The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“That guy’s been here all night,” Desiree (Margot Bremen) told Holly Travis (Holly Trevors), “and he’s been tipping like a king.”

Mentally Holly made a note and then asked, “Did you get your boobs done?”

“What?” Desiree glanced down at the double-Ds adding their seductive curvature to her less-than-subtle eveningwear. “Nah. It’s just the bra.”

“Right,” said Holly, trying to keep the disbelief at her ex-fellow-C-cupper from being too obvious. Still, how long does the operation take? A couple hours? But what about recovery? How soon could she get back to jumping around on a stage? A couple of days?

She looks great with them, but you won’t catch me doing that. Sooner or later I’m heading back to get my master’s, and I don’t want that kind of baggage tripping me up.

So who’s the big spender? she asked herself, looking out into the audience and trying to get back to business. There he was sitting in Gynaecology Row, a beer in one hand, and looking up as Toni Sexton (Eugenia Croompt) shook her ta-tas at him. Obviously, she also knew where the money was tonight. Hopefully he’s still flush when my set’s up. She looked in closer at the skinny redhead. Jeeze! Is he even legal in here? What’s tha—

Holly’s eyes widened. “Holy shit!”

“Told you,” said Desiree. “He’s—”

“Please tell me that wad was ones!”

“I’m going to get one of those Honda hybrids I’ve been wanting with mine.”

“You what? He didn’t!”

“No, but four grand is more than enough for the down payment.”

“Four…!” She had to pry her hands off her mouth before making an understandable reply. “Make sure it’s real first.”

“Oh yeah,” Desiree said, nodding. Her recently inflated tits bounced in agreement. “I’m not stupid.”

“Anyone know what his story is? Win the lotto? Terminal cancer?”

“You know, I was going to ask, but I forgot or something.” Desiree took one final look out into the audience, then tried to zip up the front of her hoodie. She struggled a moment, and then hunched forward, crushing her large breasts together. “Uhn. See you later, Holly. I’m outta here. I’ve got a busy day of car shopping to do tomorrow.”

“I thought you were going to get the Honda.”

“I might change my mind.” She finally got the zipper up and over her boobs and looked confused. “Huh. Must be retaining water or something.”

In your boobs? Holly’s lips pursed. She held her tongue, though, and took another glance at the high roller as Toni waved goodnight with her tits. God, if I ever feel the need to compensate for my face by inflating that much… just shoot me. Toni looks part balloon!

“Hope the rich guy’s still out there,” she said some forty minutes later, all ready to go on stage and waste sixteen years of ballet and modern dance lessons. “So You Think You Can Dance” trials had been a bust, thanks to the flu, and “Cirque du Soleil” had been looking for more in the way of gymnastics. The music video fell apart when she’d sprained her ankle, and modelling, Well apparently, I don’t have the right body type. Got a whole room full of men out there who’ll disagree. They can’t wait to see more of me. Literally.

“He’s still out there,” said Taylor Trash (Sondra Burke) peering out from under a ton of makeup at a thick stack of brand-new bills, complete with the paper strap holding them together. “This has got to be at least five grand here.”

“Not bad for a night’s work.”

“No shit!”

“Say…. Has anyone even tried to talk to this guy yet?” asked Holly.

“April said something about it, but I don’t think she did. You’d think one of us would have snapped him up by now. How hard could it be? I mean, just look at him!”

“So why don’t you?”

“He’s not my type.”

“Even if he’s got loads of money?”

“He’s giving it away, Holly. That’s not a good sign of a stable mind, and I’ve dated enough whack-jobs.”

“Doesn’t look crazy to me. Looks like he’s still in high school.”

“He’s all yours then. Don’t come crying when he’s drooling all over and chasing you with a knife.”

“Right,” she said, looking the guy over again. “If he can keep up with me on a straightaway, I’ll eat my G-string.”

“You go, girl,” Taylor said sarcastically. “Now get the hell out there and dance.” She turned to leave, looked down at her still-swaying breasts, and turned back to ask, “Ah… one question first: Do my boobs look… uh, bigger to you?”

Holly shrugged, slipped out onto the stage, and started slow, making certain she made eye contact with the high roller, but not too much contact. She had a whole crowd to work, and her job was to make certain that every last one got a thrill. Besides, the rich guy looked completely wasted. Sure, he was still there, but he’d been drinking solid, according to the other ladies, for something like four or five hours.

