The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Mimsley smiled to herself as she finished cleaning up the store. A mild throb pulsed in the cavernous confines of her skull, but she didn’t mind as much as she usually would. She felt no desire at all to take any headache medicine, or look up what it could mean, or to stop working and rest so it might pass by her faster. None of those options occurred to her at all, even. The thudding sensation directly attacking her brain was simply a fact that she had to deal with. She dusted down all the display instruments with enthusiasm. She usually skimped out on that step because she could get away with it, but for some reason she couldn’t wrench herself out of autopilot at the moment. She wasn’t trying especially hard to do so, but she had made some efforts and none of them got her anywhere. She simply didn’t mind slipping into a nice, simple, familiar routine as…something happened in her head.

At roughly six PM, her shift ended. She smiled vaguely to herself as she rode her bike home. She followed the route like she always did, and nothing noteworthy got in her way. She got home, and…unlike usual, felt a very powerful desire to take a nice long nap. As soon as she saw her living room, her eyes locked onto the couch. The word “nest” popped into her head, practically spoken to her by a voice not her own. The utterance snapped her out of her reverie for a moment and she clutched at her forehead. Something was up. She barely remembered anything from her day. Not one obnoxious customer, not one stupid thing one of her friends said, she didn’t even remember how much she’d sold. Okay, she wasn’t a diligent enough cashier to do that last part on the best of days- and her boss/family definitely did not pay her enough for it anyways- but she liked to think she generally retained enough to make an estimate afterwards.

Not today. She didn’t even remember getting a call from her mom. She checked her phone and saw that she had. She answered it even! And when she looked at the length of the call…fifteen minutes? She stayed on the phone with her mother for fifteen minutes straight, in the middle of a shift, and not a moment of the conversation left a big enough imprint to remember it? Something stirred in her. She was worried, this wasn’t normal, this was-

A calming, angelic voice whispered to her from the back of her head. I just need a nap, it said to her with a convincing, confident hiss. She nodded her head vacantly. Yeah, she just needed more sleep. She stayed up too late playing video games and chatting with her friends, so of course her memory was spotty. If she slept sooner and longer, she’d be healthier and this headache wouldn’t happen. She smiled blankly and approached the inviting, safe, wonderful couch.

She stopped. She winced. That wasn’t right. She NEVER slept on the couch, no matter how tired she was. She remembered at least two instances where she got so exhausted she literally passed out on the floor, and even then…and besides! That boomer crap about not getting enough sleep never seemed convincing to her before- this was new, why would her sleep be the cause? She shook her head again and felt the throbbing getting worse. The world spun. She was scared. Should she call her mother? Her aunt was a nurse, maybe getting a-

I just need sleep. I NEED SLEEP. The voice insisted. Sleep would make it better. Sleep would fix her head. Mimsley’s bed called to her like a siren. She stumbled up the stairs towards it. When had she gotten to the stairs? She was in her room now. The world started to spin again, faster and blurrier this time, her stomach didn’t feel right. She reached for her phone- why wasn’t the phone in her pocket? Had she dropped it? No, no, no, she might fall down the stairs if she went back for it like this. She could barely see. Her hand reached out to steady herself and she touched…the bed. Her soft, lovely bed. Her bed felt softer and more heavenly to the touch than it ever had before in her life. Mimsley’s body collapsed against it. She wriggled as her hands pulled the covers over herself. Warmth. Need warmth. Need soft. NEED SLEEP. She obeyed. She rolled her body to make the covers into a soft downy cocoon. Her head flopped onto the…the pillow…onto her lovely, comfortable pillow…

Mmmmm….

“Sleepy…” she murmured quietly to herself as sleep took her instantly. She was safe. Everything was gonna be okay now that she was safe in her fluffy warm little cocoon. Nothing could reach her here.

Mrs. Darsla smiled as she examined the doctor’s office where she was seated. She spoke with a pretty blonde doctor, one who had blue eyes and a sharp chin and even sharper glasses. The doctor introduced herself as Mrs. Darsla sat down- she went by the name Dr. Kess.

“Everything came up good, Mrs. Darsla,” Dr. Kess said with a bright smile. Her face was soft but angular, kind of like one of those cats that has a really triangular head. “Nothing seems to be wrong with you at the moment and none of the disease tests came up positive. Have you noticed anyone behaving strangely, recently?” The question harkened back to Mx. Hols’s warning about some kind of parasite, Darsla figured. She hadn’t. Not unless she counted herself?

“Well, nobody else, I guess,” she elaborated, her words chosen very carefully after great deliberation. She did this on the fly, which meant a lot of pausing for a few seconds as she decided how to word what she wanted to say. “But, I guess I- I saw someone and got…really freaked out? I felt like, this weird sense of terror. Like a deer in headlights, I guess?” The doctor pursed her lips.

“Well, that’s…strange, but not really my territory,” they said without much confidence. “I can refer you to a psychiatrist, maybe? None of your symptoms sound like a physical problem, but none of them sound like that mystery parasite either. You should be okay, but be safe okay?” Mrs. Darsla nodded gently and sighed in relief. Mx. Hols was just being their usual cautious self, it seemed-not that this was somehow a bad thing. She appreciated their caring nature, and they were quick to offer and even invent fast practical solutions. She resolved to get them a card the next time she had any disposable income.

