you?”

“I am very wrong now, Kenzie, good job to you for noticing,” their mother applauded. “But it feels so wonderful to be wrong I can’t resist it anymore. Soon you won’t be able to either.”

“What do you mean?” Britney could still see Kenzie’s reflection over her mother’s shoulder, and currently, her brow was furrowed in concern.

“You met the intelligence that’s overseeing what’s happening to all of us already. At first it was just going to do to you what it did to me. Make you watch porn embedded with subliminal messages until your head was all programmed up like mine— until you learned to come from things that disturbed and disgusted you.”

Britney really heard what her Mom said, and felt her heart sink— this had happened to their mother, their mother had been— was there a word?

Mom looked over at Britney, and somehow understood her questioned.

“Brainwashed, Britney. Mommy’s been brainwashed. And it’s what’s going to happen to my two good daughters, too— but when our overseeing intelligence told us the plan, I begged it. I begged to be the one who got to brainwash you; so there are no subliminals in the footage you’re washing— the colour shifts condition your brains— prime them— but it’s my voice that will speak the brainwashing words to you.”

“Mom,” Kenzie said in a low, desperate voice. “This can’t be you. You can’t just allow this to happen— you have to understand this is wrong— and if you can understand this is wrong, then you have to stop it from happening— you don’t have to be part of this— you don’t have to do it—”

Their mother smiled benevolently down on Kenzie. Britney watched in Kenzie’s reflection as a greater look of horror stole over her face upon seeing this benevolent smile. “I know it’s wrong, Kenzie. It’s disgusting— so, so, sickening, completely immoral and evil for incest to be committed— but you’ll see. That makes it hotter too. Knowing how perverted enjoying it makes you; and knowing how much more perverted you’ll get the more you do it— while your conscience screams at you but it just makes the pleasure better.

There was a hungry look in Mother’s eye. Britney shuddered.

The footage of the two sisters still played behind. Again, the sister being licked at shrieked. “YOU’RE MAKING ME CUMMM!!!!! AHHHH!!!! SISSY!!!!!”

Britney flinched. She hated this part of the footage— hated seeing that sister experience… orgasm, she had called. Until today Britney had not known what an orgasm was. She wished that were still the case.

And— she hated seeing it— she’d had to see so many of those orgasms now; she hated it, because against her better nature, she was starting to wonder what they… were like.

Her mother was sharpeyed. She’d seen every part of the flinch, and knew how to interpret it.

“You’ve never had an orgasm before, have you, Britney?”

Britney blushed, and shook her head quickly.

“You didn’t even know what they were before today, did you?”

Again, humiliated, Britney shook her head.

“I forgot you girls didn’t know— I had your father— and whatever else could be said about what he did in the end, while we were still together, he did make I got my orgasms— like there was a certain quota of them I needed to be happy, he made sure I had them— so you don’t know what it can be like, how it can feel.”

Britney flushed hotter— she didn’t want to sit here and listen to her mother talk about sex.

But there was a flash of inspiration in her mother’s eyes.

“I can tell you’re curious Britney— I’ll teach you to have your first orgasm, like I’ve taught you how to do so much else.”

Britney tried to shrink away.

“Not me, literally— I’ll make sure your sister teaches you what an orgasm feels like.”

She bent over their chairs— she was untying the restraints which bound down Kenzie’s left arm— and when she had it free, she guided it towards Britney’s crotch.

Kenzie was fighting her, trying to pull her arm away, but she didn’t have much leverage with the rest of her body still bound and restrained.

“No, Mom, please, don’t do this!” Britney pleaded.

“Don’t make me do this,” was Kenzie’s echoing plea.

But their mother ignored them. She had her hand around the back of Kenzie’s hand, and she put Kenzie’s hand between Britney’s thighs— right over her— private place.

She made Kenzie touch down on her.

“This is how you touch her, Kenzie— see how she responds to it.”

It was an odd feeling— unlike any Britney had ever felt. Her vagina felt… tingly— and it was Kenzie’s hand touching her which was disgusting— if anyone was ever going to touch her, going to make her “orgasm” then it should be her husband, in the future— but her vagina seemed messy, seemed sloppy. She didn’t know when it had happened— it had put discharge out— and Kenzie’s fingers were sliding through it, guided by their mother’s hand.

