The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The memes. Oh my God, the memes, Callie thought. Shelly was forever posting this one or that one about how she was poor and willing to send out feet pics for spending cash. It was completely ridiculous how these things blew up.

“Rent Due. Feet Pix $50”

It made Callie laugh, so she sent it along to everyone on her friends list.

She wasn’t really sure why she was sharing this stuff to her online friends. Anyone who knew Callie well knew that she thought feet were gross. Shelly had probably started tagging her in these memes just to get a rise out of her for that very reason. Social media being what it was, Callie guessed there was a little bit of a thrill about reposting the ridiculous memes even if she didn’t find the subject matter appealing in the least.

One day, when Callie had a mind to, she gave Shelly a call and happened to mention the subject of feet pictures.

“You know how we’re always reposting those memes on social media about how you’re so poor that you’d be wiling to sell feet pics online? Well, I found out that there’s actually an app that lets people do that now.” Shelly sounded excited, like she’d just discovered a pile of gold. “Fucking weirdos,” she said, laughing.

“What? Really?” Callie couldn’t believe it. “That can’t be right. A whole app?”

“Yeah. It’s called FootStar. I thought it was a joke, but nope, it’s real.”

Callie shook her head. On the one hand she couldn’t believe the yarn her friend seemed to be spinning, but on the other, it was hard to dismiss the kinds of freaks that were perpetually online.

Despite her anti-foot stance, she found herself typing FootStar into the search bar with some trepidation.

It required a username and password to access, obviously. It would’ve been easy just to stop herself right then and there. The site clearly existed. FootStar written over a giant pink star logo. Maybe she’d just make a profile and send a link to it over to Shelly for a laugh.

She logged onto the site, feeling slightly cringey at what she’d find there, but all that came up was an animated purple foot loading screen with a pink spiral that circled around and around…

Callie tried to set the phone down…

And around…

She felt her grip tighten on the case…

And around…

She brought the image up to her face…

And around…

Flash!

Welcome to FootStar!

The screen read:

Let’s Get Started. Take a picture of your feet.

Callie pointed the phone camera down at the floor and snapped a picture.

Aww. You Can Do Better Than That.

Callie knew the app was right. The picture didn’t really show enough of her feet. She was going to have to do better. She sat on the floor and pressed her feet up against the white wall of her house. There. She snapped another picture.

Congratulations! You Are Now A Level 1 Foot Star!

There were animated balloons floating up her screen and cheery music playing. Callie felt proud of her picture. It was a good first try.

To Reach Level 2 Take A Picture Of Your Sole And A Profile Of Your Arch.

Two more pictures to reach level two? That didn’t seem so bad. She could do those right now.

Callie drew a leg in sideways and snapped a picture of the sole of her right foot.

Celebratory music played. Callie didn’t even have to look at the screen to know it had been a successful upload.

She placed her foot flat on the floor and set her smartphone on the ground a few inches away before snapping the pic of her arch.

More music and a ding notified Callie that she was now a level two Foot Star.

To Reach Level Three Take Five Pictures Of Your Decorated Feet And Earn $100.

Callie frowned. Of course the first couple levels would be really easy. Now she was going to have to invest a bit of time into becoming a Foot Novice. She put her phone down on the floor and fished some colors of polish, some cotton balls, and a bottle of nail polish remover to continue on.

A ringing tone came over her phone and she could hear a “Ca-ching” sound.

Returning to her position on the floor, she was an animated cash register in the bottom right corner of her screen with a little number over it. $6.50 it read.

Her feet pics, basic as they were, were already earning her some money. She smiled and began painting her nails.

When she was finished, Callie was anxious to start snapping her pictures before the polish was even completely dry. She’d chosen a gel-like silver polish with glitter flakes as her first choice.

She snapped the pic and the familiar music played to let her know it had been a success.

She tried a second picture with the same polish on, but was almost certain that the app wouldn’t accept it.

Better Try Again.

Yep. The picture had been rejected. Cleaning up and trying again was going to be a bit of a pain in the ass.

In the meantime, she prepared a quick dinner, but kept her phone close. More money was rolling in. All in small amounts. Quarters, dollars. It was going to take a bit of time before she’d make some real money this way, but her most recent picture was earning $2 each time. Encouraging, she thought.

She ate the sandwich she threw together and got ready to reset her moneymakers.

No good. Each polish she tried, red, turquoise, white. They were all flops. The app seemed to consider nail polish only one form of decoration. She still needed four to level up and each one, she suspected, would earn at least the same two dollars that she had just started earning for her first Decorated pic.

Callie went into her room, toes still painted white from the last go-around and fished in her sock drawer. She had a ring that an ex bought her in high school. Maybe she could pass it off as a toe ring and get at least one more high-dollar picture done today.

