The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Carol wasn’t sure about this. She didn’t go to clubs regularly, and she wasn’t really looking to do the dating thing so recently after Josh left her. However, she was tired of listening to her friend Allison nag her about needing to ‘get on the horse again’. That is how she came to reluctantly be convinced to go out on the town with Allison to some new place that she had heard of. It was in a kind of seedy part of town known unofficially as “Hell’s Kitchen” and the owners had apparently decided play off of that when they named their club “Satan’s Bakery”.

There was a line out front when they arrived. It was composed of mostly men in expensive cloths. Carol noticed a rumpled and drunken girl being put into a taxi by one of the club-staff.

“Looks like somebody had a little too much fun.” Allison commented.

They had waited less than a minute when one of the door-men cruised down the line and spotted them. He took them out of line and said in what was obviously a well rehearsed speech: “You two lovely ladies look like you could become some of Satan’s Pastry Chefs! If you are willing to put these aprons on, I can let you into Satan’s Bakery immediately via the special Chef’s Entrance!”

Carol and Allison giggled at this silliness, but they played along. Clearly the entire club was designed around the bakery metaphor. The aprons were skimpy little things with an embroidered little devil holding a pitchfork. They were cut in such a way as to cross their abdomens right under their breasts and not reach more than half way around their bodies. The result of which was to emphasize their breasts and asses. Carol privately decided that she’d ditch the apron once she was inside.

Once they were wearing their aprons, they were lead past the line to an entirely separate entrance. This was a converted freight elevator, but the door had been done-up to resemble that of an oven. Once they were in the elevator, the door-man left them and they were soon descending into Satan’s Bakery. The elevator stopped and both of them waited for the door to open. They were becoming just a bit concerned when the light panels above them became much brighter. Carol felt a strange oppressive quality in that light. She tried to look away, but the interior of the elevator was mirrored; even the floor was reflective. Closing here eyes didn’t seem to help. The light seemed to be in her mind as much as in her eyes... making her dizzy... confused... Then the light was gone and the doors were opening, and the loud music and flashing lights of a party were in front of her. “That was weird” she thought, she could talk to the manager of the club, but what would be the point? Its not like there was any harm done.

“Gentlemen, I am pleased so many of you were interested in my proposal, and are considering investing!”

The speaker was a middle aged man who wore his expensive suit with the air of a man who was unused to such business wear, but not uncomfortable with it.

“As per standard practices for such meetings, your identities are being shielded from one another. That is why the room is arranged as it is with partitions that prevent you from seeing each other, but not from seeing myself or the presentation. When you wish to speak, please use the intercoms on the desks in front of you, they have been equipped to alter your voices.”

The speaker paused to see if any of his guests would care to comment. All of them were quiet and some looked bored. That was only to be expected of course arrangements for anonymous meetings like this were pretty standard for the kind of people who would invest in this sort of criminal enterprise. Best to hurry to the meat of the pitch.

“Mind control of one sort or another is nothing new in the illicit sex-trade. Whether it was lotus-flower to render the holy-prostitutes of Astarte pliable, the hypnotic and cybernetic techniques used in the town of Stepford, or just a lone guy slipping a girl a roofie at a party, mind-control has been used by men as a means of making women more... giving... of their charms for millennia. My technology, used in the correct context and circumstances, can provide a risk-free way for men to partake of young attractive women without any chance of lingering entanglements. This is a service that, if marketed discretely, many men will gladly pay for. Further, unlike other services on the market, our product can fly under the radar of the authorities. This means that rather than charging a premium for services rendered to a small select clientele, we can market to a much broader base of customers allowing us to grow our business, and our profits almost without limits!”

The presenter paused when he saw that there was a question. The potential investor said, his voice throbbing mechanically as a result of the distorter. “Your technology may be sophisticated, but it’s actual effect seems minimal. All you can do is insert one suggestion into the mind of a woman. Perhaps this is too subtle. After all, your competitors offer acquisition, full-bimbo-reprogramming and surgical alteration of any target female in the world allowing their clients to have full custom love-slaves. How will you be able to compete with that?”

