The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Falling

Chapter 3

Amanda walked into practice with a coy grin. As always, the other girls were undressing. Jessica, Melanie, Katie, Eve, all of them shameless. They squeezed their tits for each other, blew kisses, posed seductively. And as always, the teacher in charge sat with her eyes glazed over. Her blazer and blouse were open, the large breasts beneath out in the open. Rings of darkened flesh revealed her large, full tits to be lactating, their nipples huge and engorged. Mrs. Everton watched everything with an absent smile, her mind elsewhere as her cheerleaders played and flirted. That this was unacceptable no longer occurred to her. This was just how teenage girls acted, and it would be wrong to interfere. That’s why she had to sit off to the side, tits on display in case any of her babies got hungry. The thought of forcing a girl to perform on an empty stomach, or in a stuffy uniform, was out of the question, even if it meant stopping practice to take one of them in and feed them.

“I like your tits, Mrs. Everton.”

The woman moaned softly. She loved when her babies complemented her breasts. She felt so good, so cherished. Her cheerleaders had to learn from her, learn to be good and submissive girls. She was glad they noticed how she hung her tits out for them, let them appreciate her best assets.

“I think the new girl wants some.”

There was no “new girl” Mrs. Everton had heard of but she knew that Amanda was telling the truth. Amanda was a good girl, and she’d never lie.

“Okay, bring her here.”

Mrs. Everton had to sit and watch her girls change. She couldn’t leave her chair, couldn’t hurry them. Their flirtations and rituals were sacred.

“Christiiiine!”

The bluehaired girl walked up, eyes locked to the teacher’s titties as her stomach growled. She licked her lips, a blazing feeling welling between her thighs.

“Sit in her lap.”

Obediently Christine got settled in the teacher’s lap. Now that the schoolday was over she could drop her valley girl act but she was stuck in this stupid cheerleading setup. Her body was a prison, acting by another’s orders while she rattled at her bars and screamed in vain.

“Ooooh, you’re pretty!”

Christine wore the cheerleading uniform: bright blue, with a crop top and a tiny skirt that barely covered her crotch. She tried to hate how comfortable the skirt felt, how nicely it fluttered as she walked.

“Thank you!”

Her body sung as she tried to prevent it from grinning wide, and failed. Her body played with the teacher’s titties.

“Well, you gonna play with your food or eat?”

To Christine’s horror she clamped tight on one of the nipples. Her thighs quaked violently as she felt her lingerie become thoroughly soaked. She tried to tell her teacher how tasty she was but the words drowned in milk, sweet precious milk, as Christine felt her mind going numb.

“NO!”

She wanted to scream. Wetness built on both ends of the slim girl’s body as she came and spilled milk. She remembered that a good girl lusts, a good girl loves. She knew she had to be a good girl. Good girls obeyed Amanda, good girls were pretty sluts. No, that couldn’t be, she had to fight how goooood everything felt, how much she loved the taste of this milk. She had to remind herself herself that idly pressing her boobs together to show them off was good, because titties are great and meant to be enjoyed. She had to suck down every last drop of milk, moan as loudly and immoddestly as she could. She had to obey Amanda. She had no choice.

“MMMMMMMMM!”

Even as she knelt to the other nipple Christine was groaning incredibly loudly. She gulped down more and more milk, twitching as she gushed fluid onto Mrs. Everton’s delectable thighs. She felt like a baby, a well behaved baby. She had to obey, she had to drink. She had no obligation to be responsible, only to do as she was told.

“That was soooooo gooood—”

Christine sang as she squeezed her tits together for Mrs. Everton to enjoy. The milk all over her neck and shirt didn’t matter.

“You taste lovely!”

Amanda’s grip started to weaken as Christine’s mind awoke within its shell. It wasn’t visible, though. She was smiling just as wide, practically bouncing up and down still with excitement that she’d gulped down a grown woman’s milk and came all over her legs. Even as her mind became horrified her hands grabbed the breasts which had fed her and began to play with them.

“I love your titties so much!”

