The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

9:00 a.m. : Cards and Wrapping Paper

Jacob kept trying to straighten a persistent erection, to hide it as best he could behind his boxer shorts. It felt weird to even sport one in the sterile consumerism of the store. But between the Bus Stop Slut and Rebecca’s casual flirting, some switch had apparently been turned on. He was turned on, and there wasn’t anything turning him off.

That wasn’t the only thing keeping him hard. Usually the store played soft hits from the 70s, 80s, and 90s during the early morning shopping. But someone—Lauren?—had switched in a CD of girls whispering over a guitar about how much boys excited them, how much they liked to steal other people’s boyfriends, and how good they looked in tight jeans. Jacob’s girlfriend had played something similar when she gave him a blowjob, and the memory of her soft lips concentrating on his shaft kept popping into his head.

“Excuse me, do you work here?” a woman said.

Jacob straightened up. His dick tried to spring out of confinement. He had been tasked with greeting cards. That was an unending wave of different holidays. Right now the vast majority of Congratulations on Your Wedding were about to get sent who knows where, replaced by a bunch of pumpkin-themed cards. He had learned to expect paper cuts.

“Uh, yes?” he said.

This girl looked refreshingly normal, including a severe frown. She had ash-blonde hair, and wore a pair of boring black pant plus a simple white blouse with a high collar and black buttons.

Every other woman in the store seemed to be in an achingly good mood, including that pleased smile, coupled with the hot, gyrating hips. The girls shopped more or less at random, with distinct concentrations in the women’s apparel area. They stopped and chatted. They gave him long, yearning looks as they passed. It was weird. And hot.

“I need to get in and out of here.. Where can I pick up window washer fluid? You don’t need to show me. I can get there myself. Just say a number.”

“Sixteen,” Jacob said. “Aisle sixteen.”

“THANK you,” the woman said, raising both eyebrows. She nearly started off.

But Jacob’s cock had just then managed to jump free, and make a clear outline of a shaft on his khakis.

The woman noticed it. She bit her lips. She dawdled on her heels.

“Every person I’ve asked has looked at me like I’m interrupting a daydream,” she said. “So thank you for helping me. Jacob? Sixteen. Great.”

“Yep. That’s automotive,” Jacob said. He couldn’t seem to get his own head out of the gutter. He couldn’t help trying to put measurements on the slender body underneath the work clothes.

She still didn’t go anywhere. In fact, her eyes seemed to be examining him. His chest. His eyes. Like she was studying up. Work outfit aside, there was a brush of glitter on her cheeks.

“I’m Tracy, incidentally. I don’t mean to be rude,” Tracy said. Her voice was noticeably softer. Almost a purr, all of a sudden.

“No, not at all. I’m, ah, Jacob.”

Tracy smiled, brilliantly.

“I know, you have a nametag on. Thank you, Jacob. I, um... oh.”

She suddenly looked concerned, even bothered, by something behind him.

“Yes? Can I help you with something?” Jacob said. “Like grab your tits?” the animal side of him growled.

‘Yes. Well, no. Oh, that’s all wrong. Here, let me show you something,” Tracy said.

She stepped briskly past him, then knelt in her nice pants on the half-swept store floor. Her heels were at least four inches long, and spiky. She gave Jacob a nice look at the back of her ass too.

The blonde looked back at him. “I’m in advertising. I... see, you need a professional doing this work...”

“I can see that,” Jacob said, as Tracy started to yank away at a morning’s worth of card stocking. There was just enough swivel underneath her blouse to show that Tracy had a healthy pair of tits hiding underneath her clothes. What was wrong with him? Half his head was occupied with a sweaty fantasy of fucking her from behind while she did his work for him.

“See, you need to build eye interest,” Tracy told him, “and you do that with color blocking. Orange on orange and black on black. That’s especially effective with.. uh...”

Tracy turned around and noticed Jacob’s eyes on her rear end. It wasn’t very subtle. He was memorizing the thread count stitched over a very firm and well-toned rear. She seemed about to protest. Somehow, that didn’t happen.. “Um,” she said, fidgeting on the floor. “So yeah, let me just rework the mess you’ve made of Wedding, and then I’ll go. Unless... you think of something else you need me for.”

She wiggled her rear, and licked her lips.

