The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Nylon Turnaround

- 0 -

She put the ground-laced cup down onto the coffee-rung table in a fit of anxiety and panic. It was going on three in the morning, and her daughter hadn’t been home in 2 days. Barbara was at her wits end about what to do with her daughter Lacey. Staying out all night, sleeping all day, breaking her mothers heart. Barbara needed to put an end to this behavior. The cupboards were already reorganized— twice, and every inch of the kitchen had been wiped, bleached, washed, and wiped again. The lock on the door gave a familiar click, and Lacey stumbled through the frame.

Her attire fit a girl of her demeanor. She had on a tight, black, mini dress that barely reached past her privates. Her breasts weren’t so much bursting out of her shirt as they were trying to claw their way out for air. If that wasn’t attention grabbing enough, she was wearing so much make up she looked like she had fallen into a barrel of glitter. Walking into the kitchen in her four-inch heels, she finally noticed her mother.

“You’re home late.”

“What’s it to ya, Babs?” Barbara hated that, the name made her feel like some disgusting biker chick, like her 18 year old was becoming.

“Where have you been?”

“At this guy, Jerry’s house. He’s so hot! He drives a Mustang, and he knows how to handle it, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t want to hear about this young lady!”

“You asked!” Lacey giggled, burped, and continued to look at her mother.

“Go to your room, we’ll talk about this in the morning.”

“Fat chance, lady!” Getting up from the table, she said “Speaking of, you could stand to lose a few.” She giggled again, and sauntered off to her bedroom.

Barbara lay her head on the table, thanking her lucky stars her other daughter wasn’t like this. No, Cheryl was an up and coming designer, working her way through fashion school, coming up with wonderful, modest product lines to be released within the next few years. She stood up from the table, looking forlornly at the cup.

“I’ll clean it tomorrow.”

Dejectedly, she turned the kitchen light off and walked to her room. She needed to think about how one daughter was so screwed up, but the other was better than expected. Closing the door to her room, she sat on the edge of her bed and began to weep.

- 1 -

“So, how did you deal with your father not being around all of those years?”

“Mom, please. You were a terrific parent, enough for two, believe me.”

“Thank you, sweetie. It’s just, ugh, you turned out completely normal, healthy, good motivation, intelligent —”

“Mom focus.” Cheryl said, smiling.

“— and Lacey is so screwed up. I just don’t understand it.”

“I guess, I don’t know, I had my group of friends, she had hers. We drifted apart in high school, but being two years apart will do that.”

“I know, you’re right. I just wish there was something I could do.”

Cheryl thought for a moment, and rushed into her room, leaving her mother in a cloud of dust at the kitchen table. She came running back in, talking excitedly.

“Well, this is what we’ve been working on at school.” She threw a pair of pantyhose down on the table. Her mother looked, perplexed.

“Pantyhose?”

“Yeah, pantyhose! Well, they’re sort of experimental at this point. They’re made of this weird fiber mix, I didn’t catch the name, it was too technical, but apparently what they do is attach themselves to the ‘hosts’ body, forming a permanent sort of ‘bond’ with the wearer.”

“You mean they’re...living?”

“No, no! Not technically, I don’t think. Even those who designed it don’t quite understand exactly how the relationship works, but it does, somehow.”

“How, uhm, legal, are these?” Barbara was growing more pensive by the second, but her daughters smile never wavered.

“Oh, did I say experimental just now? I sort of meant illegal.” Noticing the look her mother gave her, she cleared her throat.

“But! They’ve run plenty of tests on them, and are fully confident that they’re perfectly safe! The only problem is having them get into the wrong hands. That’s all besides the point. If I can get Lacey into these, I can have her act anyway I want, and the pantyhose will make sure she does!”

“How do you know they’ll work?” Her mother contemplated whether she was wrong about which daughter was messed up.

“Just touch them.” Cheryl said with a smile.

Barbara picked the pantyhose up off the table. They were sheer black, and felt like a mix between silk and a newborns rear end. They felt absolutely wonderful like she just must try them on to see how they’d feel on her legs and let them ride up her privates and see how they showed off her legs and she threw them down on the table, shocked.

“That was way too weird. Cheryl, I really don’t feel comfortable with you doing this.”

“Mom, would I do anything to mislead you?” Her daughter looked up at her, innocently. “I absolutely promise you that they are safe, and in my hands, they will only go to good, upright, honest use. I can have Lacey turned around in an instant with these.

Barbara conceded the point, maybe Cheryl really could turn her younger sister around. And maybe after the little experiment she could get a pair for herself just to wear out shopping and get noticed by all the guys and she got up to pour herself a cup of coffee, shaking.

“I’ll get started before Lacey comes home!” Cheryl began to walk to her bedroom, but stopped and looked again at her mother. “Don’t you have a date coming up soon? Maybe I could get another pair for you, just so your more confidant.”

Cheryl giggled and walked off. Barbara hadn’t been on a date in so long, not since Tom left, and it had been time for a while to find herself a new playmate. Mate. Partner, God! She looked down at the plain jeans and baggy shirt she was wearing, and just noticed the small stain forming in her crotch.