Christine wanted to cringe, duct tape her own mouth shut. She would never call breasts “tits,” let alone “titties,” and she didn’t love them!

“Uh….”

Something burned in her head. What had Amanda said?

if you ever object to calling boobs titties again stare at mine until you’re nice and weak and impressionable again.

No. Please, she begged herself. She didn’t have to do this. She hadn’t said anything, it didn’t count. No matter how nice her breasts were, she had to fight them. But they were so nice, and Amanda said to stare when she objected.

“Amandaaaaa….”

Shit. That burning feeling was back.

and if you find yourself fighting the programming let me know so I can help you be happy and slutty like you want.

She didn’t WANT to be slutty, she argued. She WANTED to be free. But Amanda didn’t say “if you want,” her brain countered, only “if you fight it.”

“Amanda, I’m fighting iiiiiit…”

Amanda grinned. It was bitch grin, that sadistic smile she wore when she was about to get what she wanted.

“Are you?”

She smiled, sloooowly opening up her blouse, one button at a time. Christine felt the power begin to seep into her. It was like her brain was suddenly heavy, becoming more sluggish by the second. Her thoughts began to crumble, sentences atrophying into words which scrambled into a soup of vague feelings. She was trapped, staring intently as the blond slowly, deliberately, took one button after another off.

“Such a good girl.”

“Such a good girl.”

That sentence was easy. It sliced through the miasma of nonsense like a knife, gave her a lighthouse to follow through the fog of her brain.

“Such a slut for a nice pair of tits.”

“Yes, Amanda. I’m a slut for a nice pair of tits.”

Yes, she was. She was helpless, unable to look away. She claimed to hate this girl but so much as a glimpse at her huge, lovely titties had Christine head over heels.

“You obey girls with big boobs, Christine. Because you’re a good girl.”

“Yes, Amanda.”

Her body felt so weak, so pathetic. She would flop out of the soft lap and onto the hard, dirty floor without those sweet, majestic titties to focus on. She was so glad those tits were there, to focus her tired, sleepy eyes on.

“I obey girls with big tits. I obey them because I’m a good girl.”

Amanda rubbed and pressed. The useless lesbian in front of her stared and purred, delighted to see those gigantic mounds of pure beauty played with. A sigh escaped her mouth as she relaxed.

“Good girls are slutty, Christine. Good girls love tits.”

A faint smile graced Christine’s face as she leaned out towards the tits.

“Yes, Amanda. Good girls are slutty. Good girls looooove tits.”

She watched as Amanda pressed her boobs together, bounced them in her hands.

“Good girls let their body act for them. Your body is in charge, Christine.”

“Yes, Amanda.”

Christine’s mind felt less and less tired with each command. They flowed easily into her, filling her head. The garbage noise that it replaced had been chaotic and difficult. These were concrete, infallible. Those tits had to be right, which was why she listened, obeyed.

“I let my body act on its own, Amanda. My body controls me, Amanda.”

She felt so good repeating Amanda’s words back to her. It helped assure her that yes, the girl with the breasts of a godess had absolute control over her. All was right with the world.

“You’re my little pet slut, Christine.”

Christine let out a loud moan.

“Yes, Amanda, your little slut, your peeeet sluuuuut…”

She was Amanda’s to play with, to command. She obeyed. She was a good girl.

“Good. Now wake up.”

Christine blinked, feeling those thoughts race and reassemble themselves. She knew she’d been put back under but not what had happened while she was out. She wanted to angrily demand to know what was done to her but instead she felt warm and good.

“Good girl!”

Amanda reached out to stroke her pet and, to her own terror, Christine nuzzled into her hand.

“I’m your little sexy kitten!”

Shame took hold of Christine. Amanda made a coy smile.

“I can’t wait till the custom uniform arrives!”

Christine blushed, her terror breaking through her mask of joy. What did she mean, custom uniform?

“Aren’t you glad I talked you into it?”

Behind her, Mrs. Everton moaned. The woman’s dignity, cool air, and reserved nature were things of the past. The new Mrs. Everton coached topless, breastfed any cheerleader who asked, and happily complied with all of Amanda’s demands.