OK, so he’s a challenge. Challenge? Hell, he should be dead by now! Hooking the pole with a heel, she arched backward, and then she reached behind her head and unwound the wrapping around her hair bun, taking full advantage of the pose to exaggerate her breasts. With a shake, the dirty-blonde mane spread out, falling down onto her shoulders when she straightened. Her fingers ran through it as she left the pole and strutted around the stage to display a somewhat-tousled “naughty librarian.”

She’d based the look on Charlie, a library science major in one of her ethics classes and the person who’d first suggested to Holly that she could eliminate at least some of her money troubles with a bit of stripping. At first, Holly didn’t think she had the body for it, but she did have the moves, and it turned out that was all she really needed. Never expected to drop out and go pro, though. I just needed to get some distance after I tried to seduce her boyfriend Doug.

Buttons out of the way, her navy blue blazer slithered down her arms and dropped onto the stage. She played suggestively with her tie before returning to the pole and slipping in a bit of good old ballet. Still don’t know why I went after him, either. I just kept getting so turned on around him that I had to do something.

Slowly, carefully, she opened up her blouse, weirdly aroused simply from the memories. Not that I have any real ones. Doug shut me right—

Oh no!

The rich guy had passed out, and some of his friends (I hope they’re friends!) were helping him out of the club. Gail, the server who had been cleaning up on tips looked mortified and disgusted. Not only had she assisted in getting him too drunk to keep milking, but he’d also hurled on her.

Serves her right, the bitch! Holly thought savagely. She threw herself into the music, dancing away yet another in a long line of disappointments.

I made a decent haul anyway, Holly figured, but nothing compared to the other girls. Worse, she only got a walk partway to her car because the bouncers were busy with more important things: like counting their share of the money the rich drunk had thrown at anyone he felt like rewarding.

When she heard the moan from the alleyway, she almost ran back to safety at the club. It was probably some crackhead, and you never knew how they would respond if you tried to help. But a person was still a person, so she called 9-1-1 and took a quick peek.

The guy looked OK, or at least not visibly beaten, but he had been stripped of everything of value, right down to his shirt and shoes. He was trying to roll onto his back while retching. If he puked, and based on closer-than-desirable exposure to his breath it wouldn’t have been the first time, he’d drown, so Holly pinned him onto his side. That, along with the lights from the car cruising slowly by on a quest for hookers, let her see the gash on the bum’s head. And his bright red hair.

“No way!”

The rich guy wasn’t all that big—probably a few years younger than her—so maybe she could get him to her car and home and nurse him back to health and….

“And you already called the cops, Holly, so chill.”

One minute passed. Then two. “This really isn’t a good place to hang around,” her anti-conscience told her. “You called for help, now get the hell out of here.”

“That goes both ways,” she whispered back. “I can’t just leave the guy. He could get killed.”

“Hel-hurrp!” he said, trying to further empty an empty stomach.

Twenty-five minutes later, Holly had him stumbling through her front door. This is stupid! This is the movie thing to do. Stripper with heart of gold takes injured rich guy home. Romantic comedy ensues.

“All right, Mr. X. Sleep first or coffee?”

He answered by slumping over and collapsing onto the fold-out sofa-bed, unfortunately still folded into a sofa. With good light available for the first time, Holly looked him over. He’d been smacked in the head something fierce based on the goose-egg, but otherwise it looked like most of the damage was from falling over. He’d done that twice on the way to the car and slid to the floor in the elevator.

Dress him up right and he’d look OK, I guess. Kinda pasty, though. She caught herself and choked off the thought. Jesus, Holly. Get him on his feet. Get a reward, and get lost. Don’t get goofy. You are not Julia Roberts, and this is not a rom-com.

She got the mystery guy a blanket, manhandled him until he looked comfortable, and laid plastic bags around in case he somehow found more to vomit. Then she made a quick salad, ate, and watched her stranger for a while longer, not wanting to risk disturbing him by turning on the TV.

Bored, she finally wandered into her bedroom; put on an oversized tee shirt and excessive, uglifying panties to make sure no one got the wrong idea; and in a final concession to paranoia, blocked the bedroom door with a chair.

Her guest looked a little better in the morning. He was right where she’d left him, breathing softly, and he hadn’t puked. Given the circumstances, it couldn’t have been much better. Hugging her robe tight, she leaned over and shook his shoulder.

