The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Light filters in through the canopy and lies, speckled, on the dirt floor of the jungle. I am sitting on a downed tree trunk, a tarantula crawling across my hand, its gentle black and brown legs stepping quietly up my forearm. It begins walking toward my elbow, legs falling silently on my skin, its pace gentle and even. I place my palm in its path so that it crawls back onto my hand and then place it down next to me, setting it free to walk along the tree trunk.

Ten feet away, the blonde girl from the lodge kneels submissively in the dirt, her legs mindlessly spread, her wetness dripping down the insides of her thighs, her blue eyes enormously blank and unseeing. Her safari-type dress has been unbuttoned to the waist and her pert tan breasts hang buoyantly from her chest, rising and falling as she breathes. That ridiculous dress had been the reason I’d decided on her—that and the equally impractical high heeled sandals. It is ridiculous, to come to a lodge in the Bolivian rainforest and dress like you are at an Amazon-themed fraternity party and it is hard for me to respect people who don’t respect the natural world. If you are visiting a jungle you should not be dressed like you are auditioning for a reality show. The girl, who had previously been enormously flirty and talkative, is deeply tranced, completely silent, unaware that her breasts are exposed and that she is kneeling on the floor of the jungle in an extremely suggestive state.

I get up off the tree trunk. Scooping the tarantula gently into my cupped hands, I carry it over to the girl and place it gently on her shoulder. Feeling out the terrain, it slowly walks down her chest, stopping on one of her breasts, its black body obscuring her nipple, before venturing further down her torso. The girl continues to stare straight ahead, her breathing even and measured. She is oblivious to the small beast walking tenderly along her flesh. The spider’s legs move gently, hypnotically, across her skin.

Leaning in, I take one of her breasts in my mouth. Deeply tranced, she notices nothing and stares past me.

“See?” I say, staring at her beautiful blank face. “You wanted me to help you overcome your fear of spiders. Well congratulations,” I tell her. “Spiders don’t seem to make you as nervous as they did a few hours ago.” And with that I position myself behind her, thrusting into her over and over again, her face expressionless, her tits bouncing as the tarantula, deciding that it is no longer interested, walks gently down the side of her leg and wanders off into the rain forest.

We had convened at the lodge bar at 4PM after an exhausting day. I had led two nature hikes, each three hours in length, pointing out plants with medicinal uses and looking for animals. I had noticed a pack of howler monkeys, high in the canopy, which is where they prefer to stay. I pointed them out and there was a flurry of people opening backpacks and camera cases.

“And this,” I said to the tour group, “is why our tours are so highly rated. This is what we do for you that the other tour groups can’t do.” And slowly, I pulled an electronic wand from my belt, switching it on, catching the gaze of one of the howlers. I watched its small eyes caught by the blue light at the tip of the wand and slowly, cautiously, it began to crawl closer to the group.

“They’re coming toward us!” one of the girls shrieked, and I assured her that it was fine, that they’d come close enough for everyone to get a good picture but that they’d remain gentle.

“There’s dozens of them,” the girl said, bewildered. “It’s like they’re not even afraid of us.”

“What is that thing?” one of the older women asked, gesturing to the wand. “What are you holding?”

“I got this in Kenya from a man who ran safari there,” I told her. “It has a calming effect on the animals—it makes them more...trusting, less anxious. I use it here both to encourage the animals to interact with the tour groups, but also to defuse situations with more dangerous animals.”

“Do all of the guides get one?” she looked at Anna, one of the other guides, who politely shook her head.

“So what if we’re with one of the other guides and we come into contact with a dangerous animal?” the woman said, aghast. “How can we be certain they can protect us?”

Anna stepped forward, her hand on the knife in her belt. She is beautiful, with soft grey eyes and her hair pinned back but falling softly around her face.

“We’re all prepared to handle those types of situations,” Anna explained, and the woman nods, glancing away, backing down.

The girl’s knees are caked in dirt but she is lying on her back now, her eyes still blank, her nipples pointing straight upward—the only part of her that seems capable of attention. She absentmindednly fingers herself as I crouch beside her with my hand on her forehead. The safari dress has been discarded and thrown over a tree trunk, as has a pair of small panties and she lies on the hard ground in nothing but her high heeled sandals, her hand circling as I have instructed it to, her lip quivering slightly.

“Someone like you should be vacationing in Cancun,” I say softly. “All you wanted out of this vacation was five nights of drinking and some crazy sex that you won’t even remember.”

The girl lies glassy eyed, her face still expressionless. I position myself over her once again, my dick hard.

“Well you won’t remember any of this,” I tell her.

Anna and I sat at the lodge bar, sipping our beers when a girl in a khaki, safari-style dress approached the bar.

“Can I get a long island iced tea?” she asked, and the bartender nodded solemnly and began mixing her drink. She sidled up to me and placed her hand on my forearm. She had pink, neatly painted nails.

“I wanted to talk to you,” she said, smiling seductively. “Why don’t you come join us over there,” she asked, gesturing to a table with a group of girls in their mid twenties, all drinking elaborately colored cocktails. “Can we borrow him?” she teasingly asked Anna.

“You can keep him,” Anna said politely, getting up. “He’s not mine.”

“We’re kidding, we’re kidding!” the girl said. “We just want to borrow him for a little while. Do you want to join us?”

I looked at Anna and watched her look over the group of girls.

“You don’t have to leave,” I say to her. “Stay out with me.”

“I’m good for the day,” she said. “I’m going to finish my beer and head up to my room. I have a lot I have to get done.”

She walked away quietly and the safari-dress girl pulled me by the forearm into her group of friends, who proceeded to drunkenly question me at length about the rainforest and my position. How long had I been a guide? Seven years. Where was I from originally? Colorado. Did I have a girlfriend back home? I didn’t have anything back home, I told them. They continued asking what seemed to be mindless, pointless questions. At one point I felt a hand drunkenly reach for the wand at my belt and I grabbed at it angrily.

