The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Prologue:

“They’re back,” said Etuate the bouncer.

“Oh fuck!” said Jim. “Not on a Friday night! We’ll loose hundreds!”

He went to the window of his office. There on the sidewalk in front of his club were eight young women, armed with clipboards and digital cameras,

Jim cursed himself once again for having done that interview for the college paper the month before. There were at least a dozen strip clubs downtown, but that interview had been all the invitation the Campus Feminists needed to target Wiggle Room for destruction. For the fifth time this month, the outraged coeds were taking pictures and license plate numbers from his customers. Some of them braved the shouts of scorn and threats of tattling, but most just drove the three blocks to Vixens.

It wasn’t fair! He treated his girls well! They made money and so did he and the customers enjoyed themselves. It was a win-win situation until these little bitches decided to make his business their club project. Now tips were down and some of his most popular girls had been stolen away by other clubs.

“Should I call the cops again Jim?” the big Tongan asked.

“What’s the use?” Jim asked. “The cops are on their side! They say as long as they aren’t actually in our parking lot or have an assembly larger than 10, they’re with in their rights. I guess business owners got no rights.”

“What about those one guys I told you about?” Etuate suggested.

“I don’t know,” said Jim. “The whole thing sounds a little hard to believe.”

Jim pulled the business card Etuate had given him.

BimboTech, Incorporated

A Woman’s Place is On Her Knees

Darren Helman—Groups Specialist

“I guess it’s worth a shot,” he said “If something doesn’t change, we’ll be out of business in a month.”

Part One: Fresh Air

Gretchen gave a closed-mouth, steely-eyed smile at her assembled army. There were 12 tonight! The word was spreading around campus. At this rate, she’d need to target another strip club. Or maybe it would be better to set up shifts at Wiggle Room. Shut it down that much faster. That would definitely bring some attention. The Campus Feminists would become a force feared by misogynists throughout the city!

Gretchen smoothed back her short-cut ginger hair. She noticed that Jerica had cut her hair in a similar style. This was great! The other womyn were still sporting ‘girlish’ hair do’s but that would change in time, she was confident. Gretchen hadn’t started a club; she had founded a movement!

She stood behind the small podium and the chatter in the room quickly died. All eyes were on her, seeking her guidance, her leadership. She was more than ready to give it.

“My Sisters! My Fellow Womyn! Welcome once again to the weekly planning meeting of the Campus Feminists. In this humble room, a revolution has begun. The misogynist oppressors are trembling with fear at what we’ve started here. But they can’t stop it! The Feminist Furies have already been unleashed!”

The twelve women erupted with applause. Gretchen bowed her head humbly, but kept her green eyes, bright and piercing, on her audience.

“We have three new sisters here with us tonight. Welcome, Paula, Sheryl and Robyn.” Gretchen announced. “Robyn, would you stand?”

The statuesque black woman with long jeri curls held back with silver pins stood and smiled at the audience.

“Robyn Perkins is president of the League of Black Women Law Students here on campus,” Gretchen explained. “She was really impressed by what we’re doing, targeting strip clubs, and she’d like to help out. I’m hoping she can come up with ideas on how we can be even more confrontational without getting shut down. The Wiggle Room is an easy target. It’s a local place with few connections. Once we turn to the national chains, you can bet that they’re going to have lawyers. We’re going to need lawyers of our own. We’re going to need to BE lawyers. BE business leaders. BE politicians if we are going to turn this world around!”

Again, applause. She was really growing to enjoy this.

“So, Robyn, if you will, would you explain a little about your organization, your goals and what not, and how you think you could help us?” Gretchen asked.

“Oh, well, sure!” said the law student.

Gretchen had purposely not told Robyn that she planned to ask her to speak. If she was going to be worth her salt as a lawyer, she should be able to speak extemporaneously. There was no point risking having her seem more prepared than Gretchen. After all, it was her club. Gretchen had practiced her own speeches for hours on end in front of the mirror, even before she had founded a club. There shouldn’t be any doubt as to who was in charge, even if she was bringing in womyn who were older and more experienced.