“Hey! You OK?”

“No,” he moaned. “Feel like shit, Judy. Lemme sleep.”

“Judy?” Girlfriend? I hope so. Simplify things a lot. “Sorry, but I’m not Judy. Just somebody who found you in a back alley.”

“What?” He jerked, trying to sit up and then crumpling. “Oh god. I drank too much.”

“And got socked in the head. I think you were mugged.”

His hand recoiled from the lump on his head. “Oh, crap.” Mr. Mystery sounded upset, but more angry at himself than anything else. He gingerly rubbed his head and then, right before her eyes, the bump receded.

“Yuh-yuh-you…!”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I think I remember you. Last dancer in the club before I went to take a leak. Oh, shit. I puked on the waitress when I got up, didn’t I? Er… you’re a good dancer.”

“Thanks,” she replied, watching with interest as the scuffs and scrapes on his body faded and vanished. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?” he asked.

“Uh….” Holly wracked her brain trying to remember. Moments ago she’d been amazed by something, but what? She was just standing in the living room with the guy from last night. “How do you talk your way into spending the night in the apartment of a woman you just met?”

“Charm, I guess.”

“Not that charming. You spent the night on the couch.”

“What can I say?” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “I was drunk. There’s no way you can resist me now.”

That won him a smile. “Well, you’ve got something. I’ve never invited a guy back from the club before.”

“No?” he asked smiling back.

Her heart leapt. “N-nope. You’re doing well for some guy who was completely wasted last night.” Something about this guy. Maybe I shouldn’t have dressed down so much. I can totally see myself—Holly! You don’t even know his name, you slut!

“It’s one of my many talents,” he said. “Here’s another.”

Her guest looked even hotter bathed in the rays of the morning sun, Holly realized the instant she walked into the living room. Almost a shame he didn’t slip under my covers last night. His eyelids flickered, so she stopped and leaned against the wall, savouring the feel of the tight, silky fabric of her babydoll camisole and deliberately looking as seductive as possible.

“Hi,” she said when his eyes opened.

He smiled at her and said, “Don’t you look gorgeous. You’re even hotter bathed in the rays of the morning sun. Kind of regret not breaking my promise and slipping into your bed.”

“But you did keep it. I like integrity.” Holly arched as she pushed herself off of the wall to maximize his view of both her chest and her legs. Using stripper tricks wasn’t all that fair, But that’s love and war. The way the silk slithered across her nipples as she moved made her shiver. Jesus, Holly. Coming on a little strong? It hasn’t been that long since the last guy.

“I also like your body. Spend a lot of time in the gym?” She stage-strutted across her living room toward her prey, hoping the squishiness between her thighs wasn’t too apparent. Yes it has. I’ve been waiting all night for this. Holly flashed back to the night before, helping her red-headed dream undress. Abs of steel didn’t begin to describe his ripped torso. She’d nearly tornthe rest of his shirt off to get a look at the rest. He’d been too drunk to manage his pants, but she hadn’t. She quite enjoyed it and probably played around a lot more than was strictly necessary.

Which is funny. Sure, he’s got a great set of legs, but dicks never really interested me all that much before. I got a serious thrill just watching and feeling it harden in my hand. It just kept getting thicker and longer and I felt—

She shook her head, rejecting the strange jumping sensation and feeling she’d done this before. It just kept getting thicker and longer and I wanted it in my mouth—

She shook her head, rejecting the strange jumping sensation and feeling she’d done this before. It just kept getting thicker and longer and I needed it in my mouth—

She shook her head, rejecting the strange jumping sensation and feeling she’d done this before. It just kept getting thicker and longer and I needed to suck it! Memories flooded her and her mouth watered. The feel of it throbbing in her hand as she pumped it. The way he twisted as she licked it. The moaning as she massaged the tip with her lips and tongue. The whole experience was overwhelming even in review. That was just a dream, right? I didn’t really do it. He just felt so good in my hand, but there is no way I’d blow a guy I just met.

She looked down at him looking up at her. But the next morning… maybe.

“You OK?” he asked.

“Just thinking,” she said letting a little of the horny smirk out on her lips. “You know, I still don’t know your name.”

“Gerald.”

“Gerald? Holly.”

“That’s not just the stage name?”

