The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Pregnancy Fetish

“Did you know a lot of women get hornier when they’re pregnant?”

I looked around. This didn’t seem like the sort of thing that Callie would normally say to me—I didn’t know her that well, though I was sort of nursing a crush on her from afar.

The fact that she was pregnant made the comment a lot more... intimate, than I would have expected from her.

She was looking at me very intently. I felt my face heating up, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to look away. I had certainly wanted that look enough.

“I didn’t. Um...” Is it like that for you? I wanted to ask. Instead I just stared, caught in her eyes.

“Some people think that’s weird, you know? Because she’s already pregnant, she can’t get more pregnant. Why does she suddenly need... a lot more sex?” She licked her lower lip.

My breath caught.

“It’s a hormonal thing, all those hormones and pheromones surging around, making it impossible to control your emotions. Those feelings just well up inside, until you can’t help it, you know? You just have to… do something about it.”

Her eyes flicked down to my lips, and back to my eyes. Was she leaning a little closer?

“I sometimes think the pheromones are the most interesting, though you don’t hear about them as much. You know sometimes a pregnant woman’s partner shows symptoms of pregnancy too? Like, she’ll get the cravings, he’ll get the morning sickness, or whatever. It’s a documented phenomenon, though the mechanism isn’t well-researched. But I like to think it’s her pheromones.”

I took a breath, then realized what I was doing. Here she was talking about pheromones... her pheromones... and I was breathing deeper?

The corner of her mouth crooked up. “Do you like what you smell?” she asked.

Now I had to look away for a moment. “Um... I don’t smell any perfume.” She did smell good, though. Really, really good.

“No, I used to wear it sometimes, but it’s too much now—my sense of smell is all revved up since I got pregnant. I can tell when someone has a cold from all the way across the room. I can tell when someone is afraid... or excited...”

I had to look away again. But I knew she was smiling.

“So you’re saying pregnant women can smell fear?”

“That’s right,” she said. “You’d better not show fear. I can smell fear.”

I swallowed. She laughed.

She leaned in and whispered in my ear. “And I like it.”

From here, the scent of her skin, the heat of her body, the oils and very faint perfume of her hair, were all much stronger.

She pulled back again. “Do you know what else I can smell?”

My eyes widened, but like a deer trapped in headlights, I couldn’t manage much more than a tiny shake of the head.

“People’s...” she looked down my chest... then lower... then back up at my face, “bodies... smell incredible. I mean, maybe that’s why some women get so horny when we’re pregnant.” She smiled. “I can smell when you’re getting turned on. It’s really hot.“

I swallowed again.

“Afraid and turned on. I can’t even tell you how hot that is,” she said.

This deer was totally doomed. Car zooming down the highway, getting closer and closer…

She leaned back. “So I’ve been learning to deal with it using hypnosis.”

I blinked at the sudden conversational swerve. “Hypnosis?”

Callie grinned. “Yeah, I was taking a class on using it to manage pain during childbirth, but it’s good for controlling other things too. You know, like excessive… antsiness.” Her eyes flicked down to my crotch again, then back up quickly. Her grin broadened. “Wanna see what it’s like?”

“Um… sure.” I still felt high from the scent of her. And the paralyzing pull of her eyes. A way to calm down sounded like a good idea.

She led me to a couch. “Let me just have a seat… here… okay. Now, you lie down on the couch there, with your head in my lap.”

This was not sounding likely to make me calmer. Or less turned on.

“It’s okay, I won’t bite!” she grinned.

Not what I was worried about.

She patted the couch next to her insistently, and I sat, then lay down as she directed. Up close, with her hair falling in a curtain around me and the scent of her body everywhere, my heart was hammering fiercely and I couldn’t bear to meet her knowing gaze. I closed my eyes.

“Good boy,” she said.

So not helping.

“Now, I want you to take a deep breath—that’s right—and settle in and get comfortable… and just begin to relax all of the muscles in your face. We’ll get to the rest of your body later, and you can go ahead and relax that now too, but concentrate on the muscles in your face, and especially around the eyes. Especially around the eyes. Relaxing deeply, like I’ve injected a sedative drug under your skin and it’s making all of those muscles just release, let go, surrender, relax. Relax them deeply, so deeply. I want you to relax the muscles in and around your eyes so much that you couldn’t open them even if you tried. You can do that for me, can’t you? That’s right. And when you’re sure that you’ve succeeded in relaxing those muscles so deeply that even if you tried to open your eyes, nothing would happen, those heavy eyelids just wouldn’t move even the tiniest bit, test it out for a moment, try to lift those heavy, heavy eyelids and find—that’s right—that you just can’t open them at all. Very good. Now relax and stop trying, and relax even more now. Good boy.“

I knew I was doing it myself, but the experience of not being able to open my eyes when I tried was weird and exciting. I gave a little sigh at the shiver of pleasure when she called me a good boy again, and waited for what she would say to do next.

“Now let that relaxation spread from your eyes and your face to the rest of your head, your ears and the back of your head, your lips and jaw, your neck, down across your chest and down, down your arms and shoulders, your forearms and hands and fingers, so completely relaxed, loose and limp. If I were to pick up your arm and shake it your hands and fingers would be loose and limp, just like a rag doll.” She lifted one of my forearms as she said this, and shook it, and it was just as she said. I felt helpless, completely unable to move.

“And the relaxation is still spreading down your body, all the way down to your lovely ass and thighs, your calves, your feet, all the way to your toes, your entire body is relaxed and limp, from your head to your toes, and it feels wonderful, doesn’t it? Yes, it does. Good boy.“

I tried to muster a response, but every part of me felt too good and relaxed to move or react at all. But her tone of voice sounded like she’d noticed me trying anyway, and approved. That felt nice.

