The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Mmmmm, yum yum yum I love David’s cock,” said Lydia Loveswell to herself as she slurped noisily on his tool. “Why on earth didn’t I try this sooner?” They were in the livingroom, David in his favourite chair and Lydia on her knees in front of him, looking like a wet dream in black lace underwear, sheer black stockings and mirror-black high heels. It was an outfit David liked. Lydia’s sexy little black dress was lying on the floor.

“Hey, you’re getting a little better babe,” said David arrogantly. “Try to take a little more in this time.” Lydia did as she was instructed, concentrating on swallowing as much of her husband’s substantial cock as she could manage. Her long earrings glittered as she bobbed her head up and down. She still wasn’t expert by any means, but David said she was improving, and that was what mattered. She wouldn’t be satisfied until she could swallow him completely.

Sex was so much better when she made an effort to be conciliatory, Lydia reflected, as she earnestly gave her husband his evening relaxation. Throughout their marriage she had resisted oral sex, convinced it was degrading and uncomfortable. Now she realized that attitude was selfish and unco-operative, and she was eager to make amends. Unexpectedly, she discovered that she loved it! She had never imagined David’s cock in her mouth could feel so good! If this was co-operation she would co-operate night and day! In fact sucking David off got her so excited that Lydia had started playing with herself while she sucked. She stopped though, when she realized it was taking her concentration away from giving him her absolute best effort. That was critical. She had to make sure she accommodated his needs.

The Vice-Principal frowned as he studied the papers in front of him. “Cecilia, I called you in because I’m frankly concerned about your performance in this last semester.” He looked up at her from behind his old oak desk and Cecilia was certain she detected something more than professional interest in his eyes. His gaze lingered on her supernatural chest, ill-concealed behind a bulky black sweatshirt with the logo of the city football team on the front. She matched the sweatshirt with clingy, black tights and low-heeled black ankleboots. The dark clothing contrasted splendidly with the radiant waterfall of hair tumbling down over her shoulders and far down her back, and the slimming tights only emphasized her top-heavy figure.

Cecilia wasn’t at all surprised that the VP was staring at her. Just about everyone did lately. She could hardly go out on the street without causing traffic accidents. She gave the VP her best sweet-innocent look, while girlishly twisting a strand of hair around one finger. “Why, whatever do you mean, sir?” she said, trying not to sound nervous. She had never been summoned to the VP’s office before. Generally only chronic flunkies, truants and trouble-makers got sent to the VP. There had to be some mistake.

“Cecilia,” said the VP, “You have always been a consistent student. I’ve got your reports here and I see mostly high C’s and B’s, even a few A’s. If you finish your year with the same level of performance, I see no reason why you shouldn’t get into college. But lately you have fallen off rather badly.”

“I have?”

“You came down badly on your history midterm. You failed your last two math tests; and now Mr. Faraday tells me you haven’t even turned in a book review for English class.”

“Well, I’ve been, uhm, kinda busy,” Cecilia said lamely. In truth she hadn’t been doing much homework lately. She was out on dates most nights, and when she did half-heartedly sit down to read one of those boring English books her attention would wander to the marvels of her ever-growing titties and before she knew it she had lost a lazy hour sprawled on her bed playing with herself. The books were too hard anyway.

“Evidently not too busy with classes, though,” the VP said. He held up a stack of late-slips. “Cecilia you have been late every morning this week, and last week too. You have been skipping classes and cutting out early. This simply will not do!”

Cecilia shifted her weight slightly and the movement made her breasts bounce a little under the sweatshirt. She noticed the VP’s attention shift back to her chest. “Now, Cecilia, I realize that you have gone through an um, unusual, er, period of... delayed development, and I can imagine that that has been somewhat, ah, distracting.” He seemed uncomfortable with this part of the discussion. “Nevertheless, I simply cannot let this truancy continue. You need to be applying yourself if you want to finish the year with a respectable average. Therefore,” he pronounced, “I am assigning you detentions every evening until you have made up these tardies.”

Cecilia was shocked. How could he do that! She had dates lined up every night this week, she couldn’t waste time sitting around in study hall! There had to be some way out of this. The VP did seem to like her looks; maybe she could sweet-talk him.