“I could do some dusting maybe,” she said, her voice thicker.

Someone else tugged on Jacob’s sleeve.

“Sir, can we get your help over here?” a new woman asked, and, without looking for consent, began to drag him away.

When last he looked, the young executive was still on her knees, absorbed entirely in restocking the entire display, her armsleeves rolled up towards her shoulders, her ass in the air, and smiling as if nothing could make her happier.

9:15 a.m.: Register

“Something’s going on,” Rebecca told herself. She kept trying to build a list inside her head. One, she was way overdressed for another awful day at her demeaning job. Two, flirting with a nobody like Jacob was out of character. Three... but here, the bullet points seemed to turn bright pink and flutter away, as she would stretch or lick her fruity-tasting lips or notice some cute guy somewhere in the background of the store. Chains of thought just slipped away into a fruit-scented haze that had taken up residence inside of her head.

If she ever made it to three, three would’ve been: she felt really, really, really... good.

If anything, she felt slightly stoned. In that silly, goofy, agreeable way where the world seemed fun and reasonable and a little bit... sensual.

And not just like she was stoned. Like she had had a nice jog, like she had just gotten out of a warm shower, like she had her boyfriend’s hands between her legs, making her feel absolutely hot and sweaty.

She kept smiling at people. And it felt good when they smiled back.

That didn’t change how weird working the register was.

Most of the girls at the front door had floated into the aisles, never to re-emerge, but a few had come running with some purchase or another. The very first was a redhead in a brief green pleated dress, with a strap around the middle that had a big silver buckle. She wore woven satin pumps. It was a very expensive look. Her only purchase was a cheap green dog collar with a faux-silver tag.

“Hurry,” redhead had pleaded. She pushed a hundred dollar bill into Rebecca’s hands. “There. I don’t need a receipt.”

And then the girl clipped the plastic tie shut around her neck. She relaxed almost instantly, and then grinned, toying with the medallion at her throat. “Ohhhh, that’s so much better,” she said, and stroked the cheap nylon. “Thank god. Thank GOD. How does it look?”

“Great,” Rebecca said. “Like a dog,” Rebecca tried to think. But the woman just looked so happy.

“I know!” the woman said. She pulled out her phone, speed-dialed. “Master? I’ll be home in ten minutes. What? I called you Darryl. No I didn’t. Well, so what if I did, master?” she walked away.

That was just the first customer of the day. And the second brought up a pair of handcuffs. Rebecca hadn’t known they even sold handcuffs. But the brunette in the white bustier had found some, and insisted on Rebecca cuffing her right then and there.

“Um, is there a key?” Rebecca asked, locking it tight.

“Oh, there is,” the brunette assured her.

“And..?”

“I swallowed it. Yeah,” the handcuffs clicked. “Thank you! Ohhh, that’s nice.”

“You’re welcome!” Rebecca beamed. And that was out of character, too. Usually she mumbled something under her breath at each passing customer.

The next three customers each had big barrels of clothes, cheap clothes, cheap sexy clothes that cost just pennies and would probably rip and tear with a gust of wind. But they all had big shiny zippers, or polka dots, or were cute and made out of satin, or shiny and yellow and with little bows on the back, that Rebecca just couldn’t do anything but smile at how adorable each girl would look in her new purchases.

“Oh, this is SO cute,” she heard herself say, handling a light pink thong with “flirt” written on it with rhinestones. Price: $3.99

The proud new owner clutched a Fendi handbag that was at least a thousand dollars, and wore an immaculate plaid overcoat. She looked overjoyed. “I know. I NEED to get it on.” she paused. “And then take it off.” She paused again, working everything out. “And then put it on again. Ummmm.”

Rebecca pointed her in the direction of a changing room, and noticed, offhand, that the woman had her hand under her skirt as she walked.

Things changed when a boy entered the lane. He wasn’t all that good looking, with a wan, flat face and nerdy glasses. Obviously he wasn’t working on a weekday. But he was a boy, and Rebecca was noticing more and more how incredibly awesome and interesting boys were. They were super-strong, for one thing, and a vague image of their cocks wandered around the back of her head.

This one already had a girl attached. She was aggressively indie, with pink tips at the bottom of her hair and a proud tattoo of some asian character or another on the top of her shoulder. On the other hand, their shopping cart held a few cookbooks, a set of knives, pots and pans, and household cleaners. And the girl was wearing an apron with he price tag still attached.