“Nope. Holly Travis is really Holly Trevors. Easier to remember that way.” She had to look away. From underneath the blanket, his big cock was teasing her. She couldn’t look away. She’d been dreaming about it all night. Dreaming like a girl getting ready for the prom. Dreaming about its taste, its texture, the feeling of it filling her hand, her mouth, her hungry, empty pussy. The naughtiness of it working in and out of her ass. My ass? I’m a stripper, not a porn star! Regardless, the desire burned. She spun her whole body away because her eyes and neck just weren’t up to the job.

“You want something to eat?” she asked, begging for a distraction. She heard him move and she turned back around.

“Sure,” he said. His cock, so hard for her that it stuck straight up despite its size, bounced. She couldn’t breathe. She panted for air, but there wasn’t enough oxygen in the world to feed the fires burning within her body. The shallow, rapid gasping slid her sensitive nipples against silk driving her insane and stoking the flames higher. He touched her arm and her body tensed. He had to grab her before she collapsed.

“Holly?”

“’M’OK!” she blurted. “I’m just…. You have no idea how I feel. No idea what you’re doing to me.” She wrapped around him, crushing his body into hers.

“I think I do,” he said confidently, and she believed him.

He must be feeling the exact same things! His cock dug into her belly. She felt the blood pumping, his heart working overtime to fill the enormous beast thrusting from his groin. To keep it full for her. She nearly came from that realization alone. “I think you do. This doesn’t happen every day, does it?”

“It could,” he hinted, playing with a shoulder strap. “Would you like that?”

Before she knew it, Holly was on her knees licking her way up his shaft. She carefully enclosed the tip and rotated her head slowly. It was Gerald’s turn to stiffen and shudder as, with excruciating slowness, Holly lowered her head and began to bob.

If only I was like Desiree, or even Toni, had enough for a decent tit-fuck! Where that thought had come from, she had no clue. A good part of her shtick was in her surprisingly sexual demureness and not in shoving jumbo-sized plastic tits in people’s faces. However, the idea ricocheted around inside her head along with better ways to move her hands and lips and tongue. Her whole body got into the act.

This guy, Gerald, he has me so… inspired! I’ve never even dreamed of some of this stuff before! A moan bubbled out of her mouth and down the thick, meaty pole of joy. Her mind fogged over, making further thinking too hard to be worth the effort. She just went with it.

Having tasted a drop of pre-cum, she couldn’t wait for a full load of the real stuff. She moved faster, her body rocking as she pumped harder and sucked like a vacuum, not wanting to miss a single instant, a single drop. She didn’t. He stiffened, his cock swelled, and stars exploded before Holly’s eyes.

“Mmm-gugrle!” she screamed in delight. Cum trickled down her throat, heating her belly, and the first gulped swallow nearly killed her. It fired her up into heaven and far too high. No air existed at her altitude, and she quickly blacked out.

“Wow! You are amazing!” said Gerald, his godly face upside-down looking on her with eyes filled with wonder. “I don’t think anyone’s ever cum that hard before.”

“What happened?” she mumbled.

“You passed out!”

“I passed out?”

“You orgasmed from giving a blowjob.”

“Oh come on!” She beamed a huge smile, her eyes twinkling with amusement at the silliness of the joke. “I love giving head, but not that much!” She paused a moment. I do love giving head, she realized, the memory of the bliss of having a dick in her mouth filled her mind and she shuddered. All of a sudden, I just can’t imagine living without it! Without even thinking, she’d leaned forward and begun to suck on the tip of his penis.

Holly pushed herself back, disgusted at her lack of self-control. “We’d better stop. Breakfast?”

“Sure,” he said, and the next thing she knew she’d been flipped upside down, strong arms holding her steady. Her sopping blue panties had been pulled from her body, the straps on the diminutive thong snapping easily when he tugged.

“Gerald!” she giggled, then her legs spread instinctively. His fingers gripped her muscled butt cheeks, and his tongue hit ground zero.

“Geeeerrrraaaaahhhh!” Her hips thrust uncontrollably, and her thighs locked around his head. The rockets exploding in her brain drowned out everything but, “More! More-er-er-errree!” With every last ounce of will, she clutched his body and screamed. She saw heaven again, and Gerald smiled back at her through the clouds.

Then she woke up on the couch. “I passed out.” She tried to sit up, but she was too dizzy.

“Yup. You passed out. How was it?”