She planted her best pouty look, and lowered her heavy eyelids. She was wearing dark mascara to highlight her three-quarter-inch lashes. “Sir,” she said softly, deliberately tossing back her mane of shiny blonde hair, “I don’t think you understand the strain I’ve been under. My body is changing so fast!” She took a couple of steps around the side of his desk, walking with the deliberate wiggle she had seen her mother use. “I mean, I’ve put on more than nine inches of bust size in less than a month! And they’re still growing! See?” She tugged down the bottom of the sweatshirt, letting her breasts bulge through the fabric.

As she had hoped, just the outline of her boobs was enough to distract the VP’s attention. His gaze rivetted to her chest and his frown softened. “Yes, well, perhaps this has been, er, a...tumultuous time for you, but, uh, that is, you mustn’t let your uh, physical condition, interfere with your schoolwork,” he said, with rather less conviction than before.

“But Sir, they interfere with everything!” Cecilia demurred, taking another step toward him. “I’m even having trouble finding clothes that fit. That”s why I’ve been late for school some mornings.” Well, that was one reason.

She smoothed down the front of her overfilled sweatshirt as if to emphasize the point, and the effect was even more gratifying. The VP couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away. “Yes, I see, uh, well, perhaps there are, uh, mitigating circumstances here, but still, you must understand, the rules on attendance are firm.” He licked his lips. “Very firm....”

Smoothing down her sweatshirt brought the soft cotton fabric against Cecilia’s nipples and a familiar tingle coursed through her. She felt certain from the VP’s rapt gaze that she could talk her way out of this; men just couldn’t seem to resist her marvellous titties. “I guess I have missed a few classes,” she said contritely, shrugging back her golden locks so her breasts bounced charmingly. “But things have been really confusing lately. I’ve gotten sooo big, sooo fast, that I can’t even find underwear that fits!” She dropped her voice to a secretive whisper. “So, you know what? Most of the time, I just don’t wear any. Look!” Abruptly she grabbed the bottom of her sweatshirt and pulled it up over her chest.

Cecilia was standing right beside the VP’s chair and her eye-popping breasts were suddenly bouncing and swaying right before his eyes, the nipples red and protruding. The Vice-Principal gasped in shock. “C-Cecilia! What on earth are you doing! Put those away this instant! They’re gigan—I mean, cover yourself!” But he was staring helplessly.

Cecilia felt wanton. “They’re unbelievably sensitive too, Sir,” she said, running her hands over the swollen globes. She pinched her nipples and thrilled at the feeling. “Mmmmm, that feels so intense. See how my nipples are all stiff? They’re like that practically all the time.”

“Now, Cecilia I, I order you t-to cover yourself this instant!” said the VP, an edge of shrillness in his voice.

Cecilia ignored him. “Look,” she said, “I can even suck on my own nipple.” She bent her head and used both hands to raise her left breast to her lips. She suckled noisily for a few moments, occasionally swirling her tongue around, mewing contentedly. “That feels so wonderful,” she said, batting her long lashes.

“Cecilia, please...” the VP moaned.

She slid one knee up onto his chair. “Now you try.”

“No, wait, you musmmphth mmmphth mmmmmmthm” The VP’s pitiful protest died on his lips as Cecilia calmly thrust her tit into his mouth. Instantly his basic instincts took over and he began sucking and licking in earnest, all thoughts of discipline forgotten. His hands came up to encircle her breasts and he bobbed and nibbled hungrily on her boob while Cecilia soothingly stroked his hair. When after a long time his mouth slid off her red, wet nipple, it was only to transfer, panting, to the right breast and start over.

“Oh fuck but that feels good!” Cecilia exclaimed, eyes closed. Already her first orgasm was not far away.

Forty-five minutes later Cecilia stepped out of the VP’s office into the deserted hallway, smoothing down her clothing languidly. The sweatshirt hid the shine on her chest where she had rubbed the VP’s semen into her skin like rich lotion. Wonderful man, he had saved a second round for her. She looked at her watch. She was late for supper, again, and she had to get home to prepare for tonight’s date. She headed for the door, pausing just long enough to toss a wad of late slips into the trash bin. A lone janitor was cleaning the floor and he gawked at her as she sauntered by, all tits and tights and fabulous blonde hair. Tomorrow, she decided, she would pay a visit to her English teacher.

