The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Retail

by Limerick

7:30 a.m. : Front Doors

It had been fall off and on for a month now. Cold, unpleasant winds kept sweeping in behind a curtain of grey clouds, unexpectedly, and anyone in khakis and a company-issued polo froze in a slate-colored world.

Jacob shivered and rubbed at his arms. The hangover didn’t help, either, it just pierced his head in concert with the bite of the wind. He had sweated out whiskey, and now his polo with “Readymart” printed on it was a cold veil of clammy moisture.

The concrete facade of Readymart spread out in acres of crumbling rock in each direction. The only decoration was a set of six Greek columns, with fluting at the top and the bottom. Jacob rested his back against one, and the plaster started to crack.

He had been waiting for the Manager to open the front door for nearly twenty minutes.

The roads had been oddly empty for a weekday, and he had arrived really early. That gave him plenty of time to freeze, to ponder a recent breakup, to regret a solo night drinking whiskey from a bottle he had bought while still in college. Too expensive to replace now. The roads were barren, and the parking lot nearly empty, with just a few battered cars from the 1990s taking up spots.

Jacob was still stewing in regret when the girl in the trenchcoat arrived at the bus stop across the street. She strode up, not hunched over, but relaxed, her hips swaying carelessly, a very expensive looking trenchcoat jingling as the straps clattered.

Her legs were bare, and long, without even a nude pair of hose to protect against the weather. She had also worn expensive and frippery heels for a workday, a dark burgundy, attention-getting pair with a set of three silver straps. They were clearly meant to grab male eyes, and they worked.

She sat down on the bench, legs crossed, but bouncing one heel-wearing foot on top of her knee. The girl was a brunette, and had carefully applied a professional amount of makeup, with a great deal of blush as well as so much lipstick it shone from far away.

Her head bobbed, like she was listening to some music, but Jacob couldn’t detect any headphones. She was listening to something, but it was entirely in her own head, and she couldn’t seem to sit still and wait. The girl took a small paperback out of her bag, glanced at it, then tossed it carelessly onto the dew-wet bench. She chewed on her lip, thoughtfully.

The girl stood up.

A bright, sunny smile cut across her face, like she had just heard a great joke, or a superb compliment. It cut through the chill of the morning, relaxed and pleased with the world, and made Jacob feel just a little better. The girl swept the smile across the road, and let it rest on Jacob for a very nice ten seconds.

She giggled.

Then she leisurely unbuckled her trenchcoat.

Jacob sucked in his breath, and an erection started to cut through the post-alcoholic fog and the chill. Underneath her chic trench was a ruby red tube dress, and it was cut to barely cover a healthy set of generous curves. Particularly a white pair of breasts—big ones— surprisingly large for an average-sized girl. The dress didn’t quite fit over top of them, so they rode high and prominent, tucked into the fabric. The girl was a bright burst of color against the grey of the sidewalk and a faded yellow bus stop.

The girl noticed his gaze and smiled even wider. Jacob started to wonder if the girl was high. The smile was just too placid, too pleased; it had a post-orgasmic glow to it, like the girl was feeling something very nice and very personal. They locked eyes. The smile didn’t go anywhere. The eyes were a little vacant, not all the way there. Wherever they were, she was clearly enjoying the view.

The girl swiveled. She let the trenchcoat fall off her shoulders, lying crumpled on the ground. Jacob couldn’t imagine where she was planning on taking the bus. The dress was a cheap set of club clothes, way too hot and sexy for an office. It would make her look like a tart on a dance floor; at a bus stop she looked desperate for someone to stare at her half-exposed tits, the way her legs rose up, long and lazy, into the high-cut well over the top of her knees. It was a get-fucked dress.

She giggled again. Jacob could hear it from well over the road. Should he go over there? There was something too surreal about it to pursue.

The girl pursed her lips, seemed to be struggling with herself. For a short second she kept her hands chastely at her sides. Finally she shrugged, and closed her eyes, blissed out, tossing her head back, and long brown hair fell off her shoulders. Her hands started to gently caress the sides of her hips, up the top of her dress.

“Holy shit,” Jacob thought. His cock strained against his pants, all fatigue and coldness completely forgotten. What was going on? She looked and acted like there was already a cock inside her, rubbing her thighs together like something was tapped into the pleasure center inside her brain.

She had completely forgotten about him, now. Her brow creased, and her lips pouted. She ran her teeth across bright red lips, carefully covered with lipstick. Both hands kneaded at the red dress, stretching and rubbing it. Jacob would’ve been unsurprised if it tore. She wasn’t just playing. She was almost violent.

