The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I popped three aspirin into my mouth and shot my reflection a look of bleary-eyed disgust. A sigh found its way through my lips as I closed my eyes; I leaned forward until my forehead rested against the cool mirror. What a fucked up day. Once decent, I had booked it out of the office as soon as people had left for lunch and spent the rest of the day at home, holed up in the bathroom. I raged, I cried, I cursed, and now I was done. Shit happens, Case. Time to move on. Rest, recover, reset. Rubbing my eyes, I nodded to myself. Okay.

I undressed, tossing my ruined blouse into the trashcan. My fingers automatically tweaked the front of my bra and I paused, readjusting so that I could reach the back of it. Two milky white mounds unfurled as the gaudy pink garment fell to the floor, eliciting an audible gasp from yours truly. “Oh,” I breathed, a mix of awe and disbelief etched into my face. “Golly. No wonder my shirt blew off.” My boobs were twice their normal size, double D’s at the very least. Uncertain fingers explored the strange new curvature of my chest with a light touch, sending pleasant shivers shooting down my spine.

A dull roar flooded my ears as blood rushed out of my head, relieving the pounding headache that had plagued me all day. Thank god for aspirin. The room spun while my hands continued to slither downward of their own accord, feeling curves that both were and weren’t mine. A heavy rack…flared hips…a bit of a belly… I pinched a small bit of love handle, frowning. Is stress-weight a thing? I think it’s a thing. Of course it is. Once I made it through the gauntlet and got my promotion, I’d be right as rain. Self-assured, I turned away from the mirror and stripped off the rest of my clothes, though I couldn’t help but scowl. That is, if the executies…exec-executives? Yeah, executives. If those guys were still willing to give me a shot after today’s debacle.

I stepped into the shower, turning the heat up to full blast and letting the steam relax the many nerve-induced knots aching throughout my body. “Oooh gaawwwd,” I cooed. My knees wobbled, persuading me down to the floor of the tub, where I sat and let the hot water rush over me. Several minutes passed before I heard the low grunts echoing across the bathroom and realized that my hand was planted firmly between my thighs. “H-uh…huh?” I watched, confused, as my fingers whirled with increasing frequency. Bewilderment fled before the ever-growing pleasure wracking my body and my hips began to gyrate in eager anticipation.

The tiled walls wobbled and warped. It felt as though the warm steamy air was filling my head. Filling me, filling me… “Uh, uh.” My eyelids fluttered lower and lower, until it was dark enough for the fantasies to take hold. The promotion didn’t matter. Work didn’t matter. Boring things. Silly things. Slick fingers slid across the lips of my pussy. “Uh, uh.” In, out, massaging my clit. “Uh, uh.” They could have been anybody’s. No…not just anybody’s…that guy…the guy from the other night… “U-uh…mmm-UH-uh…” Yes, yes! We were going to finish what we started. My big boobies were bobbing against his chest. He was dick-deep inside of me. “Hm-mmm…” Teasing m-No! Plowing me! “U-nf…G-gawwd…!” I rolled my hips one last time and…

“Case?” A muffled rap jostled the bathroom door. “Casey, are you alright?”

My fingers stopped dead in their tracks as my eyes snapped open and I started, Peter’s intrusion jerking me back to reality. I…I was alone, masturbating in the shower. “W-wha? No!” I shut my eyes again, making every effort to get back to the good part of the fantasy. “C’mon, c’mon…” I needed a win today, damnit. Desperation gripped me, instilling my movements with a fevered energy. I tried going faster, then slower. I tried only one finger, then two, then three. A light touch. Enough friction to start a fire. Everything and then nothing. I couldn’t do it; I couldn’t cum. “Fuck! Fuck you!” I panted, giving my clit one final pass. …Nope. I rolled my eyes and sank lower in the tub, exhausted.

Peter’s voice wormed it’s way through the day again, sounding a little more concerned this time. “Casey, you’ve been in there all day, talk to me.”

Irrational anger rose within me. I turned off the shower and got out, flinging back the curtain in a huff. I had been so close. I toweled off and squeezed into my underclothes, panting slightly from the heat of the steam and from the exertion it took to stuff myself back into that pink bra. “Clasp already, stupid dumb th-Unf!” Finally. I slipped into my bathrobe and cinched up the waist before storming out of the bathroom, pushing past Peter in the process.

