The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

But I Don’t Really Want This

Last leg of the trip. Nicole had just landed in Atlanta and now had one more flight to Vegas and home. But first class was going to make a difference here. Flying back home to see her family was always a struggle. Vegas to Atlanta, Atlanta to Paris and then Paris to Bordeaux. She missed her family, but the trip was too much, even before considering the cost of the flights which was significant.

To her amazement, as she was checking herself into the last flight, after having disembarked in Atlanta, she discovered that she would be bumped up to first class. This was going to be a story to tell people. And the first class lounge too. It was another four hours until her flight. She hoped that she would be able to take advantage of any added luxury, but the truth was that she just wanted to sleep. Sleeping in uncomfortable positions—such as upright on a plane—was never easy for her and now, 14 hours after she waved goodbye to her family, she was exhausted. Sleep, a nap, would be good. And then the last flight to see Will back in Vegas. That pit of a city that was her home. But living there meant that she could live with the most wonderful guy—no, person—in the world.

* * *

‘So. When are you going to leave her?’

‘Please, not now’, he said, not making eye contact

‘We both know it won’t last between you two.’

‘Please, I’m not in the mood’

‘Even if she doesn’t know it. Stuck up French cow.’ she added, trying to force a reaction.

‘Fuck you.’ Will turned to face her and there was daggers in his eyes. ‘I’m leaving’, he said and got dressed, doing his best to ignore her as she sat upright on the bed swaying her tits slowly left and right—she knew the effect it had on him—while silently daring him to make eye contact with her. When he was dressed he walked over to the bed, pulled her down onto her hands and knees, undid his fly again, turned her around and took her from behind.

And then he left.

* * *

A and B waited outside the first class lounge. Ms. Petal Armstrong walked past them as she entered. A and B did not look at each other. They waited 2 minutes and then entered together. Good she was sitting in a part of the room by herself. And there was one seat free pointing in that direction. B sat down in that seat. A took a seat nearer the door where he could get a good view of the room. B took a book out of his suitcase and then put the suitcase down pointed in the direction of Ms. Armstrong. He pretended to read the book while actually making sure that no one was approaching. Believing that the coast was clear he leant down ever so slightly and pushed a button on top of the suitcase. He then continued to read his book.

10 minutes later boarding was announced for A and B’s flight. They left the room. They never spoke. They didn’t need to. They knew the details of the subject and the request of her husband—a Mr. Hu—who didn’t want a drooling slave. He wanted someone who was still a wife and a functioning member of society. But he wanted her to not be able to say no to him. And he wanted to ensure that she could meet all his demands, so he wanted to increase her libido. The company had explained that as the technology was still in it’s infancy they could come up with a product which was almost exactly what he asked for, but subtley different with a catch.

They could change the subject to require someone else that they could imprint from. In the way that baby ducks imprint on the mother. But she wouldn’t follow him around incessently like baby ducks do the mother. The imprinting would be that she could not say no or deny a request of him, the mother duck so to speak. As regards increasing her libido they could ensure that the act of following his order, or the reminder of a time that she had followed an order of him, the mother duck, would arouse her slightly. No doubt the accumulated effects of multiple followed commands and the constant reminder of other previously followed commands would ensure that the actual increase in arousal was more than slight.

But there would be a catch. The subject would need someelse to imprint from. There must always be a mother duck. And more than that, if the subject starts spending a lot of time with someone who is not the mother duck, then the position of mother duck may be transferred to this new person. He would need to be careful that she never spent too much time with someone that wasn’t him. A transfer of this power would not be immediate, but if over a period of a couple of months Ms. Armstrong—soon to be Mrs. Hu, Mr. Hu smiled smugly to himself—spent more time with someone else than him, he could lose his power over her to this other. A risk he would be prepared to accept.

After the recently-far-more-provocatively-dressed-than-usual Mrs. Hu had become aware of her new station in life, Mr Hu had instructed her to keep a document to which he had access rights. This document would list all the people that she spent time with and how much time she spent with them—whether remotely or in person—so that he could prevent the loss of his control over her. Not that he told her the reason for the spreadsheet. She just thought it was some paranoia of his. But, god, filling the previous days entries in every morning, did do something for her. It felt a tiny bit bad, in a good way. She couldn’t explain it. Sometimes it inspired her to maybe wear an even lower cut top, or shorter pair of shorts than even her husband demanded of her as she went off to her morning yoga class. (Of course the first thing he had told her to do was quit her job—not resign, quit. No notice period. Walk out. And if anyone asks tell them with a happy smile that you just want to keep a home for your wonderful husband, finishing off with some variation of ‘I’m so lucky to have him!’.) She just felt like such a bad girl lately, and it felt so good.

30 minutes later the still-Ms. Armstrong left the lounge and this story to catch her trip to New York to see her college friends. The last such trip she would be taking for some time. And an hour after that Nicole was woken by a lounge attendant who told her that boarding was starting for her flight. She had been lying across 3 seats behind where Ms. Armstrong had been sitting. Out of sight from everyone else in the lounge, except from anyone who might have taken the trouble to walk back there. But no one had.

* * *

Will knew Tina was right though. It was going to end. Soon. No, it was over. It just hadn’t happened yet. Nicole couldn’t satisfy him. It killed him but it was the truth. They were a bad match. That made it sound worse then it was. She was everything he wanted in a partner. Almost everything. They had the best time together. Same sense of humour. Same favourite TV shows. Same political views and philosophy on life and how it should be lived. Some, if not all, of the same hobbies. Though that was good too. It was good to spend time apart, because that meant they could really appreciate the time together. They were great together. And yet still they were a bad match.