The girl casually reached into the top of her dress, and pulled out one perfect tit. It was large enough that she could nuzzle at a nipple with her teeth. The other tit the girl teased from the outside with her fingers. Both nipples strained in the air. The chill suddenly felt cool and refreshing, Jacob’s sweat turned hot, and his cheeks burned. The girl was just playing with her tits, at the bus stop, like this was a normal way to pass the time. As if every girl fingered herself while waiting around, and why not? It felt good to play with yourself.

Was he going crazy?

A gauzy unreality had fallen across the road. The girl made happy little squeaks, and her tits bounced around, unrestrained. Jacob knew from experience that most girls hated that kind of unrestrained mauling. But the girl rubbed and stroked with abandon, and each touch seemed to make her bounce on her heels.

The girl stumbled backwards on her heels, landed neatly on the bus bench. She started to spread her legs, wider... wider... her right hand inched down...

A bus drove right between them and came to a halt.

“No... no!” Jacob said, starting. The bus driver was peering down into the bus shelter. He looked surprised

“Jacob!” a girl said.

Jacob swiveled. It was Lauren, his boss, a petite asian girl with a basic haircut. Her outfit was grey. If she had tits, they were hidden. And she was scowling.

“The door is open, Jacob. It’s been open. Didn’t you try the handle?”

“Ye—no.”

His cock shrank. He heard the bus turn off.

“Come on. We have a staff meeting. Lets not make this day any longer then it needs to be.”

Jacob meekly followed her through the doors, into miles of retail.

* * *

8:00 a.m. : Staff Room

Something had happened to Lauren, at some point in her twenties. At least, no teenager Jacob had ever met shared her mechanically flat approach to life, her tedious pursuit of store manager perfection, her completely humorless insistence on following the procedures in her store manager binder. At times, Jacob wasn’t sure if she thought of him as “Jacob,” or as the meaningless string of letters and numbers that was his employee ID.

Even now, leading him through the empty aisles, she took the time to take a pink blouse out of Mens and deposit it in the exact right spot in Teen. Once, he had caught her reading conscientiously about the different kinds of lightbulbs they carried, just to be up on the topic, and just in case anyone asked.

“It’s the weekend before Labor Day,” she told him. “Which means that store volume will be down, but stocking and placement needs to be up. And we’re understaffed. A lot of people called in sick.”

She whipped around, gave Jacob a suspicious glare. He had no idea why. He wondered if she caught the lingering scent of last night’s drinking binge. There had been a little pot in there, too.

“Maybe it’ll be quiet today,” Jacob offered. They swept past Seasonal, which was now half Barbeque Town and half Halloween. “There’s no one out there this morning.”

Except a strange red-dress-wearing girl, with the inviting smile, probably fingering herself right now. Had he dreamed the entire thing? Was he THAT hungover? Residual high from the awful stems he had scavenged?

Lauren tsked. She had spotted a tube of dark brown lipstick, somehow, nestled in a rack around Electronics.

“Another teenybopper at work,” she complained. “Probably couldn’t get up the nerve to shoplift it.”

The tube was colored dull matte gold. Lauren paused, unexpectedly. His boss held the tube in front of her, opened it. It smelled lightly fruity. This was gaudy lipstick meant for sixteen-year-olds. There wasn’t even a price tag on it.

Lauren didn’t say anything. She licked her lips, stared at the tube with almond-colored eyes. She sniffed at it, like it was arose.

“Boss?” Jacob ventured.

She shook herself. “Right. Anyway. Staff meeting. I want this done in ten minutes.”

The tube of lipstick she put in a pocket.

* * *

The break room had too many sets of fluorescent lights. There was a flicker that reflected off the cheap tables repurposed from a failed Arbor Day sale many years ago. The break room chairs were remaindered from a hundred sales, and came in every shape and form, most missing armrests or splotched with something industrial solvent couldn’t get out.

Jacob slumped into a white plastic chair with “Memorial Day” written all over it. It wobbled. Lauren was right about the store working short-handed today. There were only fifteen or so staffers swiveling on chairs, staring dully at the ceiling or, if they were younger, examining their iPhones.

“Okay,” Lauren said, taking her position at the front of the room, near the instructional video shrine. “We’re working skeleton today. This is absolutely not ideal, and we’ll all take a huge hit on our performance tar—WHAT are all you girls wearing?”

Jacob looked around, and saw what the rest of the boys, not as hungover, were already admiring. Every single female staffer was dressed absolutely 100% to kill.

