The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

FAKE

Mrs. Megan Vuois strode with a purpose. With her piercing green eyes, and her normal stern expression, she easily gave off the vibe of “power woman”. People seemed to sense it and parted before her as she strode down the hallway heading towards a doorway with the title “Public Relations” posted on it.

She walked into the outer office and past the secretary who didn’t even try to stop her. The young woman realized Mrs. Vuois was in one of her moods and hoped she would escape notice. She stalked past several doors and threw open the door at the end of the hall.

A short man and a middle aged woman both quivered slightly as the door banged open. The man rubbed his hands nervously together while the woman swallowed. Mrs. Vuois walked in and took a seat across from the desk and regarded them with a very cold look.

“You know why I am here. I want to know how it happened. I want to know who did it. I want to know how they did it. And I want their head on a plate. And I want it 12 hours ago, preferably right before I got ambushed on the red carpet at the Oscars by PETA on live TV in front of the entire fashion world. If I don’t have that head by the end of the day, I’ll have yours instead. Am I perfectly clear you incompetent morons?” Mrs. Vuois said in a cold flat tone that would have made Stalin quiver.

The man stammered “Mrs. Vuois, we are working on it. We are even now spinning the story with several key fashion magazines and outlets. We can get…”

“And I have already had 4 phone calls from major chains who have explained to me in no uncertain terms they are terminating all business with us due to this incident! We are out millions already and our stock has lost nearly HALF ITS VALUE!” Mrs. Vuois screamed at the man who wilted and seemed ready to start crying.

“You are useless. Get out. You, what are YOU doing about this?” Mrs. Vuois said staring at the woman who while looking nervous seemed to be a bit more in control.

“I have several leads. If I can’t narrow them down in the next 4 hours, I’ll give you all I have and you can fire the whole bunch. But I have a hunch that I’ll have the leak by then.” The woman was able to reply with a bit more backbone than the man.

Mrs. Megan Vuois stared at her for a moment and then said “I’ll hold you to that. A name, or names, by 5pm, or it’s your head. Just like that worthless prick there. Why are you still here anyway? I just fired you.”

With that she stood up and stalked out. The door slammed hard and the woman heard a crash as a picture fell off the wall in the hallway.

The man had dropped into his chair and was now crying. “Cripes Stephen, man the hell up will you? You’re lucky. You got fired, and with this you can get a job in a place that isn’t such a hellhole. She was so mad she didn’t blacklist you, so get while the going is good.”

“Jennifer, how can you work for that demon? She is hell on earth. I don’t care if she is the head of the greatest fashion consortium on the planet. I don’t care if she and her husband are one of the richest couples on the planet. I don’t care if her fashion sense is THE trend setter for everyone in the world. She is pure hate wrapped in a super model’s body.” The man blubbered out.

Jennifer nodded. Megan was all that and more. She had been the world’s top model for years. She had turned thirty, married a tech millionaire who was also an extreme sports nut and a hunk by any measure, and had founded THE fashion company. Anyone who wanted to be someone in the modeling world worked for or with her. Her designs set the standard. In three short years her company had become an unstoppable force in the world of fashion and trendy.

But with all that power came an arrogance that was so extreme it was painful for anyone who worked for her. She worked her people without any mercy. The pay was good, as were the benefits. But the hours were hell and Megan was the textbook example of BITCH in terms of personality. For cameras and those who were her equals (all high class society, movie stars, and the like) she was a princess. Anyone who was a lesser, she was the Red Queen. If you quit, she would blacklist you just because she could. If she fired you, usually it was the same thing. It was a horrible trap for all who wanted to aspire to work at the greatest fashion company in the world.

But Megan Vuois had screwed up. One thing she did have a slight weakness for was fur. She rocked a fur coat or stoal. And a simple Mink or Chinchilla coat would not do. She had gone to grander and rarer furs over three years and for the Oscars had worn a coat that simply made everyone’s heads snap when she got of her limo. And she had then had the most publically embarrassing moment in her career.

