The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Miss Howell stormed back to her office in the drama department, her long slender legs setting a pace that few could have kept up with, had they wanted to. She had just been ‘dismissed’ from Walcomb High School for inappropriate behaviour and they expected her to have her things gone by the end of the month. Instead she was already planning her revenge and it didn’t include her leaving.

The students had mixed views of the tall, lanky drama teacher. Some idolised her because she was a rebel, saying things that teachers weren’t supposed to say. Many of the boys liked the way she would flirt, letting her skirt ride up to reveal her stocking tops, wet her lips in a most provocative way. Many of the girls just felt sorry for the dried up old tart stuck teaching drama to kids who couldn’t care less.

Few of them were mature enough to realise where her real interest lay. But the other teachers had, finally. Miss Howell had patted one to many bums, had let her hand linger on a girl’s leg too long in a public place. Had she been a male teacher she would have been fired at the first hint of impropriety, but as a woman they had assumed that she was just a bit careless, and then that she was a ‘physical’ person. She had been politely taken to the side several times to be told by senior teachers that while they realised she didn’t mean any harm it would probably be better if she made less physical contact with students. Then that she should re-evaluate her practice. Then that she risked her actions being misconstrued. It took years before the rest of the staff had to concede that Miss Howell was indeed feeling up the girls and there was nothing mistaken in it.

In the end the school had to protect itself, and its students of course. So Miss Howell was given the option of changing her ways or leaving the school. Most of the senior teachers still expected her to be repentant and for it all to have been a mistake, but Miss Howell was anything but repentant.

In her small office, actually just a partitioned off area of the props room, Miss Howell had a minor tantrum. Feeling better after throwing a few things around and abusing the character of the other teachers, she set about putting her plan into motion. She wasn’t leaving, oh no! Instead the school would become more suited to her needs.

Lisa went into the props room with the perky demeanour of a girl who was beautiful and knew it. With her raven black hair, firm developing breasts and toned body she knew that things would always go her way, from having a rich college boyfriend through to being the editor of the school paper. She was just enough of an activist to stand out in the yearbook without doing anything to upset the status quo. After all, the system as it stood suited her.

‘Now where was Miss Howell’, she wondered when she discovered the office was empty. She had come over as the newspaper’s representative to write up the drama teacher’s leaving, expecting the usual ‘wonderful school, enjoyed time here immensely, moving on...’ sort of thing. Lisa didn’t even think about the rumours that were floating around the school, because she didn’t care. Miss Howell was just another teacher, a bit sad the way she dressed up in bright colours at her age, but all par for the course for an arts-subject teacher.

Spotting a flash of light from behind a rack of old costumes, Lisa went over to see what it was. Getting closer she recognised it as the oversized purple crystal from Miss Howell’s necklace, dangling by its thin leather thong. And there seemed to be a strange hum in the room, the young girl noted. Strange how the light played over the crystal, holding her attention. And without realising it, Lisa slipped into Miss Howell’s hypnotic trap.

Slowly she felt her will being stripped away, her sense of identity being drawn out of her and into the crystal. Soon Lisa could barely remember her name, something stronger was overwhelming her, her own needs and desires being subsumed to the will of another. That Miss Howell was now standing in front of her didn’t seem at all strange. Lisa had begun to feel a yearning for something and suddenly she was happy that it was Miss Howell she yearned. No more thoughts of her own, Lisa felt a sensual bliss in surrendering her will to Miss Howell.

“Lisa.” Miss Howell said as calmly as she could, despite her racing pulse and the tension of anticipation.

“Yes Miss Howell,” the girl replied tonelessly. A pleasant warmth tingled through her young body.

“Lift your skirt for me, Lisa.”

“Yes Miss Howell,” Lisa intoned as she obeyed, using both hands to raise the pleated skirt of her uniform to expose her pale blue cotton panties.

Miss Howell licked her lips nervously and moved closer. Reaching out she rubbed the front of Lisa’s panties, and was unable to repress a moan of pleasure as she played with the girl’s smooth mound. Lisa moaned too, deriving pleasure from the mere thought that she was making Miss Howell happy. A wet patch formed at the crotch of her formerly pristine panties and Miss Howell ran her finger through it and up to her nose. So delightful, so delicious, she thought as the sniffed the girl’s juices.

