The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Krysta checked herself out. The bra did make things better. Definitely less annoying. C-Cups seemed to be working quite well, too. The lace frame made them look bigger than they felt. Maybe she’d try the really big breasts again later, but scanning the racks with Kimmy she’d found that bras got a lot bigger in a specialty store than they did at Target or WalMart. Double D was pretty much for kids. She’d seen M on one of the tags.

“You look gorgeous,” said Kimmy. “You’re going to give nerds a bad name.”

Krysta made a face and stuck out her tongue in response. “Nyyyah.” She picked up her blouse.

“Oh my god no. You are not putting that back on.”

“It’s all I’ve got.”

“If you’re going to look sexy in that, you’ll need much bigger boobs.” Kimmy opened the fitting room door and stepped through, looking back over her right shoulder at Krysta with a curious smile and an appraising eye. “I know just what you need. Back in a sec.”

Kimmy came back a few minutes later with a tee-shirt. “Here.”

Krysta pulled the shirt over her head and down into place. It was snug. It had the Powerpuff Girls launching into action from between her breasts. It kinda looked cool. Sexy… Who could tell? Not Krysta.

But Kimmy swore by it. “Jeeze. Now I’m going to have to buy something to keep up.”

While Kimmy roamed the store looking for sexy, Krysta sat watching a Harry Potter film, the one with the soul-eating ghosts and the werewolf, playing on a TV. Somebody’s husband or boyfriend sat at the other end of a sofa watching the film. Good film, but Krysta had seen it a few too many times. Boredom set in. She cracked open her laptop, closed her profile, and realized she couldn’t do any snooping without the husband-or-boyfriend’s name.

She wasn’t that good at “Hi! What’s your name?” at the best of times, and a complete stranger in a bra shop nearly defined the worst of times. Krysta’s eyes narrowed. Her lips twisted into a smile as she got a great idea. She typed in Kimmy McConnell.

Eschewing slider bars for now, she replaced the B in Kimmy’s cup size statistic with the Double D Kimmy said she’d kill for earlier that afternoon. Then she looked over at the rack of specialty bras, thought about it a bit more, and entered M.

Krysta’s eyes went wide as she saw Kimmy’s revised body rotating on the screen. She just about choked trying to cut off a giggle. Kimmy looked kinda ridiculous, but kinda hot, with breasts bigger than her head sticking out of her chest. They started just below Kimmy’s collar bones and ended about the same place as her rib cage. Once gravity got its hands on them, they probably wouldn’t look quite so round, but Krysta had already confirmed that Master PC was pretty much a giant middle finger to normal cause and effect. If it couldn’t solve that problem, nothing could.

Krysta paused. She’d obliterate Kimmy’s clothes if Krysta applied the changes, but Kimmy was such a good friend that she picked exactly that time to vanish into the back to try an armful of bras on. Krysta returned the favour by giving Kimmy a few minutes to get her top and bra off so it wouldn’t get painfully tight. Then Krysta pressed enter.

Kimmy’s head popped out of the fitting room and she called for help.

“Yeah. Stuff I grabbed is all too small,” Kimmy told the clerk, attendant, or whatever you call someone who helps you in a bra shop. “Dunno what I was thinking.”

Whatever she was, the lady’s eyes popped as she stared into the fitting room. Fitting room. Was she a fitter? Whatever. Anyway, her mouth opened and shut a few times. She took a handful of normal-sized bras from Kimmy, looked down at the size tags on the bras, then back up presumably at Kimmy’s dramatically enhanced chest, and then said, “Luh-let me do a few measurements.”

She was in and out of the fitting room a few times, then took a loop through the store searching, selecting and doing little taking.

It stood to reason that Krysta seeing an M-cup bra did not imply that the shop actually stocked many of a cup size that was clearly several standard deviations above normal, and thus not particularly profitable outside small quantities. Extending that further, it was extremely likely that few manufacturers would produce such outlier-bras. Staying within the range of what was available at Walmart or Target would be much more convenient.

But not as weirdly interesting.

Krysta folded her laptop and went to look in on her friend. Kimmy’s little body seemed almost dwarfed by the breasts thrusting from her from her chest. Even more so when Kimmy heaved her breasts up and her shoulders back to lift out of a slouch. The results were a little insane. But still kinda hot. Krysta made a promise to try them out on her own body later.

“Crazy, huh?” said Kimmy, adjusting a thick strap that was still digging into her shoulders.

“I don’t see the appeal,” Krysta lied.

“You don’t, but I never want for guys.” Kimmy’s lips twisted into a half grin-half grimace as she strapped on a different jumbo-size bra to test the fit. “That said, most of them just want the boobs. I’m just tits with legs to most of them. This one loser I dated once—literally once—called me a mobile breast platform.

“Worse, these are heavy as hell and my back is killing me! Totally saving up for a reduction.”

“Maybe you should try something else on.”

Kimmy’s eyes narrowed. “What else is there? There’s only a couple companies that make bras this big, and even fewer with a band this small.”

