The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

A failing light buzzed on top of a lone weight bench, unattached to anything. A black box rested on top, with a cord and a switch, and what had to have been a dildo. “Cowgirl Ride Simulator,” Trixie said with pride. “Now, you’re gonna need to strip to get a complete workout, honey.”

Jess had already done so before the confusion set in. She shook her head, trying to parse what she was about to say, so as to not let it come out too ungrateful. “Mama Trix, I know what that is. A Sybian is a Sybian by any name.” Trixie laughed it off.

“So what?” she asked gallantly, grabbing the girl by her bangle and guiding her to the bench. “You need to get a good workout for your abs, anyway,” she giggled, poking Jess in the gut. “The Cowgirl Ride Simulator,” she went on, making Jess shudder at that ridiculous fake name, “is the best tummy tightener this gym has to offfer.”

Fifteen minutes and a cum later, the musician could scarcely disagree. Though one brawny man held her up by by one wavering leg as another (both helpful employees, apparently) held another, she still had to work her pelvis down onto the plastic cock. And besides rocking her hips, she used other, heretofore inactive muscles to clench her cunt around the rod.

Trixie peeked into the room, having left to take a phone call. “Sweetie,” she called from the opposite side, “I think your hot little cunny’s had enough.” She motioned something to the men. “Now put it in your booty for a bit and we’ll almost be done.”

Trix swiveled out of the room, and before heedlessly turning around in unquestioning compliance, Jess felt a bit more comfortable knowing that her keys were safe in the corner, out of the overly protective hand of Mama Trix. I can leave at any time, she told herself, as she sat down on the Cowgirl Ride Simulator.

It hammered now, into her butthole. Jess had never been penetrated in this way. Tears, this time of agony, slicked down her face. The way they mixed with the sweat trickling down from her forehead made her eyes burn. She gave an attempt to use them to look at the blurry clock. She couldn’t see what it said.

Some time after, during a cool-down session of toe touches, her sore ass was being caressed and tended to by Sandy, a blonde bombshell who Trixie introduced as her friend and colleague before ducking out of the room again.

Jess started to feel that nagging concern once more as the woman, after a quick girly handshake, immediately went to stand somewhere off behind the girl, clipboard in hand, whistle hanging around her neck and plunging into her impossibly long and smooth line of cleavage.

Jess’s uneasiness was amplified by the sight of the built, bristling bodies of the two male employees re-entering the room. Her foggy guilt exploded when Sandy’s hand left her cheeks, and she heard the unmistakeable, porn-world sound of buckles clanging open, of flies unzipping. The increasingly familiar aroma of hard dick.

On her umpteenth, dutiful descension, she felt one of the guys’ warm members poke into her backside. Her body was ready to give in to repetition and grind into it, the easiest choice. It took her simpering mind comparitively longer to work against the simple, needful act.

She thought of her boyfriend, and was chagrined to find she could barely picture his face. After almost two years of dating, and three years of being friends before that, it was proving to be some powerful brainwashing. “Sssandy, what—what’s going on?” she begged, half-knowing the answer, putting whoever’s cock back in his shorts, but not without the good graces to stroke it.

“These men are hired to support us ladies in our rigorous duty of sculpting our bodies toward an easy transition into Our Family Way. To unite and concentrate our hormones by law of St. Brittany.” Sandy did a weird bunny dip with the general tone and execution of an alternate sign of the cross as she half-waddled up to the girl.

She tottered around Jess and massaged the small of her back as the disturbed girl held onto a down position, her growingly substantial rump hoisted high. Jess was too lost in the sweaty fog of the workout to see that every time she bent over, she was presenting her sopping sex. Sandy was amazed. This one almost didn’t even need encouragement.

“But right now, specifically, they’re just here for your balance. Rumpus Room Fitness suggests deep-dicking as the perfect method of maintaining the proper position. Now if you’ll just let them take turns and do their jobs, we can get right on to squats, and those are the most easy-peasy, and plus they’re the funnest.” Sandy ran a lithe finger up and down Jess’s crack.

