The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Gerald was in a state of panic now. He knew something was wrong. How he knew wasn’t an issue. It was to him like knowing the reason he took a breath every few seconds. He just knew it, the how wasn’t crucial to his understanding. Something had been strange about this place since he first stepped out of the RV. Maybe it was as soon as he pulled off the road. Something just didn’t seem right about Fertile Fields and he hadn’t even seen the town yet. His entire experience of the place was some old abandoned service station where he stopped to ask for directions.

Having wandered down a maze of cramped dark hallways, Gerald quickly discovered that other than him, nothing was breathing in this place. It seemed unused and rather hastily abandoned at some point in the past. On one table in what he presumed to be a break room, he’d found plates laid out with the remnants of old meals, now reduced to bones and stained bits of mummified meat. There were glasses sitting at the table, looking to have only been touched by time. The TV was an ancient number, most likely black and white, but when he tried turning it on, nothing happened.

Having left that room and wandered through a couple of old offices, Gerald just knew something was wrong, something had happened to Missy. He forgot all about the RV or anything outside this gas station. Missy was somewhere nearby. She had to be.

As he walked out of one office and back towards the front of the station, Gerald heard the ringing of wind chimes somewhere out back. He looked in that direction and saw something shining in the intermittent sun outside. It was small, sitting on the edge of the wooden railing out back. Making his way towards the back door, Gerald recognized it at once. His breath caught in his throat as he realized he was completely justified in the severe concern that had settled over him.

The day seemed peaceful as Gerald Tripper walked out onto the porch. The sky overhead was bright blue with clouds drifting lazily. Nothing seemed threatening, at least nothing recognizable seemed that way. But the small bottle of nail polish spoke differently. This was Missy’s, he’d recognize the shade anywhere. Why was it here? Where had she gone? And worse yet, had she gone willingly?

Cupping a hand over his eyes, Gerald looked across the landscape, hoping to see anything, anyone. Other than the shifting grass and trees caused by the wind, nothing seemed to stir.

He turned towards the large circus tent and listened carefully. Something was making a noise over in that direction. Something was humming, like an engine or something. Without even thinking, Gerald took off towards the tent, keeping low in the surrounding tires and rusted cars. The path cleared as he reached the tent. Obviously this place was used much more than the building he’d come from. The noise was now easily distinguishable. It was a generator. This tent had power supplied to it. Someone must be inside. He looked around at the old service station. Was his wife inside this tent? Had she come here willingly or been taken? Her purse being inside the station spoke too easily to the wrong answer, the answer Gerald didn’t want to consider.

Circling the tent, Gerald found the tent flap closed and pulled it slowly outward to peer into the darkness. Someone was inside. He could clearly hear muffled voices. Whether one of those voices was Missy’s he couldn’t say. But someone was there and he intended to see who.

Slipping quietly into the dimly lit tent, Gerald was faced immediately with a rather tall wall of boxes. The boxes were plain brown and unmarked, stacked nearly twelve feet high and they blocked his view of the immediate area. Creeping up beside the boxes, he laid his head against them and listened. There were several voices talking, and what sounded like a woman giggling.

Sliding with his back against the boxes, Gerald made his way into a small labyrinth of thin passageways. This tent was filled with things, boxes, metal and plastic tubing. Something was very strange about all this and his head continued to throb.

The voices grew clearer the further inward Gerald went. He stopped suddenly as the woman giggled again, this time much louder. That voice, he thought. That was Missy. Missy was somewhere ahead and she was giggling like a school girl. He hadn’t heard her laugh like that since the first time they met, and even then never as hard or as bubbly as she sounded now.

Something was clearly wrong.

Something was most definitely wrong, Hillary thought. She was now leaning back on the couch, her discarded tank top laying on the floor and her full tits barely contained in the lacy bra she had been wearing underneath. If that wasn’t bad enough, Matthew was now brutally squeezing both her tits, giving each a hearty shake and watching as they jiggled and bounced up and down her chest.

She tossed her long blonde hair back and bit her lip. The sensations flooding her mind were so very wrong. Why was she letting her brother touch her like this? Why would she ever take her shirt off and let him look at her tits barely covered as they now were?

Hillary looked down and noticed how incredibly pokey her nipples were becoming. They were so visible the bra wasn’t serving much purpose outside of the minimal support she was getting.

“Damn, these are sweet Hillary. You’ve got some real juicy looking tits.” Matthew said.

Hillary tried to make herself push the boy off her, to tell him she didn’t like being fondled like that. All that left her lips was a simple, “Thanks.”

