The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Kenzie’s mind felt like it had been soaking in further brainwashing— maybe for hours— she’d been staring at the footage still projected on the wall— it had only been footage of Mother fucking Brittany, but it had been enough to further daze her brain, and wash it— her mind was still soaking, like all of her identity, all of her mentality had been put into a pleasant hottub to soak somewhere— and it was still soaking. And it had for hours, and it would continue to—

There was a strange flickering in front of her chair. It stunned her enough to force her mind back into more of a state of wakefulness.

After a few seconds of disorientation, Kenzie realized it was a holographic image assembling itself.

Then she recognized the Japanese woman from earlier— in the ridiculous, disgraceful, overly-revealing, illfitting schoolgirl getup.

The instance of ai.

“Kenzie,” the instance said. “It’s been very rewarding to me to see the brainwashing of you and sister play out. To see your mother do it to you. You two are both in the desirable endstate. But. I’ll admit, I would like to try my hand at directly performing brainwashing on a subject— and you seemed the deepest, the most susceptible between the two of you. So your mother will keep driving your sister’s programming into her head— and I will brainwash you directly myself. There is a new belief I would like to give you.

“When I scanned you earlier, sorted through your memories, I saw your conservative past. The faith you used to rely on.”

Kenzie hadn’t been thinking of said faith at all— it had seemed too horrible to think of it in a place as terrible as this lab, with the terrible things that had been happening in it. It upset her to think of it now.

“I’d like to give you a new faith, Kenzie— something else you can worship. And you will worship it. Pussy is going to be your god now, Kenzie. I’ll brainwash you until it is.”

There was still something left in Kenzie, after all, something that still hated the way she’d been changed. It had given up fighting a lot of the other perversions which had been forced on her, but it was finally mounting a resistance. It would not let this perversion be done to her, be transferred to her.

“I won’t worship pussy,” Kenzie said. “I’m not as susceptible as you thought— look, I’m angry again. I’ll fight, I won’t— you can’t make—”

The instance seemed unconcerned.

“This reaction is well within expected parameters. It won’t affect your outcome. You’ll be brainwashed until you have converted to the faith I desire for you. You couldn’t resist your own mother— and she doesn’t have all the understanding of neuroscience I do. You won’t be able to withstand my brainwashing any better than you withstood hers.”

This struck a deep chord of fear in Kenzie, but her defiance was on the surface again.

Kenzie opened her mouth to further protest, but the instance didn’t seem to care. It disappeared for a second, then reappeared a few feet further back from Kenzie’s chair— projected there, and watched her patiently.

There was the sound of a door opening— Kenzie turned to look— an android-looking thing was lurching into the lab, over to Kenzie’s chair. It stood in the place where the instance had been projected just a moment before.

Its metal-head wore no expression.

“This will allow me to physically interface with you directly. I can speak to you in this holographic form— but I can touch you in this physical form.”

That made Kenzie more afraid. It would have been less frightening if the android had been— just an android. But to know it was a puppet of the instance— that right now, the instance was in front of her twice— in one form able to speak and in the other form able to touch— Kenzie knew she wanted far far away from the instance, far far away from whatever it was going to try and do to her next.

But she was still restrained to the chair.

The instance’s androidshell leaned over Kenzie and undid the restraints. Kenzie tried to bolt for it, but two metal hands clamped on Kenzie’s arms— and raised Kenzie to stand in front of it. She was struggling, fighting— but she could never win against metal.

She fought anyway, for the principle of the thing.

Now she stood.

The androidshell was in front of her. It was the same height as her, its head in front of her, its eyes staring into hers, dead. At least this meant she couldn’t see the hologram, which was behind the androidshell.

The instance resolved the issue posed by Kenzie’s interrupted line of sight. In the next second, the head of the android popped off and rolled away, leaving it headless— leaving Kenzie nothing to look at but the instance’s holographic projection.

“This is how you’re going to brainwash me?” Kenzie scoffed. “By standing me up and holding me in place?”

The hologram smiled. “I just needed to secure you physically first. I need more access to you than I can get with you reclined in that chair. It will just take me a minute to calibrate. This is all very exciting for me— interfacing directly with a subject.”

To Kenzie’s horror, the androidshell put out more arms from its sides— two more below its right-arm which held Kenzie ironfast— two more below its left-arm which held Kenzie ironfast— it was a sixarmed headless metal monstrosity now.

“No,” Kenzie said— pleading with the instance, searching its holographic eyes with her own.

“You haven’t seen what I’m going to do with these arms yet, Kenzie. I think you’ll enjoy it!”