Time for the final test, she thought. “Lisa, undress for me.” And seeing the young girl immediately move to comply added, “Slowly. Sexily. Like a stripper. Sultry and coy. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

“Yes Miss Howell,” Lisa replied. She began to sway, to emphasise her hip movements and push out her chest like she had seen on tv. Releasing her skirt she cupped her breasts as if she was presenting them to Miss Howell, something she vaguely remembered from a movie a previous boyfriend had taken her to. At the time it had disgusted her, now she was so glad that she could mimic it to please Miss Howell.

Slowly, keeping up the movements, Lisa peeled off her tight sweater and flicked it to one side. On to her blouse as she undid one button at a time, pulling it back bit by bit to reveal her B-cup cleavage in tantalising glimpses until her blouse was also discarded. Her skirt next, the wrap-round kilt undoing easily, allowing her to play with it, Lisa feeling her own pleasure build as Miss Howell looked on with growing lust and anticipation. A flick and it was away, leaving the young girl swaying in her bra, panties, ankle socks and school shoes.

She kept up the teasing a little longer, until she could no longer hold back her arousal and she unclipped her bra with trembling fingers, sliding it off her supple shoulders to expose her firm young breasts and pointy nipples. It was too much for Lisa now and she practically tore away her panties and looked pleadingly at Miss Howell. The older woman was also peaking and almost threw herself at the naked young girl in front of her, lips crashing together as her hands roughly grabbed Lisa’s breasts and squeezed. Lisa squealed in surprise, and in pleasure. Soon she was flat on her back, Miss Howell’s face buried in her snatch, an experienced tongue bringing the young girl to orgasm after orgasm. And more than that, Lisa had surrendered completely now, pleasing the drama teacher was the only thing that mattered to her. She belonged, body and soul, to Miss Howell.

Still slightly flushed and with a hint of sex around her, Lisa went to her next class. The mere thought of obeying Miss Howell kept her in a perpetual state of arousal, which was enhanced by the cool air over her warm cunt, her pussy-juice soaked panties left with the drama teacher for her to enjoy. Eager to please her lover, Lisa immediately set about enacting her part in Miss Howell’s evil scheme.

Nearby she saw the opportunity to achieve two parts of the plan in a single go. As she moved over to where Brenda and a couple of guys were talking Lisa felt a rush of warmth in her pussy and suppressed a gasp, it felt so good to do what Miss Howell wanted.

Brenda almost looked relieved when she saw Lisa coming over. They weren’t really friends but both being attractive and confident they were part of the same in-crowd and often ended up hanging out together. But right now Brenda saw Lisa as a way to divert the two jocks who were hitting on her.

“Brenda, Miss Howell wants to see you in her office, right away.” Lisa stated a little too firmly, almost too close to an order. But Brenda had been looking for an out and decided not to bite back.

“Yeah, um. Sure.” Brenda said as she stood up and dusted down her skirt. She was still feeling a bit too antsy at being told what to do by Lisa to wonder why Miss Howell would want to see her. A crude comment about Miss Howell from one of her would-be suitors spurred her on and bidding both them and Lisa a cool goodbye, headed over to the drama block. She didn’t even notice Lisa move in on the guys, making them forget all about Brenda as Lisa deliberately rubbed up against one guys crotch while giving her most seductive look to the other.

On the short walk to the drama department Brenda had just enough time to think about why Lisa seemed different. There was the fact that Lisa had really ordered her to go to Miss Howell, rather than just passing on a message, which didn’t sit well with Brenda as she considered herself every bit Lisa’s equal in social status. And Lisa’s smile, the predatory type that was normally adopted when one was about to play a trick on the drossers, where you pretended you were being nice to them while setting them up. Yeah, thought Brenda, Lisa needed to be taken down a peg or two if she was going to act like that.

Reaching the office she found it empty as Lisa had done before. Tapping with her foot impatiently, her arms crossed over her chest, Brenda peered around the props room hoping to spot Miss Howell. She couldn’t help but shudder as she looked over the tacky costumes, far too many bright colours and some of the stuff was just too ridiculous.

‘Like that thing over there’ she thought, ‘Almost looks like one of those corset things you see in sleazy movies’. She couldn’t begin to think what it was for, a circus number maybe for the trapeze artist? Boredom and curiosity overtook her disinterest and Brenda walked over to see what it was, paying no attention to the faint sounds of music that she assumed were filtering in from the music room nearby.