“Oh god.” She said aloud, letting her coffee over pour onto the counter. She may as well just get a whole new wardrobe because these clothes wouldn’t do at all and they wouldn’t show off her great legs in those pantyhose and she should maybe just turn the TV on for a while to distract her ever heightening libido.

* * *

Cheryl had a plan. Lacey was in her room, doing goodness knows what, and all she would do is ask her for some help for a school project. Simple enough. When knocking wasn’t loud enough to get her sisters attention, she just walked into the room.

“What’s up, prude?” Lacey asked from her bed, reading some punk magazine. Cheryl looked down at her clothes. Her black creased pants and turtleneck certainly weren’t prudish, they were modest. She could respect herself for not showing off her body like some whore.

“Lacey, listen. I need your help for a school project, and I was wondering —”

“No.”

“Forty bucks.”

“What’d you need?” She threw her magazine to the floor and perked up in her bed. Cheryl just smiled.

“Come with me.” The two walked into Cheryl’s room. By contrast, one would think the two rooms were in different homes, in different countries. The one had punk rock band posters and sharpie signatures and pictures of lewd men hung all over, the other was flowery, and pink, and the absolute epitome of girly. A framed picture of Audrey Hepburn hung perfectly straight next to a full length mirror covered with motivational quotes on little index cards.

“All I need you to do is model a few outfits for me. It’s simple, it’ll take five minutes, and I won’t bother you for the rest of the day.”

“And you’ll give me forty bucks.”

“That’s right.”

“Fine. Let’s just get this over with. The first outfit is?”

“Right in this bag. I’ll be waiting in the living room. Come out there when you get changed.”

Cheryl closed the door behind her, not believing it could be this easy. Lacey dumped the bag on the floor, and assessed the outfit. She knew her sister had crappy taste in clothes, but this was just ridiculous. She picked up a gray and white plaid polyester skirt, which felt itchy in her hand. Next was a long-sleeved, black shirt made of a light material. At least her sister had the decency to give her clothes that were her favorite color. There was a white headband sitting on top of a pair of black pantyhose. She picked up the headband, and felt a weird shock from the pantyhose. Maybe just wearing the outfit real quick won’t be so bad, but she’ll be so mortified if anybody she knew saw her in it. Well, forty bucks richer is worth it.

She took off her black Rancid tour shirt and her cut-off jeans, not believing she was actually doing this. She slid the pantyhose up her legs, feeling how silky smooth they were on her, how it felt like she had freshly shaven legs, not legs that hadn’t seen a razor in three days, how securely they fit over her buttocks, shaping it and raising it and how nice it felt right there on her privates and how when she moved she could feel a tiny burst of pleasure on her panty-less body and what the hell is going on? She put the rest of the outfit on and looked in the full body mirror.

What a joke, her sister didn’t even give her shoes maybe a pair of flats or some tasteful heels at least so she didn’t have to walk around barefoot and maybe mess up these nice pantyhose and seriously what the hell? She could see that they did do wonders for her legs, showing off how long and curvaceous and sexy they are. Maybe she could wear them to the next banger that she goes to or party or soirée or out to dinner or just out shopping for a day and she tore herself away from the mirror. She walked slowly to open her sisters door, each step feeling better than the last, slowly enhancing her sex drive and making her more and more wet. She took one last look at her sisters feminine, girly, lovely room, and headed to the living room where her sister had the camera set up.

“I swear to God, if this picture gets out to anyone, I will kill you.”

“No worries, sis! Only my class will see them. Now stand against the wall here.”

Lacey felt herself getting hotter and hotter, wetter and wetter with each step she took. The skirt was a bit tight on her, giving her some resistance, forcing her to walk with her legs rubbing together with each step. On every square inch of her legs she felt like pins were gently prickling her, slightly tickling her but giving her a wonderful sensation on her entire lower half. Her privates felt especially wonderful, as it felt almost like the pantyhose were moving around in that region. She tried to ignore it, gave a fake smile, and let her sister take the picture.

“What’s next? This better be worth it.”

“Oh no, we’re done. I just needed the one.”

“What? Before you said outfits. Plural.”

“Did I? I just meant one. You can take it off now, if you’d like.”

“I’ll do just that.”

She walked back to Cheryl’s room, but almost had to run because of whatever the pantyhose were doing to her. With each step her excitement was mounting, and she felt ready to explode any second. She locked the door and took the skirt off so she could finish herself off. She was in too much of a daze to care she was in her sister’s room, she just needed to finish. With one hand constantly rubbing her privates over the layer of amazing silk, she reached around to find the end of the pantyhose so she could take them off. Beginning to pull them up and over, a huge jolt of electricity came from—or went to, she wasn’t quite sure which—her sex, causing her to black out.