“Hi there,” Rebecca said, at the boy. Her voice dropped an octave. What was WRONG with her? This was some stupid, sexy guy. She diligently started to ring up kitchenware, hoping he would notice how very conscientious she was.

“Bobbi, what is this?” the boy said, to his girlfriend. “You want to cook all of a sudden, why are we blowing all this money on it?”

“I.. I NEED to...” Bobbi said, fidgeting. She tried to disarm her boyfriend with a smile.

“You HATE cooking. All we have at home is ramen! And pizza boxes!”

“Well... I’ll... I’ll blend them together!” Bobbi said. Her hair, Rebecca noticed, was starting to curl. The boyfriend looked around, and Rebecca thrust her tits at him, before she could stop herself.

Bobbi was getting carried way, fingering the housewares in her shopping cart. “And then... I’ll vaccuum... and then maybe dust a bit..”

“Bobbi..”

“TOTALLY naked,” Bobbi concluded.

That got the boyfriend’s attention.

“And then you can fuck me in the ass while I do the dishes?” Bobbi said, arms tight around her boyfriend’s arm. There wasn’t a lot of muscle there, but Rebecca memorized what there was.

“Uh,” the boyfriend said. Bobbi grinned and rubbed suggestively at the front of his jeans.

“That’ll be $214.94,” Rebecca said, harshly. Lucky girl.

Bobbi’s boyfriend handed over the visa, without hesitation.

9:23 a.m. : Cosmetics

“Excuse me?” the customer said. Lauren turned on her heels, smiled broadly—and easily—and gave the customer her full attention.

The woman had massive, full breasts, which pushed out nearly into Lauren. A sudden swing would knock her down, and, more importantly, knock down an entire endcap display. Lauren felt a sudden need for more personal space.

“I need baby bottles,” the woman said, almost apologetically. “Or at least, just the bottle nips.” She paused. “Basically something to suck on.”

“Southwestern quadrant, aisle sixteen, lower right hand corner,” Lauren said, promptly.

“Thanks!” the woman said, and stuck her thumb into her mouth. She wore a pink pleated skirt with a ruffled top. It wasn’t a very mature thing to wear. The only girls who would wear things like that, Lauren thought, were goo-brained girly-girls without anything in their heads besides boys and toys. Possibly with an emphasis on toys.

“What about... um... bibs?” the woman said, around her thumb.

“Southeastern quadrant, aisle sixteen, lower right hand corner,” Lauren said.

“Okay!” the girl said. “Great!”

She looked confused, and, with her thumb in her mouth, pretty dumb. “There’s one other thing,” she whispered. “it’s kind of embarrassing.”

Oh lord, Lauren thought. She had a sinking feeling she knew what was coming.

“I really... really... really.. need a... pacifier,” the girl said.

“Oh, Oh!” Lauren said, relieved. Better then she had expected. “Next to bibs.”

“Thanks!” the woman said, scurrying away.

It had been a strange and unprofitable morning. The staff was in full rebellion, ignoring her or staring right past, flouting the dress code with their silly shoes and brilliant primary colors.. The customers were impossible.

And Lauren... Lauren couldn’t keep the thought of paints, creams, glosses, and other silly feminine stuff covering her face from absolutely wrecking her composure.

She didn’t NEED any of that. She had very nice skin, after a few rounds of zits in her adolescent years. She didn’t need heavy lipstick, or dark mascara, or powder-puff cheeks slightly pink. She DIDN’T.

“Not again. Don’t do it, Lauren,” she told herself, feeling her fingers close around the tube of lipstick in her pocket. “No, Lauren. No. Think about performance targets. Think about getting bedding restocked.” It was no good. She had already licked her lips clean several times. There was something about the fruity candy...the costumery and display to every guy that walked past.

She needed another go.

Her hands closed around the tube, opened it up, and stared in dismay at the nearly empty tube. Rubbing it anxiously on top of her lips accomplished next to nothing, besides a fruity fragrance crawling out. Nothing left.

“Noooooo,” Lauren whined, and looked around to make sure no one had seen her. But the only person around was a girl wandering down the hall, dripping some sort of goo from her fingers.

