The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The relationship started fitfully, but earnestly. Wyatt had to be constantly aware of Rule Two. Even something as simple as snuggling on the couch involved a significant psychological commitment from Jen, and generally involved an orgasm or two in return. Jen happily indulged in a ready source of sex, easing the demand on her contacts list. She went down from calling a guy every single day to only once every two or three, and tried her hardest to keep her passion locked up for when Wyatt got back home. More than a few times Wyatt would arrive home from class to find Jen writhing in need in her bed, sweating and groaning, saving herself for his cock.

“Baby, y’all don’t have to do this,” he said, after drawing a few orgasms out of her writhing body. He lay in the bed next to her, ever-so-gently exploring the massive, plush swell of her breast with one hand. “We have Rule One for a reason.”

She whined, running her hand through his hair and kissing him deeply, thrusting her hips up. “I want to, though. I want to be good for you. I want this to be your pussy, so badly. Your tits, your hips. I want to be your slut.“

“It’s killing you, baby. You can’t keep windin’ yourself up and sittin’ here stewin’. You’ve got other things to do.”

“Nothing is more important than your dick, sweetie.” She threw her leg over him, sitting up to straddle him, letting her breasts drop down and gently bounce as she dragged her juicing slit over his groin. He groaned.

“I can’t keep up with you, Jen. You know that. The spirit is willin’ but the flesh is weak, you know?”

She stopped for a moment, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “You’re right. It’s funny, isn’t it? This whole stupid thing is so fucked up that even when I’m trying to give myself to you, I’m being selfish. I can’t expect you to keep up with my needs on your own. You care enough about me that you can’t just watch me like that and tell me you’re too tired or sore. You’ll do what you have to do, huh?”

She bent forwards, her breasts dangling against his chest, kissing him deeply and affectionately. “I’ll be more careful. Uh, how’s the flesh now, though?”

Wyatt laughed, then began tweaking her nipples, making her shudder on top of him.

As their relationship developed, so did Siobhan. Wyatt learned from Jen that she was a month past “flipping her switch.”

“The bug happens in, like, two parts. The first can be subtle. It’s when you grow the curves, and you put on a bit of titty, but not too much. Like four cup sizes. For Siobhan, she also lost a bunch of weight. She was over two-fifty before she caught the bug.”

“Wow.” Wyatt couldn’t help but picture what she must have looked like before her outrageous hourglass. “How do you know you’re into the second part?”

“When you wake up absolutely, impossibly horny. You’ve been getting hornier over the last two months, and really sensitive, but this is something else. Now, nothing helps. It only goes away when you fuck a guy.“

It also involved another, very noticeable change. None of Siobhan’s clothes fit her, because the growth of her breasts was out of control; she’d swelled up eight or nine cup sizes since flipping her switch. She was already approaching as large as Azul, and Jen, giggling, informed him she had a few weeks of growing left, yet. It also kick-started the growth of her hair. After the last couple of weeks, Siobhan had added four inches of white.

Siobhan was not taking well to her transformation. She refused to buy new clothes, so her shirts were stretched painfully tight over her prize pumpkin breasts, every detail of her gigantic nipples visible through the abused fabric. She walked around in skirts or, more often, just her increasingly-stretched and soaked panties, since none of her pants fit either her waist or hips.

Wyatt was coming back from class for the day when he heard shouting coming from behind the door.

“It’s not my fault you haven’t done a single Goddamn thing to prepare for this! Too busy sitting in your room and rubbing off to fan fiction to take some fucking responsibility for yourself!”

“Jen, why are you being such a selfish bitch?! I need help!”

“You always fucking need help! Who shares her names with you? Who went out and bought you new panties because your fat ass shredded the last ones? Who’s tried to take you out clothes shopping every week for three months? Who’s coached you through this every single step of the way in valuable time she could have been using to get laid?”

Wyatt stepped through the door, finding Jen standing, red-faced and shouting at Siobhan, who was sitting on the couch dressed in nothing but a pair of panties soaked dark with pussy juice. The absurd size of her breasts was on full display with how deep the bottom curve reached down her torso, and they were capped with thick, dark nipples and huge, deep brown areolas. She was puffy-eyed and crying, her lewd body swaying and jiggling with each sob.

“Ladies? What’s wrong?”

Jen turned around, smiling an equal measure of sweetness and rage. “Hi honey! Your useless fucking bimbo roommate needs someone to either slap or fuck the stupid out of her, that’s what!”