“What if you worked out more? There have got to be back exercises—”

“That can handle this? Are you fucking kidding me?” Kimmy frowned and sat down. Slowly, unconsciously, she slouched forward. “You think I haven’t tried that?”

Krysta sat down, too, but somewhere she could work on her laptop without Kimmy seeing. The corrections required were obvious. One size Kimmy would kill for and the other clearly was just plain killing her. Easy fix, even if it was a shame to see them go.

Kimmy’s Double D breasts sat in the immense cups of her M-class bra and she burst out giggling. “Cuh-cuh-cuh-can you imagine if I had boobs this big? On my body? Ohhhh my gawd! I’d look like tits with legs.”

A minute later the attendant or fitter or whatever she was returned with a much larger selection of bras. A few super-sized and the rest fit perfectly. Kimmy and the attendant were both equally confused by the M-for-Mammoth bras but laughed it off. Krysta tried to fake it and joined in.

Glen sat at home, alternating between taking bites of fish and chips, watching TV, glancing over at his laptop, and feeling the temptation to do more than glance. The only thing holding him back, really, was fear.

It wasn’t all temptation. He really did need to sort things out with Margaret. He’d tried earlier, right after he’d gotten home, but… Yeah. The universe just didn’t feel right when he’d made her breasts smaller, aiming for whatever she’d started at. Or at least had after surgical augmentation.

He’d overdone it more than a little. Somehow. She’d started with somewhere around, well, porn star boobs. D cup? Double D? Something like that. He’d only added two cup sizes and, OK, he didn’t know how bras worked, but… Well he did know how bras worked. That was kinda obvious. It was the numbers and letters he was weak on, but porn star plus 2 letters somehow resulted in basketballs. OK. Maybe only soccer balls. But way bigger than he expected.

34-T. The internet said the number was the size of her torso. A huge number would make her fat. He left that alone. A huge letter meant huge boobs. So 2 cup sizes T-S-R… He paused. R was still definitely wrong. Way bigger than her starting point. Q-P-O. He set her cup size to 34-O.

And they were still huge. He must have done something else wrong. Maybe he’d clicked send twice. Or maybe Master PC was fucking with him. 34-J looked more reasonable. 34-E just seemed wrong somehow, a bit too small, so he played with the slider. He ultimately decided on a 34-G because more Internet research, staring at pictures of porn stars with large breasts, said that was about right. And based on the conversation they’d had at work, she’d be OK with it if they were still a bit big.

But he needed to experiment more before he tried anything like editing the woman from the coffee shop. She was high stakes. What would he change, anyway? Certainly not the eyes. Larger breasts? He’s never seen them outside a business jacket. Her hair could use a bit of work, maybe. Kind of brunette Betty Cooper. The ponytail worked for her, but something more like the Master PC genie…

Imagining coffee shop girl with the genie’s spectacular hair worked a bit too good. Or maybe it was all the porn he’d been looking at for the past half hour. He looked down at the tent in his pants. And decided he could do better. The woman from the coffee shop deserved better.

Glen took his pants off and then entered his own name into Master PC. Then he looked around for a back-up option. There wasn’t one, at least not that he could find, so he opened notepad and started taking notes.

Sexual stamina wasn’t bad. He knew from experience he could get it up and keep it up enough to keep Melissa happy back in college and for a short while after. Not happy enough, obviously, but that was more to do with her moving to follow a career opportunity. He hoped.

He popped her name into the subject bar and was told Melissa was out of range. No editing the Ex.

But whatever. Glen jotted down the number assigned to his stamina and then moved the slider all the way to the right. Why not?

Sexual sensitivity. That made him cringe. A lot could go wrong playing with that, like filling his pants with cum just from walking. Better to leave that alone.

Ejaculate volume, level noted and then doubled. And doubled again. And he still wasn’t even a quarter of the way along the slider bar. Jesus. 100% would probably really make a mess. So he got in the shower to try 100%. And was too creeped out, so he returned to his laptop and upped the Sexual Sensitivity, just a bit to get over the freak factor, to make it easier to come.

And it did make a big mess. A huge, shower stall-flooding mess. And it must have taken five minutes for his dick to stop shooting rope-after-rope of cum. And this wasn’t little strings of the stuff. It was more like the kind of cord you used to tie a mattress to the top of your car when moving. And just like with flooding the shower stall with semen, next time you didn’t. You just paid the money and rented a truck.

Probably only the maxed out sexual stamina kept his dick, if not his whole body, from collapsing and dying of exhaustion after all that exertion. His pelvis was worn out and so where his belly and thighs, but Master PC fixed that up. And added a bit of muscle tone as well. Nothing abs of steel, but… but his mind was wandering.

And he was probably going to be seriously dehydrated later, so he nipped that in the bud with a few big glasses of water and another to sip on while he worked.

The worst thing was the smell. Gross. There wasn’t a slider bar for that, so Glen winged it. Wung it? Whatever.