Gretchen hardly listened to what Robyn was saying. She was watching, rather, her audience, assessing each of her soldiers in her war against misogyny; what were their strengths? What were their weaknesses? How far would they go for the cause?

In time, Robyn finished. Gretchen invited the other two newbies to stand and introduce themselves to the other womyn as well. Gretchen already knew all about them, having googled them thoroughly when they emailed her asking for the room number. There was another girl who was supposed to be there. Jaime Johnson. There were three Jaime Johnson’s in the student directory. The hotmail account could have belonged to any one of them. Gretchen had sent back the room and time and asked for more information about her, trying to identify her before the meeting, know as much as she could going in. But Jaime had never replied. It was odd. But some womyn were just flaky. It couldn’t be helped. The key was to identify the flaky ones and use them appropriately. At the very least, they could be examples of the horrors that the patriarchy had inflicted on womynkind. Like those poor, misguided bimbos at The Wiggle Room. They were too far gone to be saved. They could just be pointed out as a warning: don’t let this happen to you, Sisters!

Some of the Sisters were starting to wiggle in their seats and to whisper among each other. Thankfully, Paula finished her rambling introduction and sat down before the troops got to restless. Apparently she and Sheryl thought they needed to say as much as Robyn. They hadn’t needed to and weren’t particularly capable. But they could hold a sign and write down a license plate number as easily as the next soldier. Plus they would serve as a good contrast to Gretchen herself.

She stood and gave one of her most rousing speeches. The audience responded, cheering and clapping as usual. But something was different. Gretchen wasn’t sure what it was at first, but it unnerved her, making her falter in her speech. It was their faces. Their smiles were too big. Their eyes were too cheery. Unlike the feminine pride, determined optimism and near religious fervor her speeches usually elicited, her audience now seemed to be enjoying her speech casually. Like she was entertainment. Like she was some goddess-damned Reese Witherspoon movie!

She finished her speech and glared at some of the worst offenders, even as they applauded her, oblivious of her ire. It was time to start planning anyway.

“So, now to the details of how we’re going to bring about the revolution” Gretchen announced. “You all know about the effect we’re having on that nasty little ‘gentlemen’s’ club on Green Street. We’re doing a great job, getting good press and, according to the paper at least, driving the owner towards bankruptcy. With our swelling numbers, we can do even more. We have a couple of options, as I see it. We can divide into shifts, and get the ‘Closed’ signs up at the Wiggle Room that much faster, or we can diversify and target other….”

There was whispering. And muffled giggling. What the fuck was going on here?

“What’s so funny, Chelsea?” Gretchen asked tersely.

Chelsea giggled and snorted.

“I dunno,” said the bespectacled blonde. “I think I hear a snake! Ha! Teheeheehee!”

“Eww!” said Tabitha, an Asian woman with long, silken hair sitting beside Chelsea. “I don’t like snakes <giggle> They’re all squirmy!”

This elicited several giggles from the other girls.

“What’s wrong with you?” Gretchen demanded. “You’re all acting really weird! And what is that smell?”

Gretchen had just noticed an odd, sweet smell, like cotton candy, just barely at her threshold of consciousness but getting stronger.

“I dunno, but it smells goooood! <Heep! Heep! Snrt!>” said Chelsea.

“It smells all squirmy!” exclaimed Tabitha, looking about at the other girls as if she had just told the funniest joke ever. Apparently she had. The young women collapsed with laughter. It was kind of funny, Gretchen supposed.

“Squirmy,” she said out loud, just to see how it felt in her mouth.

All the girls laughed. It was kind of funny, she guessed. At least, it made her feel like laughing. She giggled for half a minute as various other club members tried out the funny word. Then she blinked, looking down at the podium that she was holding with both hands. What was she doing? She had been giving a speech, hadn’t she? They had been paying attention to her, but now, they were chattering and giggling among themselves. Tabitha and Chelsea had giggled themselves out of their seats and were sitting on the floor.