Over at the rack she still wasn’t sure what the costume was, some sort of woman’s top for certain with its bra-like cups but why all the lacing. Maybe a hippy-style bodice, she thought, like some of the commune-chicks wore over their velour tie-dies. But this was red and satiny. She reached out to touch it and was startled by how cool the material felt, and smooth, silky. Unaware her breathing had become as rhythmic as the music, she continued to fondle the costume, losing herself to its wonderful feel. Then a sound behind her made her jump.

“It is lovely isn’t it?” Miss Howell said calmly as Brenda spun to face her.

“Uh...” Brenda stammered, her normal aloof reserve disrupted by being surprised, “I was, uh, just ...”

Miss Howell moved around so that she was standing beside the red satin corset, drawing Brenda’s attention back to it. “It is lovely, isn’t it?” she repeated. Brenda was still too flustered to reply and when Miss Howell began stroking the material she lapsed back into her earlier trance, only the last vestiges of her hard personality preventing her from reaching out to touch the material again.

“It is lovely, isn’t it?” Miss Howell repeated again, her steady tone and actions drawing Brenda in deeper and deeper.

“Uh, my ... I,” Brenda tried to respond, vaguely she remembered something about Lisa and Miss Howell wanting to see her. But she couldn’t break away from the red satin and the memory of how wonderful it felt.

“Here, feel it.” Miss Howell said, taking Brenda’s limp hand and sliding it across the material. Releasing the girl’s wrist she was gratified to see Brenda continue to stroke the material on her own, the girl’s eyes glazed over as the satin became the center of her world.

“You want to put it on, don’t you Brenda?” Miss Howell suggested.

‘No way,’ Brenda’s mind rebelled for a moment, it was totally unfashionable. But at the same time it felt so good, so ... arousing? She couldn’t deny it, she was getting turned on. She couldn’t resist any longer, “Yes Miss Howell. I want to put it on.” she replied in a soft, dreamy voice.

“But first you must take off your clothes, all of them. You do want to wear it don’t you?”

Brenda nodded and used what little willpower she had left to stop stroking the satin so that she could take off her uniform. There was a moment’s hesitation when it came to taking off her panties, but only a moment as she remained mesmerised by the shiny red material in front of her. Standing there naked she felt her pulse quicken as Miss Howell took the corset off the rack and wrapped it around her girlishly slender waist, her young breasts too small to fill the cups but that didn’t matter. Holding it in place while Miss Howell started to do up the laces, Brenda enjoyed the feeling of sliding her fingers over the heavy material.

“Feel the smoothness,” Miss Howell whispered in Brenda’s ear, the delicate fragrance of the girl’s perfume exciting her as she began tightening the corset laces. “Feel the firmness. It holds you, binds you. Binds you to me. You are mine, Brenda. Mine to do with as I wish. Isn’t that so?”

“Um,” Brenda muttered, a last shred of will remaining. Then a sharp exhaling of breath as Miss Howell yanked the corset tighter, compressing her waist, forcing her breasts upward and outward until she could feel her stiff nipples brushing against the cups of the corset.

“You are mine, Brenda,” Miss Howell continued, “Feel my presence all around you, holding you tight. You want to be held, to be constricted, to be firm. Don’t you Brenda?”

“Oh,” Brenda gasped, her breathing limited to shallow breaths and a faintness overcoming her that only served to enhance her arousal.

Miss Howell tied off the laces at that point, Brenda’s waist cinched down to 18 inches making her bust and hips seem so much larger. She knew what she wanted next. “Brenda, I have some stockings for you, sexy sleek stockings, slutty stockings. Shall I put them for you?”

“Yes, Miss Howell.” Brenda replied in a quiet voice, the compression of the corset feeling so strange, but so reassuring, so arousing.

Miss Howell allowed herself a brief smile, and set about running the sheer black stockings up Brenda’s smooth legs, attaching them to garters running from the corset. And that sweet, naked pussy, so close to her face as she knelt there to adjust the length of the garters. It was too much for Miss Howell and she buried her face into the young girl’s moist crotch, delighting in the smell of the girl’s sex even as her tongue lapped at Brenda’s clit. Brenda moaned audibly, the stimulation sending her over the edge, the arousal that had been building for so long surging into a climax that destroyed the last vestige of her resistance. She loved her corset, she loved how it held her, how it enhanced her figure. And she loved Miss Howell for forcing her to wear it, for making her throw away her old life. She would be anything, wear anything, that Miss Howell wanted.