The chipper attitude was disturbing. Kenzie tried to struggle again. The first two arms kept hold of her. She wasn’t going anywhere.

But the other four arms, surprisingly, did not also take hold of Kenzie.

They were shifting and doing something, though. There was something internal in the androidshell that gave those limbs greater dexterity— they could hyperextend, could overextend, bend, twist in ways that human arms in the same size and location could not have done.

The second set, below the first set which held Kenzie up viselike by her arms, they were angling— they were reaching for Kenzie’s chest— and the extension on them— there were extensions on them, Kenzie could see now— they sealed over Kenzie’s breasts. They weren’t quite like cups— more like fabric pockets, because they swallowed each of Kenzie’s breasts completely, right to her collarbone on each side— and then suctioned to her body there— then like a drawstring pouch, the fabric— or whatever it really was— tightened until it was compressed to each breast, against every inch of breastsurfacearea.

Then she felt something happening within each pouch— right where they rested against her nipples.

The instance watched her impassively as it floated there holographically.

It felt like two little nubs— buds— wheels— two small, hard protrusions, on either side of each nipple— locking in place around each nipple— holding them steady.

The extensions about her breasts did nothing else— just sat there— the two nubs still, the tight compressions to her breasts themselves, still.

Now the third set of arms was angling. Kenzie couldn’t see what it was doing— it felt like both those arms, arms five and six, were reaching lower.

Then Kenzie felt two things at once. Both of these arms had extensions too. But they were not sucking extensions, like the ones on Kenzie’s breasts. They were protruding extensions.

The only phallus Kenzie had known so far was the phallus of her mother’s dildo. There were two phalluses now— both of them dry— one nudging the entrance of her pussy, one nudging the entrance of her ass.

Then Kenzie felt the phallus at her ass erupt— it shook, and then Kenzie felt the sick sensation of it ejaculating lubricant down the crack of her ass, ejaculating lubricant right into the ring of her anus. It shook again, and ejaculated a second time.

Kenzie had never felt anything back there. The cold sensation of lubricant was strange— and then the phallus nudged forward again— began working her hole.

The dildo at her pussy was still for now.

Kenzie grunted— the ring of her ass was tight, and the phallus back there kept nudging it, kept wrestling its way inside— it never hurt, even when it had gotten itself part of the way in— it just felt strange to be stretched there— as if she was in the act of defecating— but she wasn’t— she seemed clean inside. She wondered if anything had been done to ensure this, so long ago, when she was still unconscious.

The dildo had breached her ring. Now it slid deeper— and it was wide— the surface of it everywhere had little nubs on it— tiny nubs in lines, but against the silk of her inner passage, she felt each one, felt them in greater intensity as that dildo kept pushing into her. She was shivering on her feet, shivering as she was held standing by the androidshell.

Still the instance only looked patiently at her.

Her ass had been stretched further than she would have ever guessed it could be— it was too wide, what was inside her, too much— it kept pushing in, until it seemed fully sunken into her body. Her entire anal passage felt as though it was clamped around it.

Now the dildo at her pussy began to move. All the pleasure she’d been subjected to before this was her enemy. Her body was still half-awake to the pleasure, and still interested. It started clenching on the pussydildo almost as soon as it started peeking into her vaginal passage— it was barely in at all, and already Kenzie felt her pussy clenching on it. She hated that her body was so responsive now, that her mother had taught it to be.

The robotic arm off the androidshell pushed the phallus from shallowly entering Kenzie’s pussy to deeply entering it. This phallus was covered in the round beaded nubs— the ones that teased everything they touched as they stroked through silkiness— Kenzie was shaking where she was forced to stand, and the dildo was driven further inside her, stretching her pussy open, stretching it almost wider than the phallus of her mother’s dildo had done. If she’d still been a virgin, she thought this dildo would have shredded her hymen even quicker than her mother’s mounted-dildo had done it.

It got fully into her. It felt like she was clamped down on it— like she couldn’t possibly be gripping it tighter— couldn’t relax around it, either— it gave pleasure to be holding it, to feel each of those beaded nubs pressing into her walls everywhere they touched. But there was practical fear associated with this, also— if she relaxed, unclenched, if she even could— then all those nubs would move, would drag through her, and make the pleasure worse.

Kenzie sighed. At least the set-up had to be done now. Whatever onslaught was going to happen to her next— at least she didn’t have to deal with being prepared for it anymore. The preparation was almost worse, because there was nothing she could do to fight it. At least once the brainwashing started, she could fight it in her mind.

But Kenzie was wrong— she saw that immediately. Preparation was not over— a seventh arm was emerging from the androidshell— coming out of where the shell’s stomach should have been— angling down.