“Shit, darlin’, you might not even want to stop.” Jess blushed, confused yet again. What was the matter? Something about the tour she was on, or something. “I’m just a visitor here,” she appealed to Sandy, “I’m not looking to join any church. Plus I have a.. a man. What does Trixie care if I don’t want to fuck some random dude? This is dumb!”

“First of all, it’s not technically fucking. We prefer ‘squatting with support’ or ‘sanctified sitting’. Either or, it’s a part of the process and I’m sure Trixie wants you to wrap up. Otherwise you haven’t gotten a true country workout, and that’s what we all care ‘bout ‘round here, I can assure ya.”

Without looking behind her, Jess could hear the slight sound of skin moving with skin. Sandy talked some mean game to be simultaneously jacking a guy off, Jess reckoned. “Oh, yeah,” Sandy moaned, “Young Jake here is pretty fuckin’ hung. What are you, scared of guys with big dicks?”

“Noooo!” Jess pouted, which she seemed to be doing more and more. Something sure was off. “You’re not even listening to me, I told you why I—” Trixie busted through the doors and back down into the secondary wing of the gym, thankfully gliding right past Jess’s cell. But her speed and the rough intent of her walk scared the girl.

She let a thick stack of papers smack onto the floor, chucking a pencil down there, too. “What now?” Jess asked, incredulous but fighting tooth and nail to retain her dignity. “I have to sign a waiver that says I wasn’t coerced, that I—that I didn’t have any sex or drugs that I didn’t want?”

“Nope, nothin’ like that, silly girl,” Trixie talked down to Jess as someone was pouring a cool, silky liquid on the butt she was still proudly showing off. It dripped down to her lips. “That’s a questionaire and information packet for you. Take a couple days with it, even. We’re almost done.” That word, almost, was beginning to give the girl a rushing, anxious feeling now, that only compounded her hornies.

“Why are you putting baby oil on me?” Jess demanded and sniffed, wanting to let Trixie know it wasn’t going to get past her. Just as soon as whoever it was rubbed it all in and it shined just right, she would get the hell out of there once and for all. “Because we generally think it’s sexy as shit here,” Trixie admitted. “And because it’s edible.”

Jess’s pussy twitched as more of the stuff pooled to it from her buttcrack. “What are you talking about, edible?” she asked, pouting with her new cartoon bow lips. “What good is an edible lotion for when I’m excercising and stuff, and—”

She gasped as Trixie’s warm wet mouth gave her starving snatch a kiss. “Ohh,” Jess laughed, as she finally got it. “Heh-hee, that’s sooo corny.”

She’d never been eaten out by another woman before, and couldn’t quite remember if she herself had gone down on Trixie, or if that was just a pleasant daydream. It just didn’t seem like her to do that. “Ssseriously”—slurp—“sstupid.” But whatever recognition or regret Jess had was melting into a sex soup with every spit-soaked flick of Trixie’s tongue. Letting herself morph into a ball of lust came a lot simpler than wondering why too much stuff was the way it was.

She was sick of wondering why she was drawn to this woman like a daughter to her mother. She was sick of wondering why the workout was toning her up so quickly, and how all the inexplicable ten or so pounds she gained overnight were settling downward on her hips and thighs. She was sick of wondering why it felt so amazing, exciting, why it made her priorities fizzle and shrink.

Jess appraised her belly as she happily worked her muscles through her joy, creaming as Trixie gave her superhead, barely taking her face off to breathe. While much flatter than when she woke up, a small fluffy layer of baby fat winked out on top of her stomach in a slight bagel shape. Her innie navel was a bit more obscured in the soft flesh. The kind of chub that was hard to work off when you had such curves, a little perennial pudge that reminded her she was a thick girl now. The workout was, in fact, diminishing her frustrations. Trixie totally knew it would!