Mr Kelso, the principal, sat at his desk tapping his keyboard in an absent minded manner. He had just expelled two of his students and that was always cause for concern. But looking back over his conversation with them he knew he had no other option. They had been fighting, not the usual schoolyard scuffling, serious blows were being landed when they were broken up and at least one of the pair had lost several teeth. That on its own wouldn’t have been so bad, except that they refused to accept responsibility for their actions. In fact they had blamed Lisa for starting it. He couldn’t conceive of anyone less likely than Lisa, the girl was a positive delight to have at the school, dedicated, bright, a real leader with all her activities.

No, he decided as he hit the enter key and sent his report away to the school board, the boys had obviously become infatuated with her and turned violent when she didn’t reciprocate. Typical teen male aggression and the best way to deal with it was to send them away to separate schools. A gentle cough from the doorway caught his attention and looking up Mr Kelso saw his secretary standing there. As always the middle-aged woman was immaculately presented in a stiff white blouse and long tweed skirt, her hair up in a tight bun and her thick rimmed glasses hanging from their cord around her neck.

“Yes, Ms Cork?” he inquired.

“We have another discipline issue that needs to be dealt with. A male student has been caught going through the girls undergarments in the gymnasium changing rooms.”

Mr Kelso sighed, he suspected this was going to warrant a suspension at the very least. It doesn’t rain but it pours he decided.

Nicola writhed on the carpet of the props room, squealing in pleasure and rubbing her breasts through her uniform as Miss Howell probed her virgin cunt with two fingers. She had been snared as easily as Lisa and Brenda, summoned into Miss Howell’s lair to be entranced by the music and spinning crystal. Now the slender student was naked from the waist down and lost in the throes of pleasure as Miss Howell had her way with the girl. Her old life, her cares, her unyielding study to gain the best grades possible were all gone, she sought only pleasure now, she was Miss Howell’s dedicated sex toy. And she couldn’t wait to bring more of the girls into the fold, especially the ones who snubbed her because she never joined in, didn’t go to the parties, didn’t cut classes. Well, now they would have to join her, to become mindless sluts for their mistress.

Miss Howell inserted a third finger, stretching Nicola’s incredibly tight cunt and causing the girl to gasp in pain for a moment before the conditioning and stimulation re-asserted themselves, dropping the girl back into waves of pleasure, not the least coming from her total submission. The drama teacher moved her face in as well now, savouring the girls juices as they trickled past her intruding fingers. Probing the girl’s anus with her tongue, she sent Nicola through another shattering climax, and another until the girl was left limp and panting, unable to even moan as more shocks of pleasure hit her.

Having no sympathy for her toy, and becoming overwhelmed by her own arousal, Miss Howell hiked up her skirt and planted her damp crotch over the girl’s face, forcing her to lick at her teacher’s cum stained panties until she brought the woman off and was given a respite. Flushed with pleasure, Miss Howell left the gasping, helpless girl where she lay and slipped away into the props room to find more things to play with. She was expecting another visitor soon and she had a special treat in mind.

Sure enough a moment later she heard the distinctive “Cooee?” of Ms Philts the junior PE teacher, followed by a call of “Hello? Are you here Miss Howell? I had a message that you wanted to see me.”

With an evil smile Miss Howell prepared her crystal then called back, “Over this way, Ms Philts.”

“Very well, Miss Howell. Now what did you .... Oh!”

Miss Howell knew that her colleague had come across Nicola and was stunned by the partly naked and obviously recently fucked young girl’s state. It was time for her move and she stepped out with the crystal already spinning, the movement catching Ms Philt’s attention and locking it on the hypnotic pendant. The short and slightly plump PE teacher was hooked, her stunned mind unable to resist as Miss Howell drew her deeper and deeper into the spinning crystal.

Entranced she didn’t resist, didn’t even seem to know where she was or what was going on as Miss Howell stooped down in front of her, scooped up sex juices from Nicola’s crotch and then spread them over the PE teachers lips. Instinctively Ms Philt’s licked the wetness away and Miss Howell implanted a suggestion that she loved the taste, weakening the woman’s will further by breaking her tenets.

“Ms Philts?”

“Yes Miss Howell,” the shorter woman had to look up slightly to meet the gaze of the drama teacher.

“You love me, don’t you?”

“I ... I’m ...”