She made a break for cosmetics.

And nearly ran right into three teenagers, just inside the first aisle, painting each other with enthusiasm.

They were... schoolgirls. And not just in the sense that they were all seventeen or so, laughing and giggling with the kind of girlish enthusiasm Lauren usually saw in commercials. They were SCHOOLGIRLS, which meant brief plaid skirts, each with a different color, knee socks, belted shoes, brief little blouses, and hair done up in pink or green scrunchies. And they had already opened and ruined at least two hundred dollars worth of merchandise. Each had done each other up with an enthusiasm.

“Hey,” Lauren barked, “Stop that. It’s... you’re ruining all of it!” She reached for the walkie-talkie behind her back, ready to call security.

Which was when the acetone hit her in the nose.

She stopped dead, inhaling a chemical cloud of fruit and sweet overtones, a miasma of the paints the girls had casually unstopped and left on the shelves. Lauren sagged against the side of the aisle, right next to dyes, and images of her hair turning pink, blonde, and any number of other shades burst into her suddenly overheated head.

“Can we help you?” the first girl said, politely. Her little tartan barely reached over mid-hip, and she wore striped green socks with white heels. Lauren barely noticed all that. She noticed a delicious gloss of light pink lipstick, outlined (oh god! Outlined! Of course!) in a darker pink. Plus a puff of blush on the sides of her cheeks, just enough to bring a rosy color out.

“You... you need to stop that,” Lauren gasped. She took a step closer. That just left her in lipstick, the hundreds of plastic shiny metallics glaring back at her. Every color from black to the brightest pink, every one perfect.

“Stop what?” the second girl said. even as she was brushing mascara into impossibly long lashes. She wore a pleated mini and light brown strappy sandals. Her tits bounced behind a thin yellow blouse. She was asian, or perhaps half-asian, and Lauren couldn’t help but compare herself to the girl’s subtle use of light browns with dark blue flares.

“I, um,” Lauren faltered. Now she was surrounded by facial moisturizers, and face to face with the shoplifting girls. They seemed totally ignorant that they had done anything wrong. And what had they done wrong? Been young, and attractive, and perfectly made up? What was wrong with that? That was HOT. It was FUN.

She licked her lips.

“I... I need to arrest you,” she stammered. The last girl turned around, amused. She had on—oh god—blue thigh highs, and had spread glitter over high cheek bones. “You’re breaking the law and stuff.”

“I like your lipstick,” the last girl said. Unlike the first two, who squeaked like little toys, she had a deep, breathy voice.

“I... I ran out,” Lauren told them, holding up the empty tube. She felt so vulnerable. So naked. So incredibly aroused, juices were pooling underneath her skirt. “I think I could use some more.”

“Ohmygosh,” the first girl said. “you have such perfect skin. Mine is so oily.” she brushed at immaculate, shining skin.

“Why don’t you sit down?” the Japanese girl said, encouraging. “Girls? Want to do a little makeover? Won’t that be fun?”

Lauren sat down in the chair they had found, somewhere. She didn’t have much choice.

She spread her legs as they descended upon her in a cloud of strawberry perfume.

9:30 a.m. : Women’s Apparel

The shoppers had seemed so eager to get in, but, now that they were there inside, all seemed to be wandering the floor in a pleasant haze of shopping euphoria. They meandered, harshly lit from above, the lights shining off a lot of exposed skin, shiny clothes, and big pleased smiles. Only a few seemed to retain a sense of purpose, and pushed big carts mostly full of either makeup or apparel. One girl Jacob passed just looked happy to be wandering around humming to herself in a low-cut yellow dress. He could see through the fabric quite clearly.

The girl who had grabbed him and pulled him away from the accommodating executive had auburn hair in a ponytail, and was decked in a strange ensemble of leather. Lots of leather, but all separate pieces, as if she had put it together from whatever she had lying around in the closet. Dark brown leather skirt with a leather cord, patent black leather shoes with a triangle toe, and a short black leather jacket that showed off an athletic midriff. She hugged a leather purse to her side, and occasionally stroked it as they walked together.