The telephone rang several times before Lydia heard it over the vacuum cleaner. She turned off the machine and tripped over to the telephone table, her high heels silent on the carpet. “Hello. Oh, hello Mr. Barrett.” She listened for a moment, idly examining herself in the hall mirror. Her mascara looked good.

“Yes, I’m sorry I haven’t gotten back to you about that,” she said at last. “But I don’t think I want to proceed with the divorce....yes, I know you’ve done a lot of paperwork already, but you see, David, my husband, and I have come to a reconciliation.” What a funny word, she thought. She remembered the way they had “reconciled” on the diningroom table the day before and her pulse quickened. Only half-listening to the lawyer, she slipped one hand under her miniskirt and gently stroked herself with a red-nailed finger. David liked it when she didn’t wear underwear at home. It was so convenient for quickies. “What’s that?” she said to the telephone. “Oh, no I’m quite certain. Yes, you can, mmmmm, put the file aside. That’s fine...if you have to bill for oooooh, time spent, then please go ahead. My, my husband will take care of it.” She sighed. “He takes care of everything.” She was using two fingers now. The lawyer rang off and Lydia turned her full attention to her thrusting fingers, watching herself in the hall mirror. A divorce was the last thing in the world she wanted now. Not after she had learned so much about being co-operative. She hoped David would come home soon.

It was late Saturday morning. Cecilia stood before her bedroom mirror, naked except for a pair of gaudy, mirror-black pumps decorated with long silver chains. The shoes were brand new, discarded after a few days by Cecilia’s mother when she moved up to five-inch heels. Cecilia admired her image vainly, casually stroking herself with one hand. “Let’s face it, honey,” she told her reflection, “I’m a goddess. A fucking love goddess.” Puckering her deep red, lusciously full lips, she blew herself a kiss. She ran her free hand over her super-sized breasts, enjoying their smooth feel and impossible roundness. Maybe her chest had finally stopped growing; she had measured herself three days running and come out with the same measurement: 44 inches, a little more when the nipples were hard, which was pretty much all the time. Maybe now she could start wearing a bra again. She snickered. “What the fuck for?” she asked her breathtaking reflection. Her breasts continued to flout the laws of physics, bouncing high on her chest and straining outward without the slightest regard for gravity. Perhaps that contributed to their almost hypnotic effect on men.

Her hair had stopped growing too, or at least it had slowed down a little. The colour of corn silk and shiny as spun gold, the thick coils cascaded over her shoulders and down her back, framing her smooth, impossible curves like a golden halo. The mantle of curls ended just above the crease of her ass. Cecilia had given up trying to keep it shorter when she noticed that the more she cut off, the faster it grew back. Only when it was at full bum-length did it slow down to something even approaching normal. Now she only had to cut it once a week or so.

With her fingers still teasing above and below, Cecilia made her way back to her bed. “Mmmmm this love goddess is horny,” she murmured as she stretched out on the unmade bed, golden hair all around her and her enormous breasts pointing skyward like ballistic missiles. She had been out very late the night before, on a date that had blossomed very quickly into a backseat lovefest. The poor fellow had sprouted a hard-on within minutes after Cecilia got into his car.

Cecilia withdrew her hand from her lovenest and wiped her fingers on her nipples until they glistened wetly. She had moved her bed around so she could watch herself in the mirror while she played. The telephone rang several times before Cecilia noticed. Then she remembered that her mother would be out at her Saturday morning aerobics class. She rolled over on her side and lazily picked up the telephone by her bedside. “Hello.”

“Ah, Cecilia, is that you?” said the voice.

“Yes, this is Cecilia.” She brushed her right breast idly with a lock of hair.

“Oh, good, I’m glad I caught you. This is Dr. Bloomsworthy. We finally have the results of your blood work. I’m sorry it took so long, but the lab had to repeat some of the tests. The results are....unexpected.”