“Do be careful, okay?” Dr. Kess said lightly.

“I will,” Mrs. Darsla said back. She left the office and went back to her car. She just had to drive home then. After Mx. Hols told her they’d cover her classes, she felt kind of guilty that it turned out nothing was wrong. She sighed. This wasn’t going to cost her any of her scarce few remaining sick days for the year, at least. She was presently running rather low on those, after all. She turned her keys in the ignition and departed for home.

When she got there, Mrs. Darsla collapsed onto the sofa and turned on some movies. They helped her sleep, as pathetic and/or worrying as that might potentially sound, and she didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts after her episode earlier. She couldn’t relax, so she tried the backup tactic of actually watching the movie. She was too antsy and couldn’t focus on that either. This annoyed her severely. She groaned and did plenty of those peculiar movements specific to someone trying to relax and failing miserably. Fidgeting, flopping over…and doing it again afterwards…over and over, hanging limbs awkwardly off the ends of the couch. God damnit, she couldn’t sleep!

She then grabbed her phone and looked up the parasite. It took some doing to find anything reputable but that didn’t stop her- she was a professor after all. She waded through several pages’ worth of obvious clickbait and tabloid-tier drivel, before eventually arriving on a page featuring an announcement by the local- locallish, anyway- authority on health and diseases. The page referred to the parasite as the “Erratica bug.” Not…the best name for a parasite, but she assumed the blame for that belonged to the media and not to scientists.

She read, absorbing the important parts.

“The parasite spreads in ways more typical of a sexually transmitted disease than most parasites. Making contact with one’s mouth to orifices of an infected person in particular appears to be the most common vector of transmission. Infected persons often report feeling lethargic or confused during the first few days following transmission of larvae into their bodies. In rare cases, these feelings are accompanied by an intense feeling of persistent dread which eventuallyAntibiotics and low temperatures both have an adverse effect on the parasite, and treatment using exposure to both has shown promising results in combatting it.

Rumors circulate that the parasite sometimes becomes the cause of strange behavior patterns in the infected, including increased libido and changes in personality encouraging social behaviors. There is no evidence to support that the erratica bug has these effects in particular, although recorded cases do show that infected persons are often resistant to the idea of seeking help- especially in the earliest days following infection. If you suspect that a loved one is infected, please do not merely urge them to seek help.”

Well that was fucking ominous.

She was able to go to a doctor, though. She reasoned that this probably meant she didn’t have…whatever bug the article described. Her brain never had any unusual level of resistance to the idea either.

Meagan walked back into her home and yawned heavily into her hand. The parasite in her skull wanted to sleep, so it wanted her to go to sleep. This made perfect sense to her- when her little companion felt tired, she had to nourish it by sleeping. It was the same with food- the nutrients it wanted tasted better to her, and those that it required gave her cravings. She made her way lazily up to her room and ignored her mother. She was doing a lot of that recently, which wasn’t exactly new.

“Hey,” she ignored her mom saying as the woman followed Meagan towards her room, “hey! Listen to me! Stop right there Mi—”

Meagan turned and cast her eyes into her mother’s. The woman lost her resolve midword and her jaw hung open.

“..iiiiiiss,” Meagan’s mother slurred uselessly. Her eyes went glassy and unfocused as the gears turning behind them slowed to a crawl. Whatever Meagan’s parasite did when she made eye contact, it was doing again now. Her mom seemed less afraid than most, perhaps owing to the parasite’s growth over time- both physically and mentally. “I….I….” Meagan’s mother shook almost drunkenly as she struggled to find the words which had come so easily into her mind mere moments ago. She seemed to feel like her brain was coated in something slippery. Sometimes she focused again for half a second, only to lose her edge and slip back into her trancelike staring.

“I’m tired, I’m going to bed,” Meagan informed her mother. The woman nodded weakly, her neck flopping about almost like a slinky. “You’re not going to disturb me, at all. None. Zilch. Nada. Zeroooo.”

“Not…disturrb you…” her mother moaned, struggling against the deliciously tempting fog coating her brain. She wanted to reprimand her daughter, she wanted to remind Meagan who exactly was in charge, but something steadfastly refused to let her.

You didn’t have to word it like that, you…dork? Meagan’s friend posited directly into her brain. She ignored the comment, and she was too tired to ponder the implications of this meteorite-born monstrosity using its…psychic?...powers to call her a dork.

“You’ll let me sleep all I want. I’m a developing host,” Meagan specified. “I need it.”

“Sleep…all youu want,” Meagan’s mother groaned pitifully. Her legs and breasts wobbled with her limp body as she struggled not to feel so…weak and limp and loose and powerless. Her struggling accomplished nothing except tiring her out and making her even more helpless against the parasite’s influence. “Deve….dev…d, d-de….devel…hhooost,?” The weak-willed shaken lady sputtered, doing her damnedest to voice some kind, ANY kind at all really, of objection. She didn’t want her daughter to call herself a host! She…she couldn’t be…not…not a host…not…not a…

“You seem tired,” Meagan said sleepily and then yawned. Her mother responded immediately with a big, slow, dramatic yawn of her own. Her mother’s eyes grew big, loose, unfocused and glazed over completely. Meagen gestured invitingly, beckoningly, with one hand. “Come on, mom. Let’s get some rest.”

