The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Happy Gear

mc,ma,ff,mf

Description: Cherie finds a pair of high-waisted hot pants on her bed. Then, well, some stuff happens.

Cherie was a young woman of twenty-three, walking in the warm sunshine on her way home.

She’d been out shopping – she had the next few days off – and she was being productive, trying to do ass much as a possible, the hours in the week flying by much faster than they did at work.

She found herself at home. Fumbled the keys in the lock, burst through the door, put her stuff away, and walked back into her room. She needed a nap, still tired from the job.

Except....

Cherie looked at the black high waisted hot pants that sat on her bed. The hadn’t been there before, but they lay there all by themselves. Not with anything, just the hot pants. She hadn’t owned a pair like them, nor had her flatmates, so it’s presence was curious. Curiouser still, her flatmates weren’t the type of girls who’d where that kind of thing – they were more used to sitting up late with wine round a dinner table than go out. Wasn’t anything wrong with that.

There was seemingly nothing wrong with the pants either, but they shouldn’t be there either.

Couldn’t be there. It was a mystery in miniature, a situation that she wasn’t accustomed to. Was anyone accustomed to this kind of thing? Probably not. Her mind was wondering, she’d gone into the room for, what was it now? She couldn’t remember. What a scatterbrain.

Scatterbrain Cherie. It almost fitted.

The hot pants probably would to, judging by the looks of them. Which was a weird observation to make. In fact, if they were a good fit, someone she would have known would have put them there, surely? Cherie worked in a supermarket, hours upon hours of uninteresting work had reduced her brain to following a formalised corporate routine. One that she found herself slowly snapping out of now that this item of clothing was on her bed.

Who had put it there? No-one. But there it was. Something had caused it, willed it into being, and there it was. No reason why.

No reason why not to try it on.

It did look like it could fit her. Cherie was quite slender, not that tall, physically... ok. She didn’t have a very high opinion of herself, she was chatty at work and at home but the moment that door shut... quiet Cherie. That fitted a bit better.

She was on a creative roll. And the hot pants: still there. Also looking like they fitted.

Who would see her in them? No-one, probably. Definitely maybe. Probably never.

She sighed. She looked in the mirror, trying to feel attractive about her jeans and t-shirt.

Nope, nothing doing. She was pale, with black hair... which matched the pants! So there was that. Another reason for trying them. then.

Oh what the hell. She dropped the jeans... she didn’t have pants on (she had a bad laundry day), but trying it on in her bedroom would probably not provoke any scandal...

She sat on the bed, picking up the pants – they felt nice to the touch, her hand lingered... and she put them on the floor. They seemed on hand inviting, but on the other hand, the insides were dark too, darker still now that they were on the floor, cast in shadow from the window. The insides were... void like? Was that a word? Cherie always thought she should get a notebook and write these thoughts down, but there was never the time. Also she talked utter baws at times. Whatever.

She slipped them on....

* * *

There was a pause as they slipped on, a slight moment of trepidation to check that it would indeed fit – it looked like they would! They were unbuttoned, and it would be a quite a snug fit. Perfect.

She pulled them all the way up and...

The world seemed to pause. It was the noise that disappeared first. Whatever there was in the background seemed to fade a way, and Cherie felt her body react physically to the pants.

They... somehow...

Her mind was stuck in reverse, her body on fast-forward. The pants buttoned themselves up, and she felt her clit feel instantly moist, the folds of her pussy moving by themselves,... by themselves? No something about the pants was doing it.

She didn’t want it to stop. She tried to reach a hand up to the shorts, but she felt that

she couldn’t, she wanted to join in... did she? She couldn’t do anything. She didn’t know... something was...

The pants were moving... was that the word? They started to stroke her ass. Slowly, then harder – slowly kneaded, in circles, soft at first....

She thought all of this, for a moment, but she was already on the floor in part shock, part ecstasy, overwhelmed by a tidal wave of energy that she couldn’t handle. She was on her knees, her back arching upwards, her face on the floor..

Cherie tried to move, but she couldn’t, she didn’t know what to do, what to think.

Her pussy was doing the thinking. Rapid strokes were tapping the outer folds, teasing them gently, over and over, only the outside. The need growing in her was unbearable. Her hands gripped the floor, almost pulling the carpet out but the shorts kept her prone posture.

It... whatever was going on she couldn’t cum. And she wanted to. Her whole body was boiling, the heat from her cheeks making her sweat. Her hair was all over her face. She felt the perspiration seep out of her skin, the sudden movements were putting her so on edge that she couldn’t move.

