The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Wyatt laid back in his bed. It had been a weird day, to say the least, and he was finally getting a chance to decompress and sort out his thoughts. And, of course, peruse more of his magazine.

Dinner had been a strange affair. Siobhan grabbed a plateful of pizza and retired to her room. Jen had gotten more dressed, but her tank top still displayed miles of cleavage. At one point, when an errant sauce drop escaped, she lifted her entire rack to lick it up. They chatted, but about nothing consequential, while Wyatt dropped in and out of arousal the whole time. He couldn’t deny that, as amazing as Pink’s body had been, that Jen was hotter—thicker, curvier, more plush, bigger up top.

He pulled out the Playguy, opening it to a section showing some of the info for new Aphrodite girls.

It’s the funniest thing. For each really obvious weird way the Aphrodite affects a woman, there’s one you wouldn’t really think about. There’s a lot of consequences from turning up someone’s sensitivity and sex drive that far. One of them is the dreams.

Put simply, say goodbye to regular dreams. Say goodbye to nightmares as well. Instead, say hello to sex dreams. Every single night. All night. Not content with making you crave sex every waking hour, your new body’s going to make sure that instead of getting a break while sleeping you’re going to spend all night fucking in your head, exploring the filthiest, most depraved and perverted fantasies your brain can produce.

Your libido will basically plug straight into your subconscious. You’ll fuck literally everyone you know, twice over. You’ll explore fetishes you didn’t know you had, and that you didn’t know existed. You’ll feel dirty every time you wake up, and without even the consolation prize of a good, satisfying orgasm. Just one more way the Aphrodite takes over your life.

Almost on cue, that was when Wyatt heard a strange noise from out in the corridor. He got up and crept over to his door, hearing it again from one of the doors in the corridor. Was it... a moan? His cock throbbed as he carefully made his way out, and a high-pitched whine let him know the noises were coming from Jen’s room.

Her door had been left ajar, and an uneven jamb had let it drift open a little. Jen’s bed was massive—easily queen-sized, and she laid on her side in the middle of it, sheets and covers askew. She was entirely nude, fluffy strands of blue hair scattered about her body, her breasts sitting off-level with her chest, the left one having slid off the right to land below it, quivering as Jen’s body shook. Her hands were between her legs, working away slowly but determinedly.

Wyatt initially drew back, fearing being caught, but he realised her eyes stayed closed and her body was slumped, and that she was masturbating in her sleep. She moaned and breathed heavily, locked in one of the sex dreams Wyatt had just read about. He briefly wondered what she was dreaming about, but soon his question was answered.

“Wyatt...”

His breath caught in his throat, his cock straining hard against his boxers. The remaining rational part of his mind knew that he’d only just read that she was locked in a dream she had no control over, that it didn’t necessarily mean anything, but it was having a hell of a time getting anything through the sight of a living goddess writhing and moaning his name. For a moment, he advanced forward, rubbing himself, but a sudden vision stopped him. He remembered Pink, and how little she’d wanted to do with him once she got what she needed. Would Jen be the same? Did she even want him, or would she just not be able to resist?

He wrenched himself away from the sight and padded back to his room, his erection swinging as moans followed him back. Not just one set, though; they were coming from further down the corridor as well.

What have I gotten myself into?

The next morning started late. Wyatt got the impression most mornings started late for the girls, and he was tired out from both travelling and from his unusually busy day, so it wasn’t until about 10:30 that he dragged himself down to the kitchen for breakfast, resolutely ignoring the low buzz from Jen’s room. She came down a few minutes later, smiling at Wyatt.

“Mornin’, Jen. How’d you sleep?”

“As well as I ever do. How was your first night?”

The image of her writhing curves and sweat-streaked blue hair passed through his mind. “Er, uneventful.”

“Gooood.” She purred as she sat down, looking him in the eyes. She didn’t seem even aware of it, like flirting was subconscious. She slowly wiggled her hips, and fluffed out her tresses of hair, which even at their heights of post-orgasmic frizz only served at worst to give her a comfortable, rumpled sexuality. She munched on toast, taking short periods between each couple of bites to take a few deep, measured breaths. Her eyes continued to drift to him.

I mean, I don’t need you sitting in my bed being all hot and getting me worked up, okay?

Was he taking a toll on her composure, just from being there? She smiled, and he realised he’d been staring. He went back to his cereal, flushing, when Siobhan entered the room, rumpled and breathing heavily. She twitched as she walked, picking her way carefully to the table.

“Afternoon, Siobhan.”

“Jen, I... I need a number off you...”

“Oh, what sort of number would that be?”

Siobhan whined, running her fingers through her white locks, her eyes fixed on Wyatt. Her body heaved with exertion, sweaty and red-faced. “You kn-know what sort of number I mean. Please, Jen.”

“Oh, that’s funny. What were you saying yesterday about not being that sort of girl?”

Siobhan watched Wyatt with a slack, open mouth, her breath rattling in her throat. “Pleeaase, I can’t take it any more.” Her nipples pressed against her top, visible to all the world through the thin fabric.

