The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Big Bouncers”

by Cristina Prince

PART THREE: Something’s Jumping In Your Shirt, 10:51 p.m.

Unsurprisingly, the coffeehouse was embarassing and crowded with only ten minutes left before close. Strangely enough, it was mostly fratboys in line, but if Shayla had to guess, there were about 20 of them. She didn’t have to inhale to feel how overpowered the place was by body spray, hair product, and long-lasting gum. She felt weak in front of all these boys! God was surely torturing her. Even so, she put her best neon orange pump forward and felt like a trooper.

Nick and Emmie didn’t share her smile; they had many drinks juggled in their hands. In fact, her supervisor tore into her. “Do you fucking realize you left me with a new hire for over an hour and a half?” Shayla fought for something to say. Anything at all. She adjusted her panties to get them unstuck and a tiny tittle of goo dripped out onto the tile. All along the queue, cell phones snapped shut or began snapping pictures. Emmie dropped a mug on the floor, shattering it to pieces. Everyone stared. “They were just showing me some music,” was all Shayla could manage. Laughter bellowed deeply from the group of males at the counter, and a couple of them exchanged high-fives.

“Look,” said Nick, “I don’t care how you share your.. music, we’ve been swamped! And what do you think you’re wearing?” Before she could wager a response, some low sarcastic voice in the crowd robotically emitted, “Panties,” which, of course, made the whole espresso bar bust out laughing. “What happened to your—oh, nevermind. There are some extra uniforms over by the schedule.” He turned his attention to some ultratanned slab of man. “Yes, sir, what can I get you?” Shayla was trailed closely by Emmie, who was practically hopping along in succession behind her.

She turned around and glared at the blonde. Emmie just twirled a lock of hair and gasped, “So you made out with Nick?” The chick was obviously very interested, but it was so far from Shayla’s mind that it felt like it happened months ago. It was nothing. “It was nothing,” she replied, which seemed to leave Emmie dazzled. “Look, I’m exhausted, just let me—” She looked on the shelf. There weren’t any standard issue khakis. There were only cherry red stretch miniskirts. Shayla admired Royce’s gall and was fairly impressed that he managed to switch the work apparel in the relatively short time she was gone, but she couldn’t seem to find one in her size. She felt a faint wisp of Italodisco bop stir around in her spine. Why did it make her feel funny that there were no pants all of a sudden? Like she was repeating herself. Almost like she was in a hamster ball, repeating herself.

She considered it for a moment and realized she was reading way too into things. Maybe she could squeeze herself into a 6! She burrowed deep into the cubby, a prime target for a blonde polo-shirted manchild’s rubber band. The impact stung a little bit but it excited her just the same. Practically everything did these days! Might as well fight fire with fire, Shayla thought, and mooned the horny kid, lolling back and forth with it for a good handful of seconds, giggling and rewetting.

“That was awesome!” laughed Emmie. “You’ve got a great ass,” she noted, and paused, hanging on the last word, dippily drawing it out and exhaling luxuriously. “But are you really tired? Cuz Nick mentioned something about you going to Big Bouncers!” Shayla perked up at the name and beamed, still blushing from her co-workers cute compliment. “We can go together!” Emmie squealed. Reflexively, Shayla was about to say no, but invariably decided it was best that she wouldn’t go alone. Two girls getting fucked up and dancing? What could be better? She didn’t want to go home until the night was over. She dreaded the possibility of all that time spent alone, having to remember and deal with all the weird shit that had been going on during her shift. Not pleasant.

“Okay, sweetie,” Shayla assured her, brushing her golden locks in the process, and smooching her briskly on the forehead. “But first I have to get changed. We’re almost out of here.” She had retrieved a size 6 mini and a clean xtra-small Prosperosa tank (she really had to talk to Royce about sizing- did he expect his girls to not eat?) and sashayed to the bathroom, making sure every boy could see her hot pink sway one last time. It was hard to remember a time when she had felt as frisky as she did. It was hard to remember much beyond wanting to dance and get out of work. It was a waste of time for her, really, to dwell on much else. It was no fun to waste time.

