The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Month six become month seven, and seven gave away to eight. No tremors ever came to signal the coming of a child. Pasiphae felt nothing save for an increasingly ravenous appetite. There was nothing to do but wait. The guards continued to bar her door, the servants continued to make their obtrusive visits. And all the while Pasiphae grew ever fatter.

At last came the dreaded ninth month. The month in which all woman give birth. There would be no more delays, no more denying the inevitable. Pasiphae prepared herself for what she knew must come.

Soon. I shall know who the father is, soon.

The Queen could only sit in bed now, her belly so big and round now as to become a shelf for her breasts to rest upon, pooling out on top of it and over the sides. She was an obscenity to look at and the servants who entered her room made sure to shield their eyes.

Movement had become all but impossible well before her ninth month. Just a few steps was more than enough to exhaust the Queen and none of her servants felt inclined to offer her any help. They brought her food close enough for her to reach and that was enough.

Soon even sitting up in bed had become too much a strain for Pasiphae. And so all she could do now was lie there, lie there and wait.

Why am I so big?

She was more alone than ever, but still she had the ever present mirror. Even prone on her bed she could still see herself. And so she lay there, waiting, staring at herself in the mirror. From where she lay the mirror could no longer reflect her face, just her round belly that no clothes could ever hope to cover now. Just her stretched milky white flesh, that grew rounder with each passing day.

She looked at the mirror. Her stomach was a blur of mountainous white, like a monument in celebration of her one act of unspeakable transgression. It was as if the mirror itself wished it too could look away.

“Minos…”

She waited. Waited for the pain. Waited for the signal of the coming of a child. Only then would her fate be truly decided. If it was a child that looked like Minos, then perhaps he would forgive her.

Perhaps.

But the Queen did not give birth in her ninth month as everyone had expected. Even on her back and staring up at the ceiling Pasiphae could feel the horror and dread that greeted the news of her extended pregnancy. She heard the fearful whispers of the guards and servants outside her chamber doors—women carry their young for nine months, cows carry to a twelve month term.

I am with child from the bull.

There was no more denying the terrible truth. All that was left now was to cry quietly to herself but she had no more tears to give. Besides, she had always known it in some way, ever since the first rays of light had touched her cheeks that morning in the field. She had known it then, even if she had denied it until now.

Shepherds had been the first to find her after her tryst with the bull. Unfortunately for Pasiphae, Daedalus had not calculated on his not being able to retrieve her from the field—the bull had chased him away each time he had tried to collect her. The bull had become quite attached to its new mate and didn’t want his new bride taken away from him. He exerted his “husbandly right” over her once more and after that Daedalus did not return. Eventually the beast wandered off to graze, just about the time the shepherds had arrived for work. They recognized their queen’s face protruding from the strange custom the moment they saw her.

It took some time, but eventually they were able to free her from her imprisonment. Unfortunately, she was delirious and her legs too weak to stand. They found a wheelbarrow to carry her in it and threw an old horse blanket over her. In their anxiety the shepherds had failed to remove her hood. And so that was how she made her unceremonious return to the palace—trundled in a peasant’s cart, naked save for a silly hood and an old blanket while muttering feverishly about the white bull. Somehow at that moment, even in her delirium in that cart, she had known her affair had born fruit. Blessedly she was asleep by the time she was presented this way to Minos and all of the gathered court. She wondered what her husband must have thought to see his once precious wife like that, naked in a wheelbarrow with cow hood on. And then how he must have reacted upon learning that she was discovered in the field of his even more precious bull, dressed in a fully functional cow costume.

“Why did I do it? Oh Minos, why?”

The servants still came, but Pasiphae was in no state to stand and greet them as before, much less frighten them off with an icy glare. Now they came in groups of three and did not bother to pretend to make conversation, everyone knew why they were there. Instead, two of them would grab her beneath her shoulders and hoist her up into a sitting position. The third would then wrap the cord around her naked belly and count out the knots before the other two let her drop back into her pillows again.

The first few times they had hauled her onto her feet, holding her up by her arms. This made it easier to measure her belly, but this soon proved too difficult for her handlers. In the end it was just easier to sit her up and wrap the cord around this way. It wasn’t the easiest task, but it only took a few moments. They were at least considerate enough to keep the measurements to themselves before they left as quietly as they had arrived.

And so she grew fatter by the day. Or at least her stomach did, the rest of her stayed her lithe, thin self. But her thin arms and outstretched legs only made her stomach look all the more absurd. She tried wrapping her arms over her belly, but it was impossible, her hands no longer met. All she could do now was watch as her round stomach swelled like none she had ever seen, knowing that she would get bigger yet.