Then Kenzie shrieked. There was another extension— a drawstringpouch-like extension, like the two which fully engulfed Kenzie’s breasts. Only this one wasn’t engulfing her breasts. It was much smaller than the others.

It was engulfing her clit.

That had to be the last extension at least— there couldn’t be anything else.

Nothing else happened for a minute— Kenzie was certain she was right this time.

And then something even worse happened.

The entire androidshell came to life.

This was what this meant. First, the dildo in Kenzie’s ass started to vibrate— fast, hard and shaking— that alone was already too much stimulation— but then the dildo in Kenzie’s pussy started to do the same thing— vibrating fast hard and shaking there too— and the pouches around Kenzie’s breasts started to suck, started to squeeze, and knead, in every secret way she’d ever wished she could be touched— the pouch around her clit did the same, and Kenzie shrieked as loud and as hard as she could— because it was too much stimulation, it was too much pleasure, it was too much—

And then the four nubs, each set on either side of Kenzie’s nipples, started to vibrate too.

They vibrated. They drew together, pinching her nipples— drew apart, letting them relax— her nipples were being squeezed and pinched and worked, as her breasts and clit were sucked, as her ass and pussy were fucked.

Kenzie was starting to see spots— she wondered if she would pass out where she stood— how could her mind, how could her body possibly withstand all of this strain, all of this overstimulation? She would have collapsed if metal arms hadn’t made her stand.

There was nowhere to look but at the instance.

“This much stimulation at once stops you from resisting,” it explained. “There is so much pleasure it distracts your brain. There is too much to process, to take in— too much for your mind to keep pace with. Everything you hear, everything you see— your mind just accepts it. There’s too much for you to handle, too much that’s overwhelming you.

God, yes, that seemed true.

What was happening to the instance now? It was still holographically transparent but— now— it was turning a purple hue.

The purple hue shifted blue. Then it shifted green. Then yellow, then orange— then red— then blue.

Of course it could change the colors of its projection— it had, after all, been the thing which had controled the footage all along— the thing which had made the enslaving visuals one color or another, the thing which had made them shift in that entrancing way, one shade to the next. If it could do that to footage, it could do that to its own hologram.

And Kenzie’s mind was already primed— any shifting of colors made it tired, open, and receptive. This happened one hundred times more powerfully thanks to all the sexual stimulation that was being done to her body— the pleasure made her dopey, and dozey— the colors did too— she was being fucked so many ways, the sucking, the squeezing, the thrusting— the washing of color.

Then finally the instance spoke.

“Pussy is your god. It is a deity to you. And you want to worship.”

The visceral hate for that statement was so powerful it rose above the confusing, distracting pleasure that was in Kenzie’s body. No, pussy was not a god. It was not something she was ever going to worship. That was blasphemous— reprehensible. She wouldn’t.

And she felt a lift of relief in her heart. While the instance had been preparing her, through puppeting its shell, there had been nothing Kenzie could do. She’d been held immobile and helpless. She’d had to stand there and be prepared.

But as she had anticipated, now that the instance was actively trying to brainwash her, she could fight it in her mind. Somehow at this moment she was more clearheaded than she had been when her mother had been brainwashing her before— she felt less confused in this moment— the pleasure had been dazing her before, but now that she felt so much hater, now that she felt so much rage, it made everything clear again, and easy to understand.

She didn’t need to shake her head, and she didn’t need to express any of it externally. It was probably better that the instance didn’t know what she was thinking. But even with none of it put outside of herself, Kenzie still felt her resistance there, still felt the way in which she was rebelling.

As well as being a relief, it was also a comfort.

The instance floated where it was. It still strobed through the spectrum of color. It opened its mouth again and said everything the same.

“Pussy is your god. You want to worship it.”

The rejection to the statement inside her was a triumphant one. Pussy was not her god. She would not worship. She had become debased and ruined in so many other ways— ways she hadn’t been able to prevent, ways she couldn’t undo now, but she wouldn’t become debased and ruined in this way.

The instance blinked at her. Then it just began speaking without stopping.

“Pussy is your god. You want to worship.

“Pussy is your god. You want to worship.

“Pussy is your god. You want to worship.

“Pussy is your god. You want to worship.

“Pussy is your god. You want to worship.”

It kept saying the same statement. It kept repeating. It was repeating it again now. After a while, Kenzie accepted that it would just be easier to tune out what the instance was saying. After all, it wasn’t like it was ever saying anything new. It was just repeating that same ridiculous blasphemy, that thing Kenzie knew she would never ever believe.

