The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Patty Dolsen was a respected journalist. She had been in the reporting game for eight years. She was a commonly spoken name in the small town she came from and not unknown at large. She had gone abroad before and covered things of utmost importance. It was impossible to avoid the odd sensationalism, but she was blessed with an agency that generally held itself with integrity.

Generally.

“Left turn coming up in a mile.” Her combination guide, cameraman, and GPS Harold spoke softly, eyes glued to his phone. She nodded gently but her attention was mostly on the conversation she was holding using her own cellular device, which was jacked into her car.

“Just finished talking to them,” a male voice spoke from her car’s speakers, “They aren’t gonna let Harold in. You’ll have to be your own camera crew.” Patty groaned in frustration. If she weren’t driving she would grind a palm into her face, too.

“Goddaaaamnit. I’m a professional journalist, why am I investigating some weirdo’s community project!?”

“Because it has the public’s attention and we’re struggling!” The voice on the other end reprimanded her. “A commune opens up just outside of town and rapidly starts expanding? That’s intriguing! It’s mysterious!”

“Yeah,” Patty scoffed, “And that’s what rumors say. Rumors also claim that the person who runs it is using hypnosis to get women to move in. It’s all bullshit, not just the parts that sound like it.” She took the left. She almost missed it. It wasn’t Harold’s fault, of course.

“Maybe it is, Mrs. Dolsen, but even so people are curious. You watched Scooty Ruse growing up, right?” She scoffed again. He gave this talk all the time.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Mysteries don’t have to be real to make money.”

“That’s the spirit!” A sarcastic laugh. Patty’s frown didn’t budge. “Listen, I know you hate this kind of work. But out of the overlap in demographics between ‘women who work for us’ and ‘journalists who have no spouse or family’, you have the least tenure.” His voice wasn’t the one he used for lying, but this wasn’t going to be enough to mollify her. They passed over a bumpy stretch of road. It was loud, and Patty and Harold were both jostled about in their seats. “People have gotten interviews before but this is the first time this place-er, you know—”

“The Mommune,” Patty grimaced and practically spat out the words.

“Yes, yes, this is the first time the Mommune’s let anyone inside for journalism. They absolutely refused to let Harold in, believe me I—”

“I know,” Patty grumbled. She pulled into the meeting place, which was separated from the mansion-like compound by an abnormally long driveway of dirt road. She exited the vehicle and stretched. “Harold, you know where the hotel is right?” Harold nodded. “Good. I’ll call later.” She unplugged her phone from her car and hung up on her boss. It was rude, but at this point she’d almost embrace it if she got herself fired. She opened the back door and retrieved a small suitcase that contained her clothes and camera. When she closed the door, Harold was already in the driver’s seat. She stood up straight, ran a comb through her white hair, and huffed. “Okay, then. Here we go.”

“Greetings, Patty Dolson! It’s nice to meet you!” Said the woman she’d been told to expect. She’d been informed that they were thirty two, which meant they were two years her junior. They were a little tall, about five foot ten by Patty’s estimate, and their skin was soft, plush, and a beautiful shade of brown that caught the sun quite nicely. Once Patty had gathered that much, she was almost physically struck by the sight of this woman’s attire.

“The pleasure is mine!” Patty smiled. The woman greeting her wore a thin, long white coat which resembled a lab coat. Her breasts, hefty impressive ones that stuck out a good deal with lots of roundness and weight to them, were left to hang totally uncovered and unrestrained. She wore black thigh highs which extended from her tall black heels to about halfway up her thighs, falling short of her white cotton panties. She wore a skirt too, a plain grey one, but it was a bit loose and such a combination of short and worn high that even dangling at rest it only came far enough down to half cover her underwear.

“Indeed!” The woman smiled wide. “My name’s Medini. I hope you had a good ride here? Nothing troubled you?”

“No.” Patty shook her head politely. She smiled. Internally, on the other hand, she was deeply annoyed. Of COURSE the woman who lived in this weird compound staffed entirely by lesbians would default to just walking around half naked. It wasn’t surprising in the least! “So that big building is the commune?”

“The Mommune, dear,” Medini riposted with a smile, “Though I understand if the name seems odd. It’ll grow on you.”

“I’m sure it will,” Patty answered while making an effort not to let her sarcasm make it into her voice. She was already feeling her well of patience with this place deplete but she had a job to do and bills to pay. “Is there anything I should know before we go any farther?”

“Nothing in particular. Come, come, let’s get you inside. It’s chilly out.” No, Patty was thinking to herself, it really wasn’t. Medini led her to the building’s front doors, which were big and made of glass. Her guide opened them, then the wooden double doors behind them. “After you, Miss Dolson.”