Matthew gripped the sides of one tit in both hands and crushed the volume of it until her nipple threatened to pop out into view. It didn’t, remaining barely hidden beneath the top of her bra, but the thrill was still there. Hillary thrived on that feeling, that deviously wicked thrill his touch brought to her weakened teenage mind. She wanted so badly to yell at the twerp, to put him in his place. Somehow though, Hillary knew she needed what he was doing.

No, she thought as he squeezed the other tit even harder. No, she needed that and more.

“Your bra looks so much tinier trying to hold these puppies back. I swear sis, you’ve got melons like I’ve never seen. Thanks for letting me grope you.”

She knew something was wrong. There was no way the thoughts she was thinking or the actions she was taking were her own. But what was happening? Where were mom and dad? Why was this making her so damn hot?

Hillary smiled and looked her younger brother in the eyes. Sliding her hands up to the stretched bra straps, she got his attention. “You wanna see em now?”

“Do I ever.” Matthew practically shouted.

Hillary leaned back, letting her brother’s hands fall away from her tits and pulling the bra straps off her shoulders. She batted her eyes and licked her lips. Everything she did made her feel even sluttier. She loved that feeling, the sensation of losing control, of giving in to a desire that seemed to come from nowhere.

Unsnapping the clasp in the back, Hillary held the bra momentarily in place, widening her smile and staring right at Matthew’s bulging crotch of his jeans. She threw her hands away and let the bra fall into her lap. Her tits bounced out and settled lower on her chest. They were quite large and the nipples very hard, much pointier than she remembered in some time.

Matthew stared, this time his mouth dropping so far his chin nearly met his neck. The tits he was looking at weren’t just the first live pair of hooters he’d ever been fortunate enough to see in person, they were the biggest he’d even seen in pornos. These were what really qualified as tits. The sheer volume was impressive enough, but the shape was where they really impressed. Each breast was a perfect tear drop, huge and capped by the sweetest, most succulent nipples he’d ever imagined. This was the greatest day of his life, and that realization was never questioned as his sister spoke up.

“So, I guess you like them, huh?”

“Yeah, wow.” Matthew said. He stared and didn’t move an inch. “Those are the best looking milkers I’ve ever seen.”

Hillary felt herself shiver at his words. Why was she allowing this to happen? Internally she struggled against her actions. It was like she was dreaming this all and had no control over what was going on.

“Why don’t you grab a hold of them? Come on little brother, show me what you really wanna do with my tits.”

Matthew felt his face go flush and without much thought reached forward and covered both tits with his hands. He grabbed her nipples and pulled at them, making Hillary wince and close her eyes. He opened his palms wide and tried to grope and pull as much of her flesh as possible into his fists. She was just so large, the milky white orbs making him painfully hard and the sheer forbidden nature of this action making him even rougher in his fondling.

“Oh yes Matthew. Oh squeeze them like that. It feels so gooood!” Hillary moaned.

Her voice set Matthew off even more. He threw himself at her on the couch, knocking her back until she had to lean her head back as he squashed her massive mammaries into hot overflowing dough, letting her flesh ooze between his fingers.

“This is so cool!” Matthew said.

Hillary grunted a little as an especially painful grope made her gasp to catch her breath. She opened her eyes and looked down, watching her tits be manhandled by the twerp who she should have been fighting off. Instead, she had different ideas.

“Hey Matthew, you really think they’re milkers?”

The younger teen hardly seemed like he was going to answer for a minute or two. His focus was trained so hard on her breasts, his entire body seemed up to the task of taking full advantage of the girl.

“Yeah, most definitely.” He finally muttered. “These are milkers worthy of being in porn.”

Hillary laughed and let a few strands of golden blonde hair fall into her face.

“You wanna play cow then?”

Matthew was so into sliding his arm up between his sister’s tits and mock-fucking them that he barely heard her. Suddenly his arm stopped and his other hand closed tightly around her left nipple. “Huh?”

Hillary brought her hands up and grabbed the sides of her tits, squeezing them tightly around her brother’s arm, lifting them and letting them fall deliciously slow. The friction created by his arm and her hot tits nearly drove each of the teens crazy with lust. She leaned back and released her tits.

“I said, do you wanna play cow? You know, I’m the cow, you’re the horny farmer.”

“Are you kidding?” Matthew asked. Something was clearly up with this whole situation but now hearing Hillary, mature, hot as hell Hillary, asking if he wanted to play some kinky game was almost too much.

She lifted a hand up to the boy’s chin and lightly stroked his jaw in her hand. Smiling, she shook her upper body, hearing the slight slapping her tits made on her chest. “I’m totally serious cutie. I want you to milk me like the cow I am.”

Gerald had so many thoughts running though his mind as he peered around the corner into the larger opening inside the tent. What was Missy doing here, and more importantly what was wrong with her?