The only thing Jess really knew for sure was that she was far from home, low on cash, and touring to make more cash. Her number one priority was getting out of dodge and playing her next show. Even if it meant denying herself this idyllic bliss.

It was annoying and made her asshole itch to so much as consider stopping, but she had to do it. Right after—“Mmm,” she mewed as she started to give in to the presence of a second thrumming tongue, Sandy’s.

The way the two guys in referee-stripe muscle tanktops and tight soccer shorts just stood there on guard unnerved her more than if they had been trying to fuck her again. But she was content in letting them watch. They obviously had big boners over the scene, anyhow. The singer sighed and heaved her squatting body lazily lower.

With a bit less physical discipline, she’d have been sitting on Trixie’s face as she performed her expert wet magic. Sandy was kneeling in front of them now, rubbing some of the oil generously into Jess’s smallish breasts, pulling at her nipples at the end of each coating.

Jess, nearly consumed in her sexual suffocation, ran her hands through her bright red hair, roughly combing it away from its sweat-stuck place on her forehead, trying to get some air and clear her head. She put her locks past her ears, astounded that there was so much hair to pull back, getting wetter all over when her curls slicked down below her shoulders.

Astounded, that is, until she shimmied her pelvis on Trixie’s face more, and all her field of vision became tit. That did the trick. No more unhappy dumb stuff. Cherry red goo collected on her collarbone, running off her lips and chin. “My makeup is starting to get leaky,” she said, out of nowhere.

Satisfied with the extensive coating of greasy baby oil on Jess’s boobies, Sandy took her addictive hands off her and put the cap back on a phallic bottle. The way the cyclical, mind-warping, libido-teasing night and day had been turning out made what Trixie had to say next rather unexpected.

“Okay, honey,” she chimed, pleased, “I think you got a decent enough workout here.” She bit Jess’s ass playfully and slid out from under her, causing the girl to squelch down to the gym mat, still locked into a pattern of gyration, lubing up the rubber with her juices. “You don’t have to fuck those guys. You look great already.”

Still, Jess let one of them pull her slow-moving body up as the other held up her left leg. Sandy placed it carefully through a strip of fabric. Jess knew what to do now, and put her other leg through the glitter-speckled metallic purple thong, pulling it up.

Trixie admired the butt, not quite a booty yet, but definitely an ass. Jess knew it was illogical, but she craved at least one of those dudes to fuck it! But she was supposed to be a good girl and get back on the road, or whatever. She pouted, then pouted some more when she remembered she shouldn’t have been pouting.

“What do you think, gentlemen?” the curvy Entertainment Czar asked the two dudes as she swatted it a half dozen times to make it blush. One of them was jacking off, he had to have approved. The other couldn’t hide his bone either, the nylon of his shorts growing white around the point of its distension, ready to bust forth with his meat. “I’ve seen better,” he lied. He certainly had never seen faster.

“You’re gonna wow ‘em at your concert tonight,” Trixie went on, trying to boost Jess’s confidence and bring her brain back to reality. All it did was make her hornier. All that logic and obligation just made her want to plant her body far from it, fucking and sucking until nothing else mattered. “Now which of these do you like more?” the matronly pin-up girl asked her protege.

She held up a black demi bra and a wan, beige one that looked clunky and wrong. It was almost a joke to ask her to choose between the two. Jess snatched the black one out of her hand and glanced at the tag, forgetting that she had a bra, and other clothes of her own. “A C cup? I don’t think that’s—”

Sandy was already pulling the second strap on for her. Trixie was hooking it together in the back. For a second, Jess thought her boobs were puffing up to better fit, but that was ridiculous. She shook her head and there they sat, filling the garment perfectly on their own. Maybe they did only look bigger. “Bra sizes run differently around here?” she smiled.