Patty Dolson stepped into the mansion and was struck for a moment with how...normal it looked. Before her stretched a broad hallway which connected her point of ingress to a back door. The hallway was flanked on each end by two doors, each of the four of which lead to other rooms. A table stood near where she did, and on it was an elaborate blue and white vase with flowers inside it and a platter of fake fruit next to it.

“Right this way, Patty.” Medini led her to a large spiral staircase in the far right of the hall. The two ascended it and found themselves having arrived in another hall. Large windows on the walls leant a rather nice view of the outside. Medini walked into a bedroom off to the side, sticking her pert butt up a little bit and rolling her thighs across each other, where she gently instructed Patty to sit on a large white bed. The reporter complied. “Thanks, our Mistress will be right here shortly.” She turned and left. Patty rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone to check it. The time was two thirteen PM. No text from Harold yet, so he probably hadn’t reached the hotel.

“Hi! Pleased to meet you!” Patty looked up and was greeted by a woman with a...very different energy than Medini, or in fact than any of the women who had offered interviews about the commune. She looked...young. Not a creepy kind of young or young in the sense of looking like a child (she was clearly a grown woman, if a young one), but she had this youthful joy about her. Her skin was perfectly clear and shaven baby smooth from her eyes down (except the pixie cut of luxurious strawberry blonde hair on her scalp), her eyes were a radiant icy blue, her lips were full and soft and perfect and bright bright pink. She was naked except for a hot pink underwire bra and a cute...very cute...pair of black panties...swaying...so nicely...so pretty...with her wide beautiful hips…

“Nice to…” Patty made an effort to tear her eyes up from the panties. Why was she looking there! She wasn’t here to get distracted by some blonde floozie! She was here to get work done and leave! “...meet you too…” Patty tried to stand up and look them in the eye but this adorable girl gently, effortlessly, carefully held her shoulders and pushed her back down. Closer to...those panties…

“Mmmmm, soooo tense. You can’t interview me while you’re stressed.” Patty chastised herself internally even as her eyes settled on the younger woman’s panties. She felt her crotch getting warm and chastised herself. This was unbecoming-

“Caaaaan’t…” she found herself moaning. It was true. She couldn’t do the interview right now. She was too stressed, trying to force herself to stop staring at this woman’s pretty panties.

“Thaaat’s it darling, just let yourself relax. Unwind all that nasty clenching your muscles are doing.” Patty couldn’t help but obey. Her body loosened up as this stranger desired. Tensions she didn’t know she’d been maintaining, in her shoulders and back and jaw, quickly evaporated. She stopped resisting and just did what was natural: staring at those panties. She was “limp,” the girl purred seductively with a knowing grin, “loose. Limp, loose.”

“Loooose,” Patty groaned. She was limp, loose-

“Jusssst like my panties, sweetie.” The girl hooked a finger between her hip and her panties to show how it fit. The undergarment moved easily, limp and loose and soft. Just like Patty.

Patty closed the door to the guest room behind her. It was late. Did she want Harold to come pick her up?

No.

She put the password into her phone and opened her texts with her cameraman. ”Don’t pick me up,” she sent, “I’m getting great results.” Besides, this bed was…downright luxurious. She dropped onto its soft, inviting mattress and immediately grinned ear to ear. She liked this place.

Wait, did she? She sat up, not certain. Wait-

Patty reached under her tight back skirt. She wasn’t wearing any panties? Why wasn’t she wearing panties? She tried to remember when she took off her panties but she could not do it. In the end she admitted to herself that she must have forgotten to wear them. She fell on her back and, not long afterwards, asleep.

Patty woke up the next morning to bed and breakfast, presented by Medini. “Hello,” the darker skinned woman smiled from a chair next to Patty’s bedside, “How are you today?”

“I’m...good…” Patty sat up. Medini upheld her smile and set a tray on the bed. “Would you like my milk?”

“No, I don’t-wait, what?”

“My milk.” Medini giggled patiently and held up her breasts They looked...nice. Comfy. “My breastmilk, sweetie.”

“I, uh. I would not. Thank you.” Medini smiled and left the room. Patty ate her food and got out of bed. Her suitcase wasn’t where she left it.

“Hey Medini!” The woman returned. She was smiling.

“Yes, Patty?”

“I...seem to have lost my suitcase.”

“Awww, that’s a shame. Here, let me find some clothes for you.”

Patty was happy that they somehow had actual clothes on standby, but they were...not her type. The white blouse was nice, but it was missing buttons on both sides which forced her to leave both her cleavage and her navel exposed. She was wearing a thinner, looser skirt than she usually did on the job. She was wearing heels taller than she liked and lingerie lacier, more seethrough, and tourqoise-ier than she liked. They had not allowed her to borrow anything to tie her long auburn hair, and they had insisted she wear a more cutesy palette of makeup than usual. None of this bothered her too much, but she could almost feel the wasted minutes ticking by. The rest of the day went in a blur.