But she had to do something. She didn’t want to try for the shorts again. She pulled her t-shirt down her body, the shirt damp with sweat.

The rapid strokes were strong, but not forceful. They didn’t try to force themselves on her, only tease and tease more and more. She moaned loudly, through gritted teeth that were part biting her bottom lip. The strokes were joined by smaller strokes in those movements, caressing the clit tantalisingly, little bit by little bit.

She wasn’t being fucked but she was being teased, over and over. For a moment she became aware of what was going on, a moment gone again after one large, slower stroke brought her over the edge again. She moaned louder than she’d ever done before.

She orgasmed as her whole body shook. There was a pause. She couldn’t feel anything from her fingers to her elbows, her knees to her toes. She breathed in hard, out slowly. She couldn’t move for a moment, couldn’t... think...

Her shaking hands hovered over her stomach, near the top of the pants. For a moment, a brief moment. The pants seemed to acknowledge this (how?), pausing and slowing for a moment, which caused her mind to focus more and more. She was conscious of the sound of her breathing, her heart thundering against her ribcage, bouncing back and forth...

“...stop...”

Suddenly, after only a whisper, the pants stopped with their vibrations, the movement, the... whatever it was. It all retreated, retracted, removed itself from wherever they’d come from. Her pussy reacted straight away, begging for more..

But Cherie was back. She was still breathing heavily, still on edge, but moment by moment she was recovering. She was able to arch her back upwards, then, very gingerly, raised herself onto her feet.

The pants were still tight on her, the entire lack of action from them ominous. There was no motion at all from the inside and nothing strange from the outside either. The pants felt like velvet on the inside, and although her pussy felt wet the pants didn’t.

She was still feeling horny, but she was weirded out enough by the pants enough. She felt confused, and a bit scared. Had that been consensual? She hadn’t been penetrated, and there had been no threat of it (although it hadn’t seemed like that at first) and the whole … well, whatever just happened was the best.... orgasm she’d had in ages. The very thought of this made her squirm a bit, still feeling a need now that the pants had turned themselves off or whatever was going on.

None of her flatmates were in. She had the next few hours to herself to try and figure this thing out..

She looked in the mirror. It... well, it did look good on her, tight around her ass and part way up her waist. Her nipples were hard and sore, and she was very aware that her body wanted more of it.

The weird part – well, apart from the magic sex hot pants – was that her instincts were telling her it was OK. It’d certainly given her a fright at first but it’d been... well, it’d be amazing! But she didn’t know what to do next.

She didn’t want to find a way to turn it back on, not until she could get them off. She moved her hands towards to buttons, expecting something to happen... but they were stuck shut, like nails in a wall. She panicked a bit now, very uncomfortable with what was going on, but the moment she started to feel afraid the buttons... undid themselves? What were these things?

The pants opened up, and she was hit by the smell of her own pussy juices. Yep, she’d been busy. She stroked the insides of the hot pants, but there was nothing untoward there, still that nice sort of fabric. Nothing suspicious about them..

She slid them down her legs to her ankles. Still nothing there, nothing trying to grab them.

Strange. Her heart was still beating, her pussy still throbbed. She was relaxed a bit now, and considered jerking off to something online, but thought against it.

She opened her browser and started looking for anything related to clothes taking over, or shorts, or whatever. Nothing. She tried websites and stuff, but still nothing.

… maybe she could look at porn? Probably a bad idea.

She sighed, looking back down to the ground, to the hot pants. They were a mystery. Kind of a sexy mystery, but a mystery nonetheless. She moved everything around on her desk to find a pencil and pad. She needed to write down what she knew.

Weird fashionable hot pants on my bad. They... act kind weird, until I told them to stop. And I don’t know what they are. {It was quite a short note, not much had happened. Well, a lot had kinda happened... you know what I mean.)

She looked back down. The pants weren’t jumping up her, they weren’t threatening her... they stopped when she told them to. And she hadn’t been... that hot since, like, forever?

Nothing even as good as that.

Was she really contemplating putting on the pants again? The pants that were, well, fucking her brains out? She still felt hot, and they were, like, right there...

… and she could control them. Or at least she thought she could. She told them to stop, and they did. Pants that did what she told them to. But why did she have them? Where did the y come from?

A Good Question. She checked for a brand, a label, but there was none inside. She felt the material again, carefully, but there was nothing that distinguished it from anything else.

It looked like any other item of clothing.

Part of her was very cautious, a bit scared about what was going on. This wasn’t normal.

But her curiosity was getting the better off her, and she needed to get to the bottom of what these pants were all about. Part of her also needed release really badly but that was an … added bonus.