“Hey, what happened today?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.” I felt his light touch on my shoulder and shrugged it off. Despite the fact that we were still at odds over the future of our relationship, I knew he just wanted to help. A sudden guilt permeated my irate thoughts. …Had I really just been masturbating to a one-night stand, a complete stranger? …While my boyfriend of four years waited anxiously on the other side of a locked door? The weight on my mind seemed to intensify and the needful urge between my legs wasn’t helping any. I sat down on the bed and put a hand to my temple, unable to look at Peter. “Can you please just go?”

Peter chewed his cheek, nodding stiffly. He gave my hand an affectionate squeeze before leaving the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. I let my body go limp, falling back on my pillow with a light wuff. I didn’t want to send him away, but I couldn’t bear to be in the same room with him right now. My swollen breasts wobbled atop my chest, carefree and ignorant of the troubled thoughts on my mind. I had cheated on my boyfriend, practically my fiancée.

I mean, I’m not stupid. I had been perfectly aware of what I was doing, even before I had been making out with that stranger in the bar. Sure, the alcohol had coaxed a little more passion out of me than I had anticipated, but I had had a thirst for revenge that night, too. Classic fucked up psychology, I guess. Peter proposes and my knee-jerk reaction is to fuck some random dude to establish my freedom, or something.

I opened up my bathrobe and studied the bra I had inadvertently stolen. An exasperated sigh left my lips as I steeled myself for the decision I was about to make. I would come clean and apologize, both to Peter and that woman who had been in my office. Tomorrow, I resolved, yawning. Tomorrow I would face my demons, accept my comeuppance, and return the gaudy pink train wreck that seemed hell bent on crushing my boobs. Another silent yawn and I closed my eyes, rubbing my pussy absently through my panties.

It’s a good thing Peter always left for work earlier than I did, because when I woke up the next morning, I screamed. Only, I didn’t sound like me. Fuck, I didn’t even look like me. My immediate view was obscured by two massive fleshy orbs that bounced wildly as I sprinted to the nearest mirror. What the fuck? What the fuck! I was…I was… Jesus Christ, I was huge!

“Oh my god…” I touched my cherub cheeks in disbelief, even as the woman in the mirror did the same. Lithe, slender, scintillating Casey was gone, replaced in the night by some rounded out parody of her former self. My breasts were almost as big as my head, bobbing buoyantly just below my chin. They rested comfortably on the soft slope that my stomach had become, a fattened mound that nearly defined the curvature of my body. Nearly. Unfortunately, that concession went to my newly widened hips. More specifically, my butt. My firm backside had devolved into a round shelf of an ass, swelling up to such a degree that my panties had torn off sometime last night. Thick thighs followed, forced wide by my swollen and pleasantly pulsing snatch.

Just as my figure had changed, so had my skin tone; my pale complexion was now a deep tan, as if I had been lying out in the sun throughout the summer. If that wasn’t enough, I was noticeably shorter too, losing maybe four or five inches to a body that looked as though it had been designed purely for sexual endeavors. Thankfully, my face and lips had gone relatively unchanged, appearing only slightly more plump than usual. Still…

“What the actual fuck!” I shrieked, my voice shrill and scratchy. I turned this way and that, trying to find that miracle angle where I looked like a normal human being again. My entire body wobbled from the frantic motion and I felt my eyes welling up with tears. The sparkle of my sequined bra caught my eye and fury filled me, quickly quelling my despair. “You!” I hissed, clawing at the tight straps, “You and that Bianca woman! You did this to me!”

I had said it purely out of rage, but even as the words left my mouth, the events of the last few days seemed to click into place. That bimbo, Bianca had made a shot about my boobs the other day. …And they had been feeling bigger lately… Ever since I had slept with her boyfriend, in fact. Ever since I had put on this stupid pink bra. Dumbfounded realization spread across my fat reflection’s face. “That fucking bitch.” I didn’t know how, but Bianca’s bra was doing something to my body; every time I wore it my boobs seemed to grow bigger. And now this time, everything was bigger. The humiliation of yesterday’s meeting fresh in my mind, I reached back and wretched the clasp apart, plunging the bra into the trashcan with vicious triumph. “AH-H-huh-uuhhh…?”

My spiteful laugh died in my throat as a torrent of blood left my brain, followed closely by my enraged and vengeful thoughts. “Ohh, wowie! Head rush…” I stumbled, landing squarely on my bare ass while I waited for the bathroom to stop spinning. The disorientation got worse before it got better; bright spots clouded my vision, static filled my thoughts, and a strange euphoria gripped me. When the walls settled back into place I got to my feet gingerly, still feeling a little unsteady in my new body. The tiles were cold against my bare belly as I leaned over the counter, inspecting my reflection for anymore unwanted changes.