Glen> Subject’s cum has a pleasant smell and taste that women enjoy

Smell was a must. Taste just seemed like a good idea. He also considered making the flavour so good that it caused women to orgasm so they’d always come together, but he figured baby steps.

Length. Girth. More research. And now Google probably thought he was gay. But he’d just burned an hour-and-a-half using google to ogle big boobs, so maybe not all that gay. Maybe just curious. Dick sizes were worse than bras. There were zero published measurement standards. Glen decided to wing it again.

But just for fun, he tried out a foot-long dick. It looked really stupid until he increased the girth to match. Then he shrunk it back down to a size that looked impressive, to him anyway, but he figured wouldn’t hurt anybody. The woman from the coffee shop was pretty petite, so there was absolutely no point to going nuts on size. Puncturing a lung would end any relationship he got with her pretty fast.

He noted that he hadn’t recorded his original size but figured he could recreate it if he had to from years of familiarity. The new one looked pretty good, though. He pictured the woman from the coffee shop on her knees, gazing up at it in rapt desire. Glen’s dick wanted some of that. And Glen whole heartedly agreed with his dick. There was no slider for that, unfortunately.

So he typed it in.

Glen> Subject’s penis drives women crazy with desire.

Crazy… Crazy had some really bad connotations. The last thing he wanted was for someone to go completely nuts, rape him, and then maybe chop off his dick and keep it as a souvenir. On the less horrific end, he didn’t want brawls breaking out, either. Crazy was a really bad word choice. He backspaced the shit out of it.

Glen> Subject’s penis makes women wet with desire.

That certainly sounded better. Unless they started sweating.

Glen> Subject’s penis makes women sexually aroused.

That seemed good. But what if it just made women randomly horny?

Glen> Subject’s penis makes women sexually aroused when they see it.

But that would be kind of pointless. You’ve already got the woman interested by the point she has your pants off. Or you’re a supercreep. That said, it was pretty much what he wanted. Or was it? Melissa liked sex. Dick, not so much, and she was never the sort of person to just gaze at it worshipfully and then start sucking on it.

Glen> Subject’s penis makes women sexually aroused and want to enjoy it when they see it.

He wasn’t sure about enjoy it. If he and a woman had his pants down, enjoying it was probably already on the menu.

Glen> Subject’s penis makes women sexually aroused and want to

Jeeze this was hard. Kiss it? Fondle it? Pleasure it? Go nuts and start sucking it like a vacuum?

Glen> Subject’s penis makes women sexually aroused and need to suck it.

He’d figure the rest out when he got back. His upgraded dick needed new pants.

“Out on the town, all dressed up, and ready to have some fun.” A silly smile spread across Kimmy’s face. “We’re up all night for good fun.”

“What? I need my sleep.”

Kimmy laughed. “We’re up all night to get lucky,” she sang, dancing through the door. “We’re up all night to get lucky.”

Krysta looked around. She didn’t see what Kimmy was so happy about. It looked like an ordinary restaurant, but darker and more neon lighting. Big bar. OK. Kimmy had taken her to a pub. “We’re going to play Keno? We’d have to get lucky. The odds of winning are pretty bad.”

Not a pub. No Keno terminals for one thing. And the music was too loud. And there was a dance floor. Kimmy had taken her to a night club. Krysta took a deep breath. It was OK. She could do this. She was pretty now. Well, she had big boobs now. Not as big as Kimmy, but Kimmy was really enjoying hers, dancing along with her arms held up high and shaking her shoulders to that her boobs wriggled and jumped.

She looked like she fit in at least. Krysta let out her breath. She’d survived the Coffee Collector Card disaster. She’d made out with a guy at work. She could do this. She just had to keep breathing.

And that guy was across the room waving at them and shouting something Krysta couldn’t hear over the music. She could survive him, too.

Kimmy stopped shaking her breasts around and dancing and waved back at the guy. Which shook her breasts around.

Krysta peered over her glasses at the guy and engaged her super-vision for a better look. “You invited Martin, didn’t you?”

“Duh. I texted. Told him where you’d be. Left it up to him. He likes you, and he’s O.M.G. hot. You could do so much worse, and I’ll be honest. I don’t think anyone could do better.”

“Then you date him.” Martin looked different in clothes that fit properly, but as much as Krysta approved of Martin’s new look, Kimmy approved more.

“What?” Kimmy’s eyes lit up and for a moment she looked truly joyous. Then her eyes narrowed and she shook her head. “He’s yours. He. Likes. You. You saw him at work today. Look how fast he got here. He beat us here, and you only said yes, like, ten minutes ago. Man, if he’s got a place downtown, that makes him even better!”

“What? How?” It clicked. “Oh. Right. His proximity to the office reduces his environmental impact.”

“Uh… Yeah. Among other things.” Kimmy grabbed Krysta’s arm and pulled Krysta along in her wake. “C’mon. We’re in the way here.”