“It’s lubrication, honey,” their mother explained. “It’s what your dirty, slutty pussy puts out when it wants to get fucked by your sister’s hand.”

Britney shook her head. “It’s not my… pussy— it’s my vagina— it’s not… dirty… or… slutty…” when had their mother gotten such a foul mouth?

Their mother shifted her hand— and that made Kenzie’s fingers tease and drag through Britney’s slickness again— her— lubrication— she hated knowing that word now— mother was dragging Kenzie’s hand further up, making her fingertips slide over a round, hooded nub.

Britney gasped, and jerked in her seat.

“See that, my daughters? That’s the clit. You’re touching your sister’s clitty, Kenzie— look how she jerks and jumps when you do.”

Every time Kenzie’s fingertips stroked over it, it felt like Britney’s body had become a live wire, a circuit for electricity— each touch was a spark— too intense— and yet somehow it made Britney want to curl her toes and thrust her hips further into that feeling.

“It’s hot to let your sister fuck you,” mother said. “And it’s hot to fuck your sister. It’s hot to fuck family. It’s so evil and gross and wrong— but it’s hot. This is evil and gross and wrong, Britney, does knowing that make it feel any less good when Kenzie touches you?”

Britney felt tears welling up in her eyes. She hated it so much but— her body just responded. It didn’t seem to care that it was her sister’s hand touching her… clit… she hated knowing that word too. But her body was indiscriminate— her sister touched there, because their mother forced her to— her sister touched, and her clit sparked; mother made Kenzie’s hand dip down and bring up more lubrication to smear over that round nub , smearing the lubrication into it.

It gave Britney a shudder-y feeling; like her whole body needed to shiver; like she was about to fall into a bout of shivers that she wouldn’t be able to keep out of— was this what the sister onscreen felt? Was this what made her convulse— was— this would this be orgasm?

“Just like that, Kenzie,” mother encouraged. “That’s how her slutbody needs to be touched, what it needs to make it cum— you’re helping your sister cum, you’re being such a good sister to her— you want to help her cum, it’s hot to help her cum.”

Kenzie’s eyes looked a bit dazed in the mirror. Was this brainwashing? That was the word mother had used before— she was saying so many things, saying them so fast, only just barely varying their words— that made it so confusing, that made it so hard to block out and ignore. One phrase would be discarded and then the next would come to take its place— that made it so hard—

But Britney was taking comfort in the fact that she still didn’t believe her mother— Mother said it was hot for sisters to fuck, that they both wanted to fuck, but Britney wasn’t feeling the emotions that matched that. In her head she was clean—still proper. Her body was responding to touch, and she couldn’t help that— but thinking of her sister doing these things did nothing to her— mother hadn’t influenced, gotten to her.

But then mother was right at her ear— speaking in a slick tone that somehow sounded the same as the feeling of Kenzie’s fingers slipping through her wetness felt— the two were wedded in Britney’s mind.

Mother still had her hand on the back of Kenzie’s— she guided again— now Kenzie’s fingertips were tracing in a circular motion, flicking over the sides and face of Britney’s clit— and there was a pressure in her body, a pressure that needed to come out.

One more flick of Kenzie fingertip and Britney’s whole body was seizing— she must look like she was convulsing, the same as the sister on the screen— that woman was doing it now— it felt better than it looked— her whole body, every muscle pulling tight, but only because hot warmth was spilling slippery inside her— and at that moment, as her body was still wracked in orgasmic convulsions, mother spoke.

“Your sister is making you cum, Britney. You love it when your sister makes you cum. You love it so much you don’t care that you’ll never fuck anyone that you aren’t related to ever again. You love it so much you don’t care that you’ll never be with a man. You want to be fucked only by your family— you want to fuck only your family. Nothing else could turn you on like this— nothing else ever has, and you can’t deny this, because this is the very first orgasm you’ve ever felt, and your sister gave it to you.”

That speech was the pleasure was the speech was the pleasure— Britney shook her head, trying to sort her mind out again. That had been— that was wrong, that was disgusting, that was awful, she should be nauseous right now— she was morally outraged, if anyone had come in here to lecture her on the morality of what she was doing, she would have agreed with them immediately.