“That wasn’t a question, Maureen. That was a statement of fact. You love me. My happiness is your only wish. You want, you need to make me happy. You have no worth of your own.”

“I ... love you. I ... need you,” the PE teacher said slowly, the ideas imbedding themselves into her psyche as she said them. “I exist only to please you. I have no worth except when I please you. I must please you.”

Miss Howell continued to smile, the PE teacher had been the easiest so far, all that dedication to sport didn’t seem to foster much self image. Time to have her latest toy change into something more appealing than the tracksuit she was currently wearing. She would have Nicola help.

A while later Nicola, redressed but lacking her panties, left the props room with instructions from her mistress. She was too tired, too sexually extended to feel as blissful as Brenda and Lisa had done, but she was no less a slave to Miss Howell. Behind she left Miss Howell to torment her new toy. Ms Philts was dressed in classic cabaret style, fishnet stockings, high heels, hotpants, tight waist coat that her ample breasts bulged out off and heavy makeup. The drama teacher was instructing the former sports teacher in the finer points of being a slutty entertainer, slowly wiping her old persona with that of a cheap whore.

Mr Kelso had taken to smoking again. Bowing to outside pressure the entire school had been designated a non-smoking zone, which hadn’t been too bad until the ‘zone’ had been extended to the staff room. There had been big fights over that and more than a few of the old smokers still lit up on the sly. As principal, Kelso had been the first to publicly give up the habit. But now, with so many things hitting him at once, he needed the occasional cigarette to keep him going.

Eight students had been expelled now, all male which wasn’t unusual proportionately as almost all expulsions were male. But eight in the space of a week. Several more for fighting, two for making improper contact with the PE teacher Ms Philts, two for shoplifting jewellery during school hours and Paul Yates. That was the hardest, straight A student, captain of the chess club, the lot. And then he gets caught with hard drugs in his locker and claims responsibility. Mr Kelso knew that Paul was covering for someone, but with the boy claiming guilt and refusing to name anyone else, there was no option but to expel.

No option. That phrase seemed to be cropping up a lot lately, almost as though someone was deliberately manipulating the school rules to their own ends. But he wasn’t that paranoid, it was just coincidence. A familiar cough brought his attention to Ms Cork who had come into his office with a manila folder.

“These need your signature,” she stated in a very matter of fact manner as she opened the folder and placed several documents on his desk.

Mr Kelso looked them over and then up at Ms Cork in surprise. “These are transfer forms!”

“Yes, Mr Kelso. The parents of seven students have stated their intention to move their children to other schools. Most were unwilling to go into detail as to why this might be, but it was alluded to that they were concerned with recent ... incidents.”

Mr Kelso quickly flicked through the forms and made a startling discovery. “Seven male students?”

“Yes Mr Kelso.” Ms Cork agreed without any trace of emotion. Her immaculate and conservative appearance mirroring her demeanour.

“This week is getting strange, Ms Cork.” Mr Kelso sighed as he began to sign the forms. “Oh, could you visit the drama department and remind Miss Howell that she only has one more week before she was to hand over her duties to her replacement.”

“Certainly, Mr Kelso,” Ms Cork replied and left his office without another word. He couldn’t help but admire his secretary, undertaking what they both knew would be an unpleasant task, yet she hadn’t shown a trace of hesitation.

Ms Philts was holding a special gym session behind closed doors, and it had very little to do with PE despite the exercises involved. All fifteen girls of her class were standing in a line, naked except for their stockings and high heeled shoes, their faces showing a blankness that came with their lightly entranced state. The PE teacher herself wasn’t in her usual exercise attire, Miss Howell had chosen something more appropriate for her slave to wear for her new job. The plump teacher was squashed into a leather corset that halved her normal waist, her breasts projecting out over the half cups like fleshy melons, her engorged nipples clearly visible. The six inch stiletto heeled pumps she was wearing forced her posture even more, with her bum sticking out the back to counterbalance her overhanging tits. A wide neck binder kept her head high and straight and long black gloves were stretched over her chubby arms.

For the first time in her life Ms Philts felt herself to be in control, which was ironic as she was very much a slave to Miss Howell’s whims and desires. But she didn’t have to worry about her weight, Miss Howell liked her buxom and plump, and there was no back talk, no resistance from the girls. Smiling at that thought and enjoying the accompanying tingle of arousal that came with it, Ms Philts started the special program that Miss Howell had decreed all the girls should go through.