“An excellent question. First, however, a point of correction. The device does not insert a suggestion... in blocks knowledge. We all know things, little things like the fact that there are 100 cents in a dollar, and big things like the fact that some day we are going to die. My device can suppress the knowledge of such a fact in the mind of a subject. They don’t just forget what they knew before, but if confronted later with the blocked knowledge they will dismiss it out of hand in much the same way that you would dismiss the suggestion that the sky’s color is red instead of blue. After all, you KNOW that it is blue. Of course there are limitations in the technology as it currently exists: I can only suppress things that the subject knows, not believes, knows. I can’t for example suppress the statement ‘I may choose my sexual partners’. This is because every woman knows that it is possible for her to be raped. She may believe that she has the right and the power to choose her sexual partners but this is a belief, not a fact. Also, although the suppression is essentially permanent until removed, only one fact can be suppressed in a subject’s mind at a time. I call the suppressed fact a ‘mind-patch’.”

Looking back at the man who asked the question “As to your question, I’ll compete with bimbo-tech inc. and other such companies by NOT competing with them. When you think about it, they offer a very narrow product range, for a very limited market. Most of the bimbo technologies on the market today succeed in turning a girl into an obedient sex-addict, but leave very little else in her head. She can’t do much more than copulate, eat, and go to the bathroom, and consequently requires a highly structured and sheltered environment. Such a love-slave isn’t the sort of appliance that you can leave in full sight of the neighbors, or parade about in public! No you need to keep her safely stored in a discreet and secure home away from prying eyes. Even if the bimboization process wasn’t itself expensive, the need to own a discreet get-away where you can partake of your love-slave prices most potential customers right out of the market. Further, what happens a few years later when she has begun to age, or no longer arouses the client’s ardor as she once did? More than a few bimbo-supply firms have been caught by the authorities because owners discarded or resold used bimbos to people who were not able to hide them from society. Contrary to popular myth, bimbo-tech did not start its buy-back and one-year-lease programs to offer a better service for its customers, rather because this made sure that potentially incriminating used-bimbos would not find their way into the hands of the FBI.”

The presenter leaned forward, the excitement of a man making a sales pitch he really believed in was in his voice “I say that we discard the love-slave model all together! Most men don’t want clinging dependent women! If that’s what you want, why resort to mind-control at all? There are thousands of women who would be happy to be trophy wives for a yearly allowance far smaller than the maintenance costs of a love slave. But that’s not what is in the blood of a man; that’s not what is in our genes! Men want sex WITHOUT strings. They want the sow their seed and move on without any concern for the future and unencumbered by relationships! That’s why I chose the following fact to suppress: ‘Sex has consequences.’ The fact that sex can lead to all sorts of long term physical, social, and emotional consequences is the corner-stone of the world view of the modern woman. And for this reason, removing this fact from the mind of a woman spills over into a whole host of behaviors.”

Another investor asked “Could you elaborate on that?”

The presenter responded “Under normal conditions, the human mind is like a spring. It is held together and functions as a result of carefully balanced internal forces. For example, I may want to eat junk-food such as a Twinkie. That desire is counter-balanced by my knowledge of nutrition. I might choose to indulge my desire for a Twinkie from time to time, but the indulgence is in moderation because of a feedback loop... the more I indulge, the more my knowledge of nutrition objects to further indulgence. If I were to remove that knowledge of nutrition, the desire to eat Twinkies would be totally unchecked, and my resulting behavior would be glutinous, and totally unrestrained. That’s the condition that we will place the target women into, except that it will be their appetite for sex that will be unrestrained.

Carol felt somehow lighter as she stepped out of the elevator. She looked over at Allison, who seemed a bit dazzled by the light in the elevator and was wearing a puzzled frown on her face as if she had lost her train of thought.

The club was decorated with the bakery motif in everything: the legs of chairs were made to look like rolling pins, the floor was painted to look like it was lightly dusted with flour, and the walls looked like great big ovens with red light glowing around their edges as if the fires of hell were cooking something. As with all such clubs, the music was loud, and there were lots of people dancing and drinking.

Carol was normally very reserved and shy in such environments, but for some reason she felt care free. She practically skipped off to the bar to get a drink and immediately started smiling at a guy she found there.

After several hours of drinking and dancing with a bunch of guys, Carol found herself sitting at a table with the guy who had bought her last few drinks. He seemed a nice guy, not at all the sort of guy you’d expect to find in a swank pub like this. If anything he was a bit nerdy and shy, however he mentioned in passing that unlike those guys who had to wait in line in hopes of being let into the club, he was a member who could use the member’s entrance. “You mean like that silly elevator they let us come down in?” asked Carol.