“Hey Lisa,” Jacob called out, as they passed by a fellow staffer. Lisa was a low-slung girl with a distracted look, who usually hid in the racks to keep away from Lauren. She played drums for a local indie band and wore thick glasses she didn’t technically need. Now she was escorting around a duo of giggling teenagers, both heaped high with swimwear, and her hands were around each girl’s waist. The girls wore matching baby blue jean shorts with a short fringe. Lisa’s hands were right above their rears. She didn’t even respond to Jacob.

The leather-wearing girl pulled Jacob into a nearly empty row, currently unstocked, but near the flurry of girls attacking Intimates. The only person there was another auburn-locked girl, some years younger, sitting on a stool and clearly upset.

“I need you to help my sister with something,” leather girl said. She put her hands on her hips. She was wearing a regular t-shirt, made out of cotton, and it looked strangely out of place.

“Erica, I don’t need this. It’s humiliating,” the sister said, plaintively. She looked to be late High School. She had her hands crossed tightly around her chest, and was normally dressed in casual jeans with a hoodie. Her backpack sprawled on the floor.

“He’s a professional. We need a professional,” her sister said, consoling. “I’m Erica, and that’s my sister, Sarah. We’ve got a problem. We need your help with it.”

“Erica,” Sarah warned.

“You see...”

“Ericaaaaa!”

“My sister has just EXPLODED in tits today.”

Sarah moaned, tightening her arms around her chest.

“She’s like a milk cow. Really. She’s 90% dairy. We really need your help.”

Erica didn’t look at all embarrassed. In fact, she stood closer to Jacob then he was quite comfortable with. She wore some sort of dark, smoky perfume, with a nighttime edge that crept up on Jacob slowly, plus the scent of well-worn leather.

“I just found out about her tits this morning,” Erica confided. “Personally, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a good pair of boobs. It’s healthy. And it’ll open a lot of doors for her. Literally, even. Boys will do just about anything for a girl that gives them a solid handful to work with.” she smiled. “Or a mouthful.”

“Oh my god, Erica, please stop,” Sarah said, mortified. She wiped at her eyes, near tears. “I don’t know what happened. They just, I don’t know, grew overnight or something.”

“Sarah, stop being embarassed,” Erica said, severely. “I’m proud of you. I’m proud of your gigantic tits. I want you to have the co-ed college experience I never got. I couldn’t get a guy to look at me if I shoved a nipple in his mouth.”

“Oh my god,” Sarah moaned. “Please, can we just go home? I’m feeling... I’m feeling really strange. You’re acting strange. Everyone is being weird. Mom was asking where your old cheerleader outfit was this morning. I want to go home.”

She curled up in a ball of misery.

“Look, Sarah, I know what this is about,” Erica said, consoling. “No one will think less of you because you have a huge rack. Tons of smart girls also have big boobs. It’s just winning the genetic lottery.”

Jacob had no idea what to say.

Erica turned to him. “She’s a little shy about having huge knockers,” she stage-whispered. Somehow, the smoky background was even stronger, and even more so when she smiled. “Jacob, right? We needed some help with the bras. Sarah needs a lot more support then she’s getting with those sweater cows she’s carrying around.”

“I could get a, you know, female staffer..?” Jacob suggested.

Erica looked disgusted. “Oh! Oh, nah. Here, Sarah, let him see the girls.”

“No!” Sarah said.

“He’s a professional.”

“They’re fine! I don’t even need a bra!”

“Do it, cow,” Erica ordered.

“I’m not letting some guy feel me up!”

Erica sighed, and rolled her eyes. “Sis, will you please let Jacob here give you his thorough, professional inspection?”

Sarah looked up, for the first time. Her eyes took in the boy standing in front of her. Jacob was uncomfortably aware that her eyes were at cock level. Sarah’s dark brown eyes widened, just a little, and she inhaled sharply.

“Ummm,” she said, wavering. “Um. Okay. I guess.” She squeezed her thighs together. “I guess that would be okay.”

Sarah sheepishly pulled the sweater over her head.

Underneath she wore a tattered white tanktop, and it was stretched and pulled by a mammoth pair of lily-white tits. Her nipples pushed hard against the cotton, erect and wanton, and boob flesh spilled out on either side. They did ride high and firm, the nipples turned up and inviting. Jacob inhaled. There was a new scent in the air. This one had a distinct tinge of strawberries.

