The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Cynthia dreamed. She knew she was, but that gave her no control; she simply drifted in blankness. No dark, no light, no up, no down; there was barely even a Cynthia. There was no time or space, either, and so she could see what was long ago and far away. Or nearer and more recent, and to people she loved.

Ruthie ran around the corner and pressed herself against the wall, panting. She’d gone downstairs when the crashing noises penetrated into her room, but as soon as she saw them, she fled back the way she came.

Had they followed her? She peeked around the corner, but saw nothing. Am I safe? she thought. Still, gotta keep moving. She turned around.

“Hello,” said the redheaded woman she’d encountered before.

Ruthie’s eyes widened, and she took a step back.

“Remember me?” asked the woman. “My name is Carice. I’m here to help you.”

“No,” Ruthie said thickly. The woman’s eyes were so big, so green, so hard to look away from.

“Shh.” Carice took a step forward, smiling and holding out her hand. “You remember how easy it was to relax for me, don’t you?”

Ruthie remembered that. She remembered falling deep, slipping into a pleasant dream-state. She couldn’t do that now. There was danger, and she needed to run! She tried to hold on to that. Yes, danger, like the tentacles behind her, and... something else? She needed to get away from what was behind her. A green sea opened in front of her, light sparkling gold off the water, warm and inviting, She had to escape, and there it was, so safe.

No, there was a reason it wasn’t. There was a... person? She couldn’t remember, and couldn’t seem to care enough to remember. Even the fear was draining away. She had to act before it was gone completely. She had to flee, and that safe green was inviting her in...

A crash snapped Ruthie back to consciousness. She shook her fuzzy head, but it soon registered that Carice was backing away, looking frightened. Ruthie looked behind her and saw a tentacle feeling its way around the corner.

“Fuck!” Carice was already gone by the time Ruthie turned back.

Ruthie ran.

There was nothing in Cynthia’s dream, so she watched the recent past instead. Except now there was something besides nothing: there was darkness, and there was light, and they were pulling on her. She tried her best to ignore them and focus on what she was watching.

Ruthie fled across the grounds. The tentacles seemed to be mostly focused on the first floor, so she’d been able to keep away from them as she made her way to the back of the dorms, where the fire escape was. From there she’d been able to make it to the wall, and skirted her way around. But the main, writhing, massive body of the creature sat right in front of the main entrance, its arms probing into the school. The only way to the gate was past it.

So Ruthie ran. As fast as she could, as fast as she ever had, certain that at any moment a tentacle would snatch her up into the air. But the thing’s attention was focused entirely inside the school, and she was soon outside the gate, once again leaning against a wall and panting.

Which meant, of course, Carice was no doubt back as well. Ruthie looked up, and sighed with relief. There was no sign of the woman, just a man who seemed injured. Behind them, the creature shrieked.

“Are you all right?” she asked the man, stepping forward.

“That was... a big one,” he said with obvious difficulty. “Quite draining to bring through, but I had no choice.” He looked up at her, and smiled. “Well, aren’t you a pretty one, and come along just as I could use a pick-me-up.”

“What?” Ruthie asked. And then she realized she very much wanted to kiss the man, so much that she didn’t even question it before pressing her lips to his.

He straightened as they kissed, seeming to draw strength from it as his tongue slipped into her mouth. Ruthie felt her world imploding, until there was nothing in it but the heat of his breath and touch, the pleasure pouring into her head. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer, and she squeaked in surprise and delight.

The monster behind them was shrieking, but she didn’t care. “You’re mine now,” he whispered in her ear.

She nodded fervently. “Yes, please.” She wrapped her arms around him, cooing and wriggling in delight as he nipped at her neck, her ear.

“Strip for me,” he said, and it was not a request. Ruthie hastened to obey, quickly unbuttoning her blouse. For just a moment, she caught herself, one last shred of the things the nuns had taught her holding her, wavering, on the edge. But he cupped her cheek in his hand, and all hesitation fell away.

Soon to be joined by her blouse, skirt, bra, and panties. She stood before him in white socks, spattered with green where she’d run across the grass, and trembled slightly. He didn’t even need to give her orders now; she could feel what he wanted, and unbuttoned his trousers before her smooth, delicate hands slipped in to pull out his cock. She stared at it, fingers dancing along it. She’d never seen one in person before, and her mouth watered at the sight of it.

Briefly, she wondered if that was her own reaction, or one he gave her. But it didn’t matter. She knew that very soon there would be no difference. She leaned back against the wall as he slid into her, her eyes closing as the first wave of pleasure swept through her, soon to be followed by another, and another, and another, each more powerful than the last, until her sighs became whimpers, her whimpers became moans, and her moans became shrieks of delight.

Finally, he released her, and she slid to the ground. She gazed up worshipfully at her master, and wondered what his name was. Well, if she needed one for him other than “Master,” he would tell her.

Feiticeiro straightened and adjusted his clothing. “Ah, much better,” he said. “Young, full of repressed energy, just what I needed. Now dress, girl. There is much to—”

The shrieking of the creature crescendoed into one final roar, and then there was silence, save for the distance scream of sirens.

“Oh no,” he said. “Seriously?” Then he doubled over in pain as the sigils on his back began to glow.