“S-some resssssst,” her mother droned uselessly, stumbling towards Meagan on legs that moved on their own in spite of her wishes, wobbly legs that trembled so pitifully that they barely seemed to have any bones in them. She stared sleepily into Meagan’s eyes, her own hooded now. “Need…some rest. I need…toget some rest…we need…rest…”

“Good mom,” Meagan said to her mother as a reward. She took the older blonde’s hand and led her to her room. Her mother practically fell sideways along the floor behind her. Meagan flopped into bed and pulled her mother in with her. The two lay on top of the covers and stared deep into one another’s eyes.

Infect her, said the worm living in Meagan’s head. She lacked the power to resist, so she leaned forward. Her mother listlessly mumbled something under her breath- protest, perhaps, or happiness or maybe confusion- but offered zero resistance of any kind. The two locked lips and Meagan weakly shivered as something reached out into her mother’s mouth from beneath her tongue. Her mother shivered in kind a few seconds later, as the worm’s eggs burrowed into her body. They’d hatch in an hour or so, and start integrating into her within the next six. It was best for her to be asleep during that period.

“Sleep tight mom,” Meagan giggled. Her mother groaned out a vague, wordless, shaky noise of some kind in response. Meagan stroked her mom’s forehead with a sly, knowing little grin. “I know, I know. It feels awful, dear, but that’s okay, my little ones will make you feel much better.”

“Much betterrrrrr,” Meagan’s mother repeated. Her body shook as the words of her daughter’s parasite sliced cleanly all the way through her. “So…weak…clammy…tired, hooot…”

“Mhm, I know honey,” Meagan purred. She pulled her mother into a tight embrace and yawned. Her mother yawned as well, heavier and more intensely, just as she had last time. “There, there. Niiiighty night.”

Her mother faded out of consciousness.

Milli Malsum, mother of Meagan Malsum, whimpered in her sleep. Her mind was broiling and churning inside of her head, trapped in a wind of strange dreams and phantasmal emotions. The parasite eggs laid in her hours ago had hatched now, and though she lacked consciousness she still felt it on some level as they dug, literally, into her body and interfaced with her mind.

Images of beautiful women flowed across her mind in spite of her. She tried to kiss girls a few times in college- everyone did that! And besides, she hated men so much she almost wished she was a lesbian, but she proved twice to herself that simply wasn’t the case. But now, though, as images slid across her of girls her daughter’s age, women her age, and young women in between…she responded like she was one! She felt her imagination ignite with passion for naked women, voluptuous breasts, for college girls making out…was this what her daughter went-

Don’t get distracted, insisted a soft, loving voice inside of her. The voice was feminine and sharp, but patient and kind. Milli’s body shook with pleasure at these first words from her new occupant. She obeyed instantly, all thoughts vanishing from her but women. Mmmmm. So these are called women? Yes, Milli’s mind taught the worms. They rewarded her by probing lovingly into her mind with something…warm and nice. She moaned helplessly in her sleep. What are these parts called? The worm asked, summoning an image into her mind of a woman in a bikini holding up her tits.

Breasts, she answered, or boobs. Boobies. Breasts. Melons.

I like them. Feed me more.

Yes sweetie.

The mental image of herself…breastfeeding the parasite, albeit conceptualized mentally as an off-model imitation of her youngest daughter, emerged from Milli’s mind without her input. The parasite wiggled happily inside of her and flooded her with good chemicals.

Feed me. Nurture me. Like I’m your YOUNG.

My younnnnng, Milli moaned inside. She felt herself falling in love with her precious little friend which lived in her head. She was going to nurture them so much. I love you, she thought as she painted more mental pictures of herself being viciously milked by the worm planted under her tongue. Her brain physically restructured itself in real time to consider the worm family.

Family? What’s that?

The ones you love most, Milli dreamily answered.

Mmmm. We’re FAMILY.

The word seemed to…change when the creature said it. It was more…playful, flirty, domineering. She liked it. The word changed inside of her to accommodate her new companion. Family meant those you loved the most, and it was a fun sexy term that entailed fun sexy intimacy. Family. It was such a fun, sultry word. Family. Just saying it to herself like this turned her on.

Good girl, said the worm as they started to pull her brain apart and reach into the new gaps to make them their own. We’re FAMILY. They kissed her deep and hard inside of her brain, bit holes in her sense of self, burrowed into them and infested them. All the while Milli lovingly invited the invader, her body and brain were theirs to ravage however they pleased. She fucking loved her family, ESPECIALLY this sexy fucking worm eating its way into her life. She wanted to breastfeed it, to let it use her for her warmth and her lips and her body and her womb, it was her BABY and she needed to NOURISH it and PROTECT it and LOVE it. She was…she was its MOMMY.

Mmmm. I like that word. She was so fucking happy. Good Mommy.