OK. So if Kimmy wanted Krysta and Martin to hook up, she had a weird way of showing it. Krysta knew she was about the worst in the world at spotting this sort of thing, but sometimes it was obvious even to her. Kimmy was out to match up Martin with someone who’s name started with K, all right, but it didn’t end in rysta.

That was kind of annoying. And Martin spent the whole time staring at Kimmy and Kimmy’s big boobs. That was more annoying. But Kimmy had the big boobs this time, so it lined up with the rest of the experimental data she had collected.

Krysta watched the two banter and thought back to the checklist Kimmy gave her earlier about picking up guys. Phone number was irrelevant. They could just talk in the cubicle they shared at work. Ask him out, Kimmy had done that already, sort-of. That left blowjob. And Kimmy said that was too forward. But maybe it was too forward for Krysta and a guy she didn’t know yet. Kimmy knew Martin. They worked in the same cubicle for at least as long as Krysta had been working out of the same office.

Maybe Kimmy wasn’t good at blowjobs. Maybe that’s what the problem was. No one was paying any attention to her, so Krysta opened up her laptop and took a look.

And Kimmy was actually pretty good at blowjobs. Not an expert like Krysta was, but that was an easy fix. Click, drag right. The real problem was Kimmy didn’t like giving blowjobs. Also an easy fix. Click, drag right. She watched Kimmy’s attention drift from Martin’s biceps in a tight tee-shirt downward to the bulging groin to his over-filled pants. A smile crossed Kimmy’s face, and she licked her lips.

Krysta put the laptop back away. Then she pulled it back out and opened it again. What if Martin didn’t like blowjobs either? That was indeterminant. According to the readout in Master PC, he’d never had a blowjob. Oh well. Kimmy would make sure he really liked it.

But he was obsessed with something called paizuri. She googled it. And it explained everything. Martin really did like breasts. He wanted to have sex with breasts. It didn’t surprise Krysta to find he was just as experienced with paizuri as he was with blowjobs, but he really, really wanted to get some practice.

Krysta didn’t see the point. Neither did Kimmy, but that was yet another easy fix.

Kimmy> Kimmy is just as excited by paizuri as Martin.

Kimmy’s gaze hardened. Or softened. Krysta knew she was no judge, but she did know Kimmy, and Kimmy looked like when she wanted something. She fixed Martin’s eyes with hers and buttoned down her blouse, tempting him to look away from her face and down, and of course he did. His eyes glazing over as Kimmy massaged her big boobs.

She let go. Her breasts dropped down and then bounced back up and jiggled to perky equilibrium. Kimmy looked over at Krysta and winked. She leaned in close and whispered, “You really don’t want any of this?”

“I’m thinking of heading home,” said Krysta. “It’s too loud in here.”

Kimmy rolled her eyes. “Stay a few minutes and watch our stuff while we dance.”

“Dance,” repeated Krysta. “Sure.” Krysta vanished into her laptop and played. When she looked up and around to make sure nothing had gone missing, Kimmy and Martin had. Master PC wasn’t a great locater, but at least Martin was still within the 100-mile range. And he really, really liked blowjobs now. All one of them. Well, half of one.

Krysta’s shoulders sagged. She was stuck in the club watching Kimmy and Martin’s stuff while they danced, and clearly they weren’t dancing anymore. Wherever they were, at least they were having fun.

So Krysta used Master PC to make sure no one would mess with their stuff and decided to learn to dance the easy way. Master PC didn’t have an option for skill at hugging, but it did have options for a couple dozen different styles of dance. Unsure what was most appropriate for a night club, probably not Ballet; Ballroom; or Tap, Krysta selected all of them.

And made her breasts bigger. The Powerpuff Girls could take it. They could take anything, just like Krysta took the dance floor. And all the phone numbers.

Kimmy slipped back to the table and assuaged her guilt by watching Krysta turn some guy into a puddle of lust on the dance floor. Who knew the wallflower could dance?

One minute Krysta was in front of the guy, not bad looking but no Martin, moving with the music, her body gyrating and her breasts bobbing and bopping along with her. Why did Krysta ever hide those things, anyway? Boobs were awesome! So awesome in so many ways.

The next minute Krysta was wrapped around the guy, hands sliding over his body, touching here, caressing there like she was giving a massage that came with a complementary happy ending. She hooked a leg behind the guy and pulled him in tighter and used her whole body the way she’d only used her hands a moment before. Actually, it looked like a stand-up fucking.

Kimmy watched in awe. If I were a guy and had that body and those boobs rubbing against me, I’d be coming already.

Boobs really were awesome. Kimmy figured she’d just never really noticed how awesome until she got the wild idea of fucking Marty’s brains out with them. His huge, delicious cock pumping shot after shot of cum onto them had been a life-changing experience. Licking his cum off of them, again something she’d never expected to like, but O. M. G. Live and learn. Too bad they got interrupted.