Ah, there it was, in a little green ring jewelry box. It wasn’t much, just a plain brass band, but it was better than nothing. She slipped it on, put her foot onto her bed, framing it against her white sheets and snapped the app’s camera.

Happy music again!

Callie couldn’t help but smile. New ideas formed in her brain. Tomorrow she’d get her last three pictures. She was going to be a Foot Star.

A butterfly tattoo on the top of her right foot, a heart over her left ankle, and a hemp anklet that she added for the last photo signaled part of Callie’s graduation into the next tier of FootStardom. She snapped extra pictures of her toes, arches, heels, tattoos, ankles, whatever would help to build her growing resume and add to her attached account.

Soon enough, she hit the $100 requirement and passed through. Callie chirped happily.

To Reach Level Four, Have 25 Different Foot Pictures and Make $5000.

Callie went to her profile. She’d already snapped the eight required pictures and enough extras to meet the 25 picture requirement. But the money wasn’t going to come in very quickly. She wanted to be level 4 already.

She sent links to her FootStar profile on her social media accounts. That would surely garner her a bit more income. In the meantime, she’d look through other foot profiles and see what the competition was up to.

Swiping through the various pictures, Callie was surprised to find just how hot the foot pix made her. Frequently, she’d stop to finger herself while holding up an exceptionally nice picture of an anonymous woman’s wrinkled soles or pretty painted nails. Time evaporated. She ignored phone calls and dings from her friends and family on social media. She was engaged in research. Three fingers deeply engaged.

The $5000 requirement came and went overnight. Callie was spent from all of her finger-fucking, but there was a new assignment if she was going to be a top-level FootStar performer.

Choose A Local Production Assistant

A map showed up on the FootStar app with a radius of 50 miles from Callie’s house. Little yellow boxes appeared over spots where registered “FootStar Producers” could be found. All male names. That suited Callie just fine. Men were her target audience, after all.

Evan was his name. A nice, clean-cut college junior with short black hair and deep brown eyes. He was attractive, no doubt, but their roles were clear. After a brief introduction, Evan went right to work outlining some artistic ideas for various foot shots, like decorating them and putting them into a diorama or sticking melting chocolate pieces between her toes.

His ideas had a good deal of merit and considering that reaching Level 5 required 100 photos and $25,000, she’d have to step up her game considerably.

They were finishing up their latest project, Evan pasting cotton balls onto the top of each of the felt ‘hats’ while Callie held the cotton in place for the glue to dry.

“This is a great idea,” Evan said. “This’ll really increase our brand, I think.”

Callie giggled. “I’m so glad Foot Star’s given me a way out of that dead-end job. I wish I knew about it earlier.”

“So I’m thinking we can get two pictures out of this. One done normally and one where your toes are covered in jizz.”

Callie’s eyes brightened. “Definitely. Are you going to be able to cum on your own or do you need some incentive?”

“Naw, girl. I got this. I’m already getting hard.”

Callie waited patiently while Evan drew up smiling faces on each toe in a black Sharpie and affixed a hat to each, the red cap on Callie’s big toe, green for each of the other four.

“It would’ve been cool to attach bells to them,” Callie said regretfully.

“Maybe we can do something like that for another photo op.” Even smiled and snapped a shot with Callie’s phone. The motivating music dinged merrily and Callie nodded to her companion.

Evan barely needed any encouragement, though. He’d already set her phone aside and was working on his zipper. In less than a minute, he was jerking himself off.

Evan grunted and finished by firing ropes of thick, milky jizz on her Santa Hat family. “Your cum feels really good on my toes.”

“It’s gonna feel a lot better when you see how much we’re earning for it,” Evan said, snapping the last picture they needed to hit Level 5.

The money wasn’t coming fast enough. Even Evan seemed bored with all the down time, even though he continued to draw up plans.

“You might want to consider, just consider, sending out a sneak peek to some of your family and friends.” Evan was so sweet, asking Callie’s opinion. He really did make her feel like a star. She hadn’t really had much to do with her friends and family of late. Even Shelly didn’t bother calling her after Callie hung up on her so many times in the last few days.

She pouted. “I really don’t know how I feel about giving away the goods like that. If my feet pics start circulating all over the internet for free, I’m going to be out a lot of money.”

“Yeah, but all I’m saying is that we just shoot your heels. Keep your socks on with your heels exposed.”

Evan was really insistent and Callie had grown to trust his judgment. Arches and toes were where the big money was at, so she acquiesced. “Fine,” she said, “but we don’t make them artistic at all. Just straight naked heels.”

To Reach Level Six Have 500 Foot Pictures, Make $100,000, And Recruit 10 New FootStars.

