The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The weeks passed for Catherine in a flurry of paperwork and pills. The tasks never seemed to end. Austin dumped a constant deluge of new assignments, required meetings, and projects on her, and if it weren’t for the Bimboquill, Catherine knew she could never have finished half of them.

Every woman has her limits, though, and Catherine was certainly nearing hers when she collapsed in the chair beside Steph’s desk. “There is no way Austin has this much work every week. I mean, what is Steve doing all day?” she said.

“Last I heard? Drinking and golf,” Steph said.

Steph had recently decided to push the office dress code to its limits. She wore a striped miniskirt with a white button up top that stopped about three inches above her belly button. Catherine tried not to stare at the secretary’s incredibly toned stomach. Even so, Catherine felt the familiar bubbles of jealousy stir within her. She might have lost weight recently, but she was nowhere near Steph’s level of thinness.

“I still can’t believe you tried to screw him,” Catherine said.

Steph flushed, though Catherine was reasonably certain it was not from embarrassment. “Did I do that? I think he might be gay, or maybe that was someone else. I’ve had so many lately that it’s getting hard to remember whom I’ve fucked and whom I haven’t yet.”

Once a weekly occurrence, Steph’s late nights had grown into a daily affair. Catherine wanted to say something to her friend, but something stopped her every time she had a chance. It was strange, but Catherine liked hearing her friend’s stories. The more lurid the better. They stirred a warm and pleasant feeling within her.

More and more lately, Catherine was feeling horny. She chalked it up to her workload. She needed a vacation. Unfortunately, a vacation was unlikely to come soon, and so, until then, Bimboquill would have to do. She reached into her purse now and popped a few of the pink pills. It was a little early for her afternoon pick me up, but she had a meeting later and needed to focus. Steph watched her take the pills with eyes that could only be described as ravenous, and so Catherine offered the bottle to her friend.

“No thanks,” Steph said, holding up a perfectly manicured hand. “I’m trying to cut back.”

“Come on,” Catherine said. “You look like you need a boost. Besides, there’s no side effects. You said so yourself.” She rattled the bottle under her friend’s nose and tried to ignore the sudden whiff of arousal that spilled from between Steph’s thighs.

Steph suddenly snatched the bottle from Catherine’s hand and poured out a half dozen of the little pills, swallowing them in a single fist full. In a few minutes, the smell of arousal faded and her eyes regained some of their focus. She let loose a low groan of satisfaction and slumped in her chair. “Oh sugar-snap, that’s the stuff.”

“Feel better?”

Steph nodded and slumped a little lower, a look of blissful satisfaction on her face.

Catherine knew Bimboquill had side effects, though they were mostly beneficial. She’d lost weight, the large roll around her belly shrinking to a small paunch, and for the first time in Catherine’s life she found that she could pick out clothes that were attractive. She enjoyed wearing knee-length skirts and short pumps now. Though not nearly as risque as Steph’s sudden rash of slut-wear, Catherine’s clothes were certainly more revealing than the muumuus she’d used to parade around in.

The boys around the office were noticing, too—helped along, of course, by a sudden growth in Catherine’s breasts and butt. She was beginning to fill out her tops, and not around the middle. The boys watched in a way they’d never done before, and their eyes, more than Steph’s stories, sent Catherine reaching for the Bimboquill more often than she probably should.

“I’m going to land this client today, Steph,” Catherine said, interrupting the girl just as she began to snore.

“Oh yeah?”

“And then I’m going to shove it in Austin’s big, stupid face. If he doesn’t make Steve pull his own weight then I’m going to take it to corporate. Maybe they’ll give me a promotion. I might even get Austin’s job.”

“Devious,” Steph said, her eyes still closed.

Catherine’s watch beeped. She took a deep breath and the let the energy from the Bimboquill course through her veins. She felt alive; she felt confident. “Wish me luck,” she said.

Air conditioned air blew from overhead grates, sending a cold breeze through the room. That was a problem because Catherine preferred the conference room warm when making a sale. A warm room made the client comfortable, sleepy, and most of all pliable.