But talking about learning, mousy little Krysta was ripped. Kimmy made a note to ask what gym she used, because that was a gym worth going to. But that made no sense. Krysta? In a gym? Maybe this was all just dance training. But when? Krysta was an all work and no play kind of person.

Mind you, the more Kimmy watched, the more it looked like this was just a different side of the same old Krysta. She wasn’t playing. This was a sensual attack. She worked her body like a machine. A dance machine. A sex machine. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t get a boyfriend. She wore them out too fast.

That poor guy at the coffee shop had no chance. No fucking chance at all.

Then Martin got back. They’d kinda ruined his pants, but her new bra was a mess, too. He’d replaced the pants with something that wasn’t as sexy, but at least he could move in them. And they made his cock look ahhhhhhh-maaaaaeeee-zing. She was obsessed. No doubt about it. Something had flipped in her skull and now she…

“Sit down.” Kimmy worried for a second that she’d put a bit too much command in her demand, but Martin sat beside her on one of the swiveling seats at the front of the table.

“No. At the back on the bench.”

“Why?” asked Martin, sitting on the bench and sliding over to make room beside him for her. “What’s up?”

Kimmy slipped out of her seat and under the table to feed her new addiction.

“Hey. Need any help?”

Glen turned. The girl at the counter had snuck up behind him. She had a curious look on her face. Like literally curious. Like she was wondering what he was up to. But the store was empty, so he figured, fine. Whatever. He wasn’t shoplifting. How would you shoplift pants anyway?

“Uh… No. No, I’m OK.”

“Not so sure of that,” she said with a grin.

A cute grin. Too cute. She wanted something. He’d never tipped in a clothing store before, so a gratuity probably wasn’t her goal. She pulled the jeans he had draped over his arm off his arm and looked them over through narrowed, critical eyes.

She wrinkled her nose. Her lips pursed. “These don’t flatter you at all.” Then her eyes bobbed downward for a moment and her grin returned, this time looking a bit goofy, but Glen didn’t get the feeling she was making fun of him. She could have done that over at the counter. Not up close. Not with soft, melting eyes and a blush on her cheeks.

She shook her head, like she was clearing her mind, and stepped back. Glen had to admit. Either the girl knew her fashion or just looked good in everything. But something had embarrassed her because she looked down again and her face flushed. Her lips parted, her tongue teased out and moistened her lips, then she idly chewed her lower lip while she looked him over and thought. Always a good look on a woman.

And he had to stop thinking of her as a shop girl. Definitely a woman. Her posture screamed it. Weight on one leg emphasizing her hips. Tight tee shirt that advertised the store, the quality of the store’s wares, and a pair of breasts that looked like a decent handful. Short blonde hair, like she had a Taylor Swift thing in mind. Coffee shop woman’s ponytail was better, but not by much.

With her head tilted to one side and the gears in her brain turning behind her eyes, shop girl, shop woman, worked to close the gap fast.

Her eyes widened. Her lips pursed again, then spread into a smile. She turned. “I know just what you need.” She looked back at him over her shoulder with a gaze like the one he’d seen in his porn research earlier and her torso twisted like she was making sure he got an eyeful of breast and… She had a nice ass.

Was she flirting? His dick sure thought so. It reciprocated her show of interest the only way it knew how: swelling.

Her eyes swept down him for a final check and her goofy smile came back. Then she locked eyes and said, “What you’re wearing is a little tight.”

“Uhm. Yeah.” Great. With his upsized junk and straining pants, she probably thought she’d given him a boner. But if she kept on looking at him like that, it wouldn’t be long before he had one. At the expense of his old pants.

“But it’s the wrong kind of tight. I know exactly what you need. Pick a booth. Go on in. I’ll be along in a minute.”

Glen grabbed some new pants on the way, a bit bigger at the waist because he didn’t want to look like a total incompetent, on his way through the shop to the changing rooms in the back. He looked back over his shoulder as he walked into a booth. The shop girl was locking up the shop.

“Making sure we’re not getting interrupted,” she said when she caught him watching. “Get in the booth and get those ugly pants off.”

That was a bit creepy. If it came down to it, Glen was pretty sure he could take her. He pushed that thought off to the side. Why would she flirt and then do what, try to kill him? Cameras everywhere. If two people were in the store and only one walked out, that was pretty open-and-shut. She didn’t look stupid.

She looked more… into him than anything else. Maybe big dicks did work. She hadn’t seen it, so it couldn’t be working its magic on her, could it? Did it work through clothes?

Only one way to find out, he figured. He had one leg out of his pants when someone knocked on the door. The store was locked up. It could only be one person, so Glen drew back the bolt.

Instead of handing him pants, the blonde girl shoved her way in. Glen tried to keep a respectful distance, but… Yeah. That wasn’t really an option.

“OK,” she said. “Let’s see what we’ve got to work with.”

“Where are the pants?”

“Oh puh-lease. I’m a professional. I need to take measurements and…” her voice trailed off. “And why the fuck are we even pretending?”