“Oh?” said Cecilia, without much interest. Her free hand strayed downward. She was so horny this morning.

“Tell me,” said the telephone voice, “have your breasts, uh, continued to enlarge?”

“Oh, yes, they’re much bigger now.”

“How... how big?”

She told him.

There was a long pause. “And your hair?” His voice sounded a trifle husky.

“Still growing,” said Cecilia. Except on my legs, she reflected idly; she lifted one leg and ran her free hand down the smooth calf. She was still wearing her mom’s high heels.

“Cecilia,” said Dr. Bloomsworthy, “I think you had better come in and see me right away.”

Cecilia’s hand was busy between her legs again.

“Really? Why’s that?”

“Your blood tests showed a massive hormonal imbalance. Estrogen levels especially are extraordinarily high, and growth regulators are off the charts. It’s almost like you’re going through puberty, except magnified somehow. Are you following me?”

“Wha? oh, s-sure Doc.” She cradled the telephone against her neck so she could use both hands to stroke herself.

“I don’t want to alarm you,” the doctor continued, “but I’m sufficiently concerned about this that I think you should come in for some more tests without delay. Then maybe we can start thinking about a treatment—Cecilia are you all right?” She was panting into the telephone.

“Sure, I’m fffffine doc, just oh oh, yes, just fffine,” Cecilia gasped. “I’ll call you back!” She hung up abruptly. Maybe she should be concerned about the hormone business, but she was too horny to think about that right now. And besides, why would she want to get treatment for her wonderful titties?

Dr. Bloomsworthy parked his car in front of the row of townhouses and checked the paper in his hand. Yes, this was the street. He climbed out of his Peugeot into the bright spring sunshine and surveyed the quiet street. The townhouse complex was a splendid example of insensitive development, plopped down square in the middle of an established, if inopulent, neighbourhood with only a token attempt to conform to the architecture of the older houses. Hadn’t there been some sort of noisy protest when the development was proposed? It had made the papers for a while, if he remembered rightly. He looked about him. Most of these graceful old brownstones could be quite lovely if they were given a little attention. The big one at the end of the street was especially impressive, although its dark exterior and heavily shaded yard made it look forbidding.

Back to the matter at hand. Dr. Bloomsworthy checked the address in his hand again, and looked for house numbers. Where would unit 24 be? He had decided to make a house call on Cecilia himself, to see if he could convince her to come in for another examination. The results of the blood tests were amazing, to say the least, and if Cecilia’s description of herself on the telephone had been accurate, she was a medical mystery of the first order. It was of course, medical curiosity that motivated him. That and concern for a patient’s well-being. The fact that he already had a boner just from anticipating what she looked like was irrelevant.

The townhouse complex was bigger than it looked, and unit numbers didn’t run in order. Dr. Bloomsworthy conceded eventually that he would have to ask directions. It was a fine Saturday afternoon and many of the residents were out in their doormat-size yards. Dr. Bloomsworthy decided not to disturb the young woman who was mowing the lawn in a bikini and high heels. A few doors farther along, however, he encountered an even more interesting sight.

The woman was petite, but her figure could only be described as lush. As curvaceous and perfectly proportioned as a spiral staircase, she was tending flowerboxes by her front door, her every move and gesture effortlessly smooth and sexy. She was dressed in bright, tight, red shorts and a matching athletic top that bared most of her deeply tanned belly, topped off with white canvas ankle boots. Curly brown hair framed a dimpled, high-cheeked face.

“Excuse me, Ma’am,” Dr. Bloomsworthy said politely. “Could you tell me where unit 24 is?”

The woman looked up and a warm smile suffused her features. “Well, hellooo there handsome,” she said, stepping down the front steps toward him. “What made you decide to brighten up my day?” Her perfect legs glinted as she walked and Dr. Bloomsworthy noticed she was wearing sheer nylons. Her every move radiated sex appeal.

“No, really, I just need to find unit 24, if you don’t mind,” said Dr. Bloomsworthy. This woman was doing nothing to relieve his hard-on.