Someone had leaked a detail about that coat to PETA. Megan had hired poachers to sneak into an animal sanctuary in the Yukon Territory and trap over 2 dozen Gold Foxes. The Gold Fox was nearly extinct, highly endangered, protected by tons of laws, and was the poster animal for animal rights activists all over the world. Even worse was the fact that the poachers apparently went overboard in trapping and had killed another dozen just to make sure they had the best pelts. The population was so decimated that there was a very good chance that the Gold Fox would go extinct.

A reporter who was a supporter of PETA had ambushed her on the Red Carpet with pictures about what had happened and photos showing her coat to be made of actual Gold Fox fur instead of “specially dyed” Red Fox fur. There had been a furor. Several actors snubbed her on the spot, an Oscar Winner had publically torn off her dress and had instead gone on stage to accept the Oscar wearing a borrowed raincoat rather than anything made by Vuois Fashions, and another winner had tossed her drink in Megan’s face. Megan had been reduced to tears and had to literally run out of the Oscars to her limo hounded by reporters and jeered by everyone.

Jennifer knew all of this. She was actually one of Megan’s most trusted workers. Not her friend, but someone Megan considered dependable and reliable. Which was even more twisted as Jennifer was also the leak.

She didn’t tell this to the blubbering man as she got him out of his office without the blacklist. Even with this huge black eye, Megan’s company was simply too powerful to risk the idea that it couldn’t ride out the storm so the black list was still very much a threat.

After he had gone, Jennifer sat back and took a breath. Everything had gone according to plan so far. With Megan finally on the defensive for once she was in unknown territory. For a short period of time she was vulnerable and open for something Jennifer and her secret friends had been waiting to use for a long time.

Jennifer was actually part of an eco terrorist group dedicated to stopping humans from destroying the earth. Rather than bombs and threats, they had some different ideas on how to change minds. A special project had led to a development that just might end the fur industry forever and now was exactly the time to play the card.

Jennifer sent a short email to another fellow member who worked in the mail room. Jennifer knew Megan was in her office and would be staying there until at least 5pm so it was time to deliver the package.

A SHORT TIME LATER IN MEGAN’S OFFICE

Megan stood staring out her office window. As befitted a woman of her class and power, her office took up nearly the entire floor with only a small waiting room, conference room and a receptionist’s desk by the elevator not being entirely devoted to her own use.

Megan was simply one of the most beautiful women in the world. Perfect body, perfect tan, perfect light blonde hair, perfect green eyes, just under 6 foot tall, and when she used it a perfect smile. She wasn’t smiling now. Everything she had worked for seemed to be turning on its head. Numerous clients, rich and famous to the regular chains had been working to distance themselves from her company since the fiasco the evening before. Worse, she knew it was just beginning. She had stomped on a lot of folks on the way up and now they had the ammunition to bring her crashing down. The internet was abuzz with rumors of her “blacklist” and how she used it and if anyone could get any confirmation on it, it was truly over.

She nearly smashed the phone when it buzzed, but instead answered with an icy “What?”

“Ma’am, I have a package here from your husband. The card says its outer card says it’s something you MUST see. His accent ma’am.”

Megan thought for a moment. Usually she had her secretary open it for her, but stuff from her husband always came with two cards; the official outer one and the more personal inside one. The secretary used various code words on the outer label to determine how important the package was and if she should bother the boss or not. Obviously, this was something her hubby thought would help, or it might be a new idea for something. Either way, she was in the mood for anything other than what was going on.

“Bring it in.” she replied and stared out the window while the woman brought in the box and left it on her desk. She waited until the girl had gone and then went over and pulled out the second card.

“Meg, I know your whole day is likely shit, but I think this will brighten your mood a bit. Don’t be fooled by what you see when you open it. TOUCH it, and prepare to be amazed. Love, your man.”

She couldn’t help but give a bit of a grin at the card. One of her husband’s tricks was to find something incredibly tacky, tasteless or low class and see if she could be tricked into putting it on. Sometimes he hid a real treat (usually a lovely piece of jewelry) inside it. Usually it ended with her having a short laugh, and actually that was just what she needed today. So with a combined sense of resignation (her husband truly went out to find some appalling clothing) and humor she opened the large box.