First lesson was how to walk in heels, walk properly that was with the sexy sway of the hips and the erect posture. Ms Philts had them walk back and forth, almost like a catwalk procession of models and as they improved she could feel her own arousal building. Then she had them practice striking seductive poses, taking a very hands on approach to guiding their young bodies, delighting in the smoothness of their flesh as she let her gloved hands stray over their naked bodies. And finally on to the serious part of the session. Pairing off the girls she guided them into passionate lesbian clinches, encouraging them to probe each others bodies, to find each others pleasure zones and how to arouse each other. And as there was an odd number of girls, she had to take Katie, a corpulently buxom blonde, under her personal guidance. She just loved the feeling of the girl’s inexperienced tongue as it played over her clit and vagina.

Mr Kelso was chain smoking now, and as much as he hated to admit it, drinking too much as well. He was finding it harder and harder to make it through the day without several shots of scotch. The latest piece of paperwork he was signing was a good indication that something was seriously amiss at the school. Two of the younger male teachers had handed in their notice. He was pretty sure he knew the reason but that hadn’t helped when he had tried to talk them out of it. Just a day ago Mr Jenks the shop teacher had been dismissed for sexual misconduct and when that sort of witch hunt started up all male teachers feared for their careers and reputations.

Mr Jenks guilt was clear enough that the board had grounds to dismiss him on the spot, he had been caught with one of his female students on his lap, his hand up her skirt thus removing any doubt that it could be anything other than what it seemed. He hadn’t helped his case by claiming the girl had come on to him, had practically thrown herself onto him and pushed his hand onto her crotch. Students did develop crushes on teachers, but that didn’t absolve the teacher of their responsibility to maintain a professional relationship with their students.

So he was down three teachers. However that was less of a problem than it would have been a month ago, because the student roll had dropped by twenty five students since then. And all male. Something was going on, but he couldn’t figure out what.

Time to get some fresh air, he decided, take a walk around his school. It had been ages since he had done that, with all the problems lately he went straight to his office in the morning, worked until late and saw nothing but his four walls. He hadn’t even made it to the recent staff meetings. Stubbing out his cigarette and pulling on his jacket he stepped out of his office past Ms Cork’s desk and out into the school yard.

Several things struck him at once. It was quieter than he remembered, not silent but less of the usual yelling and screams than normal. And fewer students rushing around, most seemed to be engaged in conversation or walking in an unhurried manner. There seemed to be very few boys around as well, making the recent losses even more striking. And the girls’ uniforms, the skirts seemed much shorter and almost all of them seemed to be wearing dark pantyhose even though it was still summer. They also appeared to be more ... physically developed ... than he thought right for girls of their age.

‘Careful’, he thought to himself, ‘better not get caught looking at the girls breasts or you’ll end up like poor old Jenks.’ Two girls walked past, holding hands and for a moment he almost stopped them. But then again, girls were more inclined to contact with each other. Had it been two boys holding hands then he would have had to do something about it. A moment later two more girls went past, hugging each other close with arms around each others waists and chatting happily. Mr Kelso felt a stirring in his loins and decided he should get back to his office quickly, Jenks’ untimely end foremost in his thoughts.

Miss Howell could feel the moistness building between her own legs as she laced Mrs Pesne the librarian into the harsh Victorian corset, its heavy fabric and whalebone stays gripping the middle aged woman more firmly than her normally drab undergarments could. Once again the irony appealed to Miss Howell, enhancing her sexual excitement at dominating yet another victim, adding another sexual plaything to her harem, as she now regarded the collection of girls and teachers she had serving her perverse needs. Mrs Pesne had always been very disapproving, condescending at times, towards Miss Howell. The librarian had lost no opportunity to find fault with the flamboyant drama teacher and her modern ways.

Well, if she was going to live in the past, she should dress the part, Miss Howell decided. It would take a while but Miss Howell felt she had the time and in future she would assign one of her girls to the duty of dressing Mrs Pesne in the cumbersome Victorian dresses she had purchased through the drama department fund.

Hypnotising Mrs Pesne into believing she was a Victorian woman had been simplicity itself, as Miss Howell had suspected it was only a minor change. But Miss Howell had added her own little twist to torment her foe while increasing her own pleasure. Mrs Pesne now had an overwhelming urge to perversion that constantly battled with her sensibilities as a right and proper lady. Foremost was the librarians craving for sex with young girls, an addiction to their scents and smells, a need to fondle their smooth flesh and stimulate their passions. Like all addicts she would try to deny it, would avoid it while becoming more tense and stressed. Then she would seek release and engage in a orgy of wantonness, only to hate herself for giving in to her baser desires. Miss Howell was going to enjoy seeing her enemy broken by her conflicts.