“Yesssss, sweetie, so gooood…”

“Aren’t you happy to be mine?”

A distinctly sexual moan rumbled within the teacher’s body and bellowed its way out.

“Yesssss, darling. Being yours is so niiiiice, obeying you makes me so happy. I’m so glad you’re in charge now…”

She’d begun to paw at her tits, and to Christine’s surprise she found herself agreeing. Now that a big-tittied girl who wasn’t Amanda said it, it was all so reasonable.

“Being Amanda’s...so nice…”

Christine pawed at her own breasts, which were small but not flat.

Amanda seductively walked up, hugging Christine. The girl grinned, melting in her favorite person’s arms.

“Obeying Amanda makes me soooo happy…”

She could feel her mind slipping as the mantra took over. Fighting this was so hard, giving in felt so good. Amanda was good, she had such big titties. If she disagreed with Amanda she was wrong and needed to be educated. Therefore it was good to give in, to let the tits smother her brains and let Amanda mold her however the clearly superior woman wished.

“I’m so glad you’re in charge…”

She whispered into Amanda’s cleavage, squirming as she came yet again. She had to fight. She couldn’t let these surrenders add up or they’d become permenent, and she’d become just another one….of…

“Your pet sluts…”

Christine’s heart beat rapidly as she realized she already was. Fighting it was pointless. She BELONGED to Amanda. Fighting Amanda was bad. Amanda’s tits entitled her to owning Christine, and Christine deserved nothing better.

“Yours…”

Her vision pulsed and blurred as her brain writhed in agony. She couldn’t let this programming win.

“Your...slut…”

She kissed Amanda. Amanda kissed very well. Her tongue was soft, wet, playful. Sucking on it felt good. Letting Amanda suck on hers felt better.

“Your….pet slut…”

She hugged Amanda, kissed harder. Christine loved her owner. She loved being a pet.

“Own me….”

Christine’s mind became as insubstantial as foam, her consciousness weakened as the programming took over. She didn’t resist when she was ordered to go naked through her first practice. She didn’t even blink when Miranda tried to object and got hypnotized. She didn’t mind that Miranda’s punishment was to serve as the team’s sex toy, sitting practice out naked and dancing with joy when her teammates did well. She didn’t care that she was groped and stared at. She didn’t mind when Melanie requested practice stop so Christine could eat her out, and she was mildly pleased when Amanda approved. She didn’t care that nothing negative was said about anyone, or that the teacher was essentially eye candy. The one time she seemed to have an objection she put practice on hold while she and Amanda discussed something out of sight, then wore a thong and nothing else for the rest of practice. Seeing the girl, so happy and obedient and punished for the crime of defying Amanda, gleefully aware of her punishment, revelling in the righteousness of her decree, put a warmth in Christine’s soul. That, when all was said and done, the team essentially had an orgy before getting in the shower, was not a surprise, and she quite liked it. That she was ordered to hump a pole didn’t bother her, nor did the entire team gathering to watch. She even apologized to Katie for being so homophobic and let the girl take a dozen or two nude photos to masturbate with. She stared blankly as she was dressed by other students and kissed and licked, she stared blankly as she walked home, and she stared blankly as she opened the door. Only when it closed behind her did the programming recede, leaving her to guess what happened in between that hug and her return. The last she remembered she was in a grown woman’s lap, drool and human breastmilk all over her, struggling in vain to fight Amanda’s programming…

Her phone dinged. She didn’t know that she’d zoned right back out, texted Amanda begging for help with the thoughts telling her to break free, and then deleted it. She only knew that when she saw the words, “Tits are lovely,” in the reply, she smiled.

“Yes.”

She said out loud, grasping her own.

“Tits are lovely…”

She felt them up, picturing Amanda in her mind.

“So good…”

She groped as hard as she could, feeling her panicked thoughts drown in the sweet, syruppy feeling that Amanda’s gorgeousness gave her.