Within a minute or two, Shayla was back on the floor and relieved to see the line had thinned out considerably. She strolled up to the second register and it seemed that the song playing became louder as she did so. Looking over to see Nick walking away from the music station, she realized to what extent Big Bouncers had infiltrated the café. She was so thrilled to be supersonorous, and to show she appreciated it, she began to dance in place. Her melting heart sang along with Sabrina on top of the burly, buoyant beat: “Boys, boys, boys!” Shayla thanked the Lord for the easy chorus. How poignant and universal these music producers are, she thought, it’s like they know me personally!

A square-jawed hunky boy saw her singing and dancing and just stopped and stared at her until she noticed. “Oh, sorry,” she said, turning red, “This song is just so fuckin’ GOOD!” She absentmindedly ran her hand along her skimpy skirt. It was a good thing she did. It was riding up her panties and needed some adjustment. She was sure Royce opted for a tighter style for a reason, but the friction the thing caused in her thighs was getting kind of ludicrous. Shayla let it smack over her ass with a single jiggling “pwuck” sound. She looked up and the guy was still ogling her, so she tried to wait patiently until he was done. She took sips of what she assumed was a wrong order of Ugandan Priestess (with honey even—neat!) beside the register and nervously tapped unpolished fingers on the counter. I should really get a manicure, she asserted.

The music was magic. The music wended its way up her spine and pushed out through her vocal chords. She found herself start to shimmy in an indisputably randy way as she discovered she somehow knew all the words. “Boys, boys, boys / I’m looking for a good time / Boys, boys, boys / Get ready for my love / Boys, boys, boys / I’m looking for the good times / Boys, boys, boys / I’m ready for your love”. Emmie was busy clearing the rest of the line out while Shayla tranced out in front of an increasingly attentive alpha male. With every slappy downbeat, she imagined saucy somethings warm and thick whacking against her butt. She let out a hot breath and allowed for a few curious fingers to plumb their way deep into her soft sex, taking them out for a short while to half-heartedly fellate them while stuck in full eye contact with this customer. The song only grew louder and bigger, an unrelenting throttle of low-end cream staining her pink boyshorts.

Shayla offered her sticky fingers to him. She didn’t know what else to do. He grabbed them swiftly and licked all along her wrist and the palm of her hand, setting off visions in the girl of newborn puppies floating in tubs of cotton candy. Sadly, just as soon as she eyed the boy’s strained package and began to drool a little honey spit onto the pastry case, “Boys” stopped playing abruptly and left her feeling immediately awkward and almost naked-feeling. She eased her fingers from the mouth of her would-be suitor and dried them off in a napkin. He looked more than a little nonplussed. This made Shayla sad. The moment she opened her mouth to address the hot boy, he said, “You’ve got a great ass, you know that?” She was so happy she danced good enough, for him to be sweet like that!

“Thanks,” Shayla laughed, “it’s my mom’s!” She kicked herself for saying that, it seemed so ironic of her. She didn’t need to rely on her wit when her body was being complimented! Duh! When it was clear that he forgave her for her heinous flirting skills, even chuckling himself, she finally asked, “What can I do for you?”

He looked her up and down. “Personally, I’d like to see you shake that thing a bit more. When do you get out of work?” She looked around the bar. Nick and Emmie were busy breaking down all the coffee pots and putting everything away. She wouldn’t have to wait much longer. Give or take a half hour and she would be a free woman. In a cute new skirt and funky high heels! Even so, she could just tell that this guy wanted her bad, and if he was around earlier to see her walk in dazed and pantless, then he had a pretty good handle on where she was at too. Maybe it was the lack of bass and drums and sexy songcraft, but she decided to show some restraint.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Shayla said, her voice dropping a bit, “It could be some time. But my friend and I over there are headed to Big Bouncers after we punch out!” She motioned to Emmie. The blonde was scrubbing wildly at a colander, making sure to get as many suds as possible to land on her glistening cleavage. Nick was never more than two feet away from her, polishing a spoon without mercy.

“Big Bouncers?” the boy asked. Shayla nodded affirmatively. Every time someone said that name, it was so funny to her. Boing, boing, boing. “Sweet, I work there!” She considered for a fleeting moment that in one day, she’d met a lot of people affiliated with that club! The anticipation surrounding this place was white hot. Though she had only ever heard of it a few hours before, she was beginning to have trouble differentiating between getting herself worked up and awaiting what was in store. It felt like she was waiting for years. She was more than ready. The guy paused. “I don’t know if you’d.. fit in,” he began, “you’ve been there before?”