Sexually they were not compatible. This killed him. It tore him up. Back when they met while living in Toulouse it wasn’t a problem. He was 26, she was 21 in her last year of college. He had been in France for a year for work, helping to open a new office for his company. They had fallen madly in love, and has new love can do, unbeknownest to him, her libido sky-rocketed. Will thought that that was the norm for her, and maybe Nicole was still a bit too young to understand her body and it’s requirements. After all, this was the first time she had been in love. 6 months later he was back in the States and he would have begged her to follow him, but he didn’t need to. With her exams finished she followed. She swore that she would before he had a chance to ask.

That was a year ago now and things had changed. It was nobody’s fault. It was just the way it was. About 6 months after she had moved with him to Las Vegas they started having sex less often. Previously it was almost every day. She couldn’t get enough of him. But now once a month at most and a handjob or blowjob once—sometimes twice—a week. They had talked about it and she explained that this was just the wearing off of the effects of the hormones of new love. She had never had that high of a libido. Some of her friends had even used to think that she was a lesbian, because she had never been as interested in sex as them. But she did love him. And she was attracted to him. But her need to feel him might never be as high as it had been.

They still had the best time together enjoying everything else together as before, though Will had needs and frustration was building in him. And then Tina came back into his life. Hot, uncaring, insatiable, unkind, fun, narcissistic Tina. He had known her from before his time in France. The two of them had dated for a month during his first year out of college. She was great in bed and with a libido to match Will’s. But realising that he couldn’t stand her and her company he had broke it off. Will knew there was no future with her and a future with someone was what he wanted.

It was an amicable breakup. She was cool about it. She understood his reasons and wished him well, provided they could have one last triast. Will had obliged her. Tina lying backwards on the kitchen table and him ramming his full length in and out. Once they came he threw the condom in the bin, pulled up his pants, kissed her slit and left without a word or looking back.

Now Tina had been the catalyst for his impending breakup with the love of his life. He hoped he wouldn’t spend too much time with Tina after the breakup. Tina had nothing to offer him apart from sex. Well, and her tits. Originally they hadn’t been small to begin with. Good, firm C cups.

Two years after Tina and he split she had texted him out of the blue asking if he wanted to hook up, and he, being between girlfriends, had agreed. As he entered the bar he saw her bringing her drink to the table—long island ice tea he knew, that was her thing—and double taked. He walked over and bent down to hug her and kiss her on the cheek in greeting. Instead of getting a drink he sat down immediately across from her and—first looking around to make sure no one was in earshot—smiled at her and said ‘What happened to your tits?’ No need to say ‘breasts’ around Tina. He knew her well enough for that.

‘You like?’ she asked enthusiastically, using her arms to push them together.

‘Yeah’ he said, looking down. He looked back up and said to her ‘In fact, I think it’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen’.

‘Your place?’ she said, eyebrow raised.

‘Yep’, he said and stood back up.

She downed her full drink and stood up unsteadily. ‘That was my second’ she said with a sly grin as she interlocked her arm with his, ensuring to press the side of her boob against his arm as she did.

‘D’s?’ he asked.

‘Double’ she replied with a contented and self-satisfied air, mainitaining the pressure of the firmer-than-your-average-boob boob on his arm, waggling her eyebrows and pursing her lips.

‘Wait, I was so busy looking at your tits ... ’

‘Yep’, she grinned. ‘Just a small bit. I’ll bet they look good around your cock’.

That was a year before France, and they had met up sporadically during that time. But he knew that he wanted something long term—a connection with someone—and Tina wasn’t that person. Fake fucking tits and fake fucking lips. God damn fucking Tina. Just the merest thought of her and he would rummage through his brain for any thoughts that would prevent the following erection. He knew plenty of guys who hated fake boobs. And he got it. He understood that point of view. But, there was something about it, maybe event the act of transformation that got him. That was his fetish. And his secret. He had never told anyone that. Not even Tina. He hadn’t lied to her, he had told her how amazing her new tits were but he hadn’t gone into any depth about it. He wouldn’t have wanted to. Even if he had, Tina wasn’t the person to do that with. She had no interest in learning too much about someone else.

Anyway that fetish was his secret. Will knew the difference between what turned him on and what he wanted the world to be. The kind of porn he watched disgusted him once he had cum. He didn’t feel guilty about watching it, but that was not how he wanted the world to be. But it was so hot. Big boobs, big lips. Fake enough that people would know it wasn’t natural. Not fake enough that people would suspect it wasn’t natural. Fake enough that they would KNOW. OK, so Tina wasn’t quite that big, but still, they were big and they were fake and she had chosen that. That was hot.

* * *

And then a few months ago at a party. Nicole and he had met Tina and her date for the evening at a party. That was the day that Will had realised that Nicole and he might be incompatible and he wasn’t on the best form off his life.

‘Is that what you want for me’, Nicole had asked him softly, half-joking, later on as she indicated Tina on the opposite side of the room. Will made a show of pretending at first to not know what she meant.

‘Come on’, she laughed in her sexy French accent. Sexy for him anyway, she just saw it as speaking. ‘You understand what I am talking about!’

‘No, of course not’, he protested dismissively—and not entirely truthfully—laughing back. ‘She got those after we had broken up’ he said, skillfully remaining truthful this time, if not exactly honest. ‘The lips too’.

‘I knew it!’, she laughed again. And for the rest of the night they had fun together.

But a week later Tina had called him. She could see something in his eyes, some hint of sadness that night, and she decided she wanted more of Will. And Will, at this stage resigned to a future break up, but wanting to delay the inevitable, cheated for the first time on anyone. And would continue to cheat for the next few months.