The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Olivia hadn’t realized just how HARD it was to be a girl.

A proper girl, of course, not that androgynous, sexless grade-grubber she was leaving behind. Someone who actually appreciated what it meant to be feminine, to have tits, to know how to properly apply makeup even in a dark room with no mirror.

On the one hand, it was like vast new fields had opened up to her. The subtle art of putting on lipstick, for example. Just the color said so much—pink for happy days, a deep red if she wanted to impress. The jangling, comforting weight of an earring in each ear. And clothes! Her first trip to the mall had turned into an expedition, ransacking stores she never would’ve dreamed of walking into. She had blown through the Drummonds’ generous pay in one night. Dresses that ran well above the knee, short skirts that flirted even before she put them on. And shoes! The magic of putting on a strapless heel and watching her ass elevate into a sexy image... how could she have never known?

The first time she had walked through the mall in a three-strap pink heel, matching hosiery, and a pink skirt, Olivia had nearly orgasmed.

She didn’t even mind the time all of it took t do. Getting ready took hours. A long shower, interrupted perhaps with some innocent fingerplay. Then teasing out her hair. Then makeup. Then picking an outfit—which took ever more time, as she kept coming back and showing off a little more skin. One morning she started in jeans and a tanktop, and ended in a denim skirt with a halter. Then back again to switch out for a pink thong.

But there was a downside to all of the flirting and fun. She was a girl, and THAT meant she was naturally vulnerable.

She could feel the eyes of all the men on her. So insistent, too, staring at her painted up face, her butt, her prominently-displayed cleavage. They wanted her, wanted to possess her and feel her up, to push her down on a bed and penetrate a lubricated pussy. HER pussy.

And what could she do about that? It was so natural that the men would want her. She was a sexy girl, after all. Long, teased-out lashes with a killer, slim figure. One of those young, lithe women that pranced around in silly heels. Olivia could feel her body activate, under the weight of their looks. Her nipples turning raspberry red, prickling on the skin of her tits. She seemed to be walking around in a perennial arousal. Walking through the mall had become a favorite hobby.

Which was when the Drummonds called for a babysitter.

Her Mom accepted for her, happy to get her daughter out of her nightly skin-show down at local hangouts.

But Olivia was inexplicably scared. The Drummonds had been so nice to her, but she had this vague sense of walking right into the Lion’s Den. The prospect of another night in front of Slut TV was scary. It had taught her so much, but was there an end to it? Could she get any more girlish without sacrificing grades and ambition?

In the end, Olivia hit on the perfect solution.

She would get a boy to help her.

“Ohhhh, you look wonderful!” Mrs. Drummond said, cheerfully. Olivia looked back at her. Usually the housewife’s clothes hovered somewhere between shamefully indecent and nearly classy. But this was costume. She wore a neon-pink vinyl skirt, with pink heels decorated with a kitten’s face. Knee-high white socks rose up to her knees. It went without saying she wore pigtails.

She ran a hand across Olivia’s chest before the young girl had a chance to react. Olivia’s own halter top was short and hot, with a stretchy blue fabric that nuzzled at her chest. Mrs. Drummond’s hand cupped the underside of a boob.

“You’re so pretty!” she gushed, and Olivia blushed crimson. She smiled. “You really think so?” she gushed. If there was anyone that could judge “pretty,” it was Mrs. Drummond.

“Turn around,” she prompted, and Olivia did, without question. Mrs. Drummond bent her slightly over, then examined the curve of her hips and where her ass pushed into the air. The same hand passed over white denim shorts that showed off her nice tan skin.

“So nice!” Mrs. Drummond said. “Don’t you think so, honey?”

Olivia gasped. She whirled around, stood straight up. Mr. Drummond stood in the entry way, adjusting an expensive watch. He didn’t appear to have even noticed that she had her butt on display, getting felt up by his wife.

“Very nice, dear,” the man said. Olivia felt like curtesying in front of him. She worried. What if he asked her to do something? Like a blowjob? What would she do then? He was so powerful...

“We’ll be out fairly late,” Mr. Drummond murmured, finishing up a cuff. He strode over to his fetishwear wife. “Bit of a costume party. We’ll call you if we end up staying. Goodbye, Olivia,”

“Goodbye, sir,” Olivia said, and rubbed her legs against each other.

“Okay, come in!” Olivia said, to the boy at the front door.

Jared stepped inside. This was an expensive place. Pricey as hell, and in the nice part of town. But he was more interested, at the moment, in Olivia.

She had undergone a sudden and baffling transformation. All the college students home for the summer had remarked on it, as she made a swift change from a fellow classmate to a wet dream doing laps around the mall. Theories differed. Many thought she had had an emotional break in college, but she had come home normal enough. Others figured it was a new boyfriend with insistent demands. Most of the boys just enjoyed her elevating hemlines in the local mall.

Jared meant to get to the bottom of it. They had collaborated on a Senior Project, after all. She had done all the math. But the skimpy girl in front of him barely looked able to write out a times table. When she had asked him, giggling, to come over during her babysitting stint, he had automatically agreed. Only later had he, berating himself, put a condom in his wallet... just in case.

She pulled him through expensive furniture with a hand that had all the nails painted. Not just in pink, but with little spirals of color. They must’ve taken hours to do.

“Is there a baby here?” he said, looking back and forth.

“Yeah, probably,” she said. This Olivia kept giving him excited looks, and tittering. And he had noticed the occasional look at his crotch.

“Here it is!” she said, pulling him into the TV room. Which was utterly dominated by a massive television, all along the wall. Olivia went straight for the remote.

“Olivia, we need to talk,” Jared said. “You’re acting... do you even know how you’re acting?”

“Ummmmm.... yeahhhhh...” Olivia sang, a secret smile on her face. “You just have to watch this! It’ll explain stuff, about being a girl, and what it means to be a girl, and stuff. Oh, it’s porn, I hope that’s okay.”

She tuned the remote through the upper 400s. It passed into page after page of naughty titles, until finally reaching Channel 493. Something called Slut Television. The program title read “Upsell.”

Olivia turned to it. Then she sank back into the tumble of pillows. “See?” she urged.

Jared turned towards the TV.

There was nothing on it but a strange, blue static. It jagged and jerked back and forth, difficult to watch.

“Olivia, there’s... nothing there...”

He turned back. Olivia’s eyes were fixed on the screen. She also had her legs spread entirely wide, and was stroking at her zipper. She seemed too distracted to pull it down. Her other hand groped idly at her tits.

“Just watch,” she gasped.

Jared turned back, startled. And then something resolved in the screen, something leapt out of the blue and made a fuzzy sort of sense. He furrowed his brow, glared at it, and something clicked in his head.

He fell back, into the couch, and watched.