Her eyes spun in their sockets as she mumbled, “Wonderful!” Something stroked up her labia, and her body sprang into action, trying to capture it and insert it into her. Gerald asked a question, but she was far too busy fucking his hand to answer.

“When’s your first class?” he asked again.

“Muh-huh?” she managed to reply.

“What time do you have class?” he asked slowly, removing his hand.

Pieces of the puzzle fell into place around her. Constitutional Ethics at ten, if it was Tuesday. Please, God, let it be Wednesday! She hated statistics, but another three hours of this…. Worth it!

“Wha day?”

“Tues—” She winced. “Wednesday,” Gerald corrected. “I Don’t remember much of Tuesday.”

“Yes!” she screamed. “One o’clock. Plenty of time to—Wanna fuck a little?”

He wanted to fuck a lot. So did she, but all good things had to come to an end, and two and a half hours later, she stood wrapped in a towel looking at herself in a mirror. I haven’t felt this good in years, and it’s not just the sex! I’m back in control! No more stripping. No more worrying that I’d never be able to stop. Sure, I’m on a budget now, but I’ve got grants and scholarships and enough socked away to see me through my master’s without starving. Sure, I lose this pad, but Gerald is certain I’ll get a room with some girls he knows in res at Canyon Block.

Things really were looking up. They were so good, in fact, that when her breasts lurched forward, dumping her towel to the ground, swelling out well into the “Tits!!!” range, the first thing she thought was, Oh fuck yeah! He’s going to love what I’ll do to him with these!

Yes, for Holly Trevors it was truly a day of miracles as she fondled her awesome new boobs all the way into yet another barking orgasm.

“Well,” said Gerald. “That was fun.” He walked down 32nd avenue whistling happily. I already turned ordinary college girls into total sluts, so it was about time I worked in the other direction. Not that Holly was a total slut, or is an ordinary college girl.

He smiled, thinking about what she’d look like when they went out on Friday—if they made it out at all. “Ordinary college girl with a pair of double-Ds that she loves to show off and play with,” he chortled. Injecting no small amount of Becky’s carnal artistry and Mary’s joie de sex made the stripper into a total firecracker, but the dealmaker was making certain she retained some of the modesty he’d erased from Holly’s soon-to-be roommates. She now had a controlled sluttiness that burned white hot.

OK, so I’ve arranged for my own private stripper fuck buddy, a dorm suite full of bisexual sluts for when I really want to indulge, so what’s next? Find out who jumped me last night and show them just how bad an idea it was, I guess. After that, I steal a girl from Roger so he knows what it feels like, then—

“Wow!” He’d get back to that line of thought later. “She has legs, and she knows how to use them,” rang through his head along with full orchestral accompaniment as he tracked the girl jaywalking across the street. He wasn’t the only one to verbally acknowledge her passing, but he was among the quieter ones.

The slightest hint of a smile pulled at her lips as she approached him, and Gerald cheated to get a good look at her eyes through the enormous, face-masking sunglasses she wore. Brown wasn’t good enough to suit her, so they turned emerald green with a casual thought. When she passed, her hair brightened with another after thought, and then, because he had nothing better to do, he turned and followed her, enjoying the sway of her hips. He enjoyed it more when her jeans began to strain against the exaggerated curve of her firm ass, and then tightened to cling to her legs like paint. He was so lost in thought that he bumped into her when she stopped to adjust her clothes.

“’scuse me,” he said.

“Yeah. Whatever. OK,” she mumbled back, looking down and running her hands over her highly toned thighs and then back over her perky, bubble butt. She squeaked.

“Are you OK?” Gerald asked, replacing her utilitarian bra with a lacy and overtly sexualized one faintly visible through her tight white top. It complemented her eyes perfectly.

“I’m fine,” came her shaky reply as she took off her glasses. She caught a glimpse of herself in a store window, now uncommonly reflective courtesy of Gerald. As she stared, her body responded to his unspoken commands by posing to thrust out her enhanced ass and her hands caressed her sweet, sensitive body seductively.

“I’ll say. You sure look fine!”

“Excuse me? Don’t you have anything better to do?” Her eyes widened as she realized they were now green.

“Nope,” he said, implanting acceptance of his presence in her mind. She sighed and tried to make her skin-tight jeans a little more comfortable. Now that her uneasiness at Gerald’s behaviour didn’t disturb her, her pleasure at being a walking man-trap reasserted itself.