“Hey! There’s something funny goin’ on around here!” Gretchen observed.

“Yeah!” said Robyn. “It’s fuckin’ hilarious! You girls are the best! Law school meetings suck ass compared to this!”

“That’s not what I meant!” Gretchen said, stepping away from the podium to confront her guest. “And don’t call us girls! We’re Womyn!”

“Well excuuuuse me, Miss Squirmy Britches!” said the law student, then snorted and quivered with mirth.

“I’m not a squirmy bitch!” Gretchen protested, and stuck her tongue out.

“No, no, no!” said Robyn, “Britches, girlfriend! Britches! Like, your panties”

Jerica, who was beside Robyn, collapsed in giggles.

“Gretchen’s got squirmy panties!” she exclaimed. “Oh god <heep!> I’d fuckin’ kill to see those!”

Robyn giggled and turned to Jerica.

“You got a thing for squirmy panties?” she asked.

“I gotta thing for Gretchen’s panties!” Jerica declared. “But don’t tell her! It’s a secret!”

Robyn hooted and slapped her knee.

“That skinny little white ass?” she asked. “Damn, girl! You can do better than that! My little sister is a total dyke and she’s hot as hell! I’ll set you up!”

“Really?” Jerica asked. “Oh god, that’d be so cool! <giggle> I been carrying a torch for Gretchen for like months and I’m spendin’ all my money on batteries!”

“HellOOO!” Gretchen shouted. “I’m right her, you stupid slut! I never said I was a lesbian! Why you gotta go sayin’ that in front of everybody and everything? And what’s wrong with my ass?”

“Aw, just shut up and kiss me!” Jerica said, then suddenly attached her face to Gretchen own.

“MNNN!” Gretchen exclaimed as she suddenly found Jerica’s tongue in her mouth, one arm rapped around the back of her head to hold it in place, the other snaking down so that she could grab her ass. Gretchen tried to push her away, but pulled her hand back when she realized she had just grabbed the freshman’s left boob. It was much bigger than it appeared.

It was actually Jerica who broke of the kiss, over come with giggles at what she had just done, the giggles turning into something more like hiccups, causing her boobs to bounce up and down. Gretchen was confused as to why she couldn’t take her eyes off them. Several club members had seen and were laughing at her, hooting and hollering.

“Oh my gawd you’re right!” Jerica exclaimed, turning to Robyn. “Her ass is like a boys!”

Gretchen blushed furiously. She was so angry, and confused and…and…..

“RRRG!” she exclaimed.

“Now YOU,” said Jerica to Robyn, oblivious to Gretchen, “You got yourself an ass! Is your sister’s butt like yours?”

Jerica was advancing predatorily on the law student.

“Now wait a minute!” said Robyn, shaking with laughter and holding out a denying hand. “I ain’t..shh..I ain’t no lezzy…Not like my sister…<giggle>…I ain’t never…”

“But you’re sister ain’t here!” Jerica pointed out. “And I’m horny now!”

Jerica giggled and took hold of Robyn’s restraining hand and cupped it around her breast. The black woman giggled, but didn’t remove it, nor did she resist when Jerica stepped in closer and ran a playful finger between her thighs. Soon the two were giggling, groping and kissing. Gretchen was awash with confused emotions. Several girls were cheering the Sapphic pair on and mocking Gretchen for having been dissed. This meeting wasn’t going right at all!

“That’s a funny lookin’ snake!” declared Chelsea.

She and Tabitha had been rolling around on the floor giggling but now they were looking up at the bottom of Chelsea’s chair.

“It’s not squirmy <giggle>” said Tabitha. “It’s blinky! Hi Mr. Blinky snake!”

The Asian coed waved at the thing under the chair, then was again overcome by giggles, along with most of the other girls.

“Hey!” Gretchen exclaimed. “What’s going on up there?” More to get away from Jerica and Robyn’s make out session then anything else, she pushed her way toward the center of the coeds who weren’t cheering them on, those who had gathered around Chelsea and Tabitha sitting on the floor.