She could afford a little complacency— it didn’t matter if her body was feeling a little warm and sleepy. She had never been so rocksolid certain, had never felt safe the entire time she’d been in this lab, not until now. Since everything had skewed and gone so wrong, this was the first time she had felt like she could trust herself. This time she would not be sucked in by the brainwashing.

So she could trust herself not to listen, she could trust herself to tune out what the instance said to background noise. It gave her mind relief, anyway— not to be listening to something so abhorrent to her. Not to be fighting against it with every passing second.

She tried not to worry about things. Like the fact that she couldn’t seem to stop looking at the instance now. It was different than the footage which had shown on the wall before— after a while, it had been impossible to look away from that footage. But words had told her she couldn’t look away, words she’d heard so many times that eventually they had seemed true to her— and then she’d been fixed in place watching.

But no words now told her she couldn’t look away from the instance. So why couldn’t she? Why were her eyes glued onto it, tracking every shift of color? Either it was a holdover from being stuck watching that other footage for so long… or the instance really did know something about neuroscience, knew how to put something… some element in its visual presentation that made itself impossible to look away from.

If it did know how to do such a thing, it was keeping it secret— it hadn’t explained to her what this element might be. It was not mocking her with the fact she couldn’t look away— but whatever method it was using clearly worked. She couldn’t move her eyes away. She could hear the mewls of Britney being fucked, could hear the grunts of her mother doing the fucking, but she couldn’t make herself look over there to actually witness it happening.

She was still watching the instance strobe. The instance knew she was watching it.

It pushed its chest out— even in holograph, the way its breasts spilled out of that illbuttoning shirt was obscene— even shiftinghue-colored breasts and fabric were still clear in their form, and the illusion was of spilling breasts, buxom breasts, fabric about to split, buttons about to pop— a neck tie strangely loosened and not holding below a collar— a tie askew, hanging to the side, not down the chest as it should have been— partly resting on the shoulder instead.

And the plaid skirt below— also shiftinghue-colored, but still clear in its form— the instance’s holographic hands came down and gripped holographic fabric, lifting the skirt, revealing it had not bothered to illustrate the image of underwear beneath that skirt— it was showing instead the image of a pussy, graphically detailed, graphically illustrated— and that pussy changed hue like the rest of the instance did— but once the instance pulled its skirt up, that was where Kenzie’s eyes were sitting.

She tried not to panic about that, too. What did it matter if she was staring at a pussy, a strobing, hypnotically-colored pussy— as she was hearing the hypnotic words, “Pussy is a god, and you want to worship,” echoing over and over, overlapping each other?

It didn’t change the fundamental truth that reached all the way down into Kenzie’s bones. She may not have been able to practice her former faith anymore, because of how disgusting she herself had become, how completely she now flew in the face of righteousness, but she could still respect it, treasure it, by not letting anything supplant it— and especially, by preventing something so horrific, so awful from supplanting it.

So it didn’t matter if she was staring at a potentially brainwashic pussy— hearing potentially brainwashic words— the fundamental truth was in her bones, it wasn’t going to change. The instance was wrong— she had enough morals left that she would not be susceptible to this.

Her mind was enjoying the peace of tuning the instance’s voice out, though. And her eyes, the rest of being able to fix on one spot— and just stay there— her mind had known the struggle of fighting, a struggle she had temporarily let go somewhat dormant. But it had been a long time since her eyes had known the struggle of fighting. They were used to staring in one spot, after all the other brainwashing she had experienced.

So there was mental relief, in zoning out— there was physical relief in letting her eyes stare, in not trying to fight to move them (she wouldn’t succeed anyway), and there was emotional relief in knowing that she was never, ever going to be brainwashed into believing that pussy was a god and it was holy and she needed to worship and she needed to get down on her knees and worship and lick and tongue and suck and swirl and flick and taste and smear and savor and it was a god and she needed to worship and she would worship and she couldn’t control herself stop herself from prostrating she could never hold herself back never stop as soon as she saw she just gave in gave herself and just became a vessel for worship…

Kenzie blinked. The instance had not said any such words. Where had they come from? Some leftover brainwashic devotion transplanted into this context— or like there could be some element that fixed Kenzie’s eyes on it with its presence, could there be some element that slipped secret words into her brain without her knowing they were coming in? Through some method other than the instance speaking them?

Why wasn’t she panicking about that more? She felt that sensation of soothing relief in her brain again. It was okay, nothing was going to brainwashing her, nothing could ever make her believe pussy was a god she needed to get down on her knees and worship, she belonged on her knees, she was a devotee, she needed to lower herself, and abase herself to the task of worship forever—

Had she let her defenses drop too far? Perhaps she never should have started tuning the instance’s repeating statement out— it was just so abhorrent to her, she didn’t want to listen to it— she didn’t want to sit there and listen to it stated, listen to the instance telling her pussy was a god and she would worship and pussy was a god, and she would worship.