He had a blonde with the face and body of a model crushed into him before she finished talking. The sentence was punctuated with a kiss, not a question mark. It was deep, but quick. She didn’t seem that interested in kissing.

“You’re not seeing anyone, are you? I don’t see any rings. Checked that first thing.” Her grin was promising. Downright slutty. “OK. Second thing.” Her hand cupped his balls through his underwear. Her eyes went wide.

“Oh baby,” she said with a salacious look in her twinkling eyes. “Mind if I have a look?”

Before Glen’s brain could manage any sort of a response, the blonde was on her knees and pulling his underwear down. His big, new dick flopped out, glancing off her nose on the way down.

The blonde stopped and stared. Her mouth opened and close and then opened again. She made a little growl in the back of her throat. “That’s not even hard yet?”

It wasn’t. But it wasn’t going to stay that way for long. It didn’t have any choice. Her eyes. The look of awe and hunger on her face. Her lips closing around the tip of his dick sealed the deal. Already long and thick, it got longer. Thicker. Harder. And as his dick swelled, it stretched out and reached deeper into her mouth. Her eyes shone and she shuddered.

Glen watched her, unable to do much else. Maybe it was the extra size gave her more to work with. Maybe the shop girl, woman, was just better at it than Melissa. Maybe it was her supernaturally enhanced interest. Whatever it was, she’d paralyzed Glen.

Her head pulled back and he popped out of her mouth with a literal pop. She giggled and then kissed the tip of his hard cock.

“This is amazing.” Her eyes drifted shut and she sighed, rubbing his cock against her face. “I mean oh my god. Yummmmmmm.”

She slowly pumped his cock. “How can it be so big and so hard?” She licked it bottom to top, ran her tongue around the head, kissed it, sighed rapturously, and then kissed and licked her way back down. On her way back up, she brought a tape measure.

“Nine-anna-half… Oh. My. Ghod!” She looked at his cock, vibrating with need. Her, not his cock. But that too. She had to stop with the ogling and get back to work. Glen’s life depended on it. His heart pounded so hard and fast keeping his cock full that he felt like he’d burst.

Fortunately, the shop girl didn’t have much more patience than he did. She dropped the tape pulled his cock down like a lever and swallowed about half of it in one go. Her head slowly pistonned back and forward, trying to take more and more until he hit the back of her throat. Felt the, what was that hanging thing? Tonsils? No those were on the sides. The hanging thing was… He couldn’t think of the word. He could barely think at all.

She pried an “Oh fuck.” out of him and stopped for a breath of air.

“Yeah.” Her eyes locked his and she wore a hungry smile that promised rapture. “That’s next.”

She licked up the shaft and closed her lips around the tip again. She held their mutual gaze of lust the whole time with her glassy-looking, wide eyes. Her hands, both of them, wrapped around the shaft and started stroking slowly. Her tongue teased. Her lips massaged.

His brain, before switching off, released the safeties.

And that’s when Glen realized that after cleaning up the bathroom he hadn’t turned the ejaculate volume back down from maximum. If he didn’t get her mouth off him, like five seconds ago, he’d pop and fill the changing booth the same way he’d filled his shower stall at home earlier.

Glen moaned. He’d meant to say more, but his cock wouldn’t let him. The blonde was just as good at controlling minds as Master PC. Maybe even better. He cleared his mind. Fought down the eruption building within.

“Yeah.That’s right,” the blonde said, pausing long enough to delay the inevitable. “Come for me, baby.” Her silken voice drew back the hammer. “I bet these big balls have loads of cum for me.”

Glen moaned, louder this time, and proved her right.

Krysta could have brought any of a dozen guys home with her or gone home with them. They were willing enough, but it was all just a game. She wasn’t interested in any of them, just the experiment. But it wasn’t an experiment, not really. Not anymore. She had more than enough of that data. After the first half dozen, she was just playing with them. Keeping score. And she’d run the score up pretty high.

She toyed with editing one of them and then trying out some of whatever Kimmy had been up to under the table when Krysta went back to get her computer, backpack, and bags of new-and-old clothes. Both Kimmy and Martin really seemed to be enjoying it. It didn’t seem to register with Martin that she was there. He just moaned and twitched with his eyes rolled up in their sockets far enough to perform a visual inspection of his brain. A brain that was 100% Kimmy’s possession.

Krysta just went home.

The smart thing to do was more research. It served her well in day-to-day life, so how poorly could research perform when dealing in the supernatural? Besides, she wasn’t all that interested in the supernatural aspects. She’d proved those work. More the real-world question of what did guys like? Google didn’t come right out and say, “Boobs.” It might as well have, though. Boobs were very heavily implied in the search results. Some men seemed more interested than others, though. One of her conquests that night had been practically drooling over her legs.

So boobs and legs.

And at the end of the day, she just wasn’t interested in guys. She’d done OK for years without them. It was just this one guy.

Maybe she was really just in love with his laptop. That’s what had caught her attention the first time. Sure, but the other 98 times was him. His eyes. The change that time he got a haircut. Kinda liked his ears. But mostly his eyes and the way he looked at her. Guys didn’t look at her that way.

