The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Gotta go, gotta go. Going to be late again. Sara ran out the door of the gym. She didn’t know why she was always running late, just a thing. For that matter she didn’t know why she was in a hurry.

Sara Thompson worked at the local gym as a personal trainer. Bright, tall , pretty, with shoulder length brown hair, green eyes and legs that seemed to go on forever, as they say in the movies. Not butch, not a lesbian, but perhaps a bit of a tomboy, Sara was not even sure why she had accepted this date. Not only a date, but a blind date.

It was an odd sequence of events that had lead to this evening. One week ago her friend from high school, Jen, had called. She hadn’t seen Jen in over a year, since graduation actually. Sara had thought she had heard some crazy rumour that Jen had run away from home, but, regardless, here she was on the phone.

“Sara, it is Jen”

“Jen Mitchell???”

“Yes, how are you? I am well. You still keeping in shape?”

“Um, yeah. Actually I am working at the Gym full time now.” Sara considered the question odd. She and Jen had actually worked out together for years, that was their thing to do together. Plus, the question was cold, almost probing. Actually, Jen sounded cold, almost robotic.

“That is great, could you do me a favor. I have a friend, he is new in town and I think he would be just your type, how about it??” Her type, Sara hardly dated. Jen knew that. Jen hardly dated!!! She and Sara had a running joke about being the worlds only remaining teenage virgins. Sara thought it over. It was crazy. This girl she hardly knew anymore setting her up on a blind date, nuts. Still, Sara had been so busy it might be nice. Plus it would get her mother off of her back. No mom, I am not a lesbian. Sara frowned at the thought.

“Sure, why not. Who is he??”

“He is a, a,” there was a pause, " a chemist. He is a little older than us, but he is nice and very attractive. He knows a place on Rosemont, me him at number 13, wear something nice, a dress.”

Crap, Sara hated dresses. Heels, a slip, and pantyhose, god how she loathed the thought. Oh well, she could wear a dress for one night, with sneakers though, she laughed to herself.

“OK, I’ll be there. Talk to you soon.”

“Yes, I am sure I will be seeing you in the near future.”

How cold, she and Jen had been friends for years and now she spoke to her as if she were a stranger in a line at the movies or something. Actually, a stranger might have been treated better.

Now here she was, running, still in a warm up suit, to her apartment near the gym. In to the lobby, up the stairs, keys in the door, slam the door shut. She tossed her bag on to the chair near the door and began shedding clothes as she hurried towards the shower. Jump in, jump out, barely even dry. No time to shampoo, she brushed her hair out and admired her naked body in the mirror. Not bad, years of keeping fit paid off. Thin, with good sized, but not huge, breasts, calves that were hard as rock, and a pretty face to match.

“This guy is one lucky fella,” she said to herself in the mirror. What was his name?? Had she forgotten already, did Jen even tell her?? She sounded so weird, so entrancing. No time, had to get dressed.

Sara slipped on a pair of panties and a bra. Off to her closet, how dreary. She really should have gone shopping. Two dresses and more warm up suits than she could count. Oh well, guess it’s the silver one. Sara slipped on the skirt and top of a silvery shiny two piece dress. It fit tight to her body, a left over of a wedding from six months ago. Nylons, oh well she thought. Her last pair were cheap, got a run at the wedding and ended up in the lady’s room bin. She hated them anyway and slipped her short feet in to a pair of plain black flats. “I should have covered my lovely feet in nylon, should have...” she thought, she was feeling guilty about her lack of hosiery. That was nothing but odd. Sara shrugged it off and hurried out the door to her date at Rosemont.

Number 13 Rosemont was a small café in a back alley of the city. The Alley Cat, Sara thought it had closed, something about the owner, an Ann something or other, disappearing. Guess there were new owners.

Sara entered only to find only one table, a candle and red rose in the center. No one greeted her, so she approached and sat down. She crossed her legs and waited. “Hello,” she yelled in impatience. A women in a black dress, heels, gloves and SUNGLASSES approached. The pale mystery woman set a glass of champagne in front of Karen and was gone as fast as she had come. Sara was only nineteen and normally did not drink, but if ever there was a time to start... She tipped the glass back and gulped the bubbly liquid down.

Within moments Sara felt lightheaded. The wine must have gotten her on her empty stomach. Then her arms fell to her sides, her legs became uncrossed and she slumped back, doll-like, in her chair.

“Ah, you must be Sara, very nice indeed, you will do nicely.” A middle aged man in khakis and a button down emerged from the kitchen. “Sorry about the service, but Ann has just not been herself lately, right Ann.”

The women in black re-emerged in to the light. Ann began to disrobe, shoes, then gloves, then dress. Sara was surprised to find she wore only a sheer and shiny tan nylon bodystocking underneath, a wonderful bodystocking, so sheer, so shiny... Again, with the hosiery, Sara was overwhelmed with her own response. Then the finale, off came the sunglasses, there were no pupils.