The client, Alexander Lupine, was a man at that happy point between his fifties and sixties where he possessed all the regal bearing of adulthood, but none of the dotage brought by old age. Strands of silver hair streaked through his temples, and the skin on his chest and arms was taut with muscle. It was old muscle, seasoned muscle, the kind of muscle earned through a life of earnest living.

Catherine couldn’t help but see those arms wrapping themselves around her middle, bringing her close. She imagined Mr. Lupine’s kiss would feel strong, yet gentle; like a great beast made civil. Twin tents formed beneath her blouse, and she tried to push them down, but the mere act of doing sent a ripple of sensation tearing through her. She bit back a moan.

Almost immediately, Catherine’s nipples perked back into prominence. She ignored them and strode forward, offering her hand. “Mr Lupine, let me be the first to welcome you to our company, and thank you for considering us for your generic office needs. Can I get you some tea or coffee?”

Mr. Lupine took her offered hand and shook once. “No thank you,” he said. “I had coffee on the ride over. It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss…”

“Catherine,” Catherine chimed in, somewhat breathless. The man’s voice was smoky and deep, and when he spoke it sent a shiver up her spine. “Would you like to take a seat?”

Catherine led Mr. Lupine across the across the conference room to a pair of leather chairs. Along the way she could feel Lupine’s eyes on her backside. Rather than be mad, though, she instead felt a slight thrill. He wanted her. Without really meaning to, her steps took on an extra bounce.

It took some effort on Catherine’s part to get the meeting underway. She found that her eyes would linger on Mr. Lupine’s hairy forearms, or trace the contours of the man’s muscular shoulders. He was like a work of art, a statue of marble chiseled by the old masters.

The paperwork, on the other hand, was boring. It lay in small piles, and Catherine held one of the sheets up for Mr. Lupine to see, sitting closer than she absolutely needed to so he could read it. His scent was that of old sandalwood, parchment, and with a touch of cigar. She inhaled greedily.

“As you can see, under our gold membership your monthly expenses will,” she began, but trailed off as she lost her train of thought. She smiled an empty smile at Mr. Lupine. He really was handsome. “I’m sorry, what was I talking about again?”

“Is this part of the pitch?” he asked with a wolfish grin, flicking his eyes down.It was then, to Catherine’s horror, she realized the three top buttons on her blouse had come undone. An acre of pale and jiggly flesh caught the lights overhead and seemed to glow, and Catherine could make out the faint red that marked the top of her areolas.

“You’re very pretty, but I’m married,” Mr. Lupine continued. Regardless of his words, though, his eyes lingered. “I guess there’s no harm in window shopping.”

Catherine’s face turned a brilliant shade of crimson. She drew back and turned around to fix her clothes, though she couldn’t bring herself to finish up the top button on her blouse. The fabric felt like it was choking her. Despite her embarrassment, her thighs felt slick.

At least the room wasn’t cold anymore.

When the meeting finished, Catherine threw herself into her office chair. Her breasts heaved, and perspiration dotted her brow, tracing a line down to the upper swell of her cleavage. At some point she’d undone another button. The conference room had just been so hot she couldn’t help herself.

Mr. Lupine hadn’t minded. He’d watched with appraising eyes—eyes that made Catherine feel like a piece of meat.

The idea made her feel hot.

Catherine suppressed a moan and leaned back in her chair. She cupped her breasts, pausing for a moment to marvel at the hard nipples poking from beneath the thin fabric of her blouse. Catherine had put herself on display, and she knew it. Unconscious though it might have been, Catherine used her body to get the sale, and it felt good.

Really good.

“Catherine, what are you doing?” Steve asked.

Catherine jerked upright and yanked her hands from her breasts. Her treacherous nipples tented, drawing attention from anyone who might glance. “Uh, spontaneous mammogram,” she said. “You have to catch the cancer by surprise or else it might go into hiding.”

“Right,” Steve said. His face betrayed no hint of emotion or surprise, and, to his credit, he kept his eyes firmly on Catherine’s. They didn’t even tremble. “Austin said good work on the client, and he wants his paperwork processed by six.”