She slid them slowly back on, her body reacting primally to their movement, her pulse being to rise, expected a flurry of movement from it. She put them on and like before the buttons put themselves into place, the pants back into place.

Her pussy felt wet already, she knew that. But there was no action. No movement. She didn’t fall to the floor. Nothing was happening to her.

What? Did she just imagine everything that just happened? The whole experience? She felt a genuine sense of disappointment about the whole thing,

She lay back on the bed, disappointed. She felt denied which just made her disappointed. She gave up. She tried to feel through the fabric of the shorts, but she couldn’t feel anything – the fabric seemed super thin but it didn’t let anything get through.

She sighed.

“I just want to be careful, that’s all.”

A slight flicker. A feeling, as light ass a feather, stroked down her left ass cheek, the moment the words left her list. She looked down. Was it... responding to her?

Hmm. This was some day. She could never get the hang of Wednesdays.

‘I want to know where you are from’

The pants started to move. They shifted left and right, slowly, and then more forcefully.

They wanted her to stand up, but they were having trouble. It felt like two large clamps were around her thighs, moving them forward, but her legs couldn’t get used to their sudden bulky movements. It was kinda awkward, she felt like a stork on stilts. It was quite surreal being forced to move about like this, her body not really reacting that well to what was going on.

“Wait... stop!”

They did. She was stood still. The pants clearly needed to... go somewhere? Which seemed dangerous. But still. It wouldn’t be able to tell her anything, so she had not other option.

She could control it, remember?

It could only control the parts of her leg that were covered, which meant that she’d end up trying to gallop along the street. Which would look odd, to say the least.

She huffed. The pants weren’t doing anything, but her snatch was at least letting her mind doing the thinking.

She had a curious idea, all of a sudden. She tried to force the pants off – they did, after a beat- and she raked around in her drawers for a set of tights. She had one cleanish pair – a navy blue pair, that she slid up her legs and round her waist.

She opened her wardrobe. She found a long sleeve T that covered the length of her arms, it was a dull grey but it looked good with the tights. And... then the hot pants.

She sighed. She hadn’t wanted to do it this way, but it was the only way to find out where this thing had come from.

She slipped on the pants, very slowly, expecting them to leap back up at her like an overenthusiastic puppy. They slipped on. She drew her breath in, expecting the worse. Her eyes closed. Nothing.

She opened them, surprised, and looked in the mirror. It was quite a get-up she had on, she looked good! She smiled.

Then it started up. Softly, there seemed to be something soft, thin, that flicked her clit. She gasped quietly, the feeling her right on the spot,. It was so gentle, but it made her toes curl, her knees bent... but they kept their shape.

Her arm started to move of its own accord, slowly at first. It moved up and down. Cherie relented, careful to not hand over so much control but at the same the feeling in her clit felt so good, so unbelievably good, that she let the arm move.

A tickle in her feet. She giggled, and blushed, her face feeling redder from the action, still continuing, now quietly tapping her clit, slowly putting more and more pressure around the rest of her pussy.

She wanted to shake her legs but it didn’t let her. It made her take a step forward. As

Cherie had, um, hoped it was able to move the rest of her clothing but it didn’t seem to have much impact on the rest of her body.

She moaned...

“..take... me there”

She closed her eyes, the heat everywhere now but the clothes seemed to stop the sweat from dripping out. She felt herself move downstairs, slip some shoes on, and head outside.

She was walking normally, but every step involved a tantalising swipe up and down. Cherie wanted it to stop, to cum so much, but it wouldn’t let her. Her mind was swimming, she tried not to make eye contact with anyone unless it gave her away (although she got the impression that she was getting more looks from passer-bys)

Her heart was pounding, she felt scared but the steps kept going. Everything happening on the outside looked normal, on the inside she was hot, so hot, her pussy being stroked now in two different places, left and right, up and down. She needed release so much, but she couldn’t cross her legs, she walked naturally forward like everything was normal.

It was so otherworldly. And so hot.

* * *

She really couldn’t concentrate on what was going on, but she found herself on the subway.

It was a quiet carriage, and she was on one of the seats on the side. Cherie was startled by this, like waking up late for work, with no cause or idea of her bearings..

There was a woman sat in front of her, she realised, and she tried to compose herself as much as possible.

The girl looked... well attractive, it had to be said. She’d clearly been at work, she wore a tight pencil length skirt, that hid her long legs, a suit type blazer and a black shirt.

She was tall, dark haired and attractive.

Cherie had an inkling of the latter, because right now the shorts were going into overdrive.