He got a sort of smirking smile on his face and said that the elevator was just for cute little pastry chef’s like her.

Carol rarely dated nerdy guys for a few reasons, first she knew that she could have her pick if she really wanted to. Funny, for some reason she never thought of it that way before. Was there a reason she hadn’t been picking up guys more regularly? With a body like hers, and her heart-shaped face, men were definitely interested. The other reason she didn’t date nerdy guys (who tended to be shy) was that she was normally quite shy herself... almost as if she were afraid of something. She shook her head, what a silly idea! What was there to be afraid of in guys? The guy saw that she was finished with her drink and suddenly said, “Would you like to go home and have sex?”

Initially Carol was shocked. People just don’t out-and-out ask such things! But then she thought to herself, ‘Why not? There’s no reason not to have sex with this guy is there?’ Mentally, she paused as if expecting to think of a reason, but unable to think of one, she turned to her companion (a man she had known for less than an hour) and said “Sounds like fun!”

Arriving back at his condo, Carol and he wasted very little time. Before she knew it, she was in his bed, and on her back, and he was eating her out. Carol had been half afraid that the wonderful light feeling of freedom from worries would leave her when she left the club, but here she was doing something that was totally unlike her! As she reached higher and higher peaks she wondered ‘Why haven’t I done this sort of thing before now?’ Then she came, and it was like a lightning bolt through her brain. Sparks flew in her vision and her entire body buzzed. As she caught her breath, the guy started crawling up her body, his maleness inflamed, stroking her legs. He said “Do you want me to use a condom?”

Carol opened her mouth as if to answer and then stopped, a puzzled look on her face, “Why would I want that?” she asked.

“Perfect!” was his response as he slowly sank himself deep into her inner most recesses. Carol made a long moan as she felt her vagina get filled. Then ever so slowly he pulled himself out, holding on to her by her slim waste. His hands moved up to her breasts which he cupped in his palms as his thumbs roughly massaged her nipples eliciting another groan from her which was foreshortened by the gasp she made as he slammed his meat back into her dripping cunt. Within minutes, they were both approaching the moment of sweat release. He shivered to a rigid stop, and his organ jerked within her, then she felt a burning heat spreading inside her that seemed to burst her mind into flames as her body writhed in ecstasy. Lying underneath her lover, Carol smiled in lazy bliss. Meanwhile, pooled inside her womb was a generous deposit of virile semen from a man she hardly knew, but Carol felt only delightful contentment, after all what evil could come from something that felt so good?

Carol and Allison became regulars at the Satan’s Bakery. Every night they would leave with a guy, sometimes the same guy as some previous liaison, but often new and unfamiliar men. After all, it’s not like having sex with a guy meant that you were tied to him for life! It wasn’t just men from the club that they went out with, but guys from work. Allison even slept with her apartment manager. A few months after their first night at Satan’s Bakery, the door-man paused as he lead them to the pastry-chef’s entrance. One of the effects of the little aprons was that it highlighted the bellies of the two women, both of which were protruding just a bit. This time he did not leave them alone in the elevator. Once the doors of the elevator were closed, he turned to the two women and said. “Ladies, two such” pausing to glance at their figures again “such... successful pastry chefs as yourselves have now proven your skills at baking. You are invited to enter the inner club!”

Carol and Alison grinned at each other. Over their nights in Satan’s Bakery, they had heard rumors of the secret inner club where only the sexiest girls and the richest guys were aloud. Certainly, a lot of girls whom they had seen over the weeks seemed to suddenly stop showing up in the main club. Inquiries about them were always met with the cryptic remark “The inner secrets of the Bakery are not for the uninitiated!”

The door-man removed a key from a chain around his neck, and inserted it into the elevator control panel. Then the elevator descended, and opened onto a new room that neither girl had seen before. It was richly furnished, and there was a small bar on one side. “Wait here, and your initiation into the inner club will begin shortly.” Then he left.

The girls waited for about ten minutes. Allison was beginning to wonder loudly if they had forgotten about them, when one of the walls of the room slid back to reveal a crowd of people in an adjoining room. The two rooms were separated by a pane of tinted glass. A man in a red tuxedo and holding a pitch-fork turned to the others in the adjoining room, all men Carol noted... in fact many of them were men whom she knew quite intimately. The man in red said “Gentlemen, rejoice two more of our chefs have buns in their ovens!” There was applause from the men.