At that moment Rachel and Lorna came into the props room, Miss Howell had already conquered their minds and had programmed them to come to her any time they had a free period. Their timing was good for Miss Howell as her evil mind worked out a use for them. Pulling the corset-cords as tight as she could manage, and satisfied by Mrs Pesne’s pained grunt, she tied them off and left the librarian to adjust to the intense pressure on her abdomen.

“Girls,” Miss Howell addressed the new arrivals, “Time for dress up.” That was the signal for a special set of post-hypnotic commands to come into play and both girls immediately dropped into a light trance and automatically undressed themselves, awaiting the next step. Miss Howell carefully selected two costumes from the many in the room and presented them to the naked girls.

Lorna, a petite blond who was small for her age was given a 8 year olds party dress. As she pulled on the ruffled panties and camisole her mind slipped into its new identity, that of a precocious little girl. The ribbons and lace banished thoughts of her teenage identity, the white knee socks and mary-janes enhancing the childish delight she felt at dressing up in such a pretty dress. So sweet, but not innocent.

Rachel meanwhile had merged into her role as a prim young nanny as dictated by the uniform Miss Howell had given her. With her white stockings, starched blue tunic and white apron she was no longer a cheer leader and cock tease, now only Nanny Rachel directed her thoughts. And her thoughts were of her young charge, and of her kinky affair with the girl’s ‘mother’.

Miss Howell watched with undisguised glee Mrs Pesne’s reaction as Lorna sat down in front of her and began to play with her dolls. With childish innocence Lorna’s petticoated skirt had puffed up and she offered an unobstructed view of her panties. Mrs Pesne was already trembling as the urge to fondle and violate the ‘little girl’ fought against her Victorian morals. It would be a losing battle, Miss Howell knew. Leaving the librarian to her torment, Miss Howell took Rachel’s hand and lead the giggling ‘nanny’ away for a quick fuck with some special toys.

Mr Kelso finished his cigarette and briefly considered whether or not he should take up glue sniffing. Shaking himself out of that bizarrely morbid thought, he turned to the pile of invoices on his desk. Ms Cork had brought them to his attention, with an annoyingly vague comment about some irregularities.

The first dozen or so were pretty routine, stationery, telephone, power and the like. Then there was one for six tubes of scented lubricant from a supplier he didn’t recognise. He put that one to the side and carried on.

Food for the cafeteria, weed spraying, paint, more of the usuals. And then one that came with an accompanying letter saying that there was a fee for cancelling the hirage of buses. That was odd, Mr Kelso thought, he had thought that the PE department wanted the buses for an away game. Something must have come up, he just wished somebody had let him know.

Janitorial supplies, glaziers—not that they had had many broken windows lately, new overhead projector, 6 dozen pairs of stockings, black:seamed. That one had to be a mistake, Mr Kelso thought as he put it with the lubricant bill.

New curtains for the staff lounge, glassware for the lab, toner for the copier. Mr Kelso was almost relaxed again when he hit : one gross pink finger vibrators, four assorted butt plugs and two deluxe dildoes (black).

Gladys Janes wasn’t pleased, she also wasn’t the school nurse even though she was often treated that way. Being too cheap to hire a full time nurse, the school had added the duties of the sick room to her workload, as if taking music and ancient languages wasn’t enough. Now as she seemed to be alone in the drama department she was getting pissed off.

“Hello,” she tried, “Are you there Miss Howell? Lisa said you had hurt yourself and needed the first aid kit.”

Silence greeted her call. Well, not quite silence, there was some music playing in the background but Gladys was too wound up to care. Vaguely she considered that the irritating drama teacher might be lying unconscious somewhere. If she was, then she was well beyond Gladys’ first aid certificate but she couldn’t justify calling an ambulance until she found a body.

Pressing on, she came to the office which also seemed to be empty. She was just about to leave in disgust when she spotted the purple gem hanging from a hook. It looked quite valuable, Gladys thought, and if nobody was here to see her take it ..

