The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Valerie could not help but admire the red boots in Miss Rothchild’s closet. She had no idea what brand they were, but they looked really high-end. The leather was shiny and unmarred, the delicate heels ended two inches from the floor, and the stitching was invisible. Valerie reached out to touch the boots, when suddenly there was a fierce knocking on the front door. The sound echoed through the old mansion. Valerie, in Miss Rothchild’s bedroom on the second floor, could hear the knocking just as plain as Miss Rothchild below, who answered.

“Layna Rothchild,” a commanding voice said, “you’re under arrest for the murders of Alexis Smith, Megan Blake, and Caitlin O’Neil.”

Valerie dropped her duster and snuck up to the banister that over-looked the front door. Two police officers were handcuffing Miss Rothchild and reading her rights. She ignored the officers, as if they were selling her something, and went peacefully as they yanked her outside to their squad car. Valerie smiled.

“So the Green Queen was up to something,” she thought.

Valerie knew at once what she had to do. She ran back into the room and grabbed the boots. The Green Queen was the best client her cleaning company had. If she was going to be sitting in jail, there was no way she would need the boots. Valerie would take them as an extra tip to compensate for her future loss. Besides, Valerie hadn’t been able to get any new boots since Daddykins cut her off from his credit card. It was Fall, and she wouldn’t be able to afford a new pair on the money she was brining in.

“I wonder if these will even fit me?”

Valerie peaked out the window and saw the police tucking Miss Rothchild into their cruiser. She knew they would be back, wondering who the extra car belonged to, so she hurried with trying the boots on. The toes of her first foot bashed against the end of the shoe part. Valerie had nearly lost hope that they wouldn’t fit, when she pushed a little harder. To her amazement, the boot fit, leaving just enough room for her foot to fit comfortably. Her whole body shivered. The inside of the boot was cool and it radiated anticipation. Valerie ran the side zipper all the way up. The whole boot conformed to her leg, as if it had been tailor made just for her. She ignored the faint click sound that came from the boot, and set to work on the other one. The same happened this time around, and within moments, Valerie stood and admired her new boots.

“Damn!”

Valerie found a long mirror next to the dresser, and as if she discovered for the first time that she had legs, showed them off in many different poses. She lifted one of the boots up her other leg, and nearly died of delight. She had never felt so horny before, as the cold leather slid against her trembeling flesh.

“Damn, I look hot!”

“I’ll say.”

Valerie jumped as she saw one of the police officers reflected in the mirror. She quickly turned, and nearly tripped over her bucket of cleaning supplies. The police officer smiled and leaned on the doorframe of the bedroom.

“And you are?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m the maid,” replied Valerie. She teased her short blond hair and ran her hands along her sides. “Do you need anything cleaned?”

The police officer nearly died from grinning too hard.

“You’d better get out of here,” he was pained to say. “Your boss is under arrest for murder.”

Valerie shrugged and bent over, making sure to take her time, as she gathered her cleaning supplies. The officer stared at her boots as she sauntered past him. He tried to say something, but he got caught on the drool that oozed from his mouth. Valerie wagged her butt as she took each step on the stairwell and walked out the door.

Valerie sped all the back to her apartment, and leaped onto her bed. She wasted no time in stripping and feeling up her naked body. She especially liked to feel the boots. She grabbed one and pulled it to her lips, kissing it and caressing it with her tongue. She fingered herself hard, harder than she had ever done before. She rubbed and rubbed and rubbed, and she didn’t stop until a surge of energy exploded through her body and kissed her mind. Valerie stared at the ceiling, gasping for breath, but wanting more.

Steve came into the bedroom and rubbed Valerie’s thighs. She grabbed his hands and guided them down to her feet.

“What’s with the boots?” asked Steve.

“Shutup and fuck me.”

“What about dinner? Our reservation’s in an hour.”

“Fuck me, or I’ll do it myself,” she said.

Steve shrugged and undressed. He rubbed up against Valerie, who wrapped her legs around him and locked her heels behind his back. The two pushed and grinded and moaned in delight. Both came with such ferocity that the whole apartment building was yelling at them to keep it down. Steve rolled off of Valerie and tried regulating his heart beat. Valerie rubbed her boots together, grinning.

“Well, we’d better get ready to go out,” Steve finally said.

“I suppose.”

Valerie sat up and watched as Steve cleaned up and dressed. She ran her finger along her heels.

“As much as I like those boots, you’re not thinking of wearing them to the restaurant, are you?” asked Steve.

Valerie frowned at Steve, and reached for the zippers. She supposed he was right. Fun was fun, but she would have to take them off some time. However, Valerie was quite shocked to discover that she couldn’t find the zippers. She searched all over the boots, but no sign of them existed. She pulled at each boot, but they wouldn’t come off.