Still, he could tell that the modelesque babe was confused and concerned with her sudden change of clothes. She took it well, however, managing to keep her cool even as her blouse’s straining against her expanding assets became obvious.

“Do you see…?” she asked.

“Your breasts growing? Sexiest thing I’ve seen in my life,” he replied.

“Thank you,” she started to say, thoroughly confounded. The “you” stretched into an erotic sigh of pleasure as the nipples capping her melons stiffened and lengthened. Lightning bolts of bliss sparked out and zapped her brain into her body’s submission.

“How are you doing that?” Gerald asked, trying to sound puzzled.

‘I-I-I don’t know. I’m… I feel so good!” Pleasure flattened concern and fear like a runaway steamroller, and the glorious green of her eyes glazed over as her pupils expanded. “I can’t believe it!”

“You better unbutton that blouse before it tears,”

“Yeah,” she mumbled vacantly, her fingers mindlessly following his suggestion. Relieved of pressure, her vast cleavage widened until she had unbuttoned all the way down to her navel. “Much better.” She smiled happily and took a deep breath. Her breasts pushed the blouse completely out of the way, leaving only a portion of the sides of the soft, rounded flesh covered by something other than her see-through lace bra.

“Bet that gets you a promotion at work,” Gerald quipped.

“Mmm. Yeah. I wish.” She strutted off down the street, her walk injecting plenty of R-rated jiggle into both tits and ass.

How widespread is my reach? Gerald wondered, heading back the way he’d come. I’ve only done one person at a time so far, and I have no idea what my range is like.

The answer to the first question, he decided, would be found when he got to the lingerie shop at 41st, but for actual distance, He dug through his perfect memory for a once-overheard phone number, that of high school hottie and fashionista Monica Torres.

Snapping open his cell phone, he began dialling.

“Hello?” asked a female voice.

“Monica?”

A chorus of giggles came back with the sweet-voiced answer. “Ummm, No. I think you have a wrong number.”

So much for the perfect memory, he thought. Then again, it has been five years. “Who am I talking to?” he asked, trying to inject an interest in talking to the sexy stranger on the phone.

“Uh… Natalie.”

Don’t know her. Oh well. Phase two. Enforcing calmness and an extra-special something, he really got going on the test. “Natalie, are your breasts growing?”

“Huh?” she said, then a loud babble burst over the phone. “Omigod! They are! Omigod! Omigod! Nat! Your boobs! They are growing! Look! Look!”

So Natalie had some friends with her, and clearly his powers were working. Since she was his to command, the next question was, What about her friends? What about them? I don’t even know what Natalie looks like, other than having tits that could land her the lead in any porno. They could all be complete dogs. Pity, because Natalie’s got a cute voice. He snapped his fingers.

“Nat! It’s happening to me, too! I’ve got tits! We all do!” That led to another chorus of “Omigod! Omigod!” before, “Nat! Your hair’s growing. So’s yours! I’m getting skinny! Omigod! And look at my stomach! I’m not fat!”

“How are you doing this?” Natalie shrieked. It wasn’t a pissed off or scared shriek, just a lot of excitement, so he really tuned up the heat, and the girls started moaning. “Oooh! That feels so good!

“This is so cool!” giggle-blurted one of the girls.

“Ya! We look like Barbie dolls!” cooed another.

It probably was, But Barbie Dolls? I was aiming for porn stars.

“Omigod! I totally want to lick your, um, vagina, Nat! Is this what sex is like?” asked the “Omigod” girl, and Gerald screamed to a halt.

“Natalie, How old are you?”

“Carmen! Oh that’s soooo good, Carmen! Mmmm.”

“Natalie?”

“Oh, yes! Fourteen. Oh! I’m so hor—”

Stop the orgy! he commanded, panicking and snapping his phone shut. That could have gone worse. Shit! Forgot about their boobs! I don’t think I inflated any of them past a D-cup. Next time I stick to line of sight. Like her.

“Yeep!” shouted the strolling blonde, cinching her jacket tight to hide her suddenly extra-prominent chest. She looked around and then down into the cavernous cleavage packed into her tearing shirt.

“Wha’s the matter,” he asked as he passed the stunned woman. “They look fantastic on you.”