“Patricia, is that a... a schoolgirl outfit?” Lauren demanded, of the late 20s blonde with a dimple. Patricia typically ran Housewares with an efficient hand, and rotated a set of three pairs of pants. Today she had revealed sculpted legs with nicely toned calves underneath a pair of black socks that reached to her knee. A plaid skirt flipped around her midsection, and the only adult bit was how high the hem rose, well past mid-knee. She was nervously braiding her hair into two separate pigtails as the boys watched, and fidgeted exactly like a horny schoolgirl.

“I’m sorry, Miss Lauren!” Patricia squeaked, and tried to tug her skirt lower. With no success. In fact, all she did was reveal that she was wearing brand new white panties.

Lauren’s shocked eye had already moved around the room. “Tori! What is with those heels?”

Tori tried to hide white wedges underneath the table. They turned her feet into ridiculous parodies; Jacob couldn’t imagine she could walk in them. That was paired with a simple tube dress, but.. “is that dress made out of RUBBER?”

“I.. um... everything else made me sneeze!” Tori protested. She had dark doe eyes, and pulled her hair high. “I swear! everything cotton and polyester and...”

“So you wore rubber? Good god,” Lauren said, rubbing at her eyes. “Tell me you’re at least wearing underwear.”

Tori bit her lip, and crossed her legs extra tightly.

The other girls in the room flushed, and tucked their legs underneath their chairs, hiding from Lauren’s gaze. There were red pumps with vinyl all around, there were gold heels with big buckles, and everyone seemed to have dug their highest boots out of the back of the closet. Everywhere, a lot of skin.

“Rebecca. Well, at least with you I’m not surprised,” Lauren said.

Unlike the other nervous, quaking girls, Rebecca looked perfectly calm. She looked at Jacob, and winked. Rebecca had her own chair, out of deference by the rest of the staff, as she was the only one willing to talk back to Lauren.

Usually she dressed in the absolute bare minimum required by the store manual—a pair of corduroy pants, plus an H&M black blouse that probably cost six dollars after discounts. Then her raven black hair tied off at the nape of her neck.

“I don’t see a problem with what I’m wearing,” she said. “I’m 100% covered below the waist.”

“That’s... true,” Lauren conceded, in the monotone she adopted when talking to Rebecca. The manager was unusally squirmy, up on her dais. She was dressed in one of her usual suits, tweedy-grey with stripes. But she didn’t look comfortable in her own skin, tugging at the hem of the skirt, a calibrated few inches up above the knee. “And, uh, I, uh...”

Rebecca was dressed up, too.

She wore dark black tights, with a hint of silver thread running up the sides. She had paired that with a rich and dark blue cami, an expensive one, as expensive as tanks got, with both blue sparkles and a trendy low cut. There was a lot of white skin above the top of the cut, and it seemed design to fall open to the curve of her chest. Around her waist Rebecca had wrapped a red miniskirt.

That wasn’t what had distracted Lauren.

It was the fact that Rebecca had pulled a tube of lipstick out of her purse—and who knew she owned a purse—and was slowly applying a new layer of natural gloss over the top of her angel bows.

The store manager licked her lips, slowly, in exact counterpoint to her lowly staff associate painting herself with cheap cosmetics. Her eyes shone with a dim need. It wasn’t until Rebecca had put on a shiny new layer and put the lipstick away that the manager seemed to pull herself together. She kept tugging on the bottom of her skirt, like a naughty teenager with a secret. Her pink tongue kept peeking out to rub at her own thin lips.

“We’ll... we’ll be restocking the greeting card section for the Halloween Corridor,” she said, slowly recovering. Lauren’s cheeks were flushed bright red. The rest of the staff eyed her, surprised, giving the busybody manager their full attention. “Jacob, you got that. “Tiffany and Tyler, you’re restocking apparel. Rebecca... Rebecca, what is with those boots?”

Rebecca made a face.

“What about them?” She said. And then, very deliberately, she put them on the table. They were just as dark as her tights, but made out of a shiny leather. They looked expensive.

Lauren flushed. “No. I’m drawing the line. Really. So impractical.”

“I got these here,” Rebecca announced, smiling.

A low move. But you could always wear stock. You were supposed to be selling it.

Lauren’s eyes bugged. She looked ready to yell. It would not have been the first time. But instead she reached into her suitjacket pocket, and pulled out the girlish tube of lipstick she had found on the floor. Without a mirror, or any guide, she rubbed the tube of garish pink along her lips. She looked like she had lost ten years, mostly in intelligence, and there was suddenly a vulnerable 17 year old getting ready for prom.

