The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Winter In Iowa”

I was getting old—Winter in Iowa chilled me to the bone in a way it never did when I was a kid. I’d taken to wearing hats and gloves and even grown a goatee. My old lady laughed at me but I gotta tell you, a goatee might not look like much but it really helps on those cold mornings when you have to brave the East wind to bring the cows in for milking. And it’s not as difficult to care for as a full-on beard and moustache.

My weekly respite from the cold was a drive into town with my old lady to pick up supplies: first Ewan’s feed store, then the McFannon’s grocery store, then home. It ain’t much of a respite, now that I think on it. But the truck had a damn fine heater and the old lady usually had something funny to say about Ewan.

Shucks, I think I must be feeling guilty—I’ve mentioned my old lady three times now. I ain’t seen her in, what, a month now, maybe. Can’t say I miss her, the old bag, but she did have wit and she was good with calving. Can’t say I’ve met anyone with that talent here in LA. Here they respect you if you’ve got two cell phones, a beeper, a Blackberry, and a laptop. I ain’t got none of those. They don’t respect you if you talk about cattle. Heck, it’s the only thing I can converse on for any length of time.

But the women here are fine and I get much more pussy than I ever thought I would. Cuz of my goatee. I ain’t lying. I ain’t saying I get every woman I want, but I came to LA so I could get just about every woman I see. Any one of ‘em with those silicone things in their breasts and they’re mine. I mean it, too.

Take Chrissy, for instance. She’s the McFannon’s daughter. She was working the checkout line when me and my old lady came through with our cart of groceries.

“Hi Mr and Mrs Alder,” she said in her cute high voice.

“Chrissy, how are you today?” my wife asked.

‘’I’m fine. You know me, just working to save money for school next Fall.”

“I hope your daddy’s paying you enough.”

“Yep. Slowly but surely I’m getting that money together. Helps that I still live with them. I can’t imagine how I’d be able to go to college if I had to pay the bills right now.”

“But you’ve thought about going off on your own, I’m sure,” I interjected. I was just making small talk, as we regularly do when we get into town, and was trying not to stare at her breasts. I almost said, “Yeah, you’re getting that money together, except what you went and spent on enlargements.”

“Yeah, I’ve thought about it,” she agreed.

“You know, Widow Peterson’s got a little place for rent off of her house. You know that addition she made for her mother-in-law back, what, fifty years ago now, maybe?”

“Yeah, I know the place. It’s had a sign in the window for a while now,” Chrissy nodded, looking a little uncertain.

“I’m sure she can’t be asking that much,” I said. Chrissy looked thoughtful.

“What are you trying to do, convince her to move out on her own?” the old bag said, looking at me with a frown. I shrugged.

“Chrissy can do what she wants,” I said, " she doesn’t have to listen to me or anyone else.” Chrissy nodded and then the nod turned into a vigorous nod and then the vigorous nod turned into her taking off those ugly green aprons the McFannon’s make their employees wear. She walked away from us, muttering under her breath.

My wife and I looked at each other, completely surprised.

“Well, who’s going to ring us up now?” she asked.

So that was my first clue, but it still took me a while to figure things out. I mean, a long while.

Chrissy moved into Widow Peterson’s rental and dyed her hair green and pierced her tongue. I have to say her parents weren’t too pleased about that. She’d quit working for them and was waitressing at Al’s Bar. My second clue fell into my lap when I stopped by for a beer on one of the few nights my old lady lets me out of the house.

The place was pretty crowded, considering how small our town is. I knew everyone I saw and Al had my Coor’s lined up for me when I sat at the bar, Joe and Alex making enough room between themselves for me. We all made small talk: price of feed, how everyone’s favorite milker was weathering the Winter, that sort of thing. Out of the corners of our eyes we were all watching Chrissy.

Wasn’t like she was whorin’ or nothing. She was just being nice while she helped the customers at the tables and the pool table. But she just looked so, well, grown up. She was already two years out of high school, saving up for college all that time. And her parents never let her date or nothing. So it was almost like a new woman had moved to town. We didn’t know who this Chrissy was.

A few hours later the place was half-empty. Joe and Alex had left so it was just me and Al at the bar. Chrissy came up to me and said, “Hey, Mr Alder, I just wanted to thank you for helping me realize I could do whatever I wanted.”

I blushed and hemmed and hawed.