“Don’t touch that,” I said, and the girls suddenly backed away, fluttering anxiously. “I need to get some air,” I said, and I abruptly walked outside, trailed closely by the pink nailed girl with the safari dress, her heels clicking on the floor of the lodge.

The girl lies, spent, on the jungle floor, oblivious to the stream of my cum and her own juices leaking from her body. She is deep in trance, her eyes still wide, a thin stream of drool pooling at her lip. Sometimes I will have girls speak or answer questions while in trance but with the really dull ones I would rather they not say anything. I take them as deep as possible as fast as possible and the less they say the better.

The tarantula from earlier re-appears and, believing the girl to be a solid, unmoving object like a rock or a tree trunk, begins once again to scale her body. It crawls the smooth expanse of her leg, roaming her torso, scaling the small mountains of her breasts. It is a beautiful spider, I think to myself. The girl was fun, if nothing special—I have had girls like her before—but the spider is so quiet, walking her body in majestic silence, I am momentarily awed by it.

“So what does your wand do, exactly?” she said, smiling drunkenly. “You get so nervous when I touch it.”

“I use it to relax the animals,” I explained. “So they aren’t as frightened of humans.”

“So it just makes them relaxed?”

“More relaxed,” I told her. “More trusting. It depends on the animal and how long I employ the wand. It makes them less nervous about doing things they would normally be nervous doing.”

“Could you make me more relaxed and more trusting?” she asked seductively, her breath reeking of liquor. “Could you make me less nervous about doing things I would normaly be nervous doing?”

“You don’t seem to be particularly nervous,” I said.

“I’m nervous about some things,” she said. “I’m terrified of spiders,” she said. “If you used your magic wand on me could you make me less nervous being around spiders?” She smiled, attempting to appear coy.

“It’s not a magic wand.”

“Are you afraid to use your wand on me?” she said, purring.

“Not in the least,” I told her, annoyed by her behavior but never missing an opportunity to enjoy myself. I briefly glanced toward Anna’s window but the curtains were drawn. I turned back to the drunk girl. “Come with me.” And with that, I turned and walked off into the jungle, the girl, in her ridiculously impractical shoes, following close behind.

She sat on a tree stump as I removed the wand from my belt.

“So what do I have to do?” she asked, grinning.

“Right now you don’t have to do anything, " I told her. “Just focus on the blue light. Focus on the tip of the wand.” I waved the wand slowly back and forth, watching her eyes follow the light. “Do you feel anything?” I ask her.

“I...I do,” she stammered. “I didn’t expect to...I didn’t think that it...”

“You didn’t expect anything to happen that quickly,” I said.

“I didn’t expect anything to happen that quickly,” she repeated mindlessly. She then shook her head, as if trying to stave it off—to blink herself back to normalcy.

“What’s happening to me? I feel strange,” she said, suddenly anxious.

“You feel very relaxed.”

“I feel very relaxed,” she said, her voice a nervous whisper.

And I smiled. Of course she did. It always works quickly.

“It’s ok to feel a little bit strange. Watching the wand will make you less nervous about whatever it is you’re feeling. This is how it works when I’m relaxing the animals and this is how it works when I’m relaxing you.” Her eyes fluttered for a moment and began to become glassy and I realized it was the first time all evening when she had been silent for more than a few seconds.

“Already, you’re feeling even more relaxed,” I told her.

“More relaxed,” she said, passively.

“Much more trusting.”

“More trusting.”

“Keep following the wand,” I told her. “Keep watching the wand move back and forth. And you’ll keep feeling your body becoming more and more relaxed. Relaxed and trusting. Watching the wand will help you feel less nervous—the wand works by interfering with signals, by clouding the animals’s brains just a tiny bit, so they don’t remember to be nervous. Which is what’s happening to you now—you can’t remember. You should be nervous about something but you can’t remember what it is.”

“Can’t remember...” she said, quietly.

“It gets harder and harder to think,” I said softly.

“Harder to think...” she said, her voice trailing off.

“And as you keep watching the wand,” I say softly, now staring into her big, blank eyes, “you will pass a point where things that bothered you will no longer bother you. Where things that would have caused a reaction will go unnoticed.” And with this I reached up and grasped the bottom of her enormous breast through her dress, groping her as she stared, glassy eyed, at the wand.

“Good,” I said. “I almost like you like this.”

She stared quietly outward, her eyes still following the blue light.

“Stand up,” I told her, and she obediently stood up, continuing to stare straight ahead. Reaching for her dress I unbuttoned it to the waist and her breasts spilled out. She was wearing high heeled sandals and a safari dress and no bra on a trip to the rainforests of Bolivia. She would be getting the vacation she had dressed for.

Later, before returning to the lodge, I button her back up.

“What you’ll remember,” I tell her, “is that we came here to help you get over your fear of tarantulas. That I relaxed you with the wand and you felt amazing—to be relaxed with the wand felt amazing. And that while in this relaxed state you were able to hold one of the spiders in your hand, unafraid. You felt comfortable around me and around the spider. And you will remember that you woke up safely in the bed in your cabin. Everything else in your memory will be a blank.”

I pause for a moment, thinking. “And tomorrow you will buy more practical shoes at the store in the lodge,” I add.

I walk her back to the lodge and she leaves, still tranced, walking up the stairs to her room. She will wake up in the morning feeling relaxed and happy, with good memories to counteract her intense hangover. Walking into my own room, I shut and lock the door. I toss my knife and my wand onto the empty surface of my desk and, collapsing into bed, fall asleep in my clothes.