Cynthia recoiled from the past. “Ruthie!” she called out. But it was too late; those things had already happened. As she spun away from the near past, she saw the near future, too: tentacles, everywhere, devouring her friends.

“I don’t understand! How can it come back so soon?”

The darkness and light pulled her toward them. They swirled together, inseparable but never mixing, an ever-shifting sphere. She was drawn into the sphere, surrounded by them as they swirled over and through her. Every pulse of light was accompanied by a feeling of power and freedom and joy; every wave of darkness by strength, lust, and pleasure. And deep, deep in the heart of them... was their source.

No, not source. Sources.

Lawrence knelt over the collapsed Cynthia. “She’s breathing!” he said.

“Of course she is!” Grankitty snapped. “I’m still here, ain’t I?”

Beccany and Maria cowered against the wall, staring at the talking stuffed animal. “Is... is that Cynthia?” Maria asked. “She—that woman that the tentacles... that was her?“

“Yes,” said Morgan brusquely. “Kind of. Listen, you girls need to wait here for the ambulances. We’ve got to clear out before the cops.”

Lawrence nodded grimly, and tried to lift Cynthia. “Why isn’t she awake?” he asked, breathless with the strain.

“No idea,” said Morgan.

“Feeding a Beast should have just caused her to revert to normal,” said Grankitty. “Not knocked her out. Something’s different this time.”

“Um, yeah,” said Lawrence. He pointed through the hole in the wall that had previously been occupied by tentacles, before they’d dissolved into light as Syn came.

Morgan followed his finger, through the classroom beyond, out the shattered and broken remains of its window—“Aw, fuck. Seriously?”

Tentacles were already clambering back through the gates, creeping toward the school with alarming speed.

They stood before her, light and dark pouring from them in waves. She had seen them before, two impossibly, achingly gorgeous women, identical and yet not, because where one was beautiful, the other was sexy. One wore the light that spilled from her like a robe, and the other wore her darkness like a cloak. One had hair of shining gold, and the other blood-crimson.

The hard part was keeping track of which was which.

They were bound together, face-to-face, with vicious-looking wounds on each of their shoulder-blades.

“Who are you?” Cynthia asked them.

“You already know,” said the one whose wounds bled the ancient darkness from before the stars.

“Ask what you truly wish to learn,” said the one whose wounds bled the light that first ignited them.

Cynthia gulped. “The tentacle monster. How is it back already?”

“It is strong,” said the redheaded woman. “Every Beast gains strength from the ones slain before it.”

“It has half the strength of every Beast we’ve ever fought,” said the blonde. “You cannot get rid of it by sating its hunger.”

“Then how?” asked Cynthia. “Light barely hurts it!” She glared at the woman bleeding light. “It’s your light, isn’t it? That I use to fight them?”

“Yes,” said one, and “No,” said the other.

“I don’t understand!”

“The power is from us both,” they said in unison. “But before darkness and light, behind them and within them, there was flame.”

“I don’t understand!”

“You will,” said one. “We’re sorry,” said the other.

Cynthia woke with a gasp.

“Oh, thank goodness,” said Grankitty. “We thought you’d never wake up!”

“When did you get here?” she asked muzzily.

“Not long after you did, courtesy of someone driving like a maniac,” said Lawrence. He glared at Morgan.

“Yeah, yeah, point is, we’re here, now can you please go all Syn mode and do something about the giant tentacle monster right outside the door!?”

Cynthia sat up and looked around. She was in a dorm room like the one she shared with Ruthie. Two girls from her class were huddled together on the floor, while Lawrence and Morgan stood over her bed. Grankitty stood on the bed, obviously as concerned as they were.

“Right,” she said. “It came back.” The door shuddered with a resounding crash, and Maria and Beccany cried out.

“Don’t worry,” Cynthia said. “I’ve got it this time.” I hope. What was all of that about flame? I managed something like that, once, but if it doesn’t come from them..?

She stood up and stepped forward, between the others and the door. She closed her eyes, feeling the energies coursing through her body, the same ones that she had felt inside that sphere. Love and lust, pleasure and power, strength and desire, fizzing in her veins while her body shifted and remolded itself.

It felt so good. The lengthening of her legs like a stretch after a good night’s sleep, her breasts swelling, filling with liquid pleasure that inflated them like balloons. The slight fat around her belly melting away in a wash of sexual heat, while her muscles tightened and firmer. A tingling wave of pleasure sweeping over her skin, smoothing out imperfections, subtly adjusting her face, and finally sweeping out through her hair and down to their tips, the frizzy sleep-mussed mess smoothing and curling into an invitingly sex-teased wave of gold. When it was over, her whole body sang with energy and light and dripped with dark desire. She wanted to protect, and to fight, and to kill, and to heal, and above all, more than anything else, to fuck. She was so horny she couldn’t stand it—or Cynthia couldn’t have, at any rate. Syn was used to it, more or less.

Another crash resounded, and the door smashed inward off its hinges, right into Syn’s face. She didn’t blink or budge; it broke against her, and fell to the ground. Tentacles reached into the room, but she wasn’t going to give them time. Syn screamed wordlessly and jumped out into the hall.