The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Bunny and the Big Board


Melissa had spent the entire rest of the day lying in bed in stunned silence, staring up at the ceiling, trying not to think about what she had just done, or how amazing it had felt. After hours of just lying there shocked, she drifted off into a fitful sleep. At one point late in the night she felt bright light on her face, and opening her eyes she realized it was coming from that weird screen; she groaned, turned onto her side, and pulled the sheet over her head.

In the morning, Melissa woke with a start and sat bolt upright in bed, her heavy new boobs surprising her with their weight as she did so. Then the situation sank in again, and she sighed sadly. She was truly trapped. She felt something by her hand, and realized it was Number Twelve—she had slept with the toy cock next to her all night. Shuddering, she picked it up by the base and moved it over to the nightstand, disgusted with it and with herself.

She couldn’t help but see the pattern on that borderless screen, situated there right in front of her there by the front door. Like yesterday, she felt a peculiar sensation, blinked wearily, and saw that the pattern was gone, replaced with a message.


Shoes? What the fuck?

Melissa ignored the screen. She was starving, and she had just noticed a tray of food on the end table. It wasn’t much—just some toast and eggs, and a glass of juice—but she wolfed it down. Then, not knowing what else to do and feeling a bit grimy, she headed to the shower. It was nice, with better pressure than at home, and the shampoo, conditioner, and soap were all high-end. While she was soaping herself up, she cried for the loss of her normal-person chest. How could they do this to her? And more importantly, why? What kind of people kidnapped you, raped you, did surgery on you without your consent, and then pampered you with expensive toiletries?

After she dried herself off, Melissa wrapped a towel around herself. She didn’t want to walk around naked all day again, so, reluctantly, she stepped into the closet.

Problem number one was underwear. Nothing much was practical; everything was there to highlight sex appeal. She thought she’d lucked out and found one black bra that might actually cover her entire melon-sized breast, but upon further inspection she saw that the entire inside of it was covered with tiny, sharp needles. “No thanks,” she said, hanging that one back up in its place. Practically everything else there would leave her almost as exposed as full nudity—microkinis, dainty little least everything was in her new, non-standard size. Finally, she settled on some workout clothes she found, really just a pink sports bra and matching short-shorts.

Next she looked for something to cover up the rest of her skin. Her choices ranged from the silly—sexy nurse, sexy schoolgirl, sexy cheerleader, et cetera—to the extreme, culminating in a bizarre full-body latex getup that would even cover her head and face. Nothing would really go with what she already had on, and everything was sexier than she’d prefer to be wearing while prisoner to unseen captors. The room was pretty warm anyway, so she decided to quit while she was ahead.

Exiting the closet, Melissa stopped short and took a look at herself. The girl in the mirror didn’t look the way Melissa thought of herself, with that boyishly-short haircut and those huge porno knockers. She imagined what she must have looked like yesterday, sprawled out on the bed, penetrating herself...the memory made her horny in spite of herself.

For two hours, Melissa paced the big room, trying to maintain control of herself. She had no idea how to get out of this mess. What she did know was that the dildo sitting on top of a little table just one room over had brought her to heights of pleasure that she hadn’t known existed. She wanted to resist, but the longer she held off, the more she wanted it...

She tried working out on the stationary bike to get her mind straight. It actually worked! She had to push herself pretty hard, but she was finally able to concentrate. Unfortunately, after two grueling hours, her burning muscles couldn’t take any more abuse. Dizzy from the exertion, her pink sports bra soaked through with sweat, she flopped down on the bed and faced the ceiling. She didn’t have to turn her head...she could feel the presence of that magical dildo on the nightstand next to her. Had that thing really made her feel as good as she remembered it? It didn’t seem possible.

“Okay, maybe just a little...”

She reached over for the fake cock on the nightstand, and found it just as veiny and lifelike as she remembered it. Her mouth watered a little bit, and she could feel her pussy moistening as she unbuttoned and unzipped her short shorts. Taking care to get under the covers first, she grabbed the toy, closed her eyes, and slipped it into the shorts so it could rub up against her skin.

She waited. Nothing.

Well, not nothing. Her clit was so sensitive right now, rubbing anything on it would’ve felt nice. But it wasn’t like yesterday...

Melissa folded her legs up to her chest and scooched out of the shorts, setting them aside. It had to go all the way in, right? Of course, that’s how it had worked. Her pussy really was pretty wet, and she felt the head of the fleshy toy slip in with relative ease. Again, it just wasn’t like before. She worked it all the way in, and fucked herself slowly under the sheets. She felt frustrated.

Then she rememebered the screen. ‘(SHOES)’, it had said. Was she supposed to wear shoes to masturbate? “Come on,” she thought, “I don’t have to wear shoes to play with myself.” She continued to work the toy in and out of herself, getting used to the unfamiliar sensation, but finding her mind racing, trying to figure out what she was doing wrong. In desperation, she even tried removing the sheet, penetrating herself in full view of any hidden cameras that might be watching her in this bizarre prison—anything to get that amazing sensation again.

After about ten minutes of frustrating, fruitless masturbation, Melissa stood up and walked back to the closet. The selection of footwear was just as big, and just as impractical, as had been the lingerie. The heels ranged from three to nine flats whatsoever that she could see. One pair had elaborate thin straps that you were supposed to tie around your calves. There were boots, too, shiny vinyl in a variety of colors. She settled on a simple pair of pink 4-inch slip-ons that matched her sports bra. “This isn’t going to work,” she realized, but she had no other ideas.