She nearly tossed it off the desk when she saw it. It was a fur coat. Or was supposed to look like one. It was in reality a fake fur coat, short, white, and so obviously fake it might as well have had a neon sign flashing over it. It was the crappy tasteless type that cheap whores wore when working the street. Given what had just happened the other night, she nearly broke down and cried, and then nearly flew into a rage and tossed it across the room. She calmed herself and remembered the card. It had said touch it so it must have something hidden inside its folds. So with a grimace she touched it and gasped.

The fake fur felt AMAZING! It seemed so soft and warm she just ran her hand slowly over it. She then put in both hands and was rubbing it for several minutes before she realized what she was doing.

She pulled back with a start. “Wow! That was amazing! What is this? This can’t be real, can it?” She dug around for another card or a tag but realized this was a tailor made coat. But the feel of it!

“Wow, if I can market this I’ll corner the fur market no matter how many gold foxes got offed.” She said. She carefully pulled out the white coat and noticed that it would be a bit tight on her. “Definitely cut like a whore would wear. Huh, where did he get this thing?” She said as a bit of wonderment trickled into her voice and her tone softened.

“Well, tight or not, I would be a bitch if I didn’t try it on.” She doffed her business top and slide the coat on over her blouse. She let out a big gasp as she slide her arms in. “My God! This feels amazing! It’s making me feel so warm and cozy. Almost dizzy.”

She was smiling broadly now and took a couple of steps and sighed at the feel of the coat on her body. She strode over to her full fashion mirror and struck a pose. She made a pouty face, one like she thought a whore might and winked at herself in the mirror. She felt amazing and just stood there trying different poses. The more she posed the more her poses changed. She went slowly from posing like a catwalk model to posing like a hooker trying to drum up some johns.

After a few minutes she frowned at herself. “This isn’t right somehow. This coat is clashing with my other clothes.” Megan thought for a second. Then she shrugged and walked over to her full walk in closet. She didn’t notice that her normal business stride had slowed up to a more easy pace, one that caused her ass to swing a bit.

Megan was loath to take off her coat so she started sorting through her closet. She had close to 300 dresses from everyone who was anyone in the world of fashion, plus all the bits and pieces. But nothing seemed right, everything just clashed with this marvelous coat.

After nearly 45 minutes of searching she gave up in a huff. She then had an idea. “I live in LA, only 10 minutes away from Beverly Hills, time for some power shopping.” She said with a determined grin as she strutted towards her private elevator. She didn’t even let her secretary know she was leaving. But the girl came in about five minutes after she left with another important phone call from her London Office and realized the boss wasn’t in. With a slight smile at seeing the opened box and the other clothing strewn about, she made an excuse and then called Jennifer with a short message about the open box.

BEVERLY HILLS

Megan Vuois was driving one of her private cars. This one was a high end Lexus, not one of her custom sports as she was trying to be somewhat in cognitio. She had passed by several high end stores in LA, thinking they just didn’t have what she needed. She didn’t want to get out of the car much if possible so she slowly drove up and down Rodeo Drive looking at each shop and boutique. But from all the big names to the little special shops, nothing seemed right. She started to widen her search going past several streets with the lower end stuff. She felt she was getting warmer and kept going down the scale. An hour ago Megan would have been aghast at even driving past a Wal Mart but every time she would stop and think “What am I doing” she would feel that fur and the thought would melt like a snowball tossed into a forge fire.

She overshot a turn on a back road and ended up on a street going out of Beverly Hills and into a much seedier part of the LA area. She was getting ready to turn around when she saw a cheap sex toy and stripper clothing store. She blinked, and realized with excitement that she was getting close. She pulled up her GPS app and searched for stores selling cheap club clothing, as that is what stripper clothes usually got sold under. After several searches she found a place in a dead end alley near several dive strip joints that had a solid 1 star rating with comments like “Nothing worth more than $20 bucks”, “so sleazy not even strippers would shop here if they can afford somewhere else”, “If you are working girl looking for cheap work clothes this is the place”, and so on. As soon as she finished the reviews she just knew this was the place.

