The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

A cornpone, twanging banjo played over the ending credits for “Return to Calving,” and the letters were adorned by a background of mooing cows. When they ended, the TV turned itself off.

Olivia slowly removed her hands from her private parts. She had found a default position about halfway through. One hand rubbing up and down on her pants, the other stroking gently on the underside of her boobs.

She stood up, and took a deep breath, letting the arousal soak out of her . It took several minutes, but it was a good way to prove that it was all just a television show, with make-believe drugs and a bizarre, unworkable conspiracy theory.

Although some of what they said...

After all, Olivia thought, SHE intended to have kids... some day. Which meant that, inevitably, she would have to let some man put his penis into her vagina, and cum there. Possibly many, many times, if she had trouble conceiving. In fact, if she wanted more than one kid, she would be getting fucked on any number of occasions . No condom. Just letting his sperm slosh inside of her.

Olivia had to sit back down.

And that meant that her body would swell up just like all those pregnant girls in the movie. They must’ve cost millions to assemble—how could there be that many beautiful, pregnant, porno actresses? And renting out that entire town... with all those extras..

Her breasts would grow. She would produce milk from them, just like a cow. She would be hugely pregnant in the stomach area.

“All that is, of course, ten years away,” Olivia assured herself. Plenty of time for just-for-fun sex, too.

Wait, what?

This time she had the chance to check on the baby, and generally tidy up, before the Drummonds returned home. But it wasn’t until they stood in the parlor, giving Olivia an odd look, that she remembered that she was still slathered in Mrs. Drummond’s expensive makeup.

She froze up. This was unforgiveable. Downright juvenile. She must’ve used up a gallon of the sexy red rouge.

But Mr. Drummond just smiled, kindly, and asked how the baby was. Mrs. Drummond, whose outfit was a bit askew, pranced upstairs on her colt legs.

“Oh, he’s great!” Olivia said, waiting for the explosion. “Such a really quiet kid.”

Mr. Drummond nodded. “It was good to get him out of there. Not that the wife wasn’t a delight when expecting. She glowed.”

Olivia’s mouth stayed open, thinking about it. Of course Mrs. Drummond had been pregnant. No wonder her titties were so big.

Which was when Mrs. Drummond came back downstairs, carrying a plastic bag. In it was a jumble of cosmetics, most of them the ones in matte black sheaths that denoted expense and taste. Mrs. Drummond lowered it, with fanfare, into Olivia’s arms.

“To get you started, honey,” she gushed, looking right into Olivia’s eyes. Then she leaned in close. “I think a lot of lipstick looks good, too. Don’t let anyone tell you different. But work on getting an even layer of powder for your cheeks, okay?”

“Okay,” Olivia whispered back. She felt so, unbelievably grateful. She would have to practice every day.

Mr. Drummond put his hand into the plastic bag, and green bills tumbled into it. A lot of them.

“See you soon, honey, " Mr. Drummond said, and escorted her out.

With a hand just inches about her butt.

Olivia’s Mom examined her daughter with a critical, concerned eye.

She had frequently argued for some makeup, just enough on her daughter to accentuate how pretty she was. But the girl looking back at her, earnestly, had taken it entirely too seriously. Bright red lipstick, even hanging out at home. Dusted powder. Mascara! She had acquired blue-tinted eyelashes and wouldn’t let go of them. Where had she even gotten all of it?

And now this.

“You want to start on birth control,” she repeated. Olivia nodded, and her earrings jangled.

“Not that I’m sexually, um, active!” Olivia protested.

“So why...”

“Um, well, because I’m worried I’ll meet a guy, like, on the street, and he’ll be really attractive, and you know how it can go with girls and boys.”

“They save each other for marriage?” Olivia’s Mom said.

“Which is what I INTEND to do, but we both know that girls can lose control of their inhibitions if the right guy comes along, and let them do whatever they want, and not say no. I don’t want to be in that position,” Olivia said. Her big hoop earrings jingled.

“You don’t want to be in that position AND also get pregnant,” Olivia’s Mom corrected.

“Right. Right,” Olivia said. She kept stealing glances at the TV, too. What was that about?

Olivia’s Mom gave in. Olivia didn’t need permission, anyway, and there was probably some guy she just wasn’t telling her about. “Fine,” she conceded. “But be careful, okay?”

Olivia looked earnestly back. “I want to,” she insisted, “but you know how girls can be.”