But it seemed to relax the Boss. She smiled. Jacob shivered. There was that same diffuse, cheerful, dim glow he had seen behind Red Dresses eyes.

“Okay, that’s your assignments,” Lauren said. “Go to. I will be checking in, and I will have my clipboard with me.” She swept out.

Tori breathed a sigh of relief, and uncrossed her legs.

* * *

Jacob and Rebecca had known each other vaguely in college, in a same-dorm kind of sense. Not friends or anything—Rebecca had run with a crowd that teetered between being artsy and being political. Dabblers who mostly liked to have imcomprehensible facebook drama wars, with an overtone of goth. They had stuck together at Readymart, on the understanding that it was okay to be a failure if you only talked to other failures.

“What’s with you talking back to Lauren?” Jacob asked, curious. Rebecca leaned forward in her chair. She either didn’t know or didn’t care that her blouse gave an unobstructed view of the tops of her tits. “That was a lot of, uh, lip.”

Rebecca rocked back and forth, occasionally licking at her lips. How did you tell a girl acting a little strange that you thought the manager was acting a little strange?

The other girls passed by. Tiana and Sara, the two Baristas at the in-store coffee shop, had both chosen to come to work in tight jean capris that emphasized their plush rears. Two of the others were dressed in summer dresses with their nametags awkwardly pinned on. And none of the girls had dressed in the comfortable shoes that were downright necessary on the floor. The boys took their time leaving the floor.

“Aren’t you a little dressed up,” Jacob said.

Rebecca shrugged. “Eh.”

“Just eh? What’s with the outfit? You have an interview somewhere else? Like a boutique or something?”

“No, I’m going to die here. Maybe today,” She looked down at herself. “Geez. I really am kind of dressed up.”

“What, you didn’t realize?” Jacob pushed. “You don’t just get dressed like that. It takes some serious work.”

“Well, no. I was.... distracted, this morning. I was in a really good mood for once in my life, and thinking about anything would kill it,” Rebecca’s eyes narrowed, and she licked her lips. “Am I wearing lip gloss? Why am I wearing lip gloss?” she looked down. “Oh, crap! Have I been showing the sisters off this entire time? This is a really low-cut cami. I completely forgot that I owned this.”

Jacob looked away from Rebecca’s boobs, embarassed.

But Rebecca didn’t seem upset. There was even a brief glint... but then it was gone, and the usual, cynical Rebecca shrugged.

“Okay, apparently, I’m having a girl day. Kind of felt like getting wrapped up, you know? Don’t you have boy days? You know, no underwear? Walk around grunting and lifting things in the air?”

“On weekends,” Jacob said, cautiously letting his eyes rest once more on Rebecca’s shelf. Her bra was either working wonders, pr her boobs naturally ran high.

“Yeah? Lifting weights and perpetuating patriarchy?” Rebecca said. She smiled. “I’d like to see that.”

The smile didn’t go anywhere. It got stronger, and more pleased, and, when Rebecca stood up, she was wiggling her ass just like every other girl Jacob had run across, today. Every single one, Lauren included, couldn’t help but put a sexy sway in those hips.

They walked out across the floor. There was still a few serene moments before the doors opened. The staff savored them. Rebecca and Jacob took the long route past Exercise and Fitness.

“Do you lift, Jacob?” Rebecca said, still smiling. “Big ‘ol boy muscles?”

Jacob hadn’t lifted anything heavier then a milk carton in months. “Sure. About, I don’t know, 130? Max 150?”

“Ooh, that’s pretty impressive. Maybe I should try them out. I bet you could lift me.”

Rebecca stopped. She looked vaguely worried. She turned to Jacob, put her hands on her hips.

“Jacob, does anything seem... weird to you?”

“Um. Well.”

“Because I JUST realized I’m carrying a purse around. And it’s PINK.” Rebecca waved it for emphasis. It was pink. In fact, it was from the store. It still had a price tag on it. “I never carry a purse. Purses are dumb. Girls use them as a social prop and method of comparison. Plus I hate pink. But... oh, shit.”

They had reached the front doors. And waiting there was a crowd, almost all women. And almost all sporting the same lazy, dumb smile.

“Wow, that’s a lot of people,” Rebecca said. She twirled her hair, and giggled. “You know, it’s strange, but I’m kind of looking forward to today. Does that seem strange to you?”

“Absolutely,” Jacob said.