She drove there and parked right in front of the door. She barely remembered to lock the car in her rush to get inside. She stepped into a Store called “Jim Sex Shop and Apparel” and KNEW this was the right place to be!

She didn’t even notice the stench of old cigar smoke or mind the fat smelly old fuck at the register who was grinning from ear to ear as he leered at her hot bod. Her mind was locked onto the racks of cheap slut wear. Megan wasted no time in pulling cheap tub dresses covered in rhinestones, fake silk thongs, fake leather skirts and brassieres, and cheap leather hot pants off racks and sizing them up. She looked around for a changing room but didn’t see one. After just a moment of hesitation she moved around the rack to mostly hide her body and proceeded to start trying them on.

“Hey, no trying things on! Store policy is you pay first!” The fat old man started to get up but stopped dead when Megan dressed only in panties and a bra strutted out and tossed five $100 bills on the table. “Piss of fatso, just sit back and enjoy the show and you’ll make more money today than you have in full year.” She said and the man simply nodded and sat back with a grin.

The mirror at the back was about 4 ft tall, hadn’t been polished in months but worked well enough for her to strike slutty poses. In fact she seemed to think that this dirty mirror was much more proper to use. She had to mince a lot and work to see everything, but yes it was much better than full length clean mirror with full side mirrors to see herself.

She also discovered that the cheaper the item the better it felt. And she then realized that the best feeling items were the fake ones. Fake leather was really nice, but after several tries she realized nothing beat a tight cheap tube dress covered in rhinestones without straps and so short that you could see her uncovered snatch. She stopped dead for a second when she thought the word “snatch”.

“What the Hell am I thinking? Snatch? I don’t use words like that. Those are words trash use that whores use. I’m not a whore, I just here trying on this coat…”

As she turned around her hand brushed the cheap white fur coat she had carefully hung up on the rack and she gasped. In a moment her brief flash of clarity vanished as she brought up her hands onto that marvelous coat. Without a second thought she put the coat on and she moaned out loud and nearly collapsed.

The fur! The fur touched her bare arms and her shoulders and her nearly fully exposed tits which were spilling out of the top of her much too small dress. And the sensation drove her to a small orgasm on the spot. She stood there breathing for a minute trying to sort out the haze, and finally gave up. She stood unsteadily and looked in the dirty mirror and smiled. She looked so hot in this outfit! The fur coat was too small to close on the front so it showcased her tits nicely with the bright pink rhinestone dress pushing them up and nearly out. She could see just a little peek of her pussy, naked and gloriously wet.

“That’s it for clothes. Who the fuck needs panties anyway?” Megan said with a smile as she piled up a huge collection of fake leather hot pants and skirts, tube dresses and halter tops and carried them over to the register. She dumped them and told the leering fatso to ring in up. She then headed towards the other side of the store where the shoes were.

Again she found out that nice fake leather was the divine way to go. That or nice cheap see through plastic She picked out about a dozen pairs of 6 inch heels, and 4 pairs of thigh high boots, all black and all fake leather with nice 5 or 6 inch heels. She then added several sets of leg wraps and several sets of cheap black stockings and garters. The lacey stuff didn’t seem to be as appealing to her as the fine feel of cheap fake leather. After picking out the cheapest pair of thigh highs she donned them and clicked up to the register with the other stuff.

The grinning man was ringing up her purchases and she pouted into another mirror by the door. Something else seemed wrong. She stared for several seconds and then blinked. Of course! Her hair! It was much to hoity toity for this outfit!

“Damn it! My hair is going to ruin my whole fucking look! Shit!” She muttered with a snarl.

The old man was bagging her stuff up in some mismatched bags and looked at her. “What uh, style are you looken for?”

Megan looked at him for a second. “One that goes with this look, if you follow me.”