Back in bed, prepared for disappointment, Melissa unceremoniously slipped the dildo back into her pussy...

Magic. That’s how she would have described it. Really, there were no words. It was every bit as wonderful as it had been yesterday—she had forgotten how great it was, like the whole world was fading away and all that was left was her, the Number Twelve dildo buried to its hilt in her pussy, and the pink high-heeled shoes forcing her to point her toes. Lying here on top of the covers, sliding the toy in and out of herself, her legs spread wantonly and with those amazing heels on the bedspread, everything was right in the world. Everything was just right. God, why had she ever resisted this?

Almost as soon as it had flowed into her, the bliss ebbed away. Melissa cried out in anguish at the loss. It had lasted much longer yesterday, she was sure. She looked at that screen—it had a new pattern on it, a new message.


Melissa froze. Mouth? Did that mean...?

The dildo slipped out of her pussy. Ignoring the voices screaming in her head, she held the shiny, wet toy in front of her face. Her eyes were half-lidded, her mouth slightly parted, her whole body tense with expectation, as her inner voice screamed at her that this was crazy. She gave the head of the cock an exploratory open-mouth kiss, and was instantly rewarded. She slipped the head past her lips and swirled her tongue around it, tasting the pungent sour mix of her own sweaty arousal, and that perfect feeling intensified. Slowly, she worked the toy in and out of her mouth, moaning loudly, marveling at the immaculate sensations of its lifelike texture on her tongue and lips. She couldn’t get the whole thing in, it was just too long and pressed against her throat, so she had to remove it to lick more of her own juices from the base, rubbing the fake member on her cheek as she did so and panting with arousal.

Eventually the mood changed again, and Melissa didn’t know how long she’d writhed there, making love to a piece of plastic with her mouth. It had felt like eternity, and at the same time it hadn’t been nearly as long as she’d hoped, but she did feel almost satisfied. Looking down at herself, she realized first of all that her pussy was on display again, and secondly that her entire body was covered in a sheen of sweat.

Stepping out of the shower for the second time that day, and with her new horrible craving already creeping up on her, Melissa thought she heard voices coming from the bedroom. Was she finally going to meet her captors in person, and find out why they had done this to her? She was terrified, but she padded out to the bedroom anyway, only half dry and with another one of those big towels wrapped around her waist. But there was nobody there...the television had turned itself on somehow, and it was showing porn. “No surprise there,” she thought. Annoyed, Melissa went to press the “Power” button, but it didn’t work, nor could she lower the volume. “Great.” The girl on the screen was running a steel vibrator across her clit and moaning loudly, using her other hand to squeeze one of her huge fake knockers, almost as big as Melissa’s own.

That horrible screen had a new message for her, too.


She broke into a cold sweat. These messages were getting more and more clear to her. Now just tonguing that horrible dildo while wearing heels wouldn’t be enough to get that amazing sensation again. Now she’d have to really doll herself up first. She gave a few seconds’ thought to resisting, but the only thing that had worked so far was vigorous exercise, and there was no way her tired muscles could handle that again so soon.

Before she knew it, she was back in the walk-in closet, picking her outfit (she assumed the screen’s parentheticals roughly translated to ‘lady’s choice’). She went with the most modest look she could put together with the materials at hand: a baby-blue half-cup bra and matching lacy panties, covered up with a mercifully opaque rose-pink nightgown that looked like it should go down to about mid-thigh, but actually only made it to just under her butt—she hadn’t accounted for the way her new boobs held it up a few extra inches. She went with the same pink shoes she had before...if ain’t broke, don’t fix it, she figured.

‘Makeup’ was more of a struggle. She knew how to apply it in moderation, and had even worn lipstick to a couple of fancy parties, but she knew that wasn’t what the screen had in mind. Michelle ran back and forth between her makeup chair and the bedroom, using the slut on the television as a guide. She started with her eyes, selecting a heavy red eye shadow and thick black mascara. She went red on the blush, too, and whimsically selected pink from the rainbow of lipstick choices to match her clothes and shoes. She thought she might be ready, and dashed back into the bedroom to get started, but right then the TV showed the masturbating girl’s face in a close-up, and Melissa saw that the girl’s lips looked very wet compared to her own. She dashed back to the makeup table and found a pink lip gloss to put on top of her already-thickly-applied lipstick. She looked at the porno slut in the mirror and smacked her wet, pink lips together. Now she was ready.

Back on the bed, all dressed up with nowhere to go, and fucking her own mouth with a thick fake cock, Melissa was in heaven all over again. Through the glowing, orgasmic haze, she watched the porno girl on TV masturbate along with her. That girl was pressing her tits together, squeezing them, pinching and teasing the nipples. With her free left hand, Melissa tried that out on her own fat titties, and found that it managed to enhance the eroticism she was already feeling...something she hadn’t thought was possible. While her right hand continued to work the phallus in and out of her mouth, her left worked its way down from her chest and under her lacy panties to find her clit. Now she could really feel the difference between the conventional arousal of playing with her clit, and the new feelings she got when she obeyed the screen. The dual sensations played off each other beautifully. As much as she was capable of thinking, she tried to make a mental note: you don’t have to restrict yourself to doing only what the screen says. You can improvise, and it feels so good...