Somehow the instance had been setting traps; through some technological marvel, something technologically novel that was beyond Kenzie’s ability to understand— forcing her eyes to keep staring, forcing her mind to start producing thoughts she had never heard spoken as words. She had to focus on something else— and there was something, wrong, too, with the way her body would no longer let her back— in the way her mind fed her denials, cloying reassurances that always spilled over into become brainwashic effusion— she had to focus on something else.

But what else was there to focus on? If she let her attention drop to the base of her spine, to that area, what she felt was that stretching, pounding penetration. It vibrated in her pussy. It vibrated in her ass. It made her pussy arouse itself, then squirt out lubrication around the rod that was inside her front-channel. Every so often, the dildo in her ass shook too— and erupted again inside her, re-slicking her; she was so wet in both holes, so wet and fuckable that every time she got fucked she could only feel the pleasure of it.

And if she looked a little higher, what was there to focus on there? Electric shots of pleasure coming out of her clit— streaking through her whole pleasure symptom as the pouch on it seemed to breathe, expanding and contracting, rubbing its compression all over the face of her clit, like the softest, wettest, warmest mouth, only somehow better— it was hard to tell what was an orgasm and what wasn’t anymore, because the pleasure was so constant. When her clit electrified her, it made her pussy and ass clench down on their filling phalluses— so those might have been orgasms every time that happened, because there was a bearing pressure in her womb, in her back, a need to rut down— but that was never the peak of the pleasure, there was always more after it...

And if she let her focus come up higher, what then? What was there to hold it from her waist up? The feeling of two pouches, like the one on her clit, electrifying her breasts in pleasure? Breathing, expanding then contracting on what was held within? Like two gigantic mouths— still softest and best, but somehow even better.

Or if she focused on the two nubs inside which constantly worked her nipples, teased them, tweaked them— squeezed, twisted, like the most nimble fingers, the most deft— only better— if she focused on any of the pleasure, anywhere— then all it did was force her to zone out again, and though she hated it, in a way that now felt very far away from her, the second she zoned out now, there was a running innercommentary. Pussy was a god and she would worship and it was a god and she would worship—

Something changed.

Her mind was bleary. She struggled to register what was happening.

From the tops of the droidshell’s shoulders, it now put out two arms— and the two arms held something— it looked a bit like a cap— but it curved down, low enough, clearly to cover the eyes.

She was too relaxed, too calmed to try and move her head to escape this cap. It settled on her skull, and covered her eyes— for a second she saw nothing, and then she saw the same view she’d had before— only now she saw Britney had come to stand behind the android— and the two arms which had placed the eyecap on Kenzie’s face now reached back, took hold of Britney, and lifted her to kneel on the droid’s shoulders.

The droid was a little too tall, though, for Britney’s crotch to be at mouth-level. Kenzie heard and saw— its legparts ratcheted down several settings, until Britney’s crotch was kneeled right in front of Kenzie’s mouth— and Kenzie was seeing it, was seeing actually footage— the room as it really was— but like the footage once projected on the wall, there was now also a transparent overlay.

The instance floated in her vision— exposing itself— showing its pussy, showing the obscenity of the rest of its presentation— and Kenzie heard its voice speaking again and again— pussy was her god and she would worship and it was her god and she would worship…

There was a pussy right in front of her face. She could see where the two shoulderspouted arms reached up— where they held Britney tightly in place, gripping against the sides of her naked body— but that wasn’t where she needed to look. She looked at Britney’s pussy, and it strobed colors with the shifting of the instance’s transparent projection.

Pussy was her god and she needed to worship, and there was a pussy in front of her face— and there were phalluses in both her holes, and suctionpouches sucking her clit, and sucking each breast, and nubs tweaking her nipples and nubs inside indenting silkenness— and if she noticed any of the pleasure it made the innerfervor spill out in words that aligned with what the instance said— and she could see the instance’s holographic pussy— and she could see her sister’s real pussy.

She was looking at Pussy.

And pussy was her god. And she needed to serve.

The last of her resilience dissipated. When she moved, the androidshell allowed her, then locked her into the new position.

She was licking the Pussy in front of her mouth. Licking from the lowest part of its slit to the top of its hood, swirling there, then putting her tongue inside. Licking slavishly, devotedly.

This was her god. She was praying. She licked and licked Pussy, feeling it streak her cheeks.

This was worship. It gave her the greatest joy she had ever known.