“No really, I was just so fed up with my parents and thinking I’d never make it to college and what’s the point, anyways? But I didn’t have the strength to change things. Not ‘til you told me I could, anyways,” she gave a small smile and kissed my cheek. I could feel her breasts brush against my beer arm.

“I was just talking out my butt, as they say.” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. Inside I was thinking gosh those are firm breasts for being so big. I mean, I think everyone had noticed when she got the boob job, but nobody was going to say anything about it.

“So you ain’t going to college, then?” I asked.

“No. I’d spent a lot of the money on... other things,” she admitted, looking a little embarrassed, “and I’d rather find a nice man and settle down than bother with college. It ain’t that I don’t have the brains for it, cuz I do,” she said a little too eagerly—I nodded to show I agreed—“it’s just that the money it would take! I can’t make that much at any job around here. Better to save up that money for something else. Like a house or something.”

“Well best of luck to you,” I said, “I just hope you find something new to dream about, if you ain’t gonna dream about college any more.”

She nodded and looked serious.

“A dream. It’s true, I’ve got to find a dream. Wow, Mr Alder, you say the smartest things!”

I laughed, “Yeah, and I never went to college, neither. You should go ahead and call me Bill, anyways, Chrissy, seeing as how you’re all grown up now.”

She nodded again, that same odd look in her eyes, like everything I said was real important.

“Bill. Okay, Bill. Yeah, I’m all grown up now.” She sighed and sat down on the stool beside me. “You know, Bill, I sometimes don’t feel like a woman.”

“How do you mean?” I asked, trying to be a gentleman and not think ugly thoughts.

“Oh, I don’t know. I guess I mean it would be nice if I had a boyfriend.” She paused and then looked up into my eyes and laughed, “Don’t suppose you can recommend anyone?”

I chuckled and shook my head, “The men around here are either too old for you or just plain not good enough.”

Again with the nod and the look.

“Yeah, not good enough. My parents said that, too. It’s a shame, Bill. I wish I had someone to snuggle with at night.”

“Well you could always just do like they did when I was kid. I mean, kids nowadays don’t do this no more, but when I was in high school we just dated just to date. Nothing serious, you see, just a movie and hanging out with other friends. Gettin’ to know one another type of thing, see. You could date a different boy every night of the week and just see how you like them. A date didn’t mean you had to do nothing other than talk.”

“Really? I could?”

I looked at her, a bit confused. Maybe it was the beer, but I was having trouble seeing how she could think I meant her when I meant the girls my age back then. But I didn’t correct her. Instead, I nodded.

“Yes, I could! I could just date and not do anything but talk.” She turned away from me a little bit, looking at herself in the mirror behind the bar. Al was trying to give her the signal to get back to work but she either couldn’t or didn’t want to see. “Just talk. Just like you and I are doing.”

“Of course, a kiss would be nice,” I said, teasing. She immediately turned back to me and gave me a kiss. On the lips. I was stunned and all I could do was blink at her as she sat back down. Al finally came over and sent her along. I drank the rest of my beer and paid up and went home and undressed and got in bed and all the while I was thinking about that kiss.

Chrissy dated a lot after that. A different guy every time. Until she’d dated all the available men. Then she started at the top of the list again. Her parents talked to Widow Peterson, concerned that their daughter was being too loose, and she confirmed what Chrissy had already told them: one kiss on the porch and then the boy would leave.

Everyone was bewildered. Even me. I knew it was me who had given her that idea but it was beyond me why she’d take my advice seriously. I was starting to worry. Out with the cows I’d talk to them about my thoughts. Milk cows are good listeners.

It was when I was trying to get Alice back out into the snow that I first thought maybe Chrissy would be open to doing other things I suggested. I was cursing at Alice, who never wants to go outside once she’s in, and telling her she better do as I say before I sold her off to Old Man Carson down the road.

“Even Chrissy listens better’n you do,” I said. Alice ran forward at that and it made me pause. Of course, Alice don’t know Chrissy from a hole in the ground, so it wasn’t like I thought she was giving me a sign.

No, it was what had just come out of my mouth. Chrissy was a good listener. She took me seriously. I said she could do as she liked and then she did. I said she should date lots of men and just talk and then she did. What else would she do? I swear I tried hard to keep my mind pure about that—trying to think of all the ways I could help her. But my mind kept circling ‘round to all the ways I could help myself. ‘Swhy I ended up in LA, I think. Harder to feel guilty about fucking air-headed bimbo models than taking advantage of Chrissy.