“Are you going to get ready or what?” asked Steve. He was finishing tying the knot in his tie.

Valerie smiled and rose from the bed. She kissed Steve and told him that she felt far too horny to take the boots off now. Steve wasn’t one to say no to that, so Valerie found a sexy red dress to match her boots. The two left the apartment, Valerie groping his crotch all the way to the car.

Valerie pulled her pant legs as far down as they would go as she sat around a table with the other maids. She knew there were some goody-goodies in the office who might recognize the boots as Miss Rothchild’s and snitch on her. Megan and Caitlin probably would have, if they were still around. Valerie never forgot the time Megan told the owner, Miss Hagman, that Valerie had bullied her into doing her houses. She didn’t care for Megan’s friend Caitlin, either. Valerie was quite glad that the Green Queen disposed of them. As she mused on those thoughts, something irked Valerie. She felt a sudden violent itch on both of her feet. She tried rubbing each foot, but the thick leather of the boots got in the way. Valerie tried not to draw too much attention as she jabbed each foot with the point of her heels.

Miss Hagman, a fat and vile woman, entered the office and looked upon all of her employees gathered around the table.

“Now, as we all know by now, one of our biggest clients, Miss Rothchild, has been arrested.”

Even though the loss of the Green Queen was bad for business, Miss Hagman seemed to revel in the news.

“But we’ll do the best we can to make up for the loss in other ways,” she said.

“Long live the Green Queen!” one of the maids next to Valerie said. Everyone laughed.

“Also, there’s a donation being taken for Alexis, Megan, and Caitlin. If anyone wants to leave something for their families, just see me in my office.”

Miss Hagman’s attention was drawn to Valerie’s foot as she dug her heel into it. Valerie froze as Miss Hagman looked upon her. She tried looking at one of the corners of the room to not draw attention to herself. But somehow, Valerie felt that Miss Hagman knew something. She felt so horny that she stopped her hand from rubbing herself under the desk.

“That is all,” Miss Hagman said. She turned and left the office, making sure to get one more glimpse at Valerie’s boots.

Valerie cursed herself for wearing the boots to the office. However, she knew it was foolish to think like that, because she did try to take them off before work. No matter how hard she had pulled, the damn things wouldn’t come off. It didn’t help that Steve would cuddle next to her, saying they should fuck again while she was still wearing them.

Valerie was so flustered that it wasn’t until her stomach growled that she realized she was hungry. She ignored the sound, and tried to think of a way to get the boots off. Valerie decided she’d think about it over lunch.

“Welcome to Greezee’s. May I take your order?”

Valerie stepped up to the counter of the fast food restaurant. She dangled her one foot behind her and rotated her ankle as she tried to think of something to order. Everyone in line behind her stared. The greasey faced kid behind the counter tried to stare too, but he looked more conspicuous. Valerie’s face turned red as she lowered her foot back to the ground. She wasn’t even aware that she was doing it.

“I guess I’ll have four number sixes,” Valerie said.

“Excuse me?” asked the cashier.

Valerie turned red. She didn’t know why she suddenly felt so hungry. Not only had she eaten all of her meal last night, but she finished off Steve’s as well. And now, it was even lunch time, and she was trying to eat all of the hamburgers in the store. Valerie played with her crotch as she repeated her order. She bobbed up and down nervously. The cashier shrugged and punched in her order.

“26.40,” he said. “For here, or...?”

“To go!” snapped Valerie.

She twiddled her hair and stopped her hand from playing with her crotch as her food was prepared. She nervously smiled, grabbed the several bags of food, and ran out of the restaurant.

“What is wrong with me?” Valerie asked as she crammed more hamburger into her mouth. “Am I going mental or something!” She managed to drive across town with one hand on the steering wheel, and the other dipping into her greasy brown bags of food.

“And why did I drive here?”

Valerie stopped her car in front of Miss Rothchild’s mansion. She looked at all of the yellow caution tape and police cars that surrounded the house. Valerie rubbed her boots together and grabbed a handful of french fries.

“These boots! These boots are fucking me up!”

Valerie washed down her mouthful of fries with soda, and sped away.

“Do you wanna fuck?” asked Steve as he cuddled next to Valerie in bed. “I see you’ve worn your boots special for me.”

“They’re not for you,” replied Valerie through a mouthful of donuts.

“You’re not pregnant, are you?”

“What? No.”

“You just seem to be eating a lot.”

“Look, do you want to fuck or not?”

Valerie tossed her half-eaten donut aside, but wished she hadn’t, as Steve rolled on top of her. He was like a machine working over-time, as he worked his way all over Valerie’s body. She put in enough effort to feign interest. Sex with Steve didn’t seem to appeal to her as it did the other night. She thought more and more about how sad Miss Rothchild looked as the police took her away. What was her name? Layna. Valerie thought about her as she faked an orgasm.