But she could feel that way in her mind, and in her heart, and still her body responded to the pleasure— still her body could orgasm— she looked at the two sisters fucking— they’d changed position; the one getting fucked was now doing the fucking— licking her sister’s clit, Britney now knew it was— licking her sister’s clit and putting fingers… inside… her pussy, not just ‘vagina,’ pussy— that seemed the more natural word now— and seeing the two sisters fuck was suddenly a lot less strange than it had been even a few minutes ago.

Mother put Kenzie’s hand back on the armrest, and rebound it to the chair. But Kenzie was struggling a lot less than she’d struggled earlier.

Now Mother was undoing the restraints that were around Britney’s rightarm. She grabbed Britney’s hand by its backside, and she was lifting it over to Kenzie’s pussy, putting it between Kenzie’s legs.

Mother’s fingers were along Britney’s fingers— and she made them start to move— and it felt so different, such an unexpected sensation. Kenzie was soft, Kenzie was velvet; there was such a texture there that excited her, that was tactile against the fingertips her mother forced her to move; and the texture was made more interesting by the slickness that coated it all. Her fingers were glided, slipping; she was stroking along the “lips” of her sister’s pussy— her mother had put the word in her ear.

“You were curious, weren’t you Kenzie? You’ve never had an orgasm either. Britney will return your favor— she’ll make sure you get to taste what orgasm is like for yourself. You’re grateful to your sister for doing this for you. You wish you could make it up to her; do something just that nice back, because it feels so good and you love to have her touching you. You want to make her feel like that; you don’t know if she felt it just the way you’re feeling it now, when you did it to her before— you must do it again— you want to do it again—”

Britney felt Kenzie under her hand— she stroked down one lip, up the other, dipped into the place between them, lubricated her had in the essence there— then followed Mother’s guidance back up to put one fingertip on one side of Kenzie’s clit— and her thumb on the other— and she pinched and pinched at it. Each pinch caused a spasm in Kenzie’s body.

And Britney looked at Kenzie’s reflection in the mirror. Her eyes looked far away, like Mother’s words had sent them there— she had never seen her sister look so unfocused— and Mother’s brainwashing had done that— and she felt suddenly she understood perfectly what Kenzie was feeling because she had felt it herself— Kenzie would be feeling, like her, that Mother’s words were the same as the pleasurable feelings; the two would be binding up together inside Kenzie’s head so that she could never tell them apart anymore, so that she would always confuse one for the other.

And as she watched Kenzie twitching in pleasure, and heard Mother murmuring more words to Kenzie too quiet for her to hear, she was feeling her own orgasm happen to her again, feeling what it had felt like when Kenzie had touched, feeling what it had felt like when Mother had been speaking to her and she had been feeling the words as sensation— and she was still pinching Kenzie’s clit the entire time.

Now Mother had shifted her attention back to her. “You’re fucking your sister and you love fucking your sister.” Britney’s eyes were caught on the pornography still playing on the wall— sometimes her eyes looked into it deeper and got Kenzie’s reflection back as a reward— but it was all the same; whether she saw the pornography play, or saw the reflection of her own hand pinching Kenzie’s clit, it was all the same thing, sisters fucking sisters, and that was… sisters fucking sisters was…

Her mother still spoke: “You love fucking your sister, and you want to do it all the time. You want there to be more ways that you can do it— so you can do more of it— you love it and you want to keep doing it.”

Britney was unsure. She didn’t think she entirely agreed with what she was hearing. But— the sensation of touching Kenzie— of making Kenzie react in pleasure— it was… intriguing… even vaguely enjoyable— and she was feeling something in response to seeing the pornography of the two sisters— to see the private pornographic image she and her sister made in reflection— she knew it was wrong, she still hated it— but the feeling was happen in tandem with that hate, that disgust that never moved.

She pinched one more time when her mother’s fingers made her— and that seemed to have been enough for Kenzie— she jumped against her restraints, and then she was convulsing as hard as Britney had done when it had been her turn.

Britney watched Kenzie cum in the mirror— the image of a fucked sister in the projected footage, cumming also, overlayed over the mirror and the reflections it contained.

If only there were some way out of this room. If only there were some way to make this all stop— she could still feel the traces of pleasure in her own body— she could only hope that things wouldn’t get any more humiliating than they already were. This had to be the worst of it, didn’t it?