The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The last thing that she positively could identify as real was what she’d done to Fifi. To Lorraine. Surreal as it was, Courtney could remember how her fingers felt up the woman’s rectum and it turned her stomach and it turned her on.

But the feelings of unreality were shifting even more now into something so ambiguous that Courtney could not rightly decide if she had witnessed the subsequent events or if her mind was conjuring them as she attempted restless sleep.

Real or imagined, Courtney sat half-dozing in her chair. Fifi sat on Jay’s lap with one of his arms around her trim waist and the other massaging her white-stockinged thigh while she cooed and kissed him. He really wanted to fuck her, Courtney could tell. And that was all right. Fifi was beautiful, obedient, and willing. She was almost a perfect maid.

“Fifi,” Tyrone said, his voice conveying absolute authority, “will you make sure that our guests’ ‘other’ needs are being met? Let’s start with Miss Courtney to thank her for the display earlier.”

The maid rose to her feet and curtsied to her master. “Certainly, sir,” Fifi said before turning on her heel toward Courtney who began to tremble slightly at the display before her.

“Can I confide in you a secret, Miss Courtney?”

Courtney swallowed, nodded.

“This uniform makes me want to fuck all the time. I’ve never been so horny in all my life.” She leaned in close and Courtney felt the older woman’s hot breath in her face. “Does that make you wet, Madam?”

Courtney opened her mouth to say that she wasn’t into women, but her jaw went slack. How could she say such a thing after what had happened? After what she’d done? She felt dull aches in her head and her nether region. Her hand wandered to the zipper on her jeans while her mind ran through all the reasons such a request was wrong. Her fingers danced on the zipper, needing only the slightest push of will from Courtney’s brain to comply.

“I will serve you, if you let me.”

Jay and Tyrone exchanged glances, smiled at her to accept Fifi’s offer.

Courtney closed her eyes. This wasn’t lesbianism because Fifi wasn’t a woman, she was just a maid doing her duty for her master’s house guests. She slid the zipper down.

“Good, wasn’t she,” Tyrone was smirking, holding a green beer bottle, but Courtney’s vision was fuzzy and couldn’t make out the brand. She was still fingering her clit and reliving the memory of Fifi’s tongue in her pussy.

Jay slouched in the grey bucket chair, his dick still hanging out in the open, boxer slid halfway down his thighs. Fifi had ridden him raw and watching the serving girl work her magic on him gave rise to feelings Courtney never had before.

“That—that was fucking amazing,” Jay said.

Courtney hadn’t heard him use that language often, neither of them did, but she knew where he was coming from. “You’re a lucky man to come home to that every day, Tyrone,” she agreed.

Tyrone stood up. “I’m afraid I’ll have to be off to bed now. I have to open the store tomorrow. Stay, if you choose, however long you want. Fifi,” he called toward the kitchen, where she was tossing out empty beer bottles, “Sir and Madam are staying for awhile. I need you to stay in uniform while they’re here.”

A cheery, “Of course” came from the threshold of the kitchen.

“If you need anything at all,” Tyrone nodded to Fifi.

Neither one of the exhausted couple said a word.

When they’d recovered their senses, Jay and Courtney found themselves grabbing their coats and racing out the door.

“What did we just do?” Jason’s face was pale. “What was that?”

Courtney found herself unable to speak at this.

Jay scraped the window of the car while Courtney fired up the engine. It was three-thirty in the morning. Tomorrow, or rather today, was Saturday and neither of them had to work, but it was getting to the point where she began to suspect they might be sleeping most of the day.

Courtney found herself in her bed, pinched her arm. She seemed to be awake now. The sounds of life outside seemed to confirm it.

Jay was sleeping just as fitfully as Courtney herself. Her eyes, bleary and burning, were open. Her body ran hot and cold and bright light, reflecting off the snow outside, streamed into the bedroom.

Jay was lying next to her, asleep or resting for the time being, with all of his share of the covers kicked off. Pearly cum seeped through his boxers. Courtney could see from the crusted stains that this was not the first load he fired off since attempting sleep.

She’d come, too, when she thought of dominating sexy Fifi and also when she thought of herself dressed up, serving Jay.

Courtney pulled the covers over herself and snuggled down into the bed, letting her fingers dance across her clit. A dream, one that she could tell was simply a dream, formed in her mind.

Mindy had been her friend for what seemed like forever. She was a cute girl with shoulder-length dirty blond hair, sparkling green eyes, and a splatter of freckles across her nose. And she was a bit of a troublemaker.

Courtney often did her best to redirect these compulsions in her bestie, sometimes to no avail.

“Come ooooonnnnn,” she begged, tugging on Courtney’s sleeve. “The Mantas are playing in Fairfield and I don’t wanna go to see them alone.”

“Fine,” Courtney said.