Wyatt went to hug her, but she pushed him away by the chest. “Rule Two, and I really don’t need that right now. This fucking specimen of shitty decision-making has somehow managed to forget that, despite her libido coming back like clockwork, she needs to start finding her own fucking guys! Somehow she’s gotten down to every two days without being able to sack up and seduce a guy at a bar!”

Wyatt realised Siobhan wasn’t just crying. She was masturbating, her right hand fiercely groping her breast while she rocked her hips against the other, shoved down her underwear. She was staring straight at Wyatt, her mouth hanging open.

“Hey, eyes off my fucking boyfriend, bitch! You don’t deserve him!”

Jen grabbed Wyatt and kissed him, forcing her huge tongue down his throat and reaching down to fondle his junk, making Siobhan whine and break down into even more sobs as she started rubbing harder.

“Yeah, go on, fuck yourself to what you can’t have because you’re too much of a fucking coward. Hey, Wyatt, why don’t you come upstairs and blow a load all over my tits?”

She grabbed his hand and led him up the stairs, Siobhan’s desperate cries following them. They went into Jen’s room, where she slammed the door behind them and thumped the wall. ”Bitch!”

Wyatt let her cool down a minute, sandalwood spreading through the room. “Honey, I know it must be frustratin’, but it’s obviously real hard for her...”

“You think it wasn’t hard for me, too? You think it still isn’t?”

“She ain’t as strong as you.”

Jen stared at him for a moment, tits quivering, and then groaned. “Fuck you, you smooth piece of shit. I hate it when you know exactly what to say. Okay fine, Christ, I’ll help her. I can’t leave her in the middle of the need or she’ll go insane.“

“I reckon we should take her out to find a guy tonight.”

“Yeah, but the question is how... Wait, I’ve got it!” She pressed up close to Wyatt, tracing her finger down his chest. “I need you to do me a big favour.”

“Anythin’.”

“I need you come downstairs with me and give Siobhan exactly one orgasm.”

He blinked. “Come again?”

“I need you to use your magic fingers and bring her off once. Just once. No matter if she screams, begs or hits you, she gets one little cum. It’ll take the edge off, but it won’t be enough to get rid of the need. Not by now. Just bring her off once, don’t do any of the fancy stuff you do with me where it lasts twenty seconds. She gets the rest when she agrees to come to the club with me tonight.”

“Wow. You’re evil.”

“You love it.”

Jen gave him a kiss, and they headed back downstairs. Siobhan was sprawled out on the couch. She’d shed her panties, leaving every inch of her soft flesh on display. One of her nipples was in her mouth and her fingers were deep inside her pussy, the pad of her hand pressed tight against her clit. Her thick thighs quivered. Wyatt’s nose wrinkled as he realised Siobhan hadn’t yet hit whatever stage of the transformation caused the scented quim, because she reeked of pussy.

She looked up at him as he entered the room, and whined desperately, thrusting her hips into the air and popping her boob out of her mouth to display it to him. She nearly screamed with joy as he sat down next to her, taking her breast in his hand and lifting it to his mouth to suckle deeply on her throbbing nipple.

Her breast was far bigger than Jen’s. He nearly lost himself in it, huge rolling waves of soft flesh, his face sinking deeply into it. Her breasts dominated her short, curvaceous body, their size, weight and sensitivity out of even the merest semblance of her control. If Pink used her chest, and Jen was owned by her chest, then Siobhan was a slave to it.

Her hand kept working away as he rolled his tongue around the stiff bud, reaching down and allowing his hand to sink into her huge, pillowy ass. He’d thought Jen was gifted in the posterior, but Siobhan was another level. He gripped it hard, moving his fingers into the warm cleft between her cheek and her shapely thigh, drawing out a pleased squeal from the girl.

Wyatt saw her hand start to shake before the orgasm overtook her body. She arched up, shrieking, thrusting her chest out and shuddering her hips against her hand. Wyatt immediately let go, letting her tit slap down against her chest. She came down from her peak far quicker than he’d ever seen Pink or Jen, and turned back over to him, panting, her big brown nipples heaving.

“P-please keep going! I need more!”

Jen leaned down across Wyatt’s shoulder, her breasts hanging in a warm blanket. “Nope. Girlfriend’s orders. That’s all you get until you get off your ass, come shopping with me and then go out to the club and find some of your own guys!”

She whined, starting to rub at herself again. “Jen, th-that was just one tiny cum! You kn-know that’s not enouuugh!”

Jen was acting in control, but Wyatt could feel her heaving as the familiar sensation built inside her as well. She just had slightly more command over it than Siobhan. She grit her perfect teeth, her nipples hardening over Wyatt’s shoulder. “Nope. That’s it. And unless you want to waste it, I’d suggest you stop masturbating and get yourself ready to go out.”