Except for Martin, and that was different. Martin hadn’t so much as looked at her before she’d upgraded her boobs. Most of Coffee Shop Guy’s attention seemed to be on her eyes.

So maybe boobs, legs, and eyes. But if you were going to go that far, why not obsess over other silly stuff like butts? That’s when she found Kim Kardashian was known for more than just a TV show.

So the Internet was no help at all. Guys were just into everything. In general.

To understand what guys wanted in a woman, she needed to think more like a guy. Transforming into a guy was out, because it totally defeated the point, but a quick change to her sexual orientation… Krysta paused and looked at the marker near the center of the orientation slider bar. She’d never realized she was kind-of bi. Eyeballing the slider bar, it looked like she was only about 10% into the straight end of the spectrum. Maybe it explained a few things. Maybe not. Moving the slider around did almost nothing. She dragged it to one end, hit apply, and didn’t really feel any different. Ditto on the other end, so she left it in the neutral position in the middle.

She pondered the problem a while. Then she backed up her settings with a screenshot, grabbed a snack, watched some Netflix, a little psychological thriller, and… and the psychiatrist character was counseling a nymphomaniac.

Her laptop came back out. Trying out hypersexuality didn’t look like such a good idea, looked like a nightmare actually, but ticking up her sex drive from the almost zero it sat at seemed promising. Almost zero. Maybe that was why she never bothered to try to get a boyfriend. Or even a girlfriend, apparently. Even when the girls she’d gone to school with were fighting like animals to get boyfriends. Screaming and crying when they lost boyfriends. Then scheming to get a new one.

Or maybe it wasn’t sex, and had more to do with fitting in. Having a boyfriend made you fit in. She’d tried fitting in once or twice. It hadn’t gone well. Maybe a boyfriend would have helped, but somehow Krysta doubted it.

Too many maybes for comfort and almost no hard data, so Krysta moved her Sex Drive statistic to the middle of the bar. Not much changed. But why would it? Sexual response was also on the low side, so she’d increased a desire for something that didn’t really mean much, physically. She pursed her lips and thought for a minute before setting the response slider to about the same level as drive.

While she had always intellectually acknowledged the psychiatrist on TV was an attractive man, middle-aged and dignified. Short, well-groomed beard. Physically fit and tall. Or maybe the other actors were short. Hard to tell with TV. Now she found herself looking closer. Picking off other details, like his piercing blue eyes, and she felt a rush. A tingling. An increase of her heart rate. The patient, though. She was hot. Hotter. Long brown hair. Long legs. Her top was buttoned down the way Kimmy suggested to sell up her boobs. Boobs that were probably given some extra help with padding or implants. She took her breasts seriously and made them work for her. And she was a nymphomaniac. The tingling increased.

Ten minutes later she realized she’d daydreamed through the rest of the show.

Thinking about the guys at the club made her heart race. She regretted not bringing all of them home. Martin. She’d left that slab of meat to Kimmy. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Kimmy… “Mmmmmmy god, Kimmy is sooooooooo hot!”

She thought back to the last time she’d seen the man with the laptop. She pawed at a breast. Her nipple was rock hard. Diamond hard. Her other hand went south, between her spread legs. It knew what to do, and it did it.

But what if the middle of the libido bar wasn’t average? What if it was still really high? For the time being, she didn’t care. It felt too good to stop. She imagined coffee shop guy. His eyes. She screamed.

“You can’t be serious. You’ve met the guy twice.” Priyanka knew her sister too well. Push too hard and Rukmini would get stubborn and dig in for a long, protracted fight. And it would be a long fight. A till-death-do-you-part fight. That meant no exasperated sighs. No rolling her eyes. No calling Vikram a nerd or a loser. Just present the facts and rebut her arguments. Just like they taught in school.

“Mother and father worked very hard setting this up,” said Rukmini. Her head tilted to the side, causing her short brown hair to fall away from her face, and her eyes narrowed like she was looking for the coming fight.

Priyanka wasn’t going to bite. Calm. Rational. Forget that your sister’s going to throw her life away. “You’re my sister, Rukmini, and I love you, but get real. One, they didn’t have to work that hard. They just sat down with Vikram’s parents and talked for a while. Two, this isn’t India.”

Rukmini snorted. “Ok, then let me say this in English to make sure you understand it: Fuck you.”

Priyanka blinked. That went so wrong so fast. And she’d done everything right, too. Some sisters. They looked nothing alike. They acted nothing alike. Nearly a lifetime of shared experiences had resulted in very little in common. Their father, he’d gotten very lucky in his arranged marriage. Rukmini took after him, and it looked as though she expected the same fantastic fortune.

But Priyanka knew better. She took after their mother, a pageant-winning beauty queen. Sleek, slender and well proportioned. The only thing Mini had that Pree didn’t was their mother’s full breasts. And she never bothered to take advantage of them! That might have been more annoying, but Pree knew, and she could count on the testimony of pretty much every guy who laid eyes on her as proof, that she scored an easy 10 without big boobs. And if somehow it became necessary, Pree could always get a boob job.