The game happened offscreen in Courtney’s mind. But she got a glimpse, a montage, she supposed, of herself and Mindy drinking in a bar they’d never actually been to. It seemed to be a fusion of several they’d been in during those college years, her mind adding details like the peanut shells on the floor, the gaudy 6-point buck head next to the television set, the jukebox that only played 80s hair metal.

They stumbled into their hotel, both totally wasted, walking as quietly as they could past the night manager who Courtney recognized as Lorraine. Lorraine in a blue polo shirt with the hotel’s name.

They stopped off in the hall around the corner from the front desk. Mindy pushed the elevator button, braced herself against the wall and vomited.

Courtney, too, could feel her stomach revolting against her, but held herself together, fell into the elevator as soon as the doors opened and retched.

“Go, Mantas!” Mindy thrust her fist into the air in the saftey of the elevator as it ascended. She giggled.

“Wooo!” Courtney chimed in, afraid that any attempt at forming actual words would set her stomach off again.

They entered their room, dark and cold from the pre-set air conditioner near the window. Courtney shivered and turned immediately into the bathroom to empty the rest of her stomach. She held her hair back as best she could, wished she had a hair tie.

Time, fluid as it is in dreams, had no meaning for her, but it felt like forever before she was finished and rose weakly from her position in front of the porcelain receptacle.

“I’m sorry,” Mindy whispered. She was just standing outside the bathroom in the still unlit hotel room. Courtney could see Mindy’s hand was shielding her eyes. “I tossed up on the bed.”

“Only one?”

“Yeah. It was cheaper than getting a two-bed.”

“Is there a cot?”

“Not for two fucking people, Court. We need to go ask if we can get another place to sleep.”

They couldn’t take the elevator down, not with it soiled. Mindy complained the whole trip down three flights of stairs about the fluorescent lights bothering her eyes.

“Can I help you two?” Lorraine asked. Courtney was dumbstruck by her nametag. Why was Lorraine here in this dream?

“New room,” Mindy said, tossing the keys to the old room on the counter.

“We’re all booked up, but you girls are in luck. Down in the basement level we have the old housekeeper’s room. You can stay there tonight. Separate beds, too. No extra charge.”

Courtney couldn’t remember agreeing to the arrangement, because the next thing she remembered, she was waking up in a basement room that resembled a standard hotel room.

It had two beds and a dresser with a mirror in front of each of them for each of its occupants.

Courtney was up first. Mindy was still snoring away.

She saw herself in the mirror, looking disheveled, but now instead of wearing football-related gear, she was in her Christmas sweater and jeans with her slipper socks on.

Mindy turned in her bed.

Something was strange, was wrong about this. Her jeans felt tight. Her sweater felt tight, like something was pushing on her clothes, trying to burst out.

Even her slipper socks were struggling to contain…something.

White film appeared over her hands, her nails lengthened and turned a two-tone shade of white and black.

“What zee ’ell is ’appening?” she cried out in a panic.

She struggled to pull the sweater off over her rapidly expanding breasts only to reveal the top to a maid’s outfit with white lace trim atop the tits of the dress and at its sleeves. The film on her hands solidified into gloves that extended to her elbows.

“Mon Dieu!”

Her black open-toed three-inch heels burst out of the snowflake socks and her jeans split at the seems to reveal the black and white skirt of her uniform that barely covered her rounded ass and white stockings that trailed up her legs, ending a few inches before they met the skirt, leaving a pleasing amount of supple skin to behold.

Her dark hair lightened and burst into a bright blond cascade before it swept itself up under a pretty white maid’s cap.

“I nevair noticed you ’ad such pretty blue eyes, Cosette,” Bridgette said walking over to her.

Courtney gasped. Mindy wasn’t herself anymore either. Her gloves ended at the wrists with openings for her ridiculously long fingernails. She wore white shoes with extremely high heels and black-seamed stockings.

Courtney felt the sweet release of another orgasm. She wasn’t sure whether it was seeing herself or Mindy as a maid.

Jay stirred next to her, grunted and silently started toward the bathroom.

It was early evening now and Jay seemed just as restless and sluggish as Courtney did. He was standoffish and short-tempered today, becoming frustrated at the slightest inconvenience—having to get up to get a drink, the show he wanted to watch being a rerun, not knowing what to eat and not wanting to prepare anything for himself.

Courtney observed all this and understood it to be the result of exhaustion after the long overnight at Tyrone and Fi—no—Lorraine’s. It crossed her mind that he may have had similar dreams after what they had witnessed last night, but this was not a day where such a discussion would yield many positive interactions, so she let it lie. She’d ask tomorrow once everything evened out.

She looked at the costume box. The maid uniform on the cover was similar to the one she wore in the dream and it was easily explainable since she did happen to look at it probably long enough for some details to commit themselves to her memory. Cosette was also written on the box. Courtney couldn’t recall having read that earlier, she’d been so turned off when she opened the thing. Cosette. That was what Mindy had called her in the dream. Cosette. Such a pretty name.