“Can I see it?” April asked, giggling, as Gretchen came up behind her. She couldn’t see what April was asking for, given how tall and broad shouldered the coed was.

“OK, but be gentle,” said Tabitha, getting up and giggling. “It’s a very rare blinky, hissy snake, aren’t you Mr. Blinky!”

Gretchen was so confused. Everything was so weird. She was so dizzy. But she had to see what had stolen all the girls’ attention away from her.

She pushed her head underneath April’s arm to see Tabitha was holding a long metal tube with a blinking red LED on it. It was hissing. But not like a snake.

“GAS!” Gretchen exclaimed once her addled mind managed to process it. “Oh my god! We gotta get outta here!”

“Gretchen’s scared of Mr. Blinky!” Chelsea exclaimed, then collapsed with giggles.

“Awww, don’t be scared of Mr. Blinky!” Tabitha said, then giggled, “He’s a nice snake! Come on…give him a kiss!”

The giggling Asian woman brought the hissing tube up towards Gretchen’s face.

“No!” Gretchen exclaimed, trying to pull her head back, only to have it blocked by April’s armpit.

“No!” she pleaded, trying to back up, only to discover she was pinned in by other club members who were completely oblivious to the danger.

“Don’t!” she whined as giggling Tabitha pressed the hissing, blinking end to Gretchen’s lips. The sweet-smelling gas flowing up her nose, into her brain, gently blowing all her resistance away. The whole situation was really rather funny, she realized, as she fell to the floor in a spasm of giggles.

After what seemed like hours of giggling as the girls told each other one meaningless joke after another, there was a knock at the door. A dark haired man peeked his head in.

“Excuse me, I was looking for the Campus Feminists?” he announced.

“Hey! That’s us!” said April.

“You’re not a feminist!” said Sheryl. “You’re a giggle girly-girl! <giggle!>“

“Nu-huh! YOU’RE a giggle girly-girl!” April countered and playfully slapped her. Sheryl slapped back and soon they were slapping and giggling, oblivious to the newcomer.

“Is Gretchen here?” the man asked.

“I’m Gretchen!” Gretchen announced, emerging from a supply closet with a cardboard box on her head and holding a broom. “Gretchen, Warrior Princess! AiAiAiAiAiAiAiAiAiAiAiAiAiAi!!!!! <giggle-snrt!> Who are you? You’re cute! <giggle> Holy fuck I’m horny!”

The man chuckled.

“Hi Gretchen. My name’s Jim. I was hoping we could talk about your problem with my business. I’m sure it’s all just a misunderstanding. I’m sure if we just got to know each other, we’d find we had a lot in common!”

Gretchen’s gas-filled head bobbed about on a string as she smiled, uncomprehending, at the cute guy.

“Are you, like, coming on to me?” she asked, then shook with laughter.

“No, I just wanted to be friendly,” the guy insisted. “You all seem like a really friendly group of girls!”

“Women!” Gretchen insisted. “We’re not girls, we’re womens!”

“Yeah, cuz we gots boobies!” Chelsea clarified, holding up her substantial pair with both hands. “See!”

“Oh my yes!” the man conseded. “My mistake. You DO have boobies, don’t you! Very friendly boobies!”

Chelsea giggled.

“Oh yeah! They’re friendly all right!” she tweeked her nipples. “They’re feelin’ reaaaally friendly!”

The girls giggled. Several of them started to play with their own nipples, which had become very sensitive and felt exquisite. The man grinned at all of them, but lent most of his attention to Chelsea and her substantial rack as she seemed about to drive herself to orgasm just by twirling her knobs.

“Hey! My boobies are friendly too!” Gretchen pointed out. Her breasts were much smaller, but her nipples were harder than they’d ever been. She couldn’t believe the Jim hadn’t noticed! Sure, Chelsea’s were big, but hers were perky, damn it! There had to be some way to get him to notice her boobies!