Shayla warmed and sighed sarcastically, a touch crestfallen that she prematurely might have not made the cut. “Oh yeah,” she rolled her eyes, “like I haven’t been to Big Bouncers before.” She hoped that this man-candy wouldn’t be able to find her out in this bold-faced lie. She preened and displayed her somewhat meager, but lately burgeoning bosom. He looked her over and didn’t express anything resembling either disdain or satisfaction.

“Well,” he said in the middle of his appraisal, “I haven’t seen any big bouncers on you yet, but listen—” The coffee girl pouted and presented her full attention to him despite her distant confusion, turning up both her ears and her nipples in the process. “Make sure you get that bubble butt to the Donkey Den. I have a good feeling about you.” Before she could ask him what that randy-sounding room was or for his name, he was gone. But not before he left her a twenty in the tip jar! Shayla was growing used to getting spoiled. She made her way to the sink, waving the bill in the faces of her co-workers, her pussy clenching in her tingly tight skirt.

“He works at Big Bouncers!” she resounded, hopping nearly two feet in the air. Emmie seemed reasonably piqued by this news, but Nick just chomped on a cookie as he waited for some silverware to dry. “He wants me to meet him in the Donkey Den!” Her supervisor nearly choked in his amusement. He had heard things about the nightclub, but severely doubted she would make it anywhere near the fabled room. It was the second to last room, after all. While her body was certainly alluring, especially today for some reason, Nick didn’t really see her as being of the caliber to get into even the double digits for her first night. He still pondered the decently impressive size of her boobs, struggling to remember a time they looked so good. They definitely suited her.

He felt vindicated that Emmie read his mind. “Honey,” she addressed the ripening Latina, making all manner of sweet thoughts bubble up in Shayla’s mind (and certainly none of disgust for her ratty old t-shirt), “I don’t think we’re going into the Donkey Den tonight. Although it’s real cool that he flattered you like that. We should just concentrate on getting into the club, sweetie.” A nagging voice told her that this girl had no right talking down to her like that. Shayla had had gallery shows and once trained under one of the most venerable graphic artists in the city. She didn’t have to answer to this vapid slab of flesh, with her ass in the air, her nails coated like ten erotic bits of candy, a trim waist that moved in time with luscious legs, her toe-ring-festooned feet hermetically sealed taut underneath a gorgeous pair of—

“Hot shoes, girl!” Emmie exclaimed, chomping down a bubble of cinnamon gum. Shayla forgot she was wearing them, and given all the stories about high heels she was told over the years, these ones felt pretty comfy! She mused that Emmie was totally sweet for complimenting her like that. What was I thinking about a second ago? It was important or something.. The shoes, of course! “Thanks!” Shayla beamed. “I got them from—” The music turned on, as loud as it was before, and suddenly scooted straight into her cerebral cortex, bumping and grinding amongst synapses, butting heads with her conscience. A sultry voice whispered over a throbbing sensual bass kick. “Don’t you wanna take a trip / To someplace where you’ve never been / There’s no need to be afraid / Don’t let them tell you this is sin.” She felt lashed by the music, tied up in its silky, throbbing embrace. She was overtaken by fun.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” she screamed, steadying herself on the faucet, giving it a mild stroke when she came to. Nick and Emmie were just staring at her, dumbfounded. She picked her quivering body up and apologized. “It’s just.. this music,” she weakly posited, “I don’t know if I can be a good girl with it on!” I meant to say worker, she thought casually. Oh well. Who cares? Oblivious to her coworkers, she stuck half a hand in her snatch. Letting it out with a squelching sound, she tried to decipher what the use of her panties was. They didn’t seem to be keeping anything dry at all.

“I don’t see why you’re having such a hard time with it,” Nick said. “After all, you picked it out.” He held up her iPod. It was connected to the stereo receiver. He even toggled the volume up and down to prove it. It was still playing the Li’l Suzy song. Shayla recognized it as being from her album “Paradise”. Hadn’t she been listening to this song for years? Why was it bothering her now? Even so, she felt she had to check out the iPod. She knew she kept a long playlist of limited edition small label releases for her commutes. Grabbing it out of her boss’s hand, she realized it was gone. All gone. No more Daniel Johnston tribute album, no more Merzbow, no more White Fang. However, she did sing a sigh of relief when she realized she had the complete discographies of Sabrina, Lil Suzy, and Lisa Lisa! Plus, the amount of old extended club remixes of Madonna singles was staggering. She didn’t even want to know how it got there, it was such a special treat!