“See,” Erica said, encouraging. “They’re nothing to be afraid of, sis. Those are some fantastic titties. You are going to love having those, believe me. Look at the reaction they get from boys, they’re like magnets for attention. God, I’ve got to get you to some of the frat houses. You’ll be like a cock magnet.”

Sarah looked up from staring, dismayed, at the huge canyon she had sprouted. Jacob was staring too amazed, at the girl with the oversized, jiggling chest. The contrast with her confused expression and bookish outfit just made it that much hotter.

The attention had an immediate effect on the high schooler.

She leaned back, self-consciously, pushing her boobs up even higher in the inadequate clothing. Sarah put her hands on the floor, behind her back, to give Jacob a better view. Erica knelt behind her, her eyes bright, and smiling broadly. Both Sarah and Jacob were breathing hard, in unison.

“Look at how much he likes him, sis,” Erica said, coaxing. “Do you like them, Jacob?”

“Uh. Sure,” Jacob said.

It was a feeble compliment, and it did something to Sarah. She shuddered, her body spasming, even the slightest chill causing her boobs to bounce up and down.

“Ooooh,” she said, under her breath, confused. Whatever she was feeling, it was new, and exciting, and a little scary.

Rebecca’s mouth was getting very dry. She had a water bottle, and sucked on it, but felt not better at all.

“Can we hurry this up? I’m feeling very strange,” the girl at the counter said. She was porcelain pale, with dark curly locks that bounced gently around her face. Her eyes were bright and wide, with a permanent expression of tender innocence.

She plucked at an arm hair. It came out right away. “See? I know that’s not normal.”

Nothing made sense until Rebecca casually glanced past the racks of candy that flanked the register. Usually the tubes of overprocessed sugar goo were just mental background color, as appetizing as the sticks of fat and sugar they were.

The girl at the counter wore a white ruffled blouse with a light pink skirt, and only a dark leather belt wrapped around her midsection kept it from imitating the 1950s. She wore big, dangly earrings that shook each time she moved. Her visa card said she was named Marie. The face on the credit card was tanned, lined, and frowning.

Marie shook both arms, bewildered, and watched a spray of remaining hair fall to the floor.

“Sure. Sure,” Rebecca murmured, calming.

All of a sudden, candy was so... amazing looking. Rebecca stopped what she was doing, bagging up more clothes, and took a longer look at the bars of sweetness and sucrose just, tantalizingly, out of reach. Up top was a few mints, but then every kind of gum—juicy fruit, spearmint, and six different kinds of bubbalicious. All in shiny colors with promises on the package.

She licked her lips.

“And... why can’t I closh my mouth?” Marie said, feeling gently at her lips. She tried to force her lips closed, but they were just slightly open in an ‘o’ of pleasant surprise.

“I’m almost done,” Rebecca said. Then there was the—oh, god— the clear plastic tubs of gummy bears, and those sour worms with the shock of sweetness. And the CHOCOLATE. Endless bars, filled with nougat or cream or..

“Miss? Hello?” Marie waved her hands in front of her. Her joints worked strangely, rotating at the elbow. “You there?”

“Yes!” Rebecca said, snapping away. She didn’t need any of that stuff. It was sticky, sugary, gross, disgusting... “I’ll be right with you.”

Marie was having apparent trouble moving around. And she looked strange, too, plastick-y, her skin pure white and the smoothest Rebecca had seen in a morning of shiny girls. Even her legs seemed a bit open. Her garish red lipstick outlined the hole where she wasn’t closing her mouth quite right, either, and her

Rebecca ignored her, and continued studying the candies.

“I just... I can’t seem to move quite right...” Marie mumbled, behind her empty, vacant smile. She was stiffening before Rebecca’s uncaring eyes. Small, cosmetic lines appeared on her elbows and knees.

There was a row of M&Ms—an entire ROW—and Rebecca knew that each sugar packet in a hard candy shell would be a starburst of flavor, reaching from her tongue all the way down to the center of her legs. There were a lot of things that had nougat in them. A lot of dark chocolate, not as tasty, maybe, but with a naughty flair to them.

Rebecca was nearly moaning.

“Miss... miss?” Marie said. Luckily, she was temporarily the only one in line. The girl tried to stretch her back, and couldn’t manage it.

“Look, can you just HOLD STILL for a moment?” Rebecca snapped.