Dazed, she awoke in her own room. By reflex, she stroked her legs. Hairy, which meant the pantyhose were off her. Good. Not worrying about how she got into her bed or how the pantyhose came off, she stood up and walked to her closet. She reached for the knob on the french-inspired double doors and paused. Her closet slid open, it didn’t have knobs. Her room was a deep purple, not a light pink. Her room smelled like incense, not some girly shit perfume. But her bed was where it should have been, her dresser and mirror were in the right place. Becoming fully awake, she realized it was her room, but decked out just like her sisters. Curiosity took over, and she threw the closet doors open.

As if they were alive, clothes jumped from their hangars, attacking Lacey. Every bit of fight she had in her, all the thrashing and moving, only made the articles that much easier to get on her body. In the midst of the struggle, she caught her reflection, and stopped dead in her tracks, which gave the clothes enough time to take over. She watched her arms as they buttoned the front and cuffs of a white collared shirt. Next, with almost super human speed, she saw her hands glide along the make-up counter, giving her ruby red lips and light mascara, and then fixing her hair up into a beehive style. The out-of-control arms pulled open the top drawer of ‘her’ dresser, and brought out a pair of gray pantyhose. Lacey fell back onto her bed, and despite her best efforts and kicks, her hands were able to get a hold on her foot, and placed it into the rolled up pantyhose.

Slowly, as if to let her savor every magical moment, her hands brought the pantyhose up her leg. With each inch covered, Lacey could feel herself giving in to the pleasure and the excitement of the pantyhose. Up past the ball of her ankle now, moving past her shin, feeling the extreme comfort and elation along the entire circumference of her leg, past her knees and over her thighs, feeling the joy and wonder of wearing the pantyhose, how they gently held her whole leg, how she knew they could be counted on to protect her from immodesty and to match her outfit, her hands stopped just at her upper thigh. The anticipation was almost too much to bear for Lacey, who at this point was so close to sexual release she could taste it. Finally, her hands rolled the stockings up to her waist, taking special care in lingering just over her privates, letting the fabric swirl and pulsate all over. She let out a small moan.

Lacey had lost all control of her body. Her arms and upper body, covered completely by the buttoned shirt, her lower body covered by the pantyhose. Her legs stood up, and gave her enough time to catch a quick glimpse at her side view, how the pantyhose gripped and lifted her rear, how thin but toned her legs look covered by the gray fiber, how her feet seemed to come to a point as she walked on the balls of them to her closet. Her arms grabbed a dark blue pencil skirt from the closet, and her legs effortlessly and gracefully stepped one after another into the long, tight garment. Her arms pulled it to just above her waist, tucking the shirttail neatly inside. Her legs put her feet into one-inch black heels, and turned her away from the closet.

Her legs felt more powerful with each step. She could feel her curves strengthened by both the hose and the heels. She was forced to use a strutting, sashaying gait, and she loved it. She again was stopped in front of her mirror. The shirt, clean and pressed, along with the flat, ironed look of the skirt appealed to Lacey in a way that she couldn’t understand. Every bit of her, from head to toe, was crisp, and free of any imperfections. She felt perfect, and felt that mother would be proud of her. With this new look must come new manners, new behavior, a new way of speaking and seeing the world. New friends, new relationships, and a new sense of self-control must all derive from wearing such a perfect outfit. She smiled, and she was happy. Bells were ringing for her and her new-found sense of self, for her new style and for her new actions. They grew louder and louder, piercing her ears, causing the mirror to shatter, leaving only the blackness behind it. The rest of the room around her began to crack and crumble, and she was left alone, in utter darkness.

Dazed, she awoke in her sisters room By reflex, she stroked her legs. Smooth, which meant the pantyhose were still on her. Good. She stood up and walked to her sisters closet on the balls of her feet. She was sure her wonderful sister wouldn’t mind lending her an outfit or two until she could go shopping.

* * *

Barbara was reading a magazine out in the living room, elated. She had seen her daughter make an almost instant turnaround in her attitude, and it had only been a day. Whatever Cheryl did, it had worked wonders. Lacey’s heels clicked down the hallway, and just near her mother. She stood with her feet together, nylon-clad leg just grazing nylon-clad leg, hands held behind her back, smiling beautifully in a simple black sleeved dress that flared out at her knees.

“You know, Lacey, I’m just so happy to see the girl you’ve become.”

Lacey blushed, her smile widening as she looked away. “Thank you, mother.” She composed herself. “Mother, my friend Rachel wishes me to come to her house to attend a party. May I go?”

“Did you finish your homework?”

“Yes, mother.”

“Did you do all of your chores?”

“Yes, mother.”

“Is your room clean?”

“Of course, mother.”

“Then you may go. But please don’t be out to late.”

“I will be home by eleven, mother.”

“Good girl, see you then sweetie.”

“Good bye, mother.” She leaned down to give her mother a kiss on her cheek, checked to make sure her hair was still held up in a tight bun, and walked out the door. Barbara knew the pantyhose had done wonders for her daughter, but sort of maybe desperately needed to know what they could do with her and her date with the nice hunk of a stud that she had lined up later this week. Maybe she would talk to Cheryl about getting another pair.