Steve finsihed his business, and soon after left for the bathroom. Valerie looked at the mattress. She had just now noticed that she had sunk into it. The whole mattress caved around her body, as if she were too heavy for it. She hefted herself out of bed, and skulked over to her mirror.

“Do these boots make me look fat?”

Steve popped his head from the bathroom. He tried not to look at Valerie’s body.

“You’re fine. You’re sexy.” With that, he retreated back into the bathroom.

Valerie looked her body over. Her once slim phsyique was now pudgey. Her finely shaped legs were now fat. The boots bulged out, stretching the leather. Even though the image in the mirror disgusted her, she still felt like she had to eat. She wondered where this sick obsession had come from, when she looked back down at her boots. She realized that ever since she first saw them, she’s been acting weird. She had to have a chat with Miss Rothchild.

Valerie sank back into bed, the box springs groaning, and tried to sleep. Steve didn’t disturb her at all, since he was sleeping as far on the other side of the bed as he could.

Miss Hagman stared at Valerie.

“Excuse me?” she grunted.

“I said, I need to take time off to visit someone in jail,” said Valerie.

“You’re not trying to see Miss Rothchild, are you?”

Valerie turned flush and rubbed her boots together nervously. The leather squeaked as her fat ankles rubbed together. She wondered if Miss Hagman heard it. She also wondered how on earth she guessed that she wanted to see Miss Rothchild.

“I always wondered how the boots would act if she weren’t around,” said Miss Hagman.

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb, my girl. Do you really think I don’t know what really happened to Alexis, Megan, and Caitlin? It doesn’t take a genius to realize that they all cleaned the Rothchild place at one time. But now she’s not around, and you have the boots anyway.”

“If you knew about her, why did you still send girls there?”

“Let’s just say it’s a business deal. Or at least it was.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Just do yourself a favor, and run away from your life. Don’t find Miss Rothchild, and whatever you do, don’t have an orgasm.”

Valerie nearly choked. “What?”

“If you haven’t guessed by now, those aren’t any ordinary boots. They’re a virus that feeds off of their host’s sexual energy until they completely engulf them. Miss Rothchild harnesses the energy for her own, and then the host actually becomes the boots, joining the hosts before her.”

“But I’ve had sex twice, and the boots are still the same length.”

“I’m assuming that’s because you fucked a guy. The boots don’t like that. They probably got back at you by forcing you to binge.”

Valerie felt confused. She hated Miss Hagman as much as those prissy dorks, Megan and Caitlin, but she felt somehow closer to Miss Hagman now. She didn’t understand how she knew so much about the boots, but she was willing to take the advice. Well, sort of.

“So as long as I fuck guys and resist the urge to eat, I’ll be fine?” asked Valerie.

“Er, yes.”

Valerie hugged Miss Hagman, and left. Miss Hagman cursed her ugliness, and wished she could be intimate with Valerie.

Valerie hiked her red leather skirt as far up as legally possible. The night air was cold, but she didn’t care. At least her feet were warm. She would have worn fish net stockings if she could get the boots off, but she couldn’t, so she did without them. At least she would be different than the other hookers, she thought.

A sheepish man approached her. Valerie had to do all the talking. The man showed her to his car, and the two set off for his one-bedroom apartment. Once inside, Valerie sat down on the bed. The springs creaked. Something that haunted her every time she did business. But the sheepish man didn’t seem to care about her weight. The one thing he wanted to know was if she would wear this one french maid outfit he had, and masturbate. He handed her the fluffy black and white number, along with a frilly maid’s hat, and shiny black pumps.

“You don’t like what I got?” asked Valerie. She rubbed her thick thighs. The man didn’t buy it, and insisted she wear the maid outfit. Valerie took it, but on the condition that she keep the boots, and she wouldn’t masturbate. The old man begged her to reconsider, but it wasn’t until she said that it would be an extra two hundred that he backed down.

Valerie stripped in front of him and slipped into the outfit. The man had picked out a nice suit. She felt even sexier than before, the way the skirt fluffed out a foot away from her body, and the tight corset around her fat sides. The two engaged in some foreplay, Valerie touching the man as little as she needed to, and the man feeling kind of jipped, and eventually they fucked. The man did like how Valerie never took off her boots, though. He found something stimulating about them. He asked if she might be available tomorrow night. Valerie shrugged, and asked if she could finish off the last of the man’s ice cream. Valerie realized what she was doing, but didn’t think a little bit of ice cream would hurt. She ate it anyway, knocking her knees together helplessly.

The man could not help but admire the red boots from Miss Rothchild’s closet.