“But that’s in two hours!” Catherine said. All thoughts of arousal and shame fled. “He knows how much paperwork a new client takes. There is no way I can get it to him before tomorrow afternoon.”

“That sounds like a ‘you’ problem, and I’m much more of ‘me’ kind of guy,” Steve said. “If it’s any consolation, Austin said he wanted to present your accomplishments to district management at the quarterly conference call tomorrow morning. That’s why he needs it so soon.”

District management was Catherine’s dream—Catherine had very small dreams—and for them to get word of her sale might earn her a promotion later on. She couldn’t pass up an opportunity like this, not for something as trivial as feasibility.

“Yeah, alright,” Catherine said, somewhat in a daze. “I’ll have it done before six.”

Steve knocked twice and wandered off towards the break room.

A normal person couldn’t get all of the paperwork for a new client done in two hours. It simply wasn’t possible, and Catherine had the sneaking suspicion Austin knew that. The bastard wanted to bury her sale under next quarter’s numbers, but he needed cover just in case. He’d set her up to fail.

What Austin didn’t know, though, was that Catherine had a secret weapon. She opened her desk drawer pulled out the Bimboquill. Catherine’s time with Mr. Lupine had left her horny and distracted, and even if she didn’t have a major project due in a few hours, she’d have still found it difficult to work.

Catherine popped a pink pill. After a while, though, nothing happened. Catherine’s thoughts grew sharper, but she still shifted in her seat, enjoying the small bursts of pleasure the movements brought. So she popped another one, and while her arousal faded, it was still there at the back of her mind. It took a third to banish it completely.

Then, finally, as the familiar feeling of intense concentration settled over her, Catherine got to work.

The dude bro wore two polo shirts of clashing pastel colors. He’d popped the collars, and his designer jeans were torn in corporate approved locations. In his hands he clutched a football, though Catherine had the sneaking suspicion he didn’t play. And even if he did, a football doesn’t belong in a club. It belongs on a field.

Steph disagreed. She stared at the dude bro with rapt attention, twirling a strand of hair in her fingers with a ditzy expression pasted on her face. She’d finally dropped all pretense. Gone were the flirty office skirts and sensible pumps. She wore now a tiny pair of jean shorts that dug deep into the crack of her ass, showing off her perfectly toned thighs and butt, and on her feet she’d strapped six inch ebony heels. Her tits—Catherine knew for a fact they were larger now—stretched a tight tank top to its limit. The word ‘easy’ lay emblazoned across its middle in bright, red letters, and the ambient humidity of the club had soaked through the thin, cotton fabric, revealing Steph’s tits in all their glory.

“How many guys are in your frat house?” Steph asked. Catherine watched her friend’s hand dance its way towards the juncture of the woman’s thighs. Arousal wafted off her in waves.

“Thirty-seven!” the frat bro said proudly. “Biggest house on campus. Alpha-beta-prime—The Flaming Monkeys! Hoorah!”

“Hoorah!” answered a half dozen guys some three tables away. They all wore the dual polo combo that seemed the uniform of the douchebag trade.

“Are they all as big as you?” Steph asked, flicking her eyes towards the bulge in the dude bro’s designer jeans.

That was it. Catherine had seen enough. “I’m putting a stop to this right now,” she said, standing up and sending the glasses on their table shaking. “Can’t you see we’re not interested? Get the hell out of here.”

“Oh, I’m very interested,” Steph said, biting her lower lip.

“Wow,” the dude bro said. “You didn’t have to be such a bitch. I’m just being a nice guy, bro, asking after your drinks. I was barely even going to roofie you sluts.”

“You tell her, Chad!” the gaggle of frat bros called from the table. Chad went back to them and they all high fived, took a shot, then high fived again.

“What the hell’s wrong with you, Catherine?!” Steph said, whipping around to glare death at her friend.

“What’s wrong with me? What the hell’s wrong with you?! The guy’s a douche, Steph. You used to have standards. What happened?”

“A douche with a cock. A girl has needs, Catherine. Not all of us can survive with a lock on our pussy, and sometimes I just need to get good and fucked.”