It never occurred to me to try to ask why Chrissy seemed so open to suggestion. Heck, I was too busy thinking about those breasts, how they felt when they brushed against my arm. And the first thing I had to do, once I’d decided to test things a bit, was figure out how to do it without anyone else finding out.

“Bill! I ain’t seen you in a while,” she said, a big grin on her face when I walked through the door of the bar that night.

“Hey Chrissy,” I said, trying not to blush. I sat in my usual spot and had my usual beer and talked the usual bull with my bar buddies. We were all depressed about the price of milk these days and before I knew it I’d mostly forgotten what I’d come out for. But Chrissy sat next to me again once Joe and Alex had left for the night.

“Milk prices got you down?” she asked sympathetically.

I nodded and took a deep breath, hoping to myself that it’d work again.

“But seeing your pretty face helps.”

She grinned and said, “Thanks for the compliment.”

“How’s the dating going?”

“Well, I’m doing just as you suggested. Dating everyone and just having out with them, getting to know them. And just one kiss at the end of it.” She paused, then, “Though I’m not sure how much longer I can hold out.”

“You mean you’re interested in someone?”

“Yeah. Marcus. The Evergreen’s son.”

“Marcus, the boy with the shaved head? Works at the Edmunton’s farm?”

“Yeah. He’s a smart guy and I like talking to him and he doesn’t try to get more’n a kiss out of me. And I like his smile.”

“Better’n my smile?” I teased. She smiled shyly. Then and there I decided I couldn’t do it. I mean, I’d planned on testing things out by asking her out on a date, but I decided to test it some other way.

“So you going to do anything more with this boy? See him again? Or just keep going down your list?”

“I guess just go down my list. Even though he’s a nice guy, you and my parents all agree that there’s no one in this town good enough for me.”

“I think you ought to just date Marcus for a while.”

“You do?” Her face grew soft and introspective. The kind of look she wore the other times I suggested things.

“Yes. What’s the point of liking a guy if you don’t take the time to get to know him better, pay him a little attention?”

“You’re right, Bill. You’re always right. I’ll just date Marcus for a while.”

“And maybe a lil more than just kissing. It’ll keep him coming back.”

“Yeah, it’d be awful to date just him and then have him lose interest. Gosh, Bill, thanks again for your good advice!”

“No problem, Chrissy,” I said, happy for Marcus but hard as an iron-wood fence rail. It was obvious I could control her. Over the next couple of days I tried to control other women but nothin’ doin’, ‘til I happened to stop into the five-and-dime for the old lady.

Barbara ran the perfume and makeup counter and her breasts were out to Kansas. When I suggested she give me two of my wife’s lipsticks for the price of one, she did. When I suggested she bare her tits to me when no one else was looking, she did. And I saw those little tell-tale scars.

My next question was: were all men able to control silicone-breasted women or just me? And if just me, then why was this a new-found ability?

I finally figured it out when I shaved off the goatee. Chrissy stopped talking to me at the bar and Barbara cussed me out when I suggested a two-fer-one on my wife’s perfume. So I did what any sensible man would do: I grew it out again. There was no way in heck I was going to lose my power. I may have helped Marcus and Chrissy with their love life but I was ready to help myself. Out came my one good leather suitcase and in it went my best suit and underwear.

Chrissy was more than happy to give me some money for plane fare to LA and Barbara gave me some cash for living expenses. I didn’t need to spend a dime of it, though, because on the plane I was seated next to a woman with silicone implants.

My first suggestion to a complete stranger was that we ought to have sex in the bathroom. It was kind of awkward in that tight space, to tell the truth, but when I suggested she was wet and horny I slid right into her with all the natural lube a man could want. And when I suggested that she orgasm she did, nice and loud. And when I suggested she clean the both of us up with her hands and mouth she was the eagerest little slut I’d ever seen. I knew I’d made the right decision.

I tell you, I’m living the life: more pussy than I can handle and more money than I ever made on the farm. Sure, sometimes I miss the milk cows and the rhythms of the dairy, but never enough to go back. And I certainly don’t miss the Winter. I call Chrissy from time to time. She got married to Marcus, they’ve got a little boy they’ve named Bill. Sometimes I want to suggest she come out and join me, but even I’ve got some morals.