“Pleasure to meet you,” the woman cooed. “My name’s April. What’s yours?”

“Uh, Bloomsworthy. Edgar Bloomsworthy. I’m looking for a patient of mine, she lives in—”

“Ooooh, you’re a doctor!” April gushed. “I love doctors. Would you like to come inside for a drink?” She looked up at him brightly.

“Uh, no, thank you, not right now; I have to find unit 24. My patient—”

“You know, as a doctor I bet you’d like to hear about me,” April interrupted again. “I’ve lost 53 pounds in under four weeks. Pretty good huh?” She took a step backward and posed with her hands on her full hips.

Dr. Bloomsworthy accepted the invitation to stare at the intoxicating curves spilling out of her too-small top and shorts. “Fifty-three pounds! Are you quite certain? What kind of diet did that? You should be more careful; extremely rapid weight loss can be dangerous!”

“Oh I didn’t go on a diet. The weight just melted away! And I feel splendid!” She slid her hands deliberately down her hips.

“Extraordinary” breathed the doctor, staring. “Altogether extraordinary.”

April shuffled forward and took his arm. “Maybe you should come inside and examine me,” she urged, pulling him toward the door. “I probably need a complete physical.”

With some difficulty Dr. Bloomsworthy resisted the invitation. “No, wait, miss...uhm, April, I really can’t right now.” He unpeeled her hand from his arm. “I have a house call to make. If you could just tell me where to find unit 24?”

“If I tell you, will you promise to come visit on your way back?”

“Well...OK, all right, I promise,” the doctor lied.

She diddled with his tie. “Three units down, the red door on the left side. And when you come back, I’ll show you my new exercise program!” She blew him a kiss, then walked back to her doorway, one hand on her hip, the tight shorts, sleek nylons and block-heeled boots displaying her lush curves to maximum effect.

“Holy cow,” breathed Dr. Bloomsworthy, watching her go. “Maybe I should move into this neighbourhood.”

With April’s directions it took only a moment to find the right door. He rang the doorbell and waited. After a few moments the unmistakeable tap of high heels could be heard from the other side. The door opened, and Cecilia’s mother stood in the doorway. “Dr. Bloomsworthy!” she breathed.

The doctor’s jaw dropped. He knew Cecilia’s mother as a patient, but he had never seen her—could not have imagined seeing her—like this. She was dressed in a black satin corset with red laces up the bodice, tied very tightly in a big knot just below her protruding cleavage. Lacy red garter straps pulled sleekly over her black silk panties, connected the bottom of the corset to the top of black fishnet stockings, which in turn sleeked down her long legs and disappeared into a pair of calf-high black leather boots. The boots had red laces up the front, also tied very tightly, and about the highest heels the doctor had ever seen. She wore red satin gloves that ran up her arms well past the elbow, and a black velvet choker, inlaid with glittering, multicolored rhinestones.

After a long silence the doctor finally managed to stop gaping and attempt conversation. “Ahhh,” he said blankly. He swallowed. “G-Good afternoon! Hu..how...how are you?” He noticed that her hair was done up in some complicated, elegant braid, and she was wearing carefully applied make-up that highlighted her eyes and lips.

Cecilia’s mother looked down at the gleaming, pointed toes of her boots. “I’ve been bad,” she whispered apologetically. “Please spank me!”

The familiar scent of candles permeated the livingroom as Nick Nomeda walked in. His mother looked up from her meditation and smiled at her only son. “Have you finished?” she asked.

“Yes Mother. I gave Cecilia a gift for her eighteenth birthday, as you asked me.”

“How thoughtful of you. Did she enjoy it?”

“I’m sure that she does. I have given gifts to many of our other new neighbours as well.”

“Excellent. Your father will be very proud of you.” She rose gracefully and stepped out of the bright pentangle painted on the floor. “We didn’t want that new building here, as you know, but your father thought it would have been...conspicuous to use our full powers of dissuasion. So now we must learn to get along with our neighbours. Were all your gifts accepted?”

“I believe so, Mother.”

“Excellent,” she said again. “You have learned your lessons well.” She kissed his cheek. “I always knew you were a backward child,” she said proudly.