The same appendage that was teasing her clit was working it’s way around the lips of her pussy, another giving tiny, tiny nips to her clit. She felt completely soaked in juices, but the clothes didn’t seem to receive any sweat. She wanted to rip the damn stupid pant of and get herself off there and then...

Wait, hang on. This woman had sat down after her. Why was she sat down here? The car was empty – Cherie looked left to right – and sure enough, she was with her alone. And she’d sat there.

They made eye contact. She was smiling at her. Fuck, the girl wanted her. And she was sitting here, bucking around on the train, her pussy being teased so close to the edge without ever being allowed to cum. Her nipples felt hard, diamond hard.

Her body wasn’t doing anything. The shorts had a hold on her, her mind completely lost in the unadulterated pleasure that was completely taking over her. She needed to cum so bad.

Cherie had an idea. A naughty one. The woman was still glancing at her, but now Cherie let her keep her gaze, so they were looking right at each other. The motion in her pussy began to slow, as if they were surprised by this development.

She felt like she had the control back in her arms. She put them slowly on her blue tights, and began to slowly move them upwards, towards the shorts. She sighed a bit.

The woman didn’t blink.

Cherie grabbed the seams where her legs went into the pants,. She let herself slide into the seat now, the pants now more on display. The woman looked downstairs, her eyes lingering for a moment, then back up at her. She had a small smile on her face and she adjusted herself a bit, fixing her hair. She liked what she saw, clearly.

The pants loved what was going on.. They’d gone back to pleasuring her like they had done the first time round, thrusting in and out of her. Before Cherie had been apprehensive about the pants, but she was so turned on, to do this kind of thing in public, in front of a woman, who was loving it.

She came hard, and the motions in her pussy didn’t stop. She didn’t want them to, this was the sexiest thing she’d ever done, it was so wrong and so so right. Her clothes were stopping her from flapping her hands about, from ripping her clothes up, hell, from jumping this stranger even, but it gave her the freedom to show herself off, and she was loving every moment of it.

It wasn’t battering her, wasn’t harming her – it went deep inside her aching pussy, and then... inflated, somehow, filling her walls entirely before retracting in and out, in and out... Her ass was being kneaded hard now which was how she wanted it. There was something beginning to tap into her ass-hole, slowly at first – she’d never done anal before, but she was so busy being fucked that she let it happen, the feeling slowly worming its way inside.

The woman still stared at her, and Cherie met her gaze. No-one said anything, the click clack of the subway on its tracks, the pale light on each other. Cherie saw the woman’s palms shake, her body shifted again.

Cherie wasn’t really gay or anything, but she wanted to the feel that woman’s touch, her smell, she wanted to do anything to get her off, to feel her touch, her embrace.... she wanted her to feel what she was feeling, she felt so close to orgasm again, she wanted to say something, but she didn’t, just breathing heavily, still staring at the woman....

The train began to pull into its next station. The legs forced Cherie to sit up, assuming a normal position. Cherie looked down – it was actually trying to hold her back, from giving itself away, but it was still happy with her reaction, it kept going. She came again, harder than before, almost passing out from her pussy being touched inside and out, her ass being slowly opened and folded. She nearly passed out...

The woman was writing something down on a piece of paper. She ripped a bit off it, and reached over.... sticking it in front of Cherie’s crotch, her fingers so close to her wet soaking pussy that the pants nearly went into overdrive... Cherie looked back up at her, catching a sight of her bra under her shirt... then her eyes. The woman smiled off at her, then left onto an empty platform.

Cherie picked up the paper as the subway rolled on. It was a number, and an X. She couldn’t take it any more, and passed out....

* * *

… she came to again. She’d been walking for a while, and couldn’t get a head on her bearings. She was still walking... how long for? She looked around as her body moved onwards, walking at pace now.

She was in a leafy suburb, past some massive houses. She was in the rich part of town, that’s for sure. Walls and gates, mansions hidden behind well cut lawns. All money, all empty.

It was beginning to spit rain from the sky, and she hadn’t put on a jacket.

Eventually she turned a corner, and the landscape began to change – there was a large gate in front of her, but it looked old and worn, vines overgrown a small façade that said some sort of strange family name.

Without hesitating, the body moved her in. Cherie gained a better sense of her bearings now – the pants were teasing her, still, and she felt hot, but not overbearingly – they wanted her to see this.

She walked on a badly cut gravel path, stones crushing under her feet, overgrown trees overhead catching the rain. Eventually the path opened up, into a field overgrown and unkempt, to a house hidden from view, away from everywhere else.