Gretchen was a resourceful girl. Even with her brain full of fizz, she was able to come up with a solution. She giggled once she thought of it. It was so easy! She kept on giggling as she pulled off her top. Her bra quickly followed. He’d have to be blind not to appreciate her perky nipples now!

It worked. Many of the club members facing her gawked and giggled, making Jim turn around and double take at her bared bosom. He seemed to have completely forgotten Chelsea’s oversized melons.

“Wow, Gretchen! You really know how to get a guys attention!” he exclaimed.

She giggled and nodded, throwing her hands up into the air and saying “Ta-daaa!!!”

“You know, now that I see what a fun group of girls you are, and what a daring leader you have, I’d like to invite you all to my club for a tour! What do you say, Gretchen?”

Gretchen giggled and shrugged, noting how that drew Jim’s attention southward.

“Sure! That’d be super!” she said.

The rest of the club agreed. They giggled as Jim herded them out of the room.

“Best put your blouse back on,” Jim whispered to Gretchen before she followed, “Anybody gets a view of that hot body of yours and they’ll all want to come. It’ll be a tight squeeze getting in the van as it is.”

Gretchen blushed and giggled. He thought her body was hot!

“Oh, and one more thing,” he said, striding over to grab Mr. Blinky the snake, who had stopped blinking and hissing. “Gotta get my deposit back!”

The giggling coeds let themselves be herded out of the union and into the parking lot where a big Tongan man was waiting with an old Dodge van. Jim and the big man helped Gretchen’s club into the back.

“If you’re all going to fit back there, you’ll have to squeeze in tight,” Jim advised them. “Go ahead and get good and friendly. You’re all friendly girls with friendly boobies, right?”

The gassed girls giggled. Several lifted their tops to answer Jim’s question.

Gretchen went to follow her club into the dark Dodge, but Jim placed an arm around her shoulder, leaning in close to whisper in her ear.

“Not back there, gorgeous,” he said. “You’re the leader. You should be in front. Besides, I’d like to get to know you better.”

Gretchen giggled and blushed. She felt like putty in his hands as her directed her to the front passenger door. He opened it, but rather than helping her up into her seat, her scooped her up in his arms, climbed in himself, and set her quite firmly in his lap.

Gretchen squealed, then slid back into giggles.

“The seatbelts won’t fit around both of us,” he whispered. “But don’t worry; I’ll hold you tight.”

And he was holding her tight, his arms wrapped around her snuggly, one gently lifting her perky, tingling breasts. It felt so nice, being enveloped by this big, handsome man. She giggled gently. The other club members in the back were giggling and gabbing, but Gretchen hardly noticed them, or the big Tongan who started the van and drove out into the night. Her attention was focused on something much more immediate. Something under her ass, along Jim’s left leg, was hard and warm. It gave a little pulse. Gretchen’s eyes went wide. Could it be that? She squirmed about, trying to feel around with her ass to positively identify the warm, hard lump in Jim’s lap. To her gas-addled mind, this seemed the discrete thing to do.

“My, my, my!” said Jim. “You are little miss squirmy britches!”

Gretchen didn’t think she could blush any harder, but somehow she managed. Had Jim been there when Robyn had called her that? It was hard to remember when she was so hot and dizzy and horny. She responded the only way she could. She giggled.

“I bet you’d make a great lap dancer,” he told her, shifting distractingly underneath her.

“Me?” she asked, tittering nervously. “But I…my butt…”

“Oh, you didn’t believe those bitchy girls making fun of your ass, did you?”

Gretchen was almost sure Jim hadn’t been there then.

“How did you…” she started.

“Let’s just say a little snake told me,” Jjim replied. “The important thing is that you know they’re full of shit. You don’t have much back there, but the important thing is you know how to work it! A few more minutes of squirming around like that and you’d have unzipped me with that sweet thing!”

Gretchen was sure her face had just caught flame!