My half-lidded gaze drifted lazily across the mirror. “Hmm.” My face had the same wide, vapid grin it always did. Maybe my lips were a little puffier? Maybe. My boobies looked even bigger now that they were free from that dumb bra. I dimly registered that that fact didn’t seem to bother as much as I expected it to. Actually, now that I was really looking, my skin looked pretty great. Smooth, blemish-free, flawless. I guess I was too worked up to notice it earlier. I smiled a little wider, tossing my blonde hair. Even that looked longer than normal.

“Mebbeh there’s a silver lining here…” I mused, running a pudgy hand along my wide hips. The vibrating buzz of my cell phone jarred my thoughts, pulling my attention to places other than my body. I walked—Well, no. No, with my new figure, it was really more of a waddle. I waddled to the dresser and checked my phone, pecking clumsily at the screen with fat fingers. It was a text from Jim.

“Ur-gent,” I read aloud slowly, squinting at the screen. “Ex-execu…Uhm…” The words looked a little blurry. “Egg-sec-u-tive meeting m-moved to 11am to-day. W-whu-where are you?” I stared at the screen a little longer, silently mouthing what I had just read as I processed what it meant. “Huh? No! Why those guys gotta move it to today? That’s no fair!” My head snapped toward the nightstand. The clock read…It was a number 10. Right? Yeah, it was…10:23am. “Oh, poop! I gotta go!”

I tossed the phone on the bed and made an awkward beeline for the closet. I had already threaded my thick arms through a white long-sleeve blouse before I remembered I had a problem. My clothes were about a million sizes too small. These new boobies alone were enough to disqualify almost every shirt in my wardrobe, never mind the rest of my outrageously curvaceous figure. I caught myself staring at them and shook my head, reminding myself that the clock was ticking. My career and professional redemption depended on that meeting. I had to go. Had to.

My head began to throb as I puzzled over this wardrobe debacle. “Mm?” It felt oddly foreign, forming a new idea. I grunted again, scratching at the roots of my flaxen hair as a fresh, heavy thought took shape in my mind. “Mm! Oh!” I flapped my arms excitedly, giddy over the odd sensation that was problem solving. I opened Peter’s side of the closet and pulled out the biggest shirts he had. Peter was by no means overweight, but he was sure to be a few sizes larger than myself.

My efforts were met with varied success depending on the article of clothing. The button-up shirt I was wearing was more than skin tight, stretched taut at the buttons and allowing an inch or two of belly to peek out at my waist. The top three buttons were left undone, impossible to connect around the bulging twins wobbling on my chest. My pants –or rather, Peter’s pants—were a problem. The only way I could pull them up past my fat ass was to leave them undone as well, which of course gave the world a sterling view of my stretched and unbelievably uncomfortable black panties. I examined the slapdash catastrophe of an outfit I had cobbled together, frowning. It would have to do, at least until I had time to buy new clothes.

Huh. Clothes shopping. My lips spread a little wider at the thought. I turned away from the mirror to find my shoes, dimly aware of the fact that I hadn’t stopped smiling since I had taken my bra off. I was unrestricted now. Free. A tidal wave of boob surged forward haphazardly when I bent down to slip on a pair of black work heels.

That dumb Bianca was so dumb.

Just the walk from my car to the lobby had me panting. I waddled to the elevator and waited, inwardly thankful that I wasn’t actually a fat person. This was all just a big misunderstanding. I think. …Right? Something about Bianca. Yeah. I cast a blank glance across the lobby, trying to remember what I was doing here. The meeting. Right. The elevator arrived nearly at full capacity and it was with no small amount of embarrassment that I squeezed my fat ass inside. It was a snug ride up those one hundred and four floors.

Ding! SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—!

“Oh, poop.” My puckered face fell at that ominous sound. I had forgotten about the elevator doors. “’Scoos me, escoos me,” I squeaked, forcing my way toward the narrow opening. To say it was a tight fit was an understatement. I sidled through sideways, sucking in my gut as best I could. “Unf! Mmm!” Halfway through. “C’mon…” The bystanders in the elevator exchanged a few bewildered stares as I wiggled and wormed my way out, grunting and moaning all the while. The soft scrape of fabric sliding on metal signaled my release; I lurched forward and relaxed my gut, relieved.

Poppop! My blouse gave way to the strain of my expansive stomach, abandoning the two buttons closest to my belly button. “Oop!” My hands flew to my mouth, a look of clueless shock plastered across my face. I froze that way for a good few minutes, tentative prodding my exposed navel while my brain grappled with the idea that I was going to the meeting of my life half nude. I needed to regroup. To think. Just as I turned toward my office, Jim slid around the corner with a poorly masked air of panic.