“Not really,” Trixie replied, uninterested, “no.” She wheeled over a rack of clothes so Jess could get a better view. “Now pick out a flirty little number for tonight,” she said, as the girl graciously flipped through a dozen or so dresses.

She looked for one that wasn’t cut so high, marvelling at the sparkle and shine of the synthetic fibers she thought “fun”. Her fashion taste wasn’t getting worse, as much as it was getting radar-tuned to her new, bullying needs.

Failing that, she looked for one of the skimpy dresses that wasn’t cut so low. And finally, not finding one much different than the plunging necklines of the others, decided on a red one. Since everything else on her was red.

She bent over, then straightened out. “You sure my ass isn’t hanging out too much?” she asked everybody, trying to pull down more satin that didn’t exist.

“You can’t even see it at all,” Sandy said, pushing Jess’s undies out of the way without having to move aside any of the dress. She poked a finger in to see how wet this young trainee still was.

When she pulled it out and it sloshed onto the floor with pussy juice, she met eyes with Trixie and both of their jaws dropped. “It’s tasteful. You just look very pretty.”

“Okay, I promise I’ll call you when I get into the city,” Jess said minutes later as she minced along, slowly and supernaturally getting used to the four-inch, white pumps they convinced her to wear. She could feel her butt sway along with her as the cute shoes clacked along the pavement of the parking lot now. She winced as she adjusted a bra strap, trying to smoosh her boobs back in place. It felt tight somehow.

“I told you this isn’t my size,” she complained, as if it was going to make any difference whatsoever. Sandy and Trixie totally ignored her and were exchanging phones, looking and mewing over each other’s most recent baby pictures.

“Don’t you get hungry after working out?” Sandy asked the musician, petting her own pregnant belly. “Jeez, Sandy, I do!” Trixie answered for her, putting her arm around her one last time. “Why, Jess here never had my famous Thanksgiving dinner I make every Thursday! My husband’s probably home by now, I’m sure he’d love to inspect what you’re wearing. I just love it when he puts me in his lap and feeds me.”

Jess didn’t know the women were joking and despite being very interested indeed, hastened her walk, close to tripping, back to her car at last. “All our girlfriends come over and we wear nothing but bibs!” Sandy yelled behind her. “You don’t know what you’re missing!”

Jess politely declined as quickly as she could and rolled her car windows up, locking her doors like the bimbos were axe murderers, and skidded away into the sunset.

They tried jogging after her, but with their abundant, fertile bodies, it was useless. They were just doing it for show, anyway. “So, if you think this really is our next superstar,” Sandy asked, “why let her just leave like that? She didn’t even get any cum in her!” It made little sense to her.

“She needs a bit more time on the road to ease into this lifestyle,” Trixie told her, “otherwise at the rate she’s gettin’ blessed, she’ll be breathing through a cock by next week.”

“Once she gets a taste of what it’s like to perform in St. Brittany’s name, she won’t ever get enough. Especially not after tomorrow. Beach show at Cape May.” She lit up one of her trademark cigs. “And her loser boyfriend she keeps whining about could try all he wants to stop her, but it won’t matter.”

Sandy looked troubled, and flipped her phone open. It was Grant. She manually ignored it. “Do we even know who this guy is?” she asked, closing her phone again.

“Who knows?” Trixie said, not too concerned. “But dollars to doughnuts says that boyfriend is hung like a fuckin’ brazil nut.” Sandy laughed at that and checked her watch. “Alright, which one of those guys in there is yours tonight, Jack or Jake? I don’t really care who, but I’m gonna have to titty-fuck one of them soon!”

The last penis to be between her swangers was her husband’s, and that was like, three whole hours ago. She couldn’t help it, really.

Trixie seemed distracted. Sandy waited for her pick. “That girl is just way too frisky and pent-up to begin with!” Trixie cried, throwing up her hands. Sandy was confused, she didn’t get it. Did that mean she wanted Jack?