“How long did you last this time? Three days? Surely you could have locked yourself in your room and held out another few hours?”

“Jen!” Tears were starting to well in her eyes. Jen sighed, pulling out her phone.

“Fine, I’ll text Danny. But this is the last time—you need to start collecting numbers or you’re on your own. I’m serious, I can’t curate a collection for two.”

She rushed back up the stairs, tits bouncing wildly. Wyatt turned to Jen “What was all that about?”

Jen went cold. She hadn’t forgotten Wyatt was there, exactly, but he could tell that she’d forgotten that she hadn’t wanted to speak candidly about her condition. Her big, adorable eyes darted to the side as she stumbled over her words.

“It’s- uh, it’s, well, you see, it’s kind of a...”

Wyatt sighed. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“Well, um. Anyway, I’ve got to get ready for work.” She left the room as well, leaving Wyatt to finish his cereal before heading back up as well. He sat back at the desk at his room, grabbing the Playguy. The next article was an excerpt from the Changed Forever kit.

Dear Aphrodite,

You have received this kit because you are one of the one in ten thousand women who have developed Onset Hypersexuality Disorder, better known as Aphrodite Syndrome. You’ve more than likely heard of it—it’s hard to avoid in modern life. Unfortunately, that means you’ve probably heard a lot about it that isn’t true, or is even dangerous.

This is going to be a period of change in your life. It’s going to be difficult to adjust, no doubt, but your life isn’t over. You are still who you are inside, and nothing about Aphrodite changes that. You have nothing to be ashamed of, and nothing to hide or fear. You can carry yourself with pride and dignity, and tackle life on your own terms.

This kit contains information to help you through the time it’ll take for your body to transition completely into your new life as an Aphrodite girl. It will tell you what to expect, what to start preparing and some tips and advice on how to organise your life and cope with your new body. It also includes your exclusive password to access changedforever.org, where you can chat online in a safe space with other women like you, sharing your stories and your advice, so you know you never have to go through this alone.

Stay positive and look for the good in life, and of course, always keep your list of names up to date. The best of luck to you on your journey.

Yours,

Francisca “Azul” Fernandez

The next pack was fairly dry medical information, a sort of cheat-sheet of the general effects of Aphrodite. He’d only known about the transformed girls for a day, but thanks to his fairly intimate crash course in Aphrodite anatomy, he was familiar enough with most of what was listed. Uterine reconfiguration was a new one—no more womb or cervix, and it was coated with a mucous that was impenetrable to STDs. There was also a page of frequently-asked questions.

“I just went to buy my first Aphrodite bra—how is it an F? I was a D when I started, and I’ve grown way more than that!”

Your new bra is an “AF”—an Aphrodite F. Aphrodite bras go up a cup size every two inches, instead of one. In normal bras, you’d be an L cup. Most girls end up bigger than that—the average is AI, a traditional R cup.

“L, R? That’s insane. This whole thing is crazy.” His cock didn’t agree—it was quite all right with the whole situation, as well as the pictures festooning the page of Aphrodite girls pouring themselves into giant bras. Before he could consider doing anything about it, though, the doorbell rang, and he got up, adjusting himself with a sigh.

There was a slim young man with dishevelled hair waiting outside. He jumped when he saw Wyatt. “Oh, uh, hi. I think I’ve got the wrong house, sorry.”

“Are you here for, um... Did you get a text from Jen?”

He nodded. Wyatt pointed a thumb behind him. “Upstairs. Follow the moans.”

Wyatt bumped into Jen on his way back up. She was wearing a light tank top and a pair of shorts that would have been tiny on even a smaller woman, and had a duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

“Oh hey, I’m heading out for a job.”

“Like a client visit thing?”

Her brow furrowed, her perfect blue eyebrows scrunching up, and then her golden eyes went wide. “Oh, right, yeah! Exactly.”

He watched the plump curve of her ass sway back and forth as she left, the perfect curves of her milky thighs uninterrupted down to her flip-flops. He could see either side of her breasts bounce as she walked, drawing a protesting ache from his cock. A faint scream of pleasure echoed down the stairs.

The afternoon crept on. Siobhan’s paramour left, the roundly embarrassed girl cloistering herself in her room. Jen returned after a few hours, flushed and rumpled, with heavy eyeliner, eyeshadow, lipstick and blush that hadn’t been there when she left.

“Big job?”

“Yeah, it was really hard.” She giggled. Looking down, Wyatt realised he could see the curve of a g-string rising above the side of her denim shorts. She followed his eyes and giggled again.

“You like?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. Is that what y’all usually wear to fix someone’s computer?”

“If you’ve got it, flaunt it, right? Helps business and stuff. “Hot girl will come and fix your IT."”

He nodded. “That’s why y’ did your makeup when you were out, too?”

She gasped, clearly not having realised she was wearing it. Wyatt signed. “Jen, look. I know what’s going on, okay?”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I know what you are. What happened to you. I learned about it.”

Wyatt almost wished he hadn’t broached the subject. Jen’s whole body drooped, her head slumping. “Oh... Oh God, you must hate me.”