Her room was lost to her, all that she could see in front of her was round flesh, like that of a mountain, stretch marks snaking across her pulled skin. She felt like a sacrificial offering laid out upon an altar, a gift to the gods in substitute for the white bull they should have had.

She wished she could see the stars again.

“Why?”

Which month was it now? The 10th? The 11th? It was hard to tell. She was caged, isolated from all the world. Yet even in isolation she could feel that world, she could feel the dread that was building with each new day. The world before her conception seemed so alive, so wild. Now all was still. Eerily still. The entire world seemed to be waiting with her. It was then that she came to realize something. Those in the palace were just as trapped as her, Minos perhaps more than anyone else. She could feel it, the terror that enveloped them all. They waited too. She was not alone after all.

“Why? Why did I do it?”

At last the day came. It was just a day before her twelfth month that the dreadful day came announced with a great cry of pain from the queen’s chambers. It was nothing at all like cries she had made before, quiet and muffled. This was a cry that shook the very foundations of the palace and was heard in every room. It was the cry of pure, unadulterated pain.

Panic and terror swept the palace like a tidal wave washing away everything in its path, drowning all those in its path and consuming any who dared stand near its wake. There came another cry of pain from behind the walls of the dreaded room and the alarm was now raised. From within her room Pasiphae could hear the sounds of panic and desperation in response to her cries. Again and again she heard the frightened cries of those announcing the queen was going to birth! All wanted to flee from the palace, run as far away from it as possible, yet all were forbidden to leave, so decreed the king.

No longer could she be ignored. Suddenly, the queen who everyone pretended did not exist was at the center of the maelstrom, around which now swirled the hysteria of an entire kingdom. Pasiphae wanted to smile at the thought of this, but was seized by another contraction and screamed instead.

Blessedly for the Queen it was a day resigned to blurred memories of pain and unconsciousness. Her room quickly filled with almost every member of court imaginable. She remembered the helpless screams of the midwives, the court advisors giving panicked and meaningless orders, the priests and their senseless invocations, the wet-nurses hoping not to be noticed, everyone was here, all were swept up in the maelstrom, and all because of the chaos her birthing was creating.

“Mmii,Mmii, Minos?!” She stammered, between teeth clenched with pain. Everywhere she looked she saw dozens of people, praying to every god and goddess imaginable. “Where is my,my,hus—band? Uhhhhh!!”

The pain came at her in waves, hitting her again and again with increasing crescendo. Where was Minos? Spasms of pain twisted her in agony, each cry of pain on her part only making the cries of the servants that much more desperate. She knew what they were thinking, what if the queen produced a monster, what would happen to them then? Who would tell the king? And what if she were to die? As much as the king might despise his wife, her death might drive him madder yet and what would he do to his servants then? Worse perhaps, what if she survived? What would happen to those who had witnessed the birth of Minos’ humiliation? All their lives depended on his fickle whim and what might come from between her legs. All were caught up in the madness and none knew how to traverse this whirlpool.

“Aaahhhhhhh!”

The storm took them, sweeping them fast and far away into its dark madness and in the middle of it all she lay in agony, pushed hard against her pillows with her hands wrapped around her bent knees letting out cry after cry of pain, the likes of which no woman had ever endured. The woman who had not existed for the last twelve months had suddenly become the center of all the world. And it was at this very moment where she became the center of all attention that she wanted nothing more than to be left alone. Better alone then to be at the center of this!

“AAAARRRRAAAAAGGGGH!!!!”

Another cry of anguish escaped her frustrated lips followed by fast and desperate breaths of air: “Why,why,why,WwwhhhhhhhhyyyyyAaaaaaaarghooohgodddsss!!!” She tried to catch her breath as she felt another cry coming hard upon the first. “Oh gods, oh gods, oh godddsssaaarrrggghhhhhHHHHHH!!!!!”

Ladies took to their knees, imploring the same gods that had Pasiphae cried out to for mercy, but not mercy for her, mercy for themselves. What would become of them all? The queen’s labor only seemed to herald the coming of something even more terrible.

“Uhuhuhuhaaaaaghghhhh”

She wanted to calm them, as much for their sake as for her own but she was too far gone.

“Whywhywhywhygodswhyuuhhhhh!”

None wiped the sweat that streamed from her forehead or held her hands through her labor. Certainly none held her legs to help the birthing of her infant child.

“Uhuhuhuhuhuhhhhh! Where-is-Minos,” she said though snatches of breath. “Where-is-my-my-husbaaa—aarrrgghhhhHHH!!!:

She dug her nails deep into the bedding, tearing through the fabric as still none dare move to comfort her, yet all gathered to see what she would produce. All the court was assembled, all save Minos, everyone one of them staring with horror and terror at what might come from those spread legs.

