The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Jonathan Hewlett age twenty-eight, professional banker and very bored, decided one grey Friday morning, with the big three oh visible on the horizon, that his skirt chasing days were over and he now needed a wife.

Having a low tolerance for tedium and loathing the prospect of a trial-and-error process, Jonathan made it plain to his friends and colleagues that he wanted instant results. And as good luck would have it, he worked in a firm where every man (no woman worked there of course) seemingly had the perfect bride handed to them gift wrapped.

“Or rather,” his friend and mentor Arnie explained “we make them.”

As Arnie clarified and Jonathan refused to believe, the boys in the office had a device that could help you adjust any woman into whatever you wanted. Jonathan snorted at what had to be a joke, but several guys gathered around and earnestly swore it was all true.

Hobbes claimed he gave his wife bigger tits and a smaller nose; Cecil swore his girlfriend received a higher sex drive and lost her overbite. Mike Sisk meanwhile just plucked some homeless girl off the streets and made her everything, (sweet ass, big boobs, complete devotion to home and husband) that he desired in his proper mate.

Taking out a key from a desk draw and venturing into the supply closet, Arnie unlocked a safe box and brought out what appeared to be a small TV remote. But as Jonathan noticed when Arnie dropped the gadget onto his open palm, that instead of volume control there was a dial marked “breast size”. Other dials were for intelligence, fashion sense, maternal instincts, submission and so on. In the centre was a big red button which Arnie explained: “That’ll make whatever you tell her, come true.”

And the rest of the lads winked and laughed as the bemused Jonathan Hewlett, seeing himself as open-minded enough, decided to give it a shot.

So, come Saturday night with the woman controller safely in his pocket, a curious Jonathan surveyed the scene at Ice Ray’s Club, Hampton Street. God knows he could pull most of the girls there. He had once made a French chick throw herself at his feet despite the fact that they couldn’t understand a word each other said.

The ladies he spied tonight were fine, but somehow grabbing a hold of say that cute brunette by the vending machines seemed wrong. She might have been imperfect but weren’t those imperfections part of her charm? If he were going to use this thing it had to be on a woman who really hadn’t much going for her and oh bingo!

He spied his target huddled in a corner. A bespectacled, acne riddled, shovel faced creature, swimming in baggy clothes. Yeah, definitely a prime candidate for a radical makeover. So, taking his pint of bitter in hand Jonathan confidently sauntered over to the nerdy girl and after introducing himself, asked how she was doing.

Her reaction, spluttering and murmuring “Oh you know” didn’t surprise him and he worked his charm, smiling, laughing and asking her