“By a whole fraternity? You’ve been a tear lately, and I think something might be wrong with you.”

“The only thing wrong with me is that I don’t have a cock between my thighs,” Steph said. She picked up her purse and pulled out a bottle of Bimboquill. She emptied the bottle and swallowed the pills, washing them down with a shot of whiskey. “One of these days you’re going to find out just how great it feels to get plowed. Call me when it happens.”

Steph threw the now empty bottle of Bimboquill into the undulating crowd and clacked her way over to the frat brothers. Chad’s hand plunged down her tanktop before she’d taken her first shot. Steph only giggled at the attention. After a few minutes of increasingly blatant groping, a bouncer stopped and said a few words, and, as one, the group left the club with Steph balanced between them.

Catherine nursed her diet coke for a time. Maybe Steph was right. Maybe she did need to get laid. Despite the half dozen pills Catherine had popped before meeting her friend, the horny itch between her thighs still scratched for her attention. Of course the itch had been worse before the pills. While getting ready, the feel of her dress’ fabric sliding across her nipples had been enough to send her into a masturbatory frenzy. It took three orgasms before Catherine could think clearly enough to grab the Bimboquill.

Catherine’s lack of sex was becoming a problem. It seemed the larger her breasts grew, the more sensitive they became. They were handfuls now, and Catherine’s sudden loss of weight made them seem bigger. For the first time her life, Catherine’s stomach was flat. True, she wasn’t as toned as Steph was—she looked like a college girl that recently discovered pizza—but every day she shed a few more pounds.

Bimboquill made it possible. It was a wonderful drug. It made her skin feel smooth and elegant, and her lips were so thick and juicy. Sometimes Catherine caught herself staring at her own reflection, licking her delicious angel-bow creations and reveling at the tingle they sent down her spine. Even Catherine’s hair had changed. It cascaded down her back in a chestnut and gold wave, salon style highlights appearing almost overnight.

But the biggest and perhaps most exciting change was how men looked at her. They tracked Catherine when she walked through a room, lust painted clear across their faces. She’d never felt so wanted—so needed. The feeling was intoxicating.

Catherine squirmed in her seat as a fresh wave of arousal swept over her. She reached reflexively for the Bimboquill in her purse, popping four before she realized what she was doing. It barely helped.

“Friend abandon you?” someone asked. The voice belonged to a man in his late twenties. He wore a button up flannel with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, showing off exceptionally toned forearms. A perfectly groomed beard highlighted his already impressive jawline. Catherine licked her lips at the sight as her lust flared again at double strength.

“My name is Asher,” the man continued. “Can I buy you a drink?”

You have a lot of work to do, Catherine thought to herself. She banished it though, and instead shot Asher an accommodating smile.

“Call me Cassy,” Cassy said. Cassy had no idea why she’d used her old high school nickname, it had just popped out, but it felt right on her tongue. “And I’d love a drink.”

Asher raised his hand, and a waiter brought them two shots of strong smell tequila. Cassy stared at the yellow liquid for a moment, but she could feel Asher’s eyes on her. Not wanting to look foolish, she picked up the shot and downed it in a single gulp. She could feel the alcohol burn a path down to her belly, adding more fuel to the pyre smoldering between her thighs.

“I like your smile,” Asher said.

Cassy blushed crimson. She giggled and rubbed her foot against Asher’s calf. “What else do you like about me?”

Asher’s grin grew wider.

Asher slammed Cassy through his apartment door. The door flew wide and crashed into the far drywall, leaving a hole where the handle struck. Neither of them seemed to notice, though. Their lips pressed against each other in a kiss, and Cassy moaned deep in her throat as Asher’s bulge grew against her thigh.

Nothing existed outside of Asher for Cassy. She lived to service him, and the feel of his body against hers made her skin tingle. She felt fulfilled, complete, as if everything in life led to this instant in time. They broke their kiss, and Cassy gasped as Asher found his way to her breasts. He took them in a gentle hold and placed his lips over a nipple. His mouth upon her tits made her knees tremble, and she had to lean against him as he guided her deeper into the apartment.