Going closer she noticed the way it sparkled in the light, how the little movements caused by the air currents seemed to give it a life of its own. An indistinct thought of stealing it became a goal. Only as she reached out to take it, it was pulled away from her grasp. Turning she found herself face to face with Miss Howell, and was drawn to her eyes, eyes that seemed to shine like the gem.

“Hello nurse, I’m here for my check-up.”

Therese liked what she saw. Ever since her session with Miss Howell she had gained a appreciation, almost a lust for sexy women and Nurse Gladys was certainly that. Her starched white tunic, buttoned up the front, clung to her curves so tightly that you could see the boning of her corset. Her breasts were large, firm cones, her legs clad in white stockings and shod in six inch heel white leather pumps. Her formerly mousy brown hair had been dyed a lustrous deep red and was barely kept in check by her little white cap.

Gladys smiled back at the girl, “Hop up on the table and we’ll get started.” She said as she pulled on a pair of latex gloves. Once the girl had complied she ran her hands up the girl’s silky smooth legs.

“Now have you been having any unusual pains?” Gladys asked as she caressed the girl’s thigh.

“Mmm, no, not really.” Therese replied, wondering if it would be okay for her to play with her tits while the nurse was examining her in this way.

“And are you regular?”

“I’m on the pill,” Therese responded, slightly puzzled.

“No,” Gladys smiled, “I didn’t mean that, I meant are you having any trouble when you go to the toilet?”

“Oh. Oh! No, everything comes out just fine.”

“Well, just to be on the safe side, I’ll irrigate you anyway,” Gladys said as she removed her hands and went over to her cabinet. “Now if you would turn over and get on your knees and elbows.”

Bemused rather than surprised, Therese did as she was told. A moment later she felt her skirt being lifted up and over her bum.

“Not wearing any panties, I see,” Gladys commented.

“No. I’ve got some crotchless ones on order but until they come there doesn’t seem much point.”

“I understand. Now this will feel uncomfortable for just a moment,” Gladys said as she gently pushed her lubricated finger into the girl’s asshole.

“Oh, that feels nice!” Therese squealed in delight.

“Then you’re going to love this,” Gladys informed her, just before pushing in the nozzle for the enema.

Mr Kelso didn’t even bother hiding his liquor bottles any more, there was a half empty bottle of scotch on his desk by the overfull ashtray and two empty bottles in the trash. The school had gone to hell in just under a month and he didn’t know why. He wasn’t even sure how far it had gone, his usually reliable secretary had stopped talking to him, barely acknowledged his existence as she went about her business. He was pretty sure she was forging his signature on requisitions as she hadn’t brought in anything for him to sign in days.

And her clothes! He hadn’t really noticed at first, the way her hemline was slowly rising, her makeup becoming more overt, the increasingly tall heels she was wearing. When he had perceived that her breasts seemed larger, more prominent he had quickly looked away. But now he knew it had been a gradual, ongoing change until now she was sitting at her desk in a mini-skirt that revealed her stocking tops, her waist belted in to a waspish figure, her breasts two firm cones pushing out the fabric of her tight tank-top, her lips and nails done in a shocking pink, her eyes heavily made up.

He had briefly strayed from his office into the schoolyard yesterday and had fled even quicker. There were no boys around at all, and the few remaining male teachers were noticeable by their absence. And the girls, the transformation in how they were wearing their uniforms was as dramatic as that of Ms Cork. Ultra short skirts, stockings, high heels, tight sweaters which showed off their breasts. And few of them seemed to be wearing panties. Worst yet, their was nothing subtle in the affections for each other now, girls openly kissing and fondling each other as they walked around. Classes seemed to have become an occasional hobby rather than part of the school day.

A cough from his doorway and he sat bolt upright. For a moment he felt overwhelming relief, Ms Cork had come to see him about something, maybe things could go back to normal. But the woman standing in the doorway reminded him more of a street corner hooker in both poise and appearance.

“Miss Howell has come to see you,” she announced in a cool manner that lacked any respect for him or his position.

Miss Howell, the drama teacher. Wheels began to turn over in Mr Kelso brain. But too late, he knew as Miss Howell sauntered in to the room. Clad in a black latex catsuit with red stiletto pumps and a coiled whip in one hand, she wasn’t here to beg for her job he knew. Salvaging what little pride he had left, he shut down his computer, gathered up his few personal effects and walked out to his car. He knew that Ms Cork would have already typed up and posted his resignation to the school board.