The other women seemed to be less absent. She started to see new faces, GORGEOUS new faces, of beautiful women with kind smiles and gentle eyes and smooth skin. The women populating the estate ranged in age from about twenty to fifty, but they all had friendly auras and soothing voices and nice breasts. The standard uniform of the compound seemed to be thigh highs, heels, lingerie and either a pair of unzipped short shorts or a miniskirt of the positively tiny kind that Medini wore, placed similarly high on the wearer’s body. They smiled, kissed Patty’s face, rubbed her tummy. She was...okay with this. They were just being polite to the reporter they were hosting as a guest. Besides, she had been somewhat rude to them the previous day, even if said rudeness had solely been within the confines of her own head. She was extremely grateful to be treated so well and found herself quickly warming up to the women around her.

Patty got a tour of the estate. A lavish dining hall, a big porch, a massive field. Medini walked her through all of it, with the same caring smile and soft look of affection that Patty had seen when she woke up. A few times Medini even took her, softly but firmly, by the hand. Patty did not notice the first, second, or even third time that it happened. The fourth was during a look at the kitchen. Patty entered the room first and admired the long, compact room. There were multiple ovens and two stoves, and two women on the younger end of the commune’s age range, who were both wearing aprons over their uniforms, flitted all about at work.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” Medini asked. She took one of Patty’s palms in her own and twirled the reporter into a soft embrace from behind. Her bare naked breasts pushed into her back, her nipples just a little stiff. Patty gasped and blushed a little bit.

“A-aren’t what beautiful?” Patty stammered. Both cooks giggled and put their work aside to trot giddily up to Patty. One of them, a blue haired girl with matching eyes and softly tanned skin, reached out and pulled at the tip of Patty’s bra’s cup.

“B-cups?” She giggled more and let go. “Cuuuuutie. Winona prefers bigger, but I like smaller boobs.”

Patty blushed intensely. This compound had its own rules about etiquette, she reminded herself internally. They were forward, gentle, and kind of slutty. Slutty? That seemed judgmental. But they were. She was comfortable with the caresses and kisses but-

“Now now now,” chastised Medini, “Our guest doesn’t like when you touch her there. Do you, Patty?” The question was asked with the kind of patronizing tone one used for people much younger than you. To her surprise, Patty liked that.

“...n, no. Please.” She smiled awkwardly. Both of the cooks squealed.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry!” The blue haired girl reached out to caress Patty’s face with both hands and stared longingly into her eyes. “My name is Sonia. Can you forgive me?”

“Yes.” Patty answered without thinking. She was stuck. Staring into Sonia’s eyes. There was nothing magical about them, she wasn’t spellbound or any such fairy tale foolishness, but those eyes were soft. They sparkled like gemstones. They were full to bursting with care and warmth. Sonia smiled and nodded. The bright blue ponytail that rose from her head an inch or two (before falling soft and bushy to her shoulderblades) danced along. Her soft face and slight features grew joyous.

“Gooood girl.” Medini pressed Patty backwards against her smooth, motherly body as a reward. “So kind. So considerate.” She nuzzled her face against the back of Patty’s neck. Breathed gently onto her ear. Patty shivered.

“It’s customary here to make out when you make up,” Sonia said, her eyes running up and down Patty’s soft, tight, angular body. “May I?” She stared deep into Patty, through her eyes into her heart, her gaze hypersaturated with love.

“May you…?” Patty leaned back against Medini by instinct.

“May I make out with you.” Sonia stepped closer. She was inches away. Patty’s breathing got shallower. She nodded. Their lips met. She kissed. Sonia kissed. She felt Medini’s hands exploring her thighs. Sonia’s hands gripping her jaw, pulling her tighter into the kiss. She melted.

It was late, about eight fifty PM. Some kind of fog had rolled out of Patty’s head over the last few hours. She’d finished the tour at about six PM and returned almost immediately to her room. When she came back in, there’d been a note on the inside of the door which informed her that she had a meeting with her interviewee at nine. Her suitcase sat on the bed, but no matter how she rummaged through it she found none of its original contents. Instead it was full of skimpy lingerie and short shorts. No camera, either.

This wasn’t a terrible loss. She expected something of the sort, so she’d brought her cheapest and most disposable camera (a gift from a shitty ex that she honestly wanted to lose), but it was still a nuisance. She paused, having stuffed the suitcase’s new contents back into it, and lost herself in her thoughts. Whatever strange mood she’d been in for the day had leaked out of her. She still fondly remembered her gentle encounters with the staff, mostly the one in the kitchen, but the reminder of her mission had somewhat restored the fire behind her eyes, though it was at more of a weak smolder than it usually was. This place was much more comfortable and sweet than she expected but it was still basically run by a cult. She shook her head. There were seven minutes left before her appointment. She picked out a pair of lingerie and shorts, since she was obviously expected to wear that.