He shrugged. “Jen, I’ve known you for two days. Y’all didn’t owe me anythin’, ‘specially not your private business.”

“God, you’re impossibly sweet, you know that?” She sat back, fidgeting. “So, um, you know about the...”

He shrugged. She took a deep breath. “You know. The sex thing.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, I don’t really understand it exactly, but I know what’s up.”

“Don’t feel bad. Nobody really understands it except girls like us. It’s not even just being horny. It’s way beyond that. It’s a need, and nothing I do stops it. It’s like a combination of every single urge a person ever feels—lust, hunger, thirst, shelter, companionship, everything you’ve ever wanted or needed, rolled into this emptiness between my legs. I’m starving, and I can never eat enough to fill up—and that’s before it gets really bad.“

She took a rattling sigh, her chest shaking. “The urge eats away at you, constantly. It’s the same as when you’re hungry, really. You can’t think about anything else over your growling stomach and your mouth watering, it’s like a filter over your whole life. Only, uh, instead of my stomach, it’s my...”

Wyatt scratched the back of his head, his eyes downcast. “Jeez. I don’t know what to say...”

“There’s nothing you need to say, really. What could you? I don’t... I wasn’t like this at all, you know? I mean, I liked guys, I enjoyed sex, but this body, this mind, it’s like being trapped in a nightmare. I can’t control myself. I want to play with myself, all the time. It doesn’t matter where I am. If I lose concentration for too long, well, I come to and my hands are in my pants or up my skirt. Have you ever been kicked out of a restaurant for having a public orgasm? I have. I have to have sex with a guy every single night, minimum, just to keep myself sane, and it’s just barely enough even with my vibrator a few times a day.”

She buried her head in her hands. Wyatt noticed the way she was rolling her hips, even as she poured out her frustration. “I just can’t stop it. I can’t resist the urge. I just got back from shooting a porno, Wyatt, and you know what? I still can’t think about anything but wanting to have sex!”

She sniffed, wiping her eyes. “Heh. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I dumped all that on you. You’re the first guy I’ve ever opened up to- er, that I’ve ever opened up to like that.“

They both giggled, and Jen sighed. “That’s another part of it. It fucks with your mind. I know I was flirting hard with you yesterday, I can’t help it. It’s really hard, like, not reacting physically when a guy talks to you, touches you, asks you to do something...” She shivered. “And when you look like this, I can guarantee you what every guy asks you.”

Wyatt nodded. “I can imagine. You’re very, umm. Intimidating. In a good way, I mean. But it, I guess, you’d have to be a certain type of guy to just...” Jen giggled as he stumbled over his words.

“I just gave you a crash course in my sex life, I think you’ve earned the right to be honest. I look like a slut—hell, I am a slut. Guys know what I am from a mile off. They know what they think they can get from me. I can’t really blame them, because they’re nearly always right.“

“Wasn’t goin’ to say that at all. You’re, well, you’re beautiful. Most guys wouldn’t think they had a chance with you.”

She met his gaze with deep sadness in her golden eyes. “God, you really are sweet. Wyatt, every guy knows what I am. Or what they think I am, at least. It’s not like I can hide it. The hair, the scent, the eyes, the body, the tits—there might as well be a neon sign over my head that says “easy fuck."”

She put her hand over his, smiling at him. “Speaking of, I guess since you know what’s going on there’s no point in dancing around the issue any more. Are you up for it now, or do you want to wait until later tonight?”

He swallowed, staring down into her canyon of soft, milky cleavage, drawing his eyes up to her plump, wet lips and her perfect features. His cock strained against his boxers, making what he was about to say next even more difficult.

“No.”

Blink. “What?”

“I- I don’t want to. Wouldn’t be right.”

She paused for a moment, speechless. “Wow. I’ve forgotten what that feels like.”

“I mean, you just got done telling me about how you can’t control yourself, how you don’t really have a choice. How could I feel right doing that to you?”

“You’re... Well, you’re wrong, but you’re also not wrong, I guess?” She patted his hand with a glassy smile. “I appreciate you being honest, and you’re probably right, it’s not really a good idea for us as roommates.”

Wyatt looked down, pursing his lips. “Oh, uh. Okay. Never mind then.”

“What?”

“Well, uh, was goin’ to ask if y’were busy this Saturday night...”

“Not any more than usual, I don’t- wait. Are you asking me out?”

Wyatt fidgeted uncomfortably. “I guess, yeah.”

“On a date?”

“Well, I want to get to know y’all better.”

Her mouth had dropped open, although at least partially because of how she was squeezing her thighs together.

“I haven’t gone on a date in over three years. I don’t know if I—” she looked into his eyes, biting her lip, still shifting her hips on the seat as her tits slowly sloshed back and forth. “I... You know I can’t, you know, be exclusive, right? Whatever else happens? I can’t really commit to anything.”

“Let’s worry about that when it matters. So, uh, Saturday?”

She smiled, although there was more than friendship in her eyes. Her soft cheeks were flushed, beaded with sweat, and she took deep, measured breaths. The air around her was thick with sandalwood scent. “Saturday.”