Callie’s face brightened. She was a recruiter for the site now. Evan tried to be happy for her, but reminder her that they still had several hundred pictures that needed to be taken. She felt quite relaxed with the requirements, though. As a recruiter, she was well on her way to making it as a real FootStar.

When Evan started complaining too heavily, Callie made sure to give him a footjob. It always calmed him down.

While they worked for several hours each day putting on Evan’s elaborate productions, Callie soon found herself communicating with her most fervent fans. Troy was one of these. A sandy-haired man six years her senior, Troy ran a truck dealership and he lived close. Evan was jealous of him, especially once Callie convinced Troy to move in with her. Evan himself had effectively moved in and only paid for his apartment in case he ever returned.

Callie was a star, though, and had the power to let Evan go, so he resigned himself to accept Troy’s role in his star’s life.

The only thing Evan could hope for was the growing conflict between the two lovers.

Callie was becoming more aloof as time went on, as could be expected from a rising celebrity.

Troy was grumpy and she knew exactly why he was, but no matter what he meant to her, Callie wasn’t going to just put her money makers on display for the world to see for free. You want to see them, you’ve got to pay. She wasn’t about to lose revenue by going around barefoot for anyone, including her biggest fan.

Callie continued to send links to women who might be seduced into becoming FootStars themselves, continued to work with Evan on making the best foot shots she could, and continued to revel in the ‘ca-chinging’ in her growing FootStar bank account.

Eventually, Troy became frustrated enough that Callie was willing to give Evan footjobs during the day while keeping her feet covered with socks when he was home at night that he decided to leave. It didn’t bother her, really. It wasn’t like he was going to stop perusing her profile and add money into her account. That was better than the sex, frankly.

She knew she’d really made it when she started reading fanfics about the Santa Hat Family. It amused her to no end that people had become so devoted to her content that they were building the franchise for her feet.

Callie steeled herself, though. She was going to have to sue them for copyright infringement, of course. She couldn’t allow unauthorized use of my feet to start going viral, but it still made her feel good to know she had really made it as a social media star.

Congratulations! You Are Now A Level Six FootStar! To Reach The Last Level, Have 1000 Foot Pictures, Make $500,000, and Recruit 100 Girls.

Callie read the message over twice. Once excitedly and once with some concern.

She was almost there. Very few of the FootStars were able to recruit very effectively which left them in the limbo between Level 5 and Level 7. The half-million dollars was going to roll in, thanks to Evan’s creativity and the pictures were a piece of cake because of his efforts. They’d even started taking pictures of the footjobs she gave him to help bolster her profile. Few of the FootStars were willing to go quite that far.

But Evan had one really solid idea for Callie to increase the interest in the site, and to get those recruits in one fell swoop.

It was one of the late-night talk shows. Evan was able to pique the interest of the host’s handlers by simply mentioning what kind of work they’d done.

Even so, Callie knew that Brad was going to be antagonistic in his interview. The training videos had given her insight into how to deal with people like him who were suspicious of her companies’ motives.

She wore a pair of pumps with a low vamp to reveal a bit of toe cleavage, another compromise made with Evan, who felt that a suggestion of what she had might drive up their shared income and, possibly, the number of potential recruits.

“So, Callie, what do you say to those who claim that your content is pornographic and harmful to the public?”

She sat in silence for a few seconds to make it seem like she was coming up with an answer- in truth she knew precisely how to counter him.

“Well, Brad, it seems to me that my company, which is staffed with only willing content providers, is providing a service that other people seem to enjoy. As to the accusations that we provide some kind of salacious material- well, I can’t control what people use our services for. We produce videos, some of which are, yes, adult oriented and are marked as such, but certainly the vast majority of our catalogue would be save for even the most squeamish of viewers.”

“So you’re not the madame of a fetish empire?”

Brad was pissing her off now. Callie laughed girlishly to undermine his implication. “Of course not. As I said, we’re just a group of content producers who wanted to create a platform where our work could be displayed and we could all share in a little bit of the profit. It’s the American Dream come true.”

Despite Brad’s incredulousness, Callie found herself hitting both the mandatory recruitment numbers and monetary compensation to rise to the highest level as a total FootStar. Now she no longer had to produce new content. The money earned by her recruits was split between them and herself, allowing her to quickly rise from the paltry $500,000 she had just needed into millionaire status.

Ever the gentleman, Evan helped her out of the car and onto the red carpet. Callie felt good seeing all of her fans there for the picture signing, waiting with their cameras to get pictures of the woman who had done so much to increase the prominence of foot photography. Callie made sure to wear heels that showed a bit of toe cleavage. Not too much, of course, but enough to satisfy her core fanbase and entice new potential viewers.