She relaxed, smiled, and cupped her huge new tits through the remains of her shirt. The once tiny nipples thrust forward in the perfect finish to the perfect rack. “They do look fantastic,” she admitted. “Do you want to touch them?” She let go and spread her arms wide to offer up her jiggling baby feeders to the world.

“I could really get to like this,” said Gerald after a few seconds of very enthusiastically received groping.

“So could I,” moaned the blonde, her bobbed hair lifting as her head twisted this way and that, unable to hold in one position due to the sexual excitement flowing through her body.

“Want to slip away and continue this in private?” Gerald asked, shooting an evil glare at a not-so-gentlemanly onlooker. He excused himself and carried on his way, but the blushing woman with her teenaged daughter didn’t take the hint.

“Oooo, fuck, I’d love to, but I have to get back to the office. I’m supposed to be bringing coffees.”

“You’re a gofer? You should be a model!”

She shrugged, sending her stellar rack into a fit of jiggling. “Have to—Ooooo Ooooohhh—pay the bills somehow.”

“What if I hired you for the afternoon?”

“Excuse me?” gasped the mother. The grabbed her daughter’s hand and fled, tearing a “Mo-ooom!” from the girl.

“It’s OK,” he called after them. “I’m not making bimbo sluts anymore. They’re too boring.” He turned his attention back to the super-horny blonde with her hand down the front of her skirt and asked “How many coffees?”

“Uhm-hmm? Five?” she answered.

Gerald stopped massaging her bosom, gestured pointlessly, and handed over a filled cardboard carrier and five coffees. “Your boss will love this. Make sure you ask him for a raise.”

“OK,” she said, pulling a slick handful of fingers out from between her legs to take the tray. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to talk with a lady.”

“Excuse me! Excuse me!”

Tracy looked back to see the guy who’d been trying to pick up the hooker, or whatever she was, running up behind. Her mother’s hand tightened on hers and she hissed, “Ignore him!”

“Excuse me, miss, but you wouldn’t happen to be fourteen, would you?”

Her eyebrows knotted in frustration. Thank you mother for for making me dress like a baby. “No. I happen to be eighteen and a half,” she shot back.

Her mother hissed again. “I told you—” Mother cut off as her eyes widened and her pupils swelled. Her lips twisted into a funny smile, and the venom dropped from her voice to be replaced by uncertainty. “I told you to ignore him.”

The stranger slowed beside them and matched their pace. “Phew! I had to check. I already screwed up once today.”

He propositioned a little girl? That’s just too gross! Regardless, she tried to smile politely. It might have worked, but she doubted it. “Whatever you want, I don’t think me or my mother are interested in participating, so you might as well go look somewhere else.”

“Ah, but I want what you want.”

That brought Tracy up short. It wasn’t the worst come-on line she’d ever heard, but it was one of the strangest. “And you know what I want?”

Her mother tugged on her arm protectively. “Tracy!” she whined. “Tracy!”

“Jesus, mom,” Tracy blurted. Mommy dearest was staring at her with a look normally used by her boyfriend Sean when he expected something extra special at the end of the night, and it was really creeping her out. “Relax!” Trying to keep her disgust under wraps, she turned back to the red-haired wierdo and asked, “What do I want?”

“The freedom to be yourself and….” He paused dramatically, and the breeze hit her legs. Practically all of her legs. Mom sucked in a gasping breath and shook softly. The guy just grinned. “And show off that newly-liberated person inside.”

Tracy looked down, following the twin stares drinking in her legs. She still had her jeans, in a way, not that much was left of them. A band of denim, no wider than one of her slender legs, wrapped around her hips like a thick belt. It was the only thing keeping her panties out of sight, and it was doing a crappy job, even with the significantly reduced state of said panties. The silken straps of her crimson lace G-string hugged the exposed tops of her hips before joining in a Y that disappeared into the crack of her ass. Her exploring hands roamed down further. The bottoms of her buttocks were on display beneath the ragged hem of her miniscule skirt. She ripped her hands away, but not before the muscles beneath firmed up and rounded out.

“What on Earth?” she shouted, her head swinging up to fix the strange guy with a pointed glare. “How did you do that?”

He just smiled, and then—

“What the hell?” she shouted, her eyes lingering and drifting down her sexy legs before her head swung up to fix the strange guy with a pointed glare. “How did you do that?”