Between gasps of air she let loose another blinding scream, but this time she could only hear the pain, she could no longer feel it:

“AAAA A R R R R A A A A A G G G G HHHH!!!!!!”

Then another scream, this one louder than all the previous ones combined; it shook tiles and echoed down the palace corridors and back again, and she was certain that no matter where Minos had hidden himself, that cry had pierced his ears

The inventor had promised her that she would survive, but the sound of her cries told her that this too might be another broken promise.

“The field of thrice broken promises,” she laughed deliriously between gasps of air. “The promise of sacrifice! UGH! Uh! Uh! The promise to never return! UGH! Ohgodsthepain! Uh! Uh! The promise to be faithful!” She laughed bitterly, her sweat soaked hair sprawled out on the mattress beneath her like she were some mad witch, but another wave of pain hit her and she convulsed in agony again.

“It’stoobig, too,big. Aaa—aaa—aaaaaghhh!” The whirlwind around her reached a fevered pitch as the cries of the servants grew with her own. The tidal wave was descending now, about to crash upon their once peaceful shores and all were about to be crushed under the weight of it. She wanted to warn them to be ready, that it was happening, but she had not the strength to make the words. She could only push now, push hard, harder than she had ever done anything before.

She heard a priest call out to Poseidon for mercy. Poseidon? Poseidon show mercy? This was the sea god’s mercy! He could have killed them all for the theft of the bull, but instead he has afflicted her, their queen, with a terrible lust. She remembered! The sound of waves that had once filled her mind…they had spoken to her, convinced her to do dark things, the lust had never been her’s but sent from the sea. Suddenly she knew, she knew WHY!

“It was never,never,never my will!” She gasped desperately. “It,it,it was P-P-P-Po-Oooooooohhhh -seidon! Poseidon! It was a-a-a-curse. Tell my husband, tell him, tell Mi-Mi-Mino—!”

But she was interrupt by another terrible cry, this one deafening.

“M I I I I I I N N N O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O S S S S S S S S!!!!”

She clawed at the bed, knowing that the pain must be terrible, if only she could still feel it. In her madness she almost made what sounded like a laugh—the gods had granted her at least this one boon, that the searing pain blinded her of almost all memory of the travails of birthing a monster.

Then the greatest cry of all, one heard as far away as Olympus itself, part pain, part anguish, part victory for twelve months after she had taken the seed of divine retribution within her womb she now gave life to that which had born fruit within her. With her own cry of vengeance she pushed one final time, willing her voice to be heard in the most far off reaches of the palace so that if this was the last sound she ever made, Minos would at least hear her make it. The wailing of her entourage reached new heights but her’s was the only voice that could be heard, drowning out all others, sweeping away the little sounds of terror and petty fright in one long unearthly declaration of pained victory.

And then it was over, just like that she was delivered from her agony. She slumped back, consciousness seeping from her being, pain bringing with it blissful sleep, hearing her last cries fading down the palace halls. But before she succumbed to her hard won rest she heard her own cries give way to another. Only this one was not of her making or that of her servants, but instead it was something new and different. It sounded small and frightened, but beneath it all it had a deep, otherworldly rumbling. She had only heard such an unearthly rumbling once before about a year ago, just before she had been mounted in the field.

The world went black, but as it did Pasiphae heard the gentle sound of waves, returning after almost a twelve month absence.

Pasiphae had nearly died giving birth to it.

She awoke and felt a flush of shame stain her cheeks, not for the child she bore, but for the hopes she had nurtured while she bore it. She realized now that her greatest delusion had not been who had fathered her child, but the hope of forgiveness once she had borne it. But she did not even need to look about her room to tell that she was once more alone, never to be forgiven. She would be forever remembered as the queen who had fucked a bull.

Pasiphae lay on her back, staring hopelessly at the ceiling. She was nude, she could tell by the way the warm night air felt on her flesh. No one had thought her worthy of dressing anymore, they had just left her alone and uncovered. But in her travails she had learned one thing, one thing that had haunted her since her pregnancy had begun.

At least I know why. Even if Minos wants to believe otherwise I will always know the truth.

A slight muffling sound came from the corner of her room. It had been some time since she had heard the sounds of life in her bedchambers so even a noise as slight as this had the power to rouse her from her weariness. Had a servant remained behind? It seemed unlikely.

Over in the corner, in a tiny little bed all of its own, she had a new companion—and it let out a cry like any new born babe would.