The old man grinned a dirty grin and looked up and down like a piece of meat. She felt a tingly sensation course through her body as she proceeded to strike a more “like what you see pose”. She arched her eyebrow at him and he pointed out the dirty window.

“Sal’s Place. That door over there. You can do a walk in with no appointments, and she specialized in, uh, “women” like you. She can do you up perfectly.”

Megan licked her lips and thanked him, but he reached out and grabbed her. “Hold on a sec. One thing you forgot. That jewelry there, not going with the look, if you follow my lead. Here, use these earrings and these bracelets. I’ll, uh, dispose of this stuff if you want.”

Megan eyes widened and she broke into a wife grin. “Thanks a bunch man!” Without even pausing she pulled out her 5 carat diamond studs and her matching set of diamond bracelets and dumped them on the counter. She pulled on a cheap set of mismatched plastic bangle bracelets and big set of gold hoop earrings. She carried her stuff out to the car and dumped it in and then headed towards Sal’s place not even looking back at the grinning man as he pocketed her old jewelry.

She minced over and knocked. The door opened and an old black woman with a cigarette in mouth opened up. She looked Megan over and said “What chou want cracker?”

“Like Hi! That nice old man over there said you specialize in looks like mine! I need a makeover, and now! My hair, my makeup! I can’t be seen with this mixup!” Megan spouted out.

Sal looked the woman over. She noticed the high end cut, the manicure, and the makeup and blew a long stream of smoke into Megan’s face. “You serious?”

Megan nodded and pulled out a $100 bill and shoved it into her hand. “Full makeover, hair, hands, toes, and makeup. I’ll give you another one when you are done, but I need it NOW!”

Sal pocketed the money fast and waved her in. Megan was grinning like an idiot. This salon was PERFECT! Dark, dirty, the mirror’s were cracked and dusty, no two bottles of products alike and all apparently purchased at the Dollar Store. Sal shoved her into a beat up barber’s chair and went to work.

“Okay, first yous need new hair. Your’s is too short so we are going to add extensions. All I’s got is these Platinum Blonde ones so we will have to dye the rest of your hair. You are a near blonde, but you shade is much darker than the extensions.” Sal began.

“Oooh, can you like leave dark highlights? To show everyone I have a dye job?” Megan cut in.

“Sure, you will look awfully trashy and cheap though. And everyone will know you have a fake hair color.”

Megan squirmed when she said fake and had another small orgasm. Sal noticed and simply shrugged as she continued. “Okay then, I’ll also add some hot pink highlights if you want, you will definitely look cheap then.”

Megan grinned and nodded yes and the woman went to work. Megan chatted with her as she worked about how the coat was so awesome and how she simply had to have the perfect look for it. Sal grunted along with some yeses and sures, but mostly wondered if this white bread bitch was off her rocker.

When everything was ready for drying, Sal hooked her up and then “fixed” Megan’s nails. She removed all the polish and added nice tacky fake nails nearly an inch long and painted them cheap dark red. Same with the toes. She then set about caking on the cheap makeup and glitter.

Megan stood up and nearly had another orgasm. Her look was perfect! Her hair was down to her ass in a braided ponytail with the fake extensions nearly woven in, her nails were exactly like a slut would wear, and her makeup was layered on with bright pink eye shadow, hot pink lipstick and lots of trashy gold glitter.

“Oh my, I’m perfect. Everything is perfect.” Megan said as she handed over another hundred bucks and then pouted again into the dirty mirror.

“Actually, yous got one other problem, maybe two. And fer another hundred I’ll tell you.” Sal said with a grin.

Megan’s head had snapped around at that and without a wasted second had shoved money into Sal’s hand. “WHAT’S WRONG?!?!”

Sal chuckled. “Well, your name and your accent. Way to classy for that look. You need a new name, a street name.”

Megan thought for a moment. “You’re right. Mmmmm…” she looked over an old magazine and grinned. “I got it! Dixie! I’m Dixie!”