The house was a size smaller from the larger houses along her, noticeably so. It still had the façade of a classical country house, but it was much more... earthy, if that was the right word. Worn-in. Abandoned.

Inconspicuous, that was the word. What was this place? She felt worried, but the pants began to pat... well, it felt like they were trying to reassure her. She still felt flush. The rain was getting heavier.

Without stopping, she walked through the front door, the doors up a small set of stairs, heavy and wooden, twice as tall as her. She found herself in a large opening, a carpeted entrance hall, messy, mixing with the rest of the buildings. There was a smell...

Was it coffee? A coffee pot here somewhere. It was on. Someone else was here.

The hallway expanded into a staircase going upstairs. There were piles of books everywhere, natural light filtering through a large window overlooking the hallway, statues and armour. But mostly books.

Who lived here?

She was looking up the steps, but she didn’t the man approach her from a room to the side.

“Um, hi” he said, mumbling it.

She jumped, or at least she did, the pants making her turn and face the man expectantly like it was waiting for something... the feeling started back down in her pussy, faster, Cherie moaning at the unexpected feeling, now more conditioned to the pants, she wanted to cum again—wanted to.

“Stop it now. Let her go!”

The feeling disappeared, and Cherie stumbled, suddenly able to walk of her own accord again. Her legs felt like tree trunks, like she’d been walking for miles. It’d been a hell of a day, to be sure. But she was on the floor, helpless at the feet of the stranger... who was...

“My names, um, Yarrick, nice to meet you. I see you’ve come across...”

They both looked down at her hot pants. He wore a white lab coat, with a t-shirt and jeans – he looked pretty ordinary, small horn-rimmed glasses, and short brown hair. He was slim, not particularly bulky.

Cherie felt sore. She looked up and said “Yes, I found your... what are they exactly?”

“It’s a long story, would you like some coffee? I’ll be able to help you out, they weren’t meant to be out of this building.”

He helped her up, leading her to the door, into a brightly lit drawing room, books everywhere,. It was a lot of books. LOTS

“I like to read” he said, sheepishly. He wasn’t expecting guests, but he was clearly happy to see her.

* * *

Turns out it was a very long story, but the gist of it was that he’d been working at university he’d come across an intern-ship with the owner of this mansion, who’d been working on fabric with some... unusual properties. He’d had an ex-girlfriend who’d he’d given a pair like Cherie’s, but they were a bit less advanced and she’d dumped him. He’d since worked on the formula.

“I won’t bore you with the science” he said, much to Cherie’s relief, her eyebrows raising in agreement as she drank the very nice filter coffee, “but the clothes are... self aware to an extent. They’ll take control of you, but they can still be controlled if you force them enough. They also listen to my commands”, he paused and smiled,”but, um, that’s just how I was, um, testing them”. He looked embarrassed. He seemed sweet, and Cherie raised an eyebrow seductively. She was enjoying this, and felt safe. He clearly meant well.

“So... how did I get these then? They were left on my bed.” She smiled, aware now that there was a... tension in the air. He was clearly a bit turned on, her get-up working for him. He re-adjusted his seating position, and Cherie smiled to herself.

“I... don’t know. Honestly. I think I sent them out to someone who was interested, but they got lost in the post. It’s a bit of a mystery, the clothes don’t walk around by themselves..”

Hmm. No answer there. He didn’t know.

“So what’s your plan with them then?” She sipped her coffee. It was good coffee, really full of flavour, but she realised mid-swig that he seemed uncomfortable.

“It’s... well, I don’t know what to do next. Seriously, the clothes make people horny as hell, they control them, they make people obey if necessary... like, what? I don’t want to be a mental evil maniac... I just want to make people happy.”

He stared into his coffee, unhappy with what was definitely a confession. Poor guy, though Cherie. She smiled to herself again, a more.... devious smile than before.

“Well...” she said as she got up from her chair, slowly walking over to him, letting him see everything... “you’ve made me happy...”

She sat on his lap, wrapping her legs around him, so that he couldn’t move, she felt his hard cock through his pants, her own hot-pants feeling the sensation, wanting more.

“You can do whatever you want. You can do... me.” She smiled out loud. He was a bit overwhelmed, but she continued: “Make more clothes, Find more women. Girls, boys... whatever, I want more. You want more. You know you do.”

He shifted in his seat nervously, but she pushed in harder, his cock even more evident. Cherie had spent the entire day being fucked by a magical pair of hot pants, and now she had to return the favour.

“You can do whatever you want...” She slid her hand down his chest down into his pants, grabbing his shaft.

“Anything...”

* * *