Siobhan stared at her for a minute, and then heaved herself off the couch. Her knees knocked together as she staggered forward, her body twitching and jiggling, and she had to stop halfway to the stairs, holding onto the wall and panting, her tits dangling as she leaned forward and dripped sweat onto the floor. They watched her slowly and painstakingly make her way back upstairs to the shower, before Jen turned to Wyatt and reached her arms around him, grabbing his ass. Wyatt could see the lust eating away at her behind her eyes.

“Baby, could I ask you another favour?”

A few hours later, the three had made their way to Jen’s favourite prowling grounds, a bar downtown called the Golden Hat, although more often known these days by its more informal name, the Swollen Tit. The Hat’s proprietor, a slim, dark haired man in his late 30s by the name of Jamie Torrens, took an understandable liking to the candy-haired busty seductresses that seemed to be popping up everywhere, but it wasn’t until his then-girlfriend began to transform that he had the idea for his bar.

At the time, the Hat had just been muddling along from week to week—not unsuccessful, but certainly not bustlingly busy. Jamie realised there was a market for somewhere that understood and provided for the needs of Aphrodite girls—a safe space for them to socialise, flirt, collect numbers and, if necessary, hide from their own desires. Every table in the bar had a stack of blank cards and pens, for phone numbers. Every worker in the bar was female. The bar featured both a back room with a series of spacious booths (partially just to keep the bathrooms free for their intended purpose) as well as a no-men-allowed safe room for girls to escape from their own needs for a few minutes if they didn’t trust themselves with somebody.

The result was amazingly successful. Though several other bars attempted to dip their toes into the same market, the Hat had forever cemented itself as the Aphrodite Bar, where Aphie women could go to collect numbers and get laid and men could go to, well, get laid.

The first thing that greeted you on entering the bar was generally a tangle of expanded flesh, as some oversexed Aphrodite locked lips with a random man, pushing her enormous, barely-covered boobs against him. Skin was on full display in the skimpiest, most scandalous outfits, although the discerning eye could tell that the more experienced, self-aware women were actually more circumspect about their clothing. Instead of a smorgasbord of heaving, oversexed flesh, they instead chose artful constructions of just enough cleavage to entice the eye, just enough smooth thigh to invite wandering hands, smouldering eyes that betrayed only a hint of the uncontrolled lust that boiled behind them.

Of course, Jen and Siobhan had no eyes for the other women. Their focus was on a rich buffet of men who ranged in age and attractiveness from the timid stares of skinny young ones barely out of their teens, stammering at heaving chests to the raucous encouragement of their friends, to rich older men looking to spend their way past the younger bucks into the exclusive affections of women who needed both sex and cash, and weren’t picky about where either came from.

Siobhan fitfully pulled down at the sides of her dress. It was a good length, white with black spots in a pleated rockabilly style, with a simple loose black bodice and shoulder straps. At least, it had been a little loose on Jen. It was visibly too small in the top for Siobhan’s expanded breasts, and the skirt, despite its length, was definitely showing several inches too many of smooth thigh, after clearing her bulbous ass and wide hips. The overall effect felt utterly scandalous to Siobhan, but on the other hand her growing awareness of her Aphrodite needs couldn’t help but react to the many eyes on her bulging chest. Worse was that she’d spaced out while dressing, and had ended up out of the house before realising she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Wyatt found himself diverted away from the girls almost immediately after walking into the bar. It wasn’t any explicit action on the part of the bar staff, but an almost unconscious Brownian motion that served to separate men from the women with whom they walked in. He briefly protested, but Jen blew him a kiss and waved as she moved with her arm behind Siobhan towards a group of waving young men at the edge of the room.

Wyatt sat at a bar stool, staring at the foam on somewhere between his fourth and fifth beer. He was caught between two problems. One was the nagging sense of emptiness in being in a setting like this without having Jen with him; he wasn’t much of a barfly at the best of times. The other problem was that, as well as a beer, he was nursing a fairly substantial erection. Bouncing cleavage and swinging hips passed by in his peripheral vision. Making eye contact at best involved an enticing lick of the lips or smouldering wink, and more often a far more blatant invitation in the form of a pushed-out chest or, more than once, a pumping clasped hand next to an open mouth, complete with a tongue pushing out a soft, flawless cheek. He sighed, turning away, when a familiar voice sailed out over the crowd.

“Country boy?”