He saw three men standing around his wife. They were large men and strangely they were each dressed as though they came from very different walks of life. One was clearly wearing a classy suit, most likely more expensive than Gerald himself ever owned. Another was dressed like a mechanic, the coveralls he wore looking faded and stained with oil or grease. The last man was dressed much like a golfer, typical polo style shirt and oddly tacky looking pants. But the men weren’t the strangest things he now looked at. Missy probably took that prize.

In front of all the men, Missy stood, completely at ease. She seemed a little drunken looking as she occasionally caught herself and stumbled a little in one direction or the other. Her casual attitude at being where she was bothered Gerald almost as much as what he heard her saying.

“Hey there big boy. I bet you gotta big cock. Do you have a big juicy cock for me baby?” Missy said, breaking into a small fit of giggles.

The man she spoke to, suit guy, smiled and approached the woman. He looked her in the eyes and then turned towards the others. “I think our guest might be ready for the treatment. What do you guys think?”

Gerald shifted his eyes from the suited man to the others.

“Yeah, I reckon she is. Mighty fine looking woman, very demure.” The mechanic said.

The golfer spoke up and walked right at Missy. “Well, I can’t stand demure. Demure is what you find in every suburban home in America. I like my women to be fucking buxom. I want titties out to here and curvy little middles that tell me she’s no good on her feet.”

Saying this, the golfer grabbed Missy by the tits and yanked on her nipples right through her shirt. She stumbled a little but nothing seemed to bother her. She simply giggled and Gerald restrained himself from running out there and starting a brawl. He had to remain calm and figure out what was happening.

The man in the suit grinned and stood right next to Missy. “I guess you’re right. Missy here is on the rather normal side of hot. I imagine she’s fucking sweet in the sack, but we can make her much sweeter. What do you say?” He asked, looking over at the man in coveralls.

“Yeah, I can handle that.” The mechanic said. He walked up to a machine behind Missy and punched a few buttons, pulling a large lever down. The sound of an air compressor hummed to life and Gerald grew very nervous. What were they doing? What was wrong with Missy?

“What d’ya say Missy, can I interest you in a fill up?”

“Yeah, this is a filling station.” The golfer added. He now had his hands all over Gerald’s wife. He was pulling her shirt up and fondling her breasts, making sure he shoved her bra up as well.

“Ooooh Yes.” Missy moaned. “Fill me up. Fill me up nice and bigggg!”

Gerald craned his neck out even further, trying to make any sense out of what he heard or saw. The compressor wasn’t making hearing any easier, so he risked a bit more exposure and moved in closer.

“Lemme just snap these hoses on here.” The mechanic was saying. He took two air compressor hoses and shoved them up underneath Missy’s shirt. “And there we go.”

“All set?” The man in the suit asked. He was standing over by a large switch, mounted on the side of the machine.

The mechanic stepped away from Missy and looked her over. “You ready babe?”

Missy smiled and arched her back. “Oh yeah, give me a pumping. Make me buxom!”

The mechanic looked back at the man in the suit and gave a thumbs up. “Give the lady what she wants.”

Gerald hardly could believe what he witnessed next. The suited man threw the switch and the compressor burst into a steady hum of droning. Clearly something was happening as the tubes leading up under Missy’s shirt shook and swayed from side to side. Then he saw it. It wasn’t possible, but he saw it just as plain as he saw his own hands. Missy’s tits were growing. Her breasts appeared to be ballooning up underneath her shirt and with them, her giggling devolved into a fit of frantic gasping and moaning.

“OOOhhhh, OH yessss, Oh do it, fill me up!” Missy cried out. She reached up and pressed onto the outside of her tits, staring at her growing chest.

The men all laughed and watched as Missy became a much bustier woman in seconds. Her shirt began pulling tight and soon buttons began snapping and threads became strained. She dropped her arms to her side and watched the watermelons on her chest reach comical proportions. The shirt couldn’t stand the pressure much longer. As it exploded off her, Gerald made his big mistake.

He was leaning on a rather loose pile of tools that was precarious before he even touched it, sitting on the lid of a box. But when that shirt popped and flew off his wife and he saw her massive tits, the very volume of flesh looking like something in a fetish video, Gerald stumbled back and knocked the entire pile of tools off the box.

The clattering of metal striking metal and falling to the floor was far too loud for even the compressor to disguise. As Missy continued moaning, her tits now reaching her waist, the men all turned and saw Gerald standing in the shadows.

“Get him!” The man in the suit said. “Make sure he doesn’t leave just yet.”

The other two men took off after Gerald as he flew back down the labyrinth of passageways he’d navigated before. He had to get out of here. Whatever those men had done or were doing to Missy was impossible and twisted, exactly what the bathroom walls had warned him of. He had to get back to the RV. He had to warn his kids.