So…this is what the bull has given me.

Despite her grand audience just a few hours ago—or was it days ago?—not a single person had thought to take this strange little creature with them. But why had Minos not had it killed already? Surely this was within his power, surely he wanted to get rid of any sign of scandal. Had pity found a place in Minos’ heart at last?

The creature made another sound and Pasiphae both wondered and dreaded what it looked like.

The Queen tried to prop herself up on her elbows so as to catch a glimpse of it but she faltered from the sheer effort of it all and fell back into her pillows. She braced herself and tried again, only to fall back again. It felt as though a great weight were upon her chest, weighing her down. A guilty conscious, no doubt, the Queen thought to herself.

The child let out another cry, one that only a mother could understand—it was hungry.

And so she now knew why she had such difficulty sitting up, and it was not just a matter of exhaustion or a guilty conscious. She looked at her chest and gasped. “By the gods…my breasts!”

She laughed, but one completely devoid of merriment.

“Pasiphae the cow.”

Her stomach might be flat once more, but her breasts were enormous, swollen with milk meant for a cow, so much so that when she finally managed to sit up she found it difficult to steady herself and keep from toppling over again.

At least the gods have a sense of humor!

The Queen looked down at her overly large chest, her slightest movements sending her heavily laden beasts swaying from side to side and wanting to pull her with them.

If only you could see me now Minos, how pleased you would be. You stole a bull and gained a cow in the process. All it cost you was your queen.

The child cried again, tearing Pasiphae away from her thoughts. Its hunger was growing, threatening to wake the little beast. She looked at the door expectantly.

Where is the wet nurse? Why does she not come? The child is hungry, do they not hear it?

It took her a moment, but then she understood: it was not pity that motivated Minos to leave the child with her, it was cruelty. He was punishing her.

You really are a bastard, Minos.

The Queen would have to decide the child’s fate. She would either have to feed her own child, something no lady does, and hold close to her chest the fruits of her transgression against nature, or let it starve, listening to the child cry out for sustenance, until it could cry no more.

And that is what you expect of me, isn’t it Minos? You expect me to be your executioner. And maybe you think that is what I want, too, that I wish for nothing more than to be rid of the sight of my indiscretion even more than you.

And perhaps he was right. The very sound of the creature brought back terrible remainders of hot summer days, the sting of salt water, the bitter taste of lust for a shape so different from her own—

It cried out again. It bawled like its father, a strong roar, yet still small and delicate and in need of protection. She didn’t want to look at it. She didn’t want to see. She didn’t want to see what the bull had given her. She should spare the kingdom this monster and let it die. Perhaps that is the right thing after all?

Pasiphae heard the sound of waves. She could often hear the sea from her balcony, but these waves were too loud, they were coming from inside her own mind. Pasiphae remembered this sound, she had heard it when she had first seen the bull. She remembered how they had whispered to her, twisted her will…

“No! Not this time. I will look upon the child, but I will do so under my own will and not because you will it!” She paused. “Do you understand me? It is to be my will!” She listened—all was silent. The waves had receded. They were waiting.

I shall look. I have to see it, at least once. I owe it that much.

Gingerly she swung her feet over the bed and steadied herself. It took a moment to get her feet under her and by then the creature let out another bellow as it rolled from its side to its back. Its hunger was becoming insistent now.

Minos might be too weak to look at it, but I am not.

The Queen stood up, her chest swaying and pulling heavily at her. She wrapped both hands around her breasts to steady herself and then moved slowly, afraid that with every step she might topple…and afraid of what she would see once she reached the little bed. But she had to see it, she knew that much.

She held her breasts tight, her soft flesh pouring out around her hands and arms.

Just one look. How can I decide its fate if I don’t see it at least once?

Carefully the Queen stood over its cradle, but with her head turned, too afraid to look. She took a deep breath. Everything was so quiet, so still. Perhaps her presence had calmed the child? Pasiphae let out her breath and slowly turned her head to see the fruit of a bull and a queen.

It was unlike any newborn the palace had ever seen before. Instead of a little prince the child that lay before her was covered in coarse hair like that of its father, only dark like her own, and with a small tail and two little nubs of what looked like horns. It had hooves and a little snout where its hungry little mouth was; so foreign, so unlike any baby she had ever seen. And yet it wasn’t a bull either. It looked so much like its father, and yet not. So brutish. And yet still a baby. It was like looking upon another world.

It bleated its hunger again, this time its eyelids flickering open before closing again. She would have to choose.

It is terrible to let a child starve to death but is this even a child? Perhaps it would be kinder to let it die. I could spare my kingdom much torment, if I did.