The bulge continued to grow against Cassy’s thigh, and she found that her mouth was watering. It’d been so long since she’d seen a cock in the flesh. She yearned to touch, to feel its warmth in the palm of her hand. Slowly, she broke from Asher and slid down his firm body until she came face to face with the bulge.

Even through Asher’s jeans, Cassy felt the heat radiate from his groin. Drool dripped down her chin. She couldn’t believe how much she wanted this, how hungry she was for it, and when she finally got Asher’s zipper down and the cock popped into the open air, it was like a chorus of angels opened in the heavens and cast a golden light down onto Earth. She opened wide and thrust the cock down her throat.

Cassy had never sucked dick before. She’d always viewed it as demeaning. Servicing a man with her mouth? Another tool designed by the patriarchy to further the oppression of women.

Now, though, as the cock made a bulge in her throat, that objection seemed trivial. Flavor burst like fireworks on her tongue, sending her thoughts swimming. All sound around her seemed to rush out of the room as her entire being centered on the cock, on the lewd slurp and gurgle echoing through the apartment.

Asher wrapped his hands in Cassy’s hair and pulled it out of her face. He leaned back and groaned, controlling her tempo with his hand on the back of her neck. Cassy loved it. It felt good to have a strong grip controlling her.

So this is why women suck cock, Cassy thought. Why did I wait so long?

The dick grew firm and veiny, and Cassy could feel it begin to pulse down at the base. On instinct, she thrust the cock as far into the back of her throat as it could go and waited.

A burst of something salty struck Cassy’s tongue, flooding her cheeks with a delicious white fluid. The cock spurted more, and though Cassy tried to swallow as much as she could, there was just too much. Cum spilled from her lips and dripped into the couch, splattering her tits in spots of pearly white.

When Asher’s cock stopped spurting fluid, she pulled her lips from it with a loud pop. A strand of cum dangled from her chin. She gathered it and shoved it inside her mouth, savoring the taste for a moment before swallowing. Was cum supposed to taste that good? Her gaze centered on the rapidly shrinking cock in her hand. Her stomach felt full, but her pussy still ached.

“How soon until you can go again?” Cassy asked, pumping her fist slowly up and down on the slime covered dick. She didn’t want to let go of it. It felt right in her hand.

“Give me a minute,” Asher said, his eyes closed. He leaned back and exhaled a deep breath. “I’m going to fuck you senseless.”

Cassy could only smile.

Hours later, Cassy rolled off Asher’s sleeping form. Her skin was covered in a thick sheen of sweat, and her lips tasted of cum. Still, though, despite the countless times she’d ridden Asher to climax, her pussy still ached for more. It was a low level ache now—she felt pleasantly and completely fucked—but still, the arousal that had driven her to this man’s apartment rested in the back of her mind. She felt insatiable. She felt filthy. She felt used.

Was this how Steph lived? Was this why she had so many one night stands? Even Cassy had to admit that getting plowed had felt really, really good.

Thinking of Steph made Cassy wonder. She reached into her purse and grabbed her phone. Sure enough, twenty unread messages blinked—all from Steph. They showed the slutty secretary in a variety of positions with a variety of guys. She captioned one of the pictures with the words, ‘This could be you if you ever loosened up.’

The pictures reignited the fire between Cassy’s thighs. She reached instinctively for the Bimboquill in her purse. Popping two pills, her urges slowly dimmed. It was the smallest amount it’d taken in weeks. With the matter of her lust settled, she gathered her things to leave.

Cassy had a bit of a surprise when she tried to stuff herself back into her dress. Her tits barely fit. They pressed against the fabric, suddenly tight despite fitting perfectly the night before. It took removing her bra before she could zip up the back, and even then Cassy had to breathe in short gasps.

So this is a walk of shame, Cassy thought. She gathered her heels in one hand and cracked open the door. She shot one parting glance at the man snoring into his sheets. He really was handsome, and Cassy supposed she could’ve done worse for her first—and only—one night stand.

I am never doing this again.