Sal smiled. “Good name. Last Dixie around here died from an overdose about a year back so that name ain’t taken. For the accent, lay on a fake southern drawl. Then you’re good ta go.”

“Liake this, Ya’ll?” Dixie said with a pout. “I’ma Dixie from down South yonder, you boys like southern girls liake me?” Dixie said laying on the syrupy twang.

“Yous a natural. Time for me to close. Come on, I’ll get ya ta a cab. You’re wheels got stolen about an hour ago.” Sal said and led Dixie out the door.

Dixie was about to get mad but the thieves had kindly left her bags of clothing behind so she picked them up and followed Dixie to the main drive. Sal hailed a cab for Dixie and handed her a card. “You need any touching up, you come on back Dixie.”

Dixie blew her a kiss and gave the cabbie her home address. The cabbie turned and nearly kicked out of his cab for bullshitting him but shut up when she tossed a wade of $20’s into the front seat.

The cabbie took the scenic route, figuring out quickly that Dixie was in too much of a daze to notice and dropped her off nearly 3 hours later with a $400 plus fare. Dixie paid with the last of her cash and minced in to her house. She had dismissed the staff after the last night’s problem so she was all alone.

She walked in and noticed right by her front door was a large box with a tag. She looked at it and it said “For Dixie’s Husband”. She looked inside and grinned. “But first, I need to see a doctor. I’s got some medicing ta do.”

THREE DAYS LATER

Fred Vuois walked into the living room at about 7am. He had been on a red eye back from an event up in Washington State and was only interested in getting home and away from reporters who were hounding him about his wife.

“She just had to have that damn coat.” He thought. She always had to have THE item that no one else had and now it had potentially cost them both. Lots of his sponsors were now iffy and a couple had cut load and dropped him. His tech business was okay for now, but he was worried that Megan just might have finished her business off and he hoped she wouldn’t take him down with him.

He came around the corner into the lounge and stopped dead.

“Hi ya’ll. I’s sooooo glad ta see mah man back! Come on over ta Dixie and give your sugar some sugar!”

Dixie, dressed in her pink neon rhinestone dress turned to look at her hubby. She was the perfection of cheap and fake. Not a single item on her slutty trashy body was original or natural. The makeup was thick and whorish, the jewelry cheap and tacky, the boots fake leather, and after an emergency surgery her naturally perfect 36DD tits were now big, fat, obviously fake 44DD orbs that screamed TIT JOB. And they were set off perfectly by her gloriously cheap and fake looking white fur coat.

Fred was so stunned he just gaped as this woman whom he barely recognized strutted up to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with a long tongue probing. Before he could respond, a giggling Dixie slid down to her knees and had his cock in her throat. He gasped as she sucked him down and deep throated him. Fatigue or not, he didn’t last long and blew a load down his now slutified wife’s throat. She gulped it all down and stood up. She squirmed a bit and the tight tube dress slid right off her tits and she worked it past her now enhanced bubble butt. She kissed him again with her now bee stung lips and then bent over the couch. She wiggled her ass and laughed with a ditzy giggle and crooked her finger at him.

Fred didn’t waste any time. He strode up behind his wife and fucked her like a dog. She cried out and screamed. “That’s it ya’ll! Fuck Dixie! Fuck dis southern Bitch! Fuck this trailer trash bottle blonde bimbo hooker!”

Fred grunted and swore and then came hard in her unprotected pussy. He stumbled backwards as a grinning Dixie turned around and walked up to him. Fred stumbled and fell on the floor. He looked up and saw his wife, with her dye job and extensions, her new tits, ass, and lips, her fake leather thigh high boots all perfectly framed in that cheap white fur coat. She smiled and pulled out a jacket from a box on the bar. She strutted up to him with a slutty grin.

“Freddy, mah man. Don’t cho worry none, Dixie is going to make things all right! Here, you try this on now. You’ll understand in jess a second.” Dixie said as she lowered herself down and handed Fred something.

The words in Fred’s mouth died as his hands grasped a cheap looking black leather biker’s jacket…