Rukmini was stuck being a 7 at best. And she never put in the work to look her best.

But maybe she had a point. Mother, and all her celebrated beauty, had been trapped into an arranged marriage with someone who didn’t look that different from Vikram. Pree had seen the photos. Their mother had been very patient and done a lot of work remodeling until she’d gotten the successful businessman her husband was today. But it had taken years, and that was not happening to Pree. She had youth and beauty, and it was going to be used while she still had it.

So maybe Vikram wasn’t completely hopeless in the long run, but he was detestable right now. Anyone who looked at the sister of his future wife the way he did, gazing lustfully at her face, probably fantasizing about how he’d lucked out. Then looking down and… disappointment.

The tasteless fucker! Disappointment was supposed to hit when her father introduced his new betrothed, and he realized he’d won second prize. But in Vikram-the-idiot’s case his eyes locked on Rukmini’s boobs and lit up again.

After that, every time she caught him looking at her after that Pree knew… She Knew! The creep was imagining what she’d look like with bigger boobs.

Gross.

“I’m sick of you rolling your eyes at me.” Rukmini glared.

No she hadn’t. She hadn’t rolled her eyes. She was sitting on a bed looking at her idiot sister and… Shit.

“You’re doing it again. Get over yourself, Pree. I’m not you. I don’t want to be you. I don’t have guys falling all over me. I don’t want guys falling all over me. I don’t want what you want.”

“You don’t have to. Just… be a bit choosier. I want you to be happy.”

“I. Am. Happy!” Rukmini shouted. “I. Want. This.”

“You don’t want Vikram. The guy is a creep!” Her arms covered her small breasts trying to ward off the memory of his leering.

“How would you know? You’ve only met him once.”

“I know because of the way he stared at me.”

“Everybody stares at you. And you totally take advantage.”

That was true. But they saw her as her. And they liked it. Vikram saw her and wanted more. “That was a gross stare. There are totally different types of stares. If you got out more, you’d see that. Meet some other guys. See what you’re missing. Be stared at yourself. Dress up a little. Just… Try.”

“Well, I’ll have plenty of time to do it. I can’t believe Mother and Father married you off first. I’m the eldest!”

“Wha… What?” The room seemed to jolt around Priyanka, but everything looked normal. Felt normal. Except being sold like chattel to a creep by her parents. Fortunately, he was a well-hung creep. She licked her lips as she remembered the bulge in his pants. The urge to take it out and play with it at the table. Try it out with her mouth.

“Pree?” You OK? You look funny.”

“Yah. I’m fine. Just looking forward to something.” Priyanka sat up straighter. It made her big breasts thrust out and strain her tight tee shirt. She liked that. She loved what her full, teardrop-shaped tits did to the minds of men. She did not like what her far-too-tight bra was doing to her lovely, lovely jugs, so she pulled her top off and dealt with the stupid thing.

“Pree? Uhm.”

“Oh relax. I don’t have anything you don’t.” The bra slid down her arms and she dropped it unceremoniously to the floor. Then she cupped her big baby-feeders, the thrusting and round sex-toys jutting from her chest, and gave them a little squeeze. Imagined Vik’s hard cock between them as she slowly, deliberately drove him nuts. Her head leaned forward to lick the tip as he groaned and thrust. She could almost taste it. She needed to taste it.

Her sister was staring at her like she was crazy. Then she glared. Priyanka glared back. She tossed her long hair and loved the feeling of her huge knockers swaying. And to think that before Vikram she’d thought they were too big. Now she worried they weren’t big enough.

“You know, getting married won’t be all that bad.” Wouldn’t be bad at all. Vikram’s massive, manly cock would reach all the parts of her no one else could, and she could have it whenever she wanted it. Her body shuddered as she imagined Vik’s lordly rod pushing through her cervix and pumping cum directly into her womb. Making sure she got knocked up. She opened her eyes again. Rukmini’s glare was gone, replaced with a very familiar look: desire.

And she knew her face mirrored her sister’s. It was time to get her out of those ugly clothes and into the bed.

Pree hefted one of Mini’s weighty, head-sized tits and closed her lips around the already-swollen nipple. The cries were pure rapture to her ears. She’d wanted to do this for so long. She loved big tits. Having them. Touching them. Kissing them. Everything about them.

A few sweaty and passionate minutes later, Mini lifted her face out from between Priyanka’s thighs, and said, “Hey. Why don’t you call up Vik?”

That was a great idea. Pree felt around for her phone. “You’re the smart and practical one.”

Mini’s tongue licked up Pree’s wet slit, and Pree shook with pleasure. Rukmini paused and waited for her sister to relax, then said “And the pretty one.”

“Ha-ha-ha,” said Priyanka, dripping sarcasm. “We’re twins.”