“I know,” Shayla said, humiliated, “and it’s real fun to dance to, but..” There was a but? “but.. I can’t feel like.. it’s im..peding my work. I just feel so stupid!” She threw her arms in the air, causing her bitty pretties to jiggle, smiling a stupid smile. She was exhausted. Nick patted her on the back to reassure her, and Emmie inched forward as well, she with a steaming cup of Ugandan Priestess and he with a lid. The smell of the stuff made her grin grow even wider and warmer, and the proximity of her co-workers made her blush. Her hips melted into Nick’s big grasp and her heart fluttered when he pressed a lock of her dark hair to the side.

He opened his mouth. His words smooched her. “Is it a bad thing to be stupid, Shayla?” The student could only manage a chortle in response. It wasn’t like she thought it was amusing. A laugh was all her wound body could muster to show gratitude that someone could reinforce and comfort it so well. She stopped to consider her answer while taking a sip. The mere suggestion of being stupid had always provoked some kind of knee-jerk reaction with her, something to be avoided like ticks. She couldn’t count on all her digits the amount of times she slipped judgement on a customer coming through because of a certain cut of a dress or if they couldn’t understand the redundancy of “nonfat skim”. But now she had to wonder where all that had left her. More stressed, more tightly wound, certainly more negative!

Shayla’s thoughts darted to the idea of Sabrina. Her songs could be called a lot of different things, but intelligent was not the most likely description. Did that make them bad songs? Boys, boys, boys! She couldn’t believe that this song was playing again. How could a song that made her feel this amazing, even after hearing it maybe five times in one day, possibly be bad? She thought of Big Bouncers and how boring of a time she would have if she tried to overanalyze and assess the situation all night. Boing, boing, boing! Why wasn’t that the chorus? She decided to just stop worrying about stupid or smart, and even good and bad. Of course being stupid was a non-qualifier as much as being smart was. “It’s not baaad,” she said coyly, as if it was implicit that she required some kind of caveat she wouldn’t give. In fact, she surmised that dumb people might even have more fun than smart people. You’re judging again, just stop thinking, she scolded herself. It felt better to just look at Emmie stare at her.

“Your mouth is open, silly,” she informed her, and continued being useful by handing her a lollipop which Shayla greedily sucked upon without hesitation. “By the way, I really love this music! You’ve got great taste, girl,” Emmie said, which served only to further vindicate her. Somehow the girl’s words made the sucker taste sweeter. She was itching to get out now, and looking over at the clock and the now-empty sink, she felt a big thrill of anticipation. Restraining herself for just a second, she plopped the candy out of her mouth to ask her boss, “What should we do now?”

Nick looked at the two girls as if he was headmaster at a private school. “You guys can take off if you want, I appreciate your hard work on such a hectic night.” Shayla thought about that for a second and was glad she did. She hardly did any work! She was getting paid for fooling around with guys. How fun! She scuttled over to the computer to punch out. Her nipples were another pair of eyes, up for anything, eager to bust free and watch. She could have sworn there were twin wet spots where the Prosperosa cups lay in the design of the t-shirt. She had to watch herself around the sink!

The girls bounded out of the coffeeshop and into the fresh night. Shayla lit a victory cigarette and had a heart tremor when Emmie pulled out a glass bowl. “You smoke weed?” she asked, lighting up right in the middle of Locust Street. Shayla forcibly pushed her into the back alley behind the hotel that housed the coffeeshop.

“Are you crazy, girl? Let’s not go and get ourselves arrested,” she said, a sudden voice of reason. Emmie just shrugged and lit up behind a dumpster. For a second, Shayla felt a bit chilly underneath her little skirt, and thought it silly to be clubbing after work like some college student. But.. but I am a college student! she smiled, and had to snicker even more when Emmie ripped off her blonde hair, revealing a trim brown cut. What the hell? She didn’t know what was going on, but she loved it! “Wha—?” Emmie just lifted a finger to shush the poor confused girl. She smirked smoky-eyed.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she asked, pulling the girl close, cupping a boob in the process. Shayla was all ears, even if they felt like twin pussies. They were positively moistening in interest. “I know what’s going on with you, and I work for Big Bouncers!” Shayla took a hit and tried to remain composure.

TO BE CONCLUDED...