He just smiled, and then—

“What the fuck?” she shouted, running her hands down the side of her beautiful dress. One drifted toward the front, slipping under and then up. The feel of the silk beneath her fingers and rubbing against her shaven pussy teased mercilessly. Her languorous eyes settled on the hot stranger. “How did you do that? I love it!”

Her slutty, supercharged body was finally dressed properly. A blind man could see and appreciate every curve, every line from her dainty little plastic stiletto-clad feet to the round bubble of her ass.

All I need are tits! She cupped the modest protrusions through her prudish blouse.

“Magic,” said the stranger. “You want me to help you out with those?”

“Yes!” There was no trace of hesitation in her voice. Her boobs pulsed. Then pulsed again. She felt her fingers spread apart. Nipples thrust into her palms, and the weight…! The lovely weight! “Tits! My tits are growing!” she screamed, squeezing the baseball-sized lumps. “See, mom?”

She threw her hands wide, and freed of her grip, her blouse billowed outward, pushed by the ballooning flesh. “See? I don’t need to hide anymore. I don’t need you to dress me! No more baby clothes! I am a woman!”

Her mother agreed, staring at Tracy and moaning. Her waistband undone, the older woman’s fingers writhed between her legs, and she gasped as explosions of pleasure burst through the walls of her daughter-lust. Barking in delight, Tracy’s mother bucked against her hand, and moisture trickled down her legs.

Shocked out of her own horny daze, Tracy looked at her parent. “Mom? What did you do to my mother?”

“Me?” the stranger asked in return. “I’d say it’s your fault for being so fucking hot. You turned your mother bisexual—or maybe even gay. Or maybe that’s why she’s always been uptight: Denial.”

She looked at the red-haired hottie and then back at her mom. That makes sense, I guess. I am hot. I’m so fucking hot that I want to do myself! She reached inside the sheer, satiny vest that barely covered the nipples of her prized cantaloupe boobs and ran her fingers over the perfect roundness. The heat in her oh-so-sensitive body climbed unbearably.

Mom screamed softly as climax overtook her. The smile on her face showed how much she’d missed a lifetime’s worth of the release, and then as the smile grew, lines and wrinkles smoothed out as the years dropped away. Her dusty hair lightened and brightened into an almost-white blonde, and her boobs exploded from her diminishing top as her back arched. Before Tracy’s eyes, her mother tanned, toned, and tightened—except her tits, because that where size really mattered. They swelled up until they matched Tracy’s jutting, bouncy volleyballs. Her dress fell away, leaving behind a classy black micro-miniskirt so tight that it displayed everything.

As her mom grew taller, thanks to her sandals transforming into platform heels of smoky plastic, Tracy’s breast-groping hand squeezed tighter. Her other hand slid her red G-string out of the way, and then she joined her mother in moaning, gasping, and finally screaming.

After the two recovered, Tracy gazed on her mother and felt the warm bliss and hunger rising again. “Mom?”

“Tracy?” mumbled her blonde, but otherwise identical, twin. “So hot. So fucking hot!”

“Not bad, huh?” asked the sexy stranger. Normally she wouldn’t find him all that sexy, but Tracy was so worked up that she’d gleefully rape her dad to get off. “Let’s see if we can make it even better!”

“How—”

Tracy gazed on her sister and felt the warm bliss and hunger rising again. “Lacy?”

“Tracy?” mumbled her blonde, but otherwise identical, twin. “So hot. So fucking hot!”

“Yah! But gettin’ off in the street’s a first.”

“Yah! We seriously need cock, bad!”

“Yah! Hey mister? Wanna fuck?”

“How much?” asked the stranger.

“Oh. We’re not, like, hookers, ya know,” Lacy said smiling at the common mistake. “We just like ta fuck!”

“Yah!” said Tracy. “Can’t go more than a cuppla hours without getting any, ya know? Makes the three-hour labs at school, like, hell!”

“You girls go to school?”

“Yah! The universality cuppla blocks from here!”

“Yah! If we’re gonna fuck all kindsa dif’rent guys we can’t count on husbands, ya know?”

“Yah! We want cool jobs like on Sex in the City. Ya gotta be, like, smart, ya know?”

“Yah! Stupid people have to work, like, way too hard to get lots of time for good sex, ya know?”

“Yah! And you gotta have, like, a good ’magination, ya know?” Tracy flipped her dark hair back and grinned invitingly. Or was she Lacy? Honestly, she couldn’t remember and was way too horny to care. It felt good to be a bimbo-slut!