Patty stepped into what had been identified as the head girl’s study and opened the door. Inside sat the lithe woman from yesterday, who was smiling wide. She sat on a chair behind a big metal desk which was suspiciously clear of any kind of paperwork.

“Hi, Patty.” They practically trilled at her. “Enjoying your stay?”

“Yes, I am.” Patty flipped on her phone to record. Her smile was soft but not entirely genuine. “Now, for the interview—” Patty froze as the young woman stood, planted her palms on the desk with a thud, then jumped up onto it. At first it was the suddenness of the act that held her, then something deeper that she didn’t fully understand. “Wait, what are—” the girl gave a sly grin and gripped the hem of her skirt. It was...something someone might wear. It reached most of the way to her knees. But...that meant…Patty’s mind let loose a wave of positive chemicals that made her body relax against her better judgment.

“I’m judging from how you just went slack jawed, you remember my panties?” She sported a performative kind of dark smile, like a teenager explaining their plot to commit some beautiful act of vandalism like it made them an evil mastermind. Patty nodded. She did. This girl’s panties were beautiful, how could she forget? “Answer me, darling.”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” The hand rose a bit. Patty’s heart skipped a beat. Her jaw was hanging open now. She was salivating. “Answer my questions and I lift my skirt. Simple, no?”

Some distant part of Patty, a part of her which had been asleep most of the day, wanted to grab a megaphone and scream to the rest. This was not normal. She could deal with the rest of the estate acting differently, she could adapt to that, but she herself had a job to do. “Yes.” She answered in a blank monotone. “Simple.” The word seemed to tumble out her mouth under its own power. Simple. She liked that.

“Good girl.” More lift. The mistress of the house had her knees exposed now. Before she could ask another question that rebellious spark inside Patty seized the only megaphone it could: her tongue.

“B-but I ask the questions…” she murmured. It was barely audible. She didn’t really want to do the interview, even that part of her knew that. It was being very rude and spiteful.

“Mmmhmhm.” The girl giggled. Her hand fell. Shadow and cloth reclaimed her knees. “Bad girl.”

“B-bad girl…!” Patty teared up a little. The facade of dark intent on her captor’s face shattered instantly. Her hand rose back up, jerkily, farther than it had dropped from.

“No! Good girl! Very good girl! Precious and loved!” Ordinarily, Patty would be shocked by this sudden change in tone, or the shift in the other girl’s demeanor. She wasn’t usually brainless and fresh off of affirmative praise though. It sailed over her blank head. All that made it through to her were the words and the fact that she was being praised.

“Good giiiirl…!” Patty smiled. She stared at this younger woman’s plush and beautiful legs. She was a good girl.

“Mhmmmm, veeeery good girl.” The other girl reached out and patted Patty’s head a few times. “Who’s a good girl?”

“I am.”

“Good giiiirl.” The skirt was pulled farther up. Patty could see more delicious thighs. She was melting. She wanted to shove her head in there and stare up at those panties but she had to be a good girl. She had to earn it. “Come kiss my legs.”

Patty practically smashed her upper body down onto the desk. She pressed her lips against the sweet succulent flesh before her and began to pepper it with one light, airy kiss after another. Nothing existed in her mind but this girl’s love and an intense need to please her. She failed to hear or notice the soft little whimpers of glee literally going over her head, so absorbed she was in completing her task. She did not hear the multiple utterances of “good girl” her partner was cooing at her either, but she was at least aware of soft affectionate sound passing between her ears. The skirt went up again; she heard it being rolled up but didn’t dare distract herself from kissing this sublime girl’s legs to take a look.

“Now liiiiisten,” the girl cooed, and reached down to take Patty’s cheek in one hand. She gently directed the reporter’s face upwards, at her. At her pantiies.

The word panties sparked instantly in Patty’s brain. The sight of them, beautiful and colorful and frilly and wrapped around the perfectest crotch in the world, forced her to dilate her eyes and start salivating helplessly. They cooed over her yet more, called her a good girl, stroked her cheek with their thumb.

Patty’s conscious mind ceased to function entirely. The next thing she knew she woke up back in her bed, in her interview clothes. She didn’t remember anything after seeing her suitcase the previous night. She sat up and yawned. Her body was tired.

“I must have passed out as soon as I put my clothes on…” she muttered to herself, wiping her eyes. That was two days, now, that she’d completely failed to do her job. This was getting annoying.