The waves lulled once more in her mind, ever so quietly, ever so subtly.

“No, I will decide it’s fate, no you!” Pasiphae listened. Once more the waves were gone. But was her will her own? Yes, her mind was silent and she felt no fog upon it. This was her will, she told herself, it had to be.

The child bleated again, its hunger grew. Instinctively Pasiphae pulled her breasts closer to herself, holding them protectively, as if to shield them from the creature’s hunger. It was time to decide.

And yet, is there really a decision to be made?

She removed her hand from her right breast, like one carefully following instructions. The flesh of her breast was soft and snowy white, capped with pink peaks on them. The decision was her’s, but she knew there really wasn’t a decision. She was the mother of this child, need she know more? No matter how bizarre the act of its conception may have been, it was still a child—her child. And it was hungry.

The Queen removed her hand from her left breast. She could feel the pressure welling up within her.

Carefully, Pasiphae picked up the strange creature, half afraid, half in awe by what she held. The child of a bull. And of a queen. A child of the stars and of earth. Conceived in the celestial vapors of ether and in crude, animal ruttings. The very touch of it reminded her of the coarse hide of her lover. She wondered what the white bull would make of their love-child.

It cried hungrily in her arms, flaying its limbs about in search of food. Its eyes began to open.

Now what?!

The Queen had never been taught how to care for a child since no one, herself most of all, had ever expected her to have to nurse a child. In fact, she couldn’t recall ever even seeing one nursed before. Pasiphae wasn’t really sure how it was done. It was so large, hairy, and its mouth was so frightening. It began to bawl.

“Shh! There, there. Don’t cry. Don’t cry! Just give me a second—”

It bawled again, this time louder. It eyes were open now, and it was all rage and hunger!

Pasiphae felt a trickle of sweat forming on her forehead. This is silly, it is just a child hungry like any other. But her eyes told her otherwise, it was so foreign to behold, so big and strong and...and yet it was also so weak and helpless in her arms.

Outside the balcony Pasiphae could hear a rush of wind and then the loud crashing of waves upon the shore. It had been sometime since Crete had felt a good storm, some rain would be welcome.

“Okay, let’s try this…um…”

She pushed her chest closer to the beast’s mouth. This is my will!. She looked at her breasts—big and heavy, filled with life giving milk. She looked from her breasts to the child. The Queen held her breath and brought the child toward the proffered nipple. Pasiphae wasn’t sure if she had to open its mouth first, or hold her nipple out to it or—

But then as if the bull-baby sensed the presence of her nipple and offered milk it lunged forward with open mouth, little arms on her breast, and began to suckle.

“AAHHH!”

Pasiphae could not help but instinctively let out a gasp of surprise for it happened so suddenly and unexpectedly. To see her nipple vanish like that...into its strange mouth...and yet it happened so easily as if the creature knew precisely what to do. And then just as suddenly her surprise subsided as the child lapped gently at her breast, pulling on her nipple ever-so-subtly, relieving some of the swollen ache. It was all so simple. She felt wonderfully…content.

“Oh! I!...I...yes, there you have it...,” she could only stammered. “What a good little one you are!” She held him joyously close. “Yes you certainly have it!”

Pasiphae smiled despite herself and rocked it back and forth as it fed from her breast. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror—a queen become cow, feeding her child contentedly. She felt as though the mirror found all this rather amusing.

“There, there,” Pasiphae whispered, turning her back and cradling the child into her breasts so that it could not see the mirror. “Shhh, don’t mind the mirror dear, just let me feed you.” She pulled the baby closer to her. “You just feed dear. My brea—bre—br—my udders will give you as much milk as you like. I promise.”

The Queen thought she heard the sound of waves again, but this time she could not be sure. She was standing near the balcony and so it would not be unusual to hear the sea. Pasiphae paused for a moment and looked down at the bundle in her arm, the offspring a white bull and a queen maddened by the gods. Yes, she could hear the sea and she wondered if the waves she now heard came from the shore or her mind. Pasiphae would never know. And it did not matter. She had made up her mind, or her mind was made up for her, either way, she was content.

“Such a good little one,” she whispered. “You are my all shining, so I shall call you Asterion.” But then an idea came to her from seemingly nowhere. “But I think the world should know you by another name. I will name you after your father, so that when anyone refers to you they will think of him and when they refer to him they will think of you. You shall be know as the Minotaur—Minos’ bull.”

She had named him.

Pasiphae looked down at the bundle in her arms, lapping away gently at her breast like waves upon the shore and she laughed joyously.

They rocked back and forth in rhythm with the waves that either crashed outside her balcony, or inside her mind.