“Now in a moment, I’m going to tell you to open your eyes, and you’ll find that when I tell you to, your eyes will open just fine—all on their own, as if you don’t even have any control over them at all. They will open when I say Open, and close when I say Close; and when I say Sleep and snap my fingers, no matter where you are or what you’re doing your eyes fall shut and you sink deeply down into hypnosis, easily and completely hypnotized. It’s easy for you to be hypnotized, right now, listening to my voice, lying in my lap and breathing my pheromones deep inside you. Influencing you. You fall a little more deeply under my influence with every breath, and it feels wonderful. My scent is intoxicating. Irresistible. Now I want you imagine a blackboard, a chalkboard in a classroom, and imagine yourself standing next to that chalkboard, completely hypnotized and deeply under my power. As I call out numbers, you find yourself automatically writing them on the chalkboard, first erasing whatever was there before. You can’t control yourself; you just automatically write down the numbers I call out, as if you are helplessly hypnotized. Open your eyes now, and on the chalkboard in your mind write the number ten.”

It felt like opening my eyes after a weekend-long bender. They were heavy, and I still felt asleep as they opened, unable to muster the effort to focus on anything. Then somehow my eyes found hers, looking down at me, and suddenly her eyes were the only thing I could look at, filling my world. Distantly I imagined my arm coming up to write something on a wall.

“Feeling the chalk in your hand, hearing the squeak as you write the number 10. Smelling the chalk dust in the air. Seeing each symbol. Feeling your arm move to write the number 10 on the chalkboard in your mind.”

Deep in the dark pools of her eyes I could see myself, writing.

“Nine. Close.”

My eyes popped shut.

“Feeling your hand holding the eraser, erasing whatever was on the chalkboard before, wiping it clean, empty, blank. A blank slate. And writing what I tell you to write, the number nine, now. Feel that chalk in your hand. Hear the squeak. See the symbol. Nine.”

I saw the number nine.

“Eight. Open.”

My eyes opened again, and I was once again lost in hers.

“Automatically opening, erasing, writing, obeying. Seven. Erasing and writing, automatically doing what I tell you, deeply hypnotized. Six. Close.”

My eyes were closed. I was writing the number six.

“Five. Obeying automatically. That’s right. Just like that. Four. Open. Good boy.”

My eyes were open.

“Three. Close. Closing when I tell you, opening when I tell you. Open. Good boy. Two. Obeying automatically. Hypnotized when I tell you. One. Sleep.”

She snapped her fingers.

I felt like they were echoing inside my head. I was floating. I was falling. I was gone.

“… and wide awake now! Wide awake.” I felt a touch in the center of my forehead and my eyes popped open. “Hi,” she said, smiling down at me.

“Um… hi,” I managed, confusedly.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, smiling more.

“I, um…”

“Sleep,” she said firmly, snapping her fingers. My eyes dropped closed.

“… and wide awake now! Wide awake.” I felt a touch in the center of my forehead again, and my eyes were once again looking up at her.

“And sleep,” she said, snapping her fingers, just as I started to open my mouth to speak.

“… and completely awake, alert, and ready to put those lessons into practice, now.” Once again a touch in the middle of my forehead. I blinked, and watched her for a moment, waiting to see if she was just going to put me back under.

She watched back. Then she broke into another grin. “Very good boy,” she said approvingly. “You know, an interesting thing about hypnosis is that you’re still very suggestible for a while even after you come out of trance. I bet it’s even easier to notice the effect my pheromones are having on you now.”

My breath caught.

“It’s all right. Take a deep breath.”

Still caught in her eyes, I breathed in deeply.

“That’s right. Good boy. Breathe in my pheromones. You can’t escape them now. A pregnant woman is like a queen bee, using pheromones to control the workers all around her, to make them attend her and bring her things she needs. But the thing about hormones and pheromones is that they feel natural to you. It’s natural to want to tend to me and attend to me, to fetch me things and help me with things, to do anything I ask. It’s perfectly natural to do anything I ask, isn’t it?“

Faintly, I nodded.

“Say ‘Yes, Ma’am,’” she said.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I murmured.

“God damn, I love hearing that,” she grinned. “Say it again.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Uh huh. Good boy. You know it’s perfectly natural to do anything I ask. You can feel that, deep down inside. And now I’m going to have you do something for me, something I really need right now. You want to help me with my needs, don’t you?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Uh huh. Now my milk has come in already, and it’s filling up my breasts something fierce, and I really need some relief. Someone to suckle on my tits and empty the milk from them. But you need to know that my milk has a powerful mind control drug in it, and if you drink this queen bee’s milk, my obedient worker, you will be completely under my control. Do you understand that?”

I blinked.

“Take a deep breath,” she said, as I started to reply.

“Yes Ma’am,” I said, and breathed in.

I could feel it. Completely under her control.

She smiled, and undid a button on her shirt. “You want it, don’t you?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

She undid another button. “Say it again.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Another button, and she reached inside her blouse and under her bra, cupping her breast with one hand. “Again.”

“Yes Ma’am!”

“Beg me,” she whispered, leaning in.

“Please Ma’am! Oh, please, may I suck on your breast?”

“You understand that this will put you under my control forever?”

“Yes Ma’am!”

“And you still want it, don’t you? You’d do anything just to taste my milk.”

“Yes Ma’am! Please? Please may I taste your milk?”

“You’d do anything.”

“Yes! I’ll do anything!”

“Good boy.” She popped one breast out, and held the nipple to my lips.