“Soooo goooood…”

Her mind tried to tell her to stop, that her mom could walk in at any time. Amanda’s voice echoed inside of her.

“Yessss, even if your mom gets home. Keep going, stare at your mother’s tits. Imagine them, uncovered, pressed to yours.”

Christine groaned as she imagined her mother topless. She wasn’t supposed to be a lesbian, but ever since Amanda had started talking to her breasts had become a focal point of her fantasies.

“I love your tits so much, mom…”

She was programmed to vocalize while she masturbated, and she did. As her thighs rubbed together and her hands hungrily grabbed at her chest and her whole body trembled her imaginary mother jumped up and down, giggling as her tits bounced and lept and dragged her daughter’s eyes with them.

“I love tits…”

She wanted to cum. She wanted to tear one hand from her tits and jam it down her panties, cram her fingers deep inside of herself and wriggle it until she soaked her panties. She had no choice in the matter, though. Amanda said to fondle herself until she went blank. She imagined her mother and Amanda kissing, their breasts smooshed against one another.

“No…”

She could feel herself getting weak. This exact fantasy was programmed.

”That’s a good girl. Stare at my titties, just like your sweet daughter.”

She could see the light in her mother’s eyes going out as her mother’s will was sucked out of her. Watching her mother’s angry glare become a weak grin filled her with excitement.

”Yes, Amanda. I’ll stare at your titties. I’ll stare, just like my daughter…”

Happiness overcame her.

“Yes, Mom, just like that…”

She pictured how Amanda would seduce her mother. Turn her mind to clay, soften her rough mannerisms and turn her into a good, lesbian slut. She imagined the degrading things Amanda would tell her mother to say to her, moaned when her mother obeyed without a second thought. She imagined her mother ordered to strip and obeying, her eyes locked on Amanda’s gigantic titties all the while.

“Such a goood giiiiirl…”

She groaned, trembling as she orgasmed. Then the cloud went away and she clutched at her head.

“Not again…”

She trudged upstairs and got undressed. As she reached to her drawers to get more clothes a familiar voice hissed into her mind.

Amanda said not to wear clothes when you’re home alone.

Christine moaned in frustration. She wanted to defy the voice but she wasn’t able to. When she steeled herself she reached out, grabbing a handle. Her mind screeched at her to let go but, sweating with effort, she pulled it open. She stood in place, staring at her panties. She needed to wear clothes. Her mom could get home, or her sister.

No.

The voice spoke up.

What you need to do is dance in front of a window for anyone to see.

Christine shook her head, forcing her body to stay in place. It whined at her, tugged at her towards the window. She wanted to put her naked body on display.

Sluts like you should be naked whenever they can, right?

Amanda’s voice made her weak. She wanted to be a slut, to dance in front of the window for anyone to see. She didn’t want to grab panties and put them on her if she didn’t have to. Swaying, lightheaded, she seized a pair. Then she looked at it, arm trembling as it fought her control.

“I need…”

She had to put it on. But how? How did clothes work?

Christine sighed with defeat. Of course. Amanda had instructed her to forget how clothes worked in case she tried to fight that one. As long as she was home alone her mind wasn’t going to be able to figure out how to get that pair of panties on her, it was just too complicated. Christine set it down, walking over to her window. Joy took hold of her as she gripped her tits, thrusted her crotch at the outside world. She smiled wide, feeling free as she rubbed them together and undulated her belly.

“I’m such a slut!”

She felt so good. SO GOOD. Until somebody else came she was free to do as Amanda said, free to be naked and dance for all the world. She shivered as she relished in her new freedom, the programming taking over again. Her fantasy from earlier returned, and she imagined her mother breastfeeding Amanda. She blushed with happiness as her crotch got warm again.

“I’m such a slut—”

She imagined her mother once more, smiling and stroking her hair.

”I’m so proud of you, Christine. You’re such a slut!”

“I ammmm, mommy…”

Once again Christine fell under the influence of her programming, and didn’t snap out of it until her mom’s car pulled in. She threw clothes on in a hurry and hid the evidence.