“Casey, where have y-Whoah!” He stopped mid hiss, throwing me a bug-eyed double take.

“Ya, ya,” I crossed my arms over my boobies and rolled my eyes. “I look totally gross. I know.”

“Casey, Jesus!” Jim gestured to…well, everything. He couldn’t seem to decide which aspect of my physique astounded him the most. He spluttered incoherently, eventually managing a loudly whispered, “Do you need to see a doctor?”

I took in a sharp breath. I could feel his unbridled panic affecting me, threatening my composure. “N-no…” I couldn’t fight it. Insecurities sprang up out of nowhere, flooding through me and corrupting my thoughts like a virus. “Is it tha’ bad?” Ugh, my voice sounded so dumb. Why did Jim keeping staring at my tummy? I should have done something with my hair this morning…

“No! Well, I don’t…Uh…” Jim put a hand on my shoulder, steering me to an empty cubicle nearby. “Casey, seriously, what on earth happened to you?”

“Jus’ a bad food allergy, I guess,” I slurred, fingering my shirt and not quite meeting his gaze. I could feel my belly straining against the bottom-most button. “I’mma be fine, Jimmy.” How was I supposed to explain to him that…uh... Huh. Something about a bra. You remember, I told you about it. There was a girl…and then…my boobies got all big… Whatever. You know what I’m talking about. It would have sounded silly.

“A food allergy? Jim glanced around, lowering his voice, ”Casey, I can barely recognize you!” His mouth thinned into a hard line. “I’m not letting you meet anyone like this.”

My mouth dropped open in dull shock. “Whu-wha? Nuh-uh, I came all this way! I dun look tha’ bad, Jimmy. I-I’m jus’…puffy.” I nodded, convincing myself more than him. “Ya, puffy.”

“That’s just one out of about a dozen things that’s horrendously wrong with this picture,” he retorted, shaking me by the shoulders. “Never mind the fact that you sound drunk, you’re practi—!” Jim stopped abruptly, leaning in close and lowering his voice to a whisper. “…You’re practically topless. I mean, are you even wearing a bra? There is no argument here, Casey!” He looked me over again, worry plain on his face. “We can talk with the executive members another day, when you’re feeling better.”

“SsssSsshush!” I hissed indignantly, glaring up at him while trying to cover my belly button with my hands. “Jimm-I mean, Jim! I am the boss!” My hands quickly slid away from my stomach, one resting on my fleshy hip and the other jabbing at Jim’s chest. “You dun’ get to tell me to do stuff! This is muh future c-care—…job thing! Now I’mma go in there and…and…” I blinked. “Uhm…Jimmy, what am I gonna say again?”

Jim just stared. For a good long while, he stared at me. Not sad. Not mad. Just…thinking. “Food allergy my ass,” he muttered, straightening upright. “Fine. Like you said, you’re the boss, Case. But if you’re going to do this, I’m coming with you.” He crossed his arms sternly. “That’s non-negotiable.”

I smiled, immensely pleased at getting my way. “Okie,” I answered, almost automatically. I can’t really describe why. It was just…the way he said it. Standing all big and tall like that. I had to agree. I wanted to agree. I stared up at him, perplexed, until I realized he was trying to herd me out of the cubicle.

“All right, let’s go over your pitch. And after this is done I expect to hear the truth, by the way.”

“Okie, Jimmy!” Again, it just popped out. “We can talk ’bout whatever you want!” I grinned. Euphoria was coursing through me, quelling all insecurities. I was going to secure my future today. Jim was going to help me, tell me what to do. I let him lead the way and waddled close behind, dimly hanging on his every word with my mouth slightly open. I was so going to nail this.

I was so BORED.

Jim was at the front of the room, rattling off ideas and pointing to marketing charts while all…1, 2, 3, 4…uhm… …While all twelve executives watched. Where was I, you ask? I was sitting at the back of the room, stuffed into a dumb chair that was way too small. Jim said it was better this way. He said I shouldn’t bring attention to myself. The others chuckled at another one of Jim’s dumb quips and I crossed my arms, pouting.

This was supposed to be MY meeting. It was MY pitch. I fidgeted in my chair, rocking back and forth until it began to squeak. Nobody even glanced at me. Wow. I tried to tune into what Jim was talking about, but it was all a bunch of flashy mumbo jumbo. ‘Fiscal,’ was that even a word? He was totally tanking this proposal. My loud sigh was masked by a sudden murmur from the board, nodding their agreement to something else my assistant had said.

That’s IT.

Bracing my hands against the arms of the chair, I wiggled my butt until my thick hips slid free. Several stitches popped as I stretched, allowing another couple inches of soft belly to peek out from beneath my blouse. Jim shot me a panicked look from across the room, shaking his head vigorously as I cleared my throat.

“Escoos’ me,” I breathed, placing a hand on my breast apologetically, “Can I say a thing?”

Mr. Harris swiveled his gaze from Jim, to me, to the other board members. “Of course, Ms. Carmen, if you’re up to fielding a few comments.” He and the other executives offered sympathetic smiles, doing their best not to stare at my rotund figure. Jim had explained my ‘severe allergies’ to them, just before benching me so that he could reap all the glory. Dumb Jim.

“Aah, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, Casey,” Jim objected, subtly jerking his head at me. “Why don’t you just sit down and rest? I’m sure I can wrap this up for you.”

Why was he moving his head like that? Weirdo. “No, I dun’ think so Jimm-I mean, Jim.” I waddled up beside him, suddenly aware of how short and slouched I was by comparison. Standing a little straighter, I tried to mimic his air of cool professionalism. It was harder than it looked; what was I supposed to do with my hands? I settled for situating them in front of my belly, fiddling anxiously with the taut clasp just below my belly button. “It’s totally my idea, after all,” I said loudly, looking pointedly at my assistant and those seated before us. There. Now everyone knew that it was me, Casey Carmen, who had all the good ideas.

Silence descended upon the room. I waited for someone to congratulate me, oblivious to the expectant stares of my peers. “Case,” Jim whispered out of the corner of his mouth. “Casey, say something.”

“Huh?”

“You just said you wanted to finish the presentation,” he reminded me in low tones. “So say something.”

“But I am finished,” I objected, not bothering to keep my voice down. “Whaddya think, guys?” I offered my best smile, swaying slightly where I stood.

Again, it was Mr. Harris who took the helm and spoke. “Er, well Ms. Carmen, we were hoping you could expand a little bit more on the cover page your assistant proposed. During our last ah...encounter, you mentioned a dichotomy of sorts?”

It wasn’t until Jim elbowed my gut that I realized my jaw had gone slack. He was just talking way too fast; how could anybody understand this guy? My thoughts churned sluggishly, pulling his questions apart piece by piece until the words made sense. I did vaguely recall mentioning something about women in the workplace. “Y-yeah, I totally ’member that! I wanted to do a thing where there was like this pretty pro-fesh-u-nal girl and then a girl who looks all lame and stuff and then we do like a comparison thing.”

Huh. The idea had sounded better in my head. Beside me, Jim hid his face in his hands for some reason.

“Ms. Carmen, assuming I understand you correctly…and I’m not entirely sure that I do…” There was a pause as one of the other executives composed his thoughts. “…What kind of message is that image supposed to send to our target groups?”

“Uhm, that looking good is way better than looking bad,” I scoffed matter-of-factly. “Duh.”

“Oh-kay!” Jim interjected, clapping his hands together. “I don’t know about you ladies and gentlemen, but I feel like we’ve pretty much cleared things up, don’t you?” He pressed a hand against the small of my back, steering me toward the door.

“Yes,” I heard Mr. Harris say, “We’ll discuss the matter and e-mail you our decision, Jim.”

“Whu-wait!” I stumbled out of Jim’s reach and leaned over the table. “What abou’ me?” I asked eagerly, bouncing on the heels of my feet. “You gonna e-mail me my promoti—”

CRACK!

The world tipped sideways as I lost my balance, toppling backward in an awkward roll. Every part of me jiggled indecently as I hit the floor, sending all but one button flying from my blouse. The last held on for dear life, taxed beyond capacity just beneath my boobies. I lifted my head, dazed, and saw that beyond mountainous curves of titties and tummy, my high-heels had snapped beneath my weight. A strange noise filled the room as people gathered around to help me up. It took two men to get me to my feet and the noise only grew louder. I felt my throat vibrating and I realized it was coming from me.

“Aaaaaahyahyahyahya!” I couldn’t control the high-pitch sound gurgling out of my lungs in what could only be described as a giggle. I knew I should have been horrified at making a fool of myself in front of the executive board members. I knew I shouldn’t be laughing at my own humiliation. Everyone was staring, but I couldn’t stop. I giggled until tears were streaming down my face, until I was crying. Jim led me out of the room, making excuses while I exhaled lungfuls of stupidity. My chest bounced and heaved until that last button finally snapped off. Pop!

I left the office barefoot and topless, laughter pouring vapidly from my lips the entire time.