“Please don’t hurt me, please no, don’t rape me, please...” Sara could barely get the words out through her paralyzed mouth.

“Sex, oh please. I wouldn’t want to damage the merchandise. Besides, the process renders you incapable of penetration. I mean you can still pleasure your owner in other ways, oh dear, I get ahead of myself. Ann, if you would.”

Ann approached Sara. Sara attempted to flee but managed only to fall out of her chair. Lying face down she felt something silky on her leg, something wonderful. She looked back to see Ann caressing her muscular calf with her shiny, stocking foot. The most luxuriously soft nylon Sara had ever felt moved up and down her leg, five tiny nylon covered toes massaging her calf. The pleasure was too much, it felt so good. Sara’s body succumbed to the overwhelming lust and shut down. Ann picked up her slumped form and carried her outside to the waiting van. The man blew out the candle and followed.

Groggy, but awake, Sara awoke to a dark stone lined room. She was seated in a chair, old and wooden, her neck, wrists and ankles held tightly by metal bands. Looking around she saw several girls dressed similarly to the one which had been at the restaurant. There was also one in a cheerleader’s outfit and another in a plaid skirt who was being disrobed by one of the other girls. Underneath she wore the same shiny and sheer body stocking, so beautiful, so wonderful, if only she could... She snapped herself out of it. What was going on. The pale blank expressions and lifeless eyes reminded her abruptly of what the man had said, product.

“Don’t worry, the attraction is built in to the nylon, you can’t resist. Which reminds me, something we need to take care. I believe Jen said she would see you soon.”

With that, the man removed a crumpled pair of shiny tan pantyhose. On the panty was an imprint of what could only be Jen’s face, it was frozen in horror. Sara shuddered, what was going to happen to her. As if in answer, the man approached and waved his hand. Remarkably her bra and panties fell to the ground as if her body had become permeable. The man flattened out the nylons and carefully draped them over Sara’s legs as if she were wearing them. Sara felt a tingle, then a burn, a wonderful burn. Looking down she could see the face on the panties moving, it mouthed the words “I am sorry” over and over again. Then, the face was gone, and the nylon became as liquid surrounding Sara’s legs, the best fitting, most elegant nylons she had ever worn, and the last pair she would ever wear as a human. Sara’s body shook in lust. This was all she had ever wanted. The enchanted fabric that had once been a girl had used the last of its energy to convert Sara to a pantyhose loving simpleton. She cooed and moaned, this was wonderful, so shiny, so beautiful, she wanted to be nylon. The man smiled, he knew it was time.

The chair Sara had been sitting in began to slide towards the large black obelisk in the center of the room. Sara, though dazed in her nylon induced stupor, knew something was wrong. By the time she could manage to become afraid, it was too late. Her dainty nylon sheathed toe touched the obelisk. A glow began to come over her and, as her nylon covered soles flattened against the object, her whole body shuddered with the energy. A beam of light struck out in to her eyes. Memories, feelings, opinions, her very essence flowed in to the obelisk. Sara couldn’t resist. The evil nylon which had once been her friend Jen had weakened her too much to even move. Sara’s breathing began to slow and her nylon covered legs began to take on a shimmer even more brilliant than before. She could feel the waistband moving up her body. It slid up her stomach, over her perky breasts, up her neck, down her arms. The light had ceased and the chair was moving back away from the obelisk. Sara was too far along in the process to even notice. Her breathing stopped as her eyes took on their characteristic white appearance. Nylon covered her from her neck down her arms to the ends of her fingers, down her body to the gauzy covering of her petite toes. A red headed nylonicon approached her, releasing her bonds. Sara rose and a bar code was placed on to the back of her nylon covered neck.

“Isn’t that better, no hopes, no dreams, no worries, heck, your not even really human any more my nylonicon beauty. You live to serve, and serve you shall. The obelisk has programmed you with the means to pleasure your master with the most intense foot pleasures and oral treasures he could imagine. Heck, that and make pancakes too. Your buyer will be most pleased, you will make an excellent slave. Now join the others”

Sara, the athletic teen, was no more than an enchanted piece of fabric, an autamaton of silky, enchanted nylon and ancient alchemy. She removed her dress revealing a body, smooth and shiny, no imperfections to speak of. Even her breasts had become smooth nylon covered mounds, her crotch sexless like a doll Sara padded behind the other girl, nylon feet shuffling against the stone floor. She joined the other nylonicons against the wall. Her deep, green eyes all white, her tan skin a pale shade of its former brown hues, She turned, back to the wall, and stared blankly ahead, motionless. Deep down she screamed on the inside, her body no longer her own, her mind now cluttered with thoughts of the pleasure she could bring with her nylon covered body. Dominant in her ensnared mind only one though remained, “I am nylon, I obey.”