When the applause had died down, the man in red said, “And now we must let them go. Out of the frying pan and into the fire!”

With that statement, he pressed a large button on the wall. Intense lights shown from the ceiling. Carol felt an sudden burden in that light that seemed to weigh her down. She found that closing her eyes was no good... heavy... disorienting... and then the light was off. She turned to look at Allison, but Allison was holding her belly. A belly with just a hint of a bulge in it, and staring at the men watching them in the other room a look of shock on her face. At that moment, Carol remembered the words of the man in red... ‘bun in the oven’. She thought to herself “Oh my... I haven’t been using any protection for months! I’ve behaved like a slut letting these guys cum in me every night without any precautions at all! Why did I do that? I could be pregnant! What if I’ve got a disease?”

Carol saw that Alison had a hand over her mouth and was shaking her head in horrified disbelief. “Allison, they must have done something to us, but don’t worry they won’t get away with this!”

The man in red could apparently hear them on the other side of the glass. He replied “Oh yes we did something to you, but I’m afraid you might be a bit wrong about not getting away with it my dear. You see, now that the first mind patch has been removed, we are free to impose another!”

He pressed, another button, and the lights came on again. As before, the light was intolerably bright and seemed to reach into their very minds. However, this time they did not shut off just as the effect reached a level of nausea. Allison and Carol found themselves on their hands and knees vomiting and then, mercifully, they passed out.

When they woke up, they were being put into a taxi by the door-man of the club. He said to them. “Ladies, after that little performance, I have been asked by the owner of the club to inform you that you are not welcome to return to our establishment. Frankly, you’re lucky he’s not bringing you up on charges. I recommend that you go home and sleep it off!” Carol felt horribly groggy, and confused. She had that foul taste in her mouth that meant that she had been sick, and felt very shaky. She tried to remember what the door-man was talking about. She remembered something about the inner club, and a man dressed in red with a pitch fork. What had he been talking about? She felt sure she was forgetting something!

One of the investors said “Even if you are right and you can alter a woman’s behavior dramatically by suppressing her knowledge that sex has consequences, how will this lead to a salable product? The truth is that sex does have consequences and eventually those consequences will catch up with her, and through her with you. Even if she can not acknowledge what is going on to herself, her friends and family will eventually start asking uncomfortable questions; questions that will inevitably lead to you.”

The presenter nodded. “You make an excellent point sir! Eventually, our girls will have to be released back into the wild as it were. The same technology that we use to acquire them can be quite effective at releasing them in a manner that involves no risk to the club or its patrons. We have but to remove the first mind patch, and let the subject come to understand what has been done to her. It is important that she know, not suspect, know that she has been mentally manipulated for sexual purposed with lasting consequences. Once she knows this to be true, that fact can be suppressed within her mind. The specific fact that we will suppress is “Satan’s Bakery, its staff, and its members manipulated and impregnated me.” In this way, the subject remembers most of the details of what has happened to her, she just can’t accept the fact that we, or our clients, can be held responsible for those events or their consequences. Initial study-groups show that this is a strong selling point with our target demographic. 73% of study group participants indicated that the woman remembering who had sex with them was a strong turn-on as long as they could be certain of not suffering a legal, financial, or social penalty as a result.”

The presenter paused to consider his audience. “This is what I mean about not competing with the love-slave industry. At a base instinctive level, men don’t desire to just copulate with women, they desire to impregnate them, to conquer them. Who can afford to do that with a love slave that might cost many hundreds of thousands of dollars? No, a continuous stream of healthy attractive but disposable females with wombs primed and ready to breed has been a male fantasy since the dawn of time. We are poised to deliver it, at a quite affordable rate, and in a manner that society will never notice.”

Carol still found it hard to believe how much her life had changed. She had looked into getting an abortion, but had been informed that, in this state, abortions must be performed in the first trimester. How could she have simply not noticed getting knocked up for over four months? She tried to figure out who the father was, but there were so many men that she had slept with that it seemed an impossible task. Many of them were guys that she had met in Satan’s Bakery, but she knew they weren’t responsible, after all they were all nice guys who would never have done something like this to her. Over the course of the next few months, as the babies in there wombs grew, and their families came to accept the situation, Carol and Allison remained certain that the men of Satan’s Bakery could never be held responsible.