The swiftly stiffening girl shuddered, and managed to lick her lips just one more time before halting entirely, nearly falling over before Rebecca, swearing, managed to catch her.

“Are you crazy?” she muttered, but the shopper had turned immobile entirely, mouth locked open.

Well, whatever. She was still posable, apparently, so Rebecca sat her on the checkout stand, her legs wide open. That bit wasn’t stopped up—the little doll was leaking like a sieve, all through her skirt..

That left her path clear to the candies.

Rebecca hovered over them, struggling to choose between each of the wrappers. The colorful outsides were just as scintillating as the candy inside, and she couldn’t help but drool, and it spackled against the tile beneath her.

Skittles. Pure candy. Pure sugar.

Rebecca backed away. Just the thought had caused a surge of heat to the center of her legs. Rebecca looked down, realized for the first time how much like a candy wrapper she was already dressed, wtih the candy-red top and the skin-tight tights. She couldn’t do this. Something was wrong. She was acting like a junkie, like her veins were already running red with sweets.

She decided to constrain herself to a set of twizzlers.

“Okay, now Jacob needs to take some measurements,” Erica said. “Off with the tanktop.”

Sarah shook her head weakly. “Erica, I.. something feels weird.”

“Don’t you want Jacob to see your tits?” Erica said. “Come on, bessie. Off with it. You’ve got a succulent pair of melons and they need to get a good looking at.”

“I...” Sarah was flushed, her cheeks bright red, and panting. “It’s not... look, lets just go home. This was a bad idea.”

“I bet Jacob would really like it if he saw your boobs,” Erica said. “Go ahead. Take it off. Go for it. For him. Come on, sweater kitten. You’ve got the goods, lets see them.”

“Do it,” Jacob said.

He was starting to no longer care about social convention. There were only so many hot situations a guy could put up with before giving in. And the look in Sarah’s eyes was unmistakeable. She wanted him to see her brand-new, gift-wrapped tits.

“Oh... okay,” Sarah squeaked. She tensed, then pulled the ratty tank over the top of her head.

She was right. She didn’t need a bra. They were as firm as if she had two little A-cups, or if she was pushed up in a tight bustier. The teenager dropped back onto her hands, her boobs high and proud in the air, nipples now pricked almost vertical. She was panting, and there was a wild look in her eyes.

“Damn,” Jacob said, softly. Erica was grinning nervously, squatting now, her hands on Sarah’s shoulders.

“Aren’t they fantastic?” the sister gushed. “Have you ever seen such great tits? I caught Sarah feeling herself up this morning, in the bathroom. You should’ve heard her moaning, they must be incredibly sensitive.”

Sarah was getting lost in a fog of sensation, and squirming under Jacob’s steady gaze. Her boobs had goosebumps all over them.

“I don’t have a measuring tape or anything,” Jacob said.

“Oh, that’s okay! Just grab hold, take your best guess,” Erica said. She decided to demonstrate, grabbing her sister’s tits and mauling at her nipples. Sarah made a low noise from somewhere deep in her throat, and her legs kicked out almost straight. She had her eyes closed, passively, and her mouth open wide. If she drooled, Jacob would not have been surprised.

Jacob knelt down, and took hold of Sarah’s nice new tits. They were exactly as plush as he had imagined, firm but with enough give to knead softly. It was obvious that the rough touch was sending Sarah into some kind of overload, as she spasmed and whimpered against his hands.

“Just.. just measure them,” she whispered, fearfully. “That’s all. Just measure.”

“Okay... I’d say they were... ah...” Jacob had no idea how to measure a girl’s tits. Especially not these. Clearly she would need some sort of custom fit. Maybe a wheelbarrow, if they got any bigger. “I’d say they’re some pretty great tits.”

That was enough to send Sarah over the edge. The shy girl spasmed and whimpered, on tit stimulation alone, her eyes opening and closing wildly as her head rocked under the assault.

“Yes!” Erica said, exulting. The older sister, still squatting, had one hand up underneath her skirt. She apparently didn’t own any leather underwear, so had compromised, by not wearing any. “Oohhh, that’s so hot, sis. Look at what you’re doing, with these big boobs. You’re like a machine now. Hands go in, juices come out, you little slut.”