“I wasn’t…I wasn’t….” she stammered.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Gretchen!” Jim said. “Remember, I’m a professional! I evaluate ladies’ asses all the time! And I’m telling you, you’ve got some real talent right here!”

A hand slipped down to rub her hip. It felt so good! What was he saying? He was a professional? She had known that, but it was so hard to think. His hands felt so nice. And so did that hard lump underneath her ass. The ass that he liked. That he was rubbing so deliciously. In the back of the van, the giggling and squealing and smacking continued, but all she could think of was Jim’s hands and that hard lump.

“Not that your ass is the only thing nice about you, mind you,” Jim continued whispering in her ear. You’ve got a lovely neck.”

He gave it a nibble, making her squirm in his lap.

“And you’re legs are nice too!” he said, taking a finger and drawing it from her left knee up her inner thigh. Gretchen squirmed even more and giggled.

“Why Gretchen! Are you ticklish?” he asked.

“NO!” she said, frantic. “I…I’m not, um”

“I think you are!” he said, drawing his finger up again, this time a little closer to her crotch. Gretchen bit her lip, trembled and then snorted.

“I thought so! You’re really ticklish, aren’t you!” he said, holding tight around her waist with one arm as he began to tickle her inner thighs in earnest.

Gretchen was completely overcome. She roared and squealed and tittered and pleaded incoherently, but still he tickled and she squirmed and bounced and shock on that hard, growing lump in his lap.

At last he stop and the ginger-haired college student gasped and wheezed, her head spinning, her limbs shaking as she melted back into the arms of her tormenter.

“So you are ticklish, aren’t you Gretchen,” he insised.

Gretchen giggled between gasps.

“Yep <eep> I’m really ticklish!” she conceded.

“Have you ever played tickle twat?” he asked.

“Wha?” said Gretchen, turning to see if he was serious, when without any preamble, his hand dove at her crotch and started tickling her cunt through her pants.

Gretchen through her head back and squealed. She grabbed at his wrist, but wasn’t sure if she was pulling his hand away or pushing it closer. It was agonizing, and yet, she didn’t want it to stop! She shuddered and quaked and suddenly she realized why.

She was cumming. She was cumming hard. Her whole body was spasming with it. She had never had an orgasm anywhere near that strong. Fireworks were going off in front of her eyes. She had lost all control, buffeted about by the tsunami of her climax. Her squealing became a gurgling surrender as she embraced being swallowed by a mindless nirvana. All the strength drained out of her muscles as she collapsed into Jim’s snug embrace and was consumed in an afterglow that was more like an after-inferno that couldn’t be extinguished by her soaked panties.

“Damn, this stuff is great,” she was vaguely aware of Jim saying to the driver. “Did you see how she came? And with her pants on, no less! She’s more like a nympho sex kitten than a man-hating feminist. And her little buddies in the back are totally doing the ‘girlst gone wild’ thing.”

“What did I tell you?” the Tongan said. “The BimboTech folks make great products! You should see what they can do at their facilities! The shit they do there doesn’t wear off!”

“Speaking of which, how long have we got, Etuate?” Jim asked.

“Probably a couple hours at least,” he said. “They weren’t totally sure. They just started selling the gas. Apparently it depends on how big the room is and how well ventilated.”

“Well, we’ve got the extra tank back at the club, I guess,” Jim said. “Hate to waste it, though. I’d like to try this shit out on Alison.”

“Hey, boss man! With the little bitches out of the way, the club will be back on top and we can get a standing order,” Etuate said. “Maybe they’ll give us a bulk discount.”

“Man, that would be sweet!” Jim said.

“And you ain’t even seen the best part!” Etuate told him. “They say this stuff makes them get high on jizz!”

“Really?” Jim said. “Sound’s crazy, but after Gretchen’s melt down, I’d believe just about anything.

Gretchen didn’t know what she believed, or even understand what they were talking about. She didn’t care about the raucous, giggling lesbian orgy going on behind her. All she knew was that she felt better than she had ever felt in her entire life. Why ruin it by thinking?