Pink slid past a furiously-kissing couple, sporting a sultry grin. She had apparently opted for the “as much skin as possible” approach to trolling for cock at the Hat. Her bubblegum pink locks had been cut back into a pixie ’do, the freshness of the style suggesting it could very well have been that day. She wore nothing besides a bright yellow bikini top and a pair of shorts that barely even ended below the curve of her ass cheeks and did nothing to hide the bulge of her swollen pussy. Everything else, every inch of her breasts outside of a few square inches of areola coverage, the long, smooth curve of her thick, toned legs, her tight, tiny midriff, was on full display. She sat at the stool next to him, batting her eyelashes.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, boy scout. Thought I might have scared you off, but apparently you’ve been keeping yourself busy scoring Aphie puss?”

He shook his head. “No, uh, I’m here with my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend? Boy scout, are you trying to get rid of her? This isn’t exactly a place for a romantic night out.”

“What? No, uh, she’s like you. But we’re not here for her, we’re here for her friend. It’s kinda complicated. Anyway, how you been?”

“Fine.” She waved away the question. “Your girlfriend’s an Aphie? Which one is she? I probably know her.”

Before Wyatt could answer, Jen strode over to the bar, pushing a lock of sweat-slicked hair out of her face. She Smiled at Wyatt, but the smile immediately dropped from her face.

“Christine.”

“Jen. How have you been?”

“Oh, you know, keeping okay, dealing with things. Coming over to talk to my boyfriend.” She laid a hand on Wyatt’s shoulder. Pink’s (or Christine’s) eyes went slightly wide.

“SHE’S your girlfriend, boy scout? You didn’t waste any time on the express train to Whore Central, did you? I swear, you give a boy one taste of Aphrodite and they lose their mind completely.”

“Listen here, you- wait, what? Give him a taste?”

Christine smiled, lifting her breasts with her hands. “He never told you? I gave him a welcome basket the first day he got here.”

“That’s ridiculous. He didn’t even know what an Aphro—” Her perfect brow wrinkled before she turned to Wyatt. “Wait. You DID know. Did you seriously fuck her?”

“Well, it was kinda more she fucked me, but yeah, the first day I got here.” He said it quite nonchalantly, and was clearly overlooking the deadly tone in Jen’s voice.

“So all that BS about needing to get to know me and dragging me out on a stupid date just so I could get into your pants, that was, what, a game? See how for you can play with the Aphrodite girl? What is it? Am I too fat? If I was tiny and perfect, would that have changed it?”

“What? Jen, no—”

Christine giggled. “If it helps, he was a perfect gentleman. I had to practically shove my tits in his mouth to get him to take the hint.”

“Stay the fuck out of this, skank! Well, Wyatt, what have you got to say for yourself?”

“How can you take an attitude about this? You were just grinding on a guy so hard he was practically inside you, and y’all gonna lecture me about a one night stand before we even got together?”

“You know that’s not the same thing! They’re meat to me. A means to an end. They might as well be dildoes for all it matters. It matters to you, though, or so you said. You’d be taking advantage of me, you said! Did that not count for that pink haired slut? How many other Ditie girls have you “taken advantage of?"”

“None, but why does it matter? I’m with you, or’ve you just been pretendin’ to care about anything other than my dick?”

She slammed the bar, her boobs heaving heavily. “This isn’t about you, Wyatt! It’s about why I had to run a fucking gauntlet just to see your dick when you’re apparently willing to just give it away! I thought you weren’t like the others and I put up with it, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to think now!“

“I don’t know, that I’m your boyfriend and I thought that meant somethin’?!”

“I thought it did, too, and that’s why I put up with the shit you made me do! I thought it was actually important to you, and not just a big old game of “let’s see what the slut will do for cock!” I thought you were different.”

“So that’s all I was—somethin’ to put up with until I fucked you?!”

They had drawn a small crowd of staring people now. Jen was heaving with exertion, and Wyatt knew that as she got angry, she lost control over her libido, and getting horny only made her more agitated. “Fuck you, Wyatt. We’re done.”

She stalked off, her legs wobbling slightly, grabbing the hand of a guy as she went past. Wyatt was left sitting in stunned silence at the bar. Christine tilted her head, watching the girl go. “Shit. Uh. Sorry, bro. On the other hand, that means you’re single now! Do you wanna fuck my face?”

Wyatt blinked for a moment, still staring back at where Jen had gone, not quite processing the question. “What?”

“Look, I feel sort of bad for you losing your girlfriend or whatever, and I really feel like sucking a dick. That’s like a win-win or whatever, right? He stared at her, her deep blue eyes, the rising swell of her barely-covered bust, her glistening lips.

“Fuck it. Why not?”