Sarah tried to look, and tried to hold her own weight up, but just sagged back into the embrace of her cheerful sister, who kept rubbing furiously underneath her skirt. She panted and gyrated under an overload of sensation, just from getting her tits touched.

Jacob wasn’t used to feeling a girl’s boobs. Usually he had been told that he was being too rough, but nothing seemed to bother Sarah, even when he pinched a nipple experimentally. That just caused some light screaming from the overwhelmed girl beneath him.

“Thank him for measuring you, whore,” Erica whispered, into the girl’s ear.

Sarah opened her eyes. Jacob courteously relaxed his grip just so she could regain control of the English language.

“Um... thanks...” she said, some lingering shyness still bleeding off. Although she also thrust herself forward into his hands.

“Not like that, bovine,” Erica said. “Thank him with your tits. That’s all you are now, a big pair of boobs.”

“What?” Sarah couldn’t seem to disagree. And neither could Jacob. He didn’t resist at all when Erica reached out and unzipped the front of his khakis. If he was going to get fired, that was perfectly okay. There was no better way. He might even put this on his resume. Erica freed his cock, led it out into the light, and lightly stroked the underside with black-painted nails. Sarah managed to sit up on her own. She had drooled a great deal of strawberry-scented lubricant inside her jeans, creaming them from tit stimulation alone.

Jacob’s cock was already dripping translucent white, and Erica took the lead, gathering a load of cum and wiping it onto her sister’s exposed titties. Sarah stared at the sheen on her rack. It made them look even hotter.

“So...” she began.

“Tittyfuck him, dummy,” Erica said. She wasn’t getting any less aggressive. And, to be honest, Sarah had to be more or less led around now that she as an ambulatory pair of tits. Erica seemed to want Jacob to treat her like a walking set of tits.

“You’re just a walking set of tits,” Erica whispered, into Sarah’s ear.

“Oh...” Sarah said. She hefted her own chest with difficult, got on her knees, and, without much hesitation, wrapped them around the length of Jacob’s dick. Jacob grunted at the silky softness, covering more of her skin with a milky froth. Erica, considerately, placed a chair behind him for the boy to fall into. She had never stopped her insistent stroking,

Sarah seemed to want to stroke at her own slit, but Erica shook her head, and that stopped that. “Use both hands,” she counseled. “Wrap them around that dick. Milk it. You should be able to make him cum in a minute, boobs like that. I know you can do it.”

Her sister took each instruction mutely, but did her best to push her breasts into a nice tunnel for Jacob to thrust into. Her struggle to manage an oversized chest was even hotter then the friction, and Jacob thrust roughly into her, the tip of his cock poking out. She looked at it with undisguised longing and curiosity, and at the loads of fluid covering her in a stick goo. Jacob wasn’t 100% sure how he had that much fluid in him. Her nipples, still hard, rubbing alongside the slick white skin was extra incentive.

Even Erica was losing control, her finger moving like a jackhammer, her eyes locked onto her sister’s overly plush body and sperm-flecked tits.

Jacob had had enough. His balls felt like a cauldron, and the half-dumb expression on Sarah’s face was begging for a coat of white. He lost control just as Sarah was looking down, and a jet of fluid caught her in the face. Sarah blinked, and opened her mouth, just in time for a second load. To her credit, she never stopped rubbing her body up against him, and the new taste of sperm seemed to be like a pleasant surprise. She even licked her lips.

Erica came to a resolution, too, rocking her way through a controlled, but pleasant, orgasm. All three relaxed, Sarah tumbling backwards onto her backpack, breathing heavily and covered with a sheen of sweat and seminal fluid.

The older sister gained control first.

“Okay, thank you,” she said, sweetly. “I appreciate you helping my sister out.”

“Uh. Anytime,” Jacob said. The animal in him had been briefly released. The inherent weirdness of covering a High School senior in sperm in the middle of the workday was reasserting itself. He buckled up his pants.

“Okay, uh, bye Sarah,” he said, to what was left of Sarah. She was smiling, rubbing white into her tits. There wasn’t a lot left behind her eyes.

“Byeee!” Sarah sang out, cheerfully.

Sarah and Erica watched him leave.

“Good. And next time, we’ll charge for it,” Erica told her sister. “Now, lets get out of here. I want to see if they have any more leather.” she looked at her single cotton shirt. “This is bothering the hell out of me.”