The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Domesticated

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“Why can’t you just leave me alone? I work all day, too!”

He looked down at her, incredulous. “I come home everyday, the apartment just as—if not more—messy than I leave it in the morning. There’s dirt everywhere, clothes all over, dishes in the sink from two days ago! What do you do? Tell me what you do all day and I’ll take back what I said.”

She was laying on the couch, looking up at him, unsure of what to say. “Uh..”

“That’s what I thought. Honey, I don’t think I’m asking for much. I mean, instead of watching the TV for twenty minutes, do the wash. Just, do something, anything.” He walked out the door without another word.

“Bastard.” She said under her breath, and went back to channel surfing.

* * *

“...this retrospective of the best fashions of the ‘50s!” Click.

“...is really reminiscent of the style and grace of a lady from the 1950’s” Click.

“...non-stop hits from the best performers of the 40s, 50s, and 60s!” Click.

Unable to find anything interesting, she turned the television off, and picked up a pile of fashion magazines on the end table. Although Christine rarely dressed up, opting instead for yoga pants and her boyfriends tee shirts, she liked to keep tabs on what others were wearing. The first was a mixture of slutty and trashy, the girls looking as if they had just come from a riotous party at 2 in the morning. She laughed at how foolish they looked, threw the magazine aside, and opened another one. In this one, women sported bouffants, bobs, deep side parts, heavy curls, rolled up bangs, bows and ribbons, while trying to fit into slim-waisted, pleated, floral print dresses or sailor inspired outfits. What’s with all of the 50s stuff all of a sudden?

As if in response to her thoughts, the TV turned back on of it’s own volition. A young woman, wearing a thin black pencil dress, open-toed heels, and a black pill-box had was sitting in a large chair, brushing back her overly-curled hair with her black-gloved finger.

“Hello, Chrissy.” The woman on the screen said, apparently to the one in the apartment. Terrified, she reached for the remote to try and turn it off. None of the buttons would work. She ran to the TV as the woman sat there, smiling, desperately trying the buttons there. The television was set back against the wall, so she couldn’t unplug it. The woman was still sitting their, staring at her.

“Don’t try and be coy, Chrissy. Please sit down.” Christine, unable to control her own actions, sat on the couch, frozen by horror and confusion. “Good girl. Now, let’s get started, shall we?” The woman on the screen stood up and walked along the studio she was in in the only way she could in her thin pencil skirt, foot in front of foot, behind swaying after her. She stopped first next to of a teenage girl. “What do you think of this girl?” The young girl looked at her with messy, wavy hair, smeared lipstick, a black dress covered in glitter, ripped stockings and 4 inch party heels. She was swaying as if drunk. Christine grimaced. “Okay, we’ll send her behind the curtain, then we will see what you think.” The girl staggered back.

Whether by TV magic, or some other form of magic, the girl reappeared from the other side of the curtain, totally changed. She was walking straight and proudly in her saddle shoes, ankle socks, long pink poodle skirt, and white sweater. Her hair no longer looked greasy, instead clean and tied back in a pony tail, held in place by a large white ribbon. She had on minimal makeup, and smiled at her hostess, then at the camera. “And now what do you think?”

Christine nodded her head in approval.

“Fantastic! Moving right along!” She strode again, this time standing next to a woman in her mid-20s. Blond hair, a baggy shirt and sweatpants. Wait...

That’s me!

Christine was staring at herself standing on stage.

“Now, we’ve come to an important part of this process. Here you are, as you currently dress. It isn’t pretty, it isn’t flattering, and it is hardly lady-like. Heck, I’m surprised your boyfriend has put up with you for so long. But, with my help, we can change that. Go behind the curtain please, Chrissy.”

Christine had no idea what to think. Did Brandon have something to do with this? Is this what he really wanted, for her to become some girl from the 50s? Just what the hell was going on? Here she was, sitting in her apartment, watching herself on the TV, walking behind the curtain, partially terrified, but partially excited about what she’d be wearing when she came back out.

She watched herself walk out from the curtain. Her TV-self walked out with a beaming smile on her minimally made-up face. Her hair was styled in a high-poof, which curled down in ribbons down the side of her face. She had on a black, puffy-sleeved dress covered in flowers, a wide black belt settled at her waist. The skirt fell to her knees, and there flared out away from her intricately-patterned black-stockinged legs. She was balancing adeptly on three inch open-toed black heels.

The woman on the screen was so feminine. She was so curvaceous, so proud, so self-confident, so...so sexy! Christine felt herself wanting, needing to be the woman on the screen.

“So. Would you say this is a marked improvement?” The unnamed hostess prompted, showing off this woman, utterly different from Christine in every way, but somehow still her.

“Beautiful.” She was staring, trance-like, at the television, unable to move her eyes from the wonderful vision of femininity and modesty that she had witnessed herself become.

“That’s just super! Okay, so after we sign off, you’re going to go to that cute little vintage thrift store in town, the one you pass all the time on the way to Victoria’s Secret? You’ll know what to do once you get there. Say goodbye, Christine.”

“Goodbye, Christine!” Her TV self said so cheerfully, and she said so hypnotically. The station turned to static, and Christine snapped from her trance. She turned the TV off, and walked towards a whole new wardrobe.

* * *

“Hey there!” A cute little salesgirl beamed at Christine. “Do you need any help looking for anything?” She was hanging skirts on racks, with a large pile of more skirts, and differently sized and styled dresses behind her.

“Um, no, I’m just looking, thanks.” For the life of her, Christine had no idea why she was in that store. The last thing she remembered she was flipping through channels and now...she was staring at row upon row of dresses, skirts, some old, some new, some with floral prints, some with polka dots. Some looked like they would only reach her mid-calf, some that might go down to her knee or below, and she didn’t have a clue as to why she was even in there.

“Just to let you know, we’re having a special. All dresses are 50% off, and if you buy 3, you get 3 free! And any and all accessories are free as well!” The salesgirl said, cheerily. She had on a brown, knee-length skirt with a yellow blouse tucked into it, and a name tag that read “Sandy”. Her hair was curled loosely, and held back by a large sunflower broach. Christine couldn’t help thinking about how cute the outfit looked, and maybe with a deal like that, she could look around.

“That’s an interesting deal. Are you guys going out of business?” Despite never having entering the store, she could feel the slight edge of anxiety in her voice.

“Oh no! Like I said, it’s just a special! And it is very special, believe me!” She winked mysteriously. Christine felt an almost insatiable urge to walk through the store. There must have been 20 or more rows, racks and racks stuffed to the brim with dresses, skirts, and different tops; there were blouses, button-ups, sweaters, and so much more. The tops of the racks were populated with many different varieties of shoes, mostly heels, but no sneakers or sport shoes. Everything had a sense of class, of elegance, about it.

One in particular seemed to catch her eye. It was light red, polka dotted, with a high neckline. The neck and sleeves reminded her of a tee shirt. Pulling it off the rack, she felt the light, airy cotton/polyester material on her hands. Due to a static charge, the dress clung slightly to the front of her figure, making it look like she was sizing it up. Out of nowhere, the adorable salesgirl appeared in front of her.

“That’s a really cute dress! You should totally try it on! Follow me!” Before she could raise any objection, Christine was being led by the arm into the fitting rooms. Strong girl, she remarked as she was pulled helplessly to the dressing room. The room would have been comfortable for just one of the girls, but Sandy moved herself in first, and brought Christine in after. To say the least, the space was cramped. To say the most, the two girls were rubbing up on each other with hardly an inch of room. Christine could feel her breasts rubbing on Sandy’s back, and when Sandy turned to face her, the silk of her yellow blouse excited Christine through her own shirt. She barely contained a shiver as Sandy’s hot breath caressed her neck.

“You know, I never got your name.” Sandy said, sensuality oozing from between her lips.

Pulling in short, sharp breaths, she replied “Chris...Christine.” It must have been too low for Sandy to hear, because she replied:

“Chrissy? That’s a cute name. I used to go by Cassandra, but, I just thought Sandy sounded cuter. Don’t you think a girl should have a cute name?” Her hot breath was steaming up the fitting room, and Chrissy could only agree. “Now, let’s get these old, ratty clothes off.” Slowly, Sandy pulled Chrissy’s tee shirt above her head, sliding her hands firmly up Chrissy’s smooth, toned figure, just brushing her breasts. Next came the tight yoga pants, sliding efficiently down Chrissy’s slightly muscular legs. Sandy slid her hands back up Chrissy’s legs, stopping at her behind, and gripping her buttocks gently. “Nice and big. Heh. This dress will accentuate that nicely. Don’t you want to wear clothing that will show off your figure?” Of course Chrissy did, she wanted to show off her figure, but she couldn’t think of why.

“You should show your curves and body off for your man, shouldn’t you? Don’t you want to look good for your man?” Sandy was still rubbing her hands over Chrissy’s nearly naked body, and Chrissy was nearly powerless to stop her touch, and the flow of ideas that were forcing their way into her head. None of this was right, she didn’t like being touched this way, but a moan was bubbling it’s way to the surface, and Sandy smiled.

“Now, let’s get this dress on you.” Sandy grabbed the soft material of the dress, and lightly lifted one, then the other of Chrissy’s feet, and slowly pulled it up, being careful to touch the fabric up her legs, past her hips, up her stomach and chest—paying special attention to her erect nipples, and up and around her shoulders, completely enveloping Chrissy in the dress. Sandy had to bear hug her customer in order to reach the zipper, carefully closing the dress around her. Chrissy felt the fabric tighten around her chest, her shoulders, and her midriff. She felt it just kissing her entire body, felt her hips and rear pushing out on the fabric, causing the skirt to fall straight down from her behind to just above her knees.

She felt different. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what. She felt more feminine, she felt the shape of her curves as accentuated by the dress. She felt the fabric of the dress gently hugging her figure, while still giving her a sense of freedom. Freedom. That was the word she was looking for. She felt free. She looked down into Sandy’s face, who was looking back up, proudly.

“Did you want to look at anything else today?”

“Actually, I think I did.” She smiled widely at Sandy, exiting the booth, pulling the salesgirl behind her.

* * *

“Hi, a woman named Chrissy is waiting for me?” Brandon asked the Maitre d’. He’d never been to such an upscale restaurant before, and was surprised when his girlfriend asked him to meet her here. He was even more suprised when she had used the word honey and sweety, since she was never much for pet names, and when she called herself Chrissy. The Maitre d’ pointed towards the bar, where one woman stood, facing away from the entrance.

The woman was dressed very demurely in a black and white flowery dress, pleated and reaching to past her knees. Her translucent black stockings fed seamlessly into her three inch black ankle-strapped heels. She had a black elbow-length sleeved sweater on her shoulders.

If only I were single, Brandon thought. The woman turned around, and to his shock and awe, his girlfriend was staring at him, smiling brilliantly.

“Darling, you made it!” She sauntered over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and planting him with a long, romantic kiss. She brought herself back, looking up into his face adoringly, lacing her black-gloved hands behind his neck.

“Chrissy! What...what happened to you?” He was surprised, but he was excited about the transformation in his girlfriend. He could feel his member tightening in the space in his pants, and she smiled when she felt the bulge rub against her.

“Oh, it was just time for a change, I think. I’ve been sitting around the apartment too much, not doing my womanly duties, and I realized it wasn’t fair to you, my love. I wasn’t cooking, cleaning, or doing anything a good wife should.” His emotion changed when he heard the word, but she quickly reassured him of her intentions. “I just mean that, someday, if you choose to make an honest woman out of me, I will be able to always provide for you, and to always look my best for you. I will live only for you, to love and to honor you, and to serve you in any way possible.”

Brandon felt his genitals become fully erect. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The same girl who was sitting in a pile of old clothes and snack wrappers, now looked so elegant and beautiful. It was like having a totally different woman in front of her. He kissed her passionatley on the lips. “Let’s go sit down. What else will you promise me.”

Her face glowed with excitement as he took her gloved hand and led her to a table. “Well, I promise always to be the woman of your dreams, whatever that dream may be. I will do everything within my power to make you happy. I will have dinner ready by the time you get home, I will provide a spotless home for you to rest yourself in, I will always be willing to give myself to you in the bedroom...” She continued to enumerate the many facilities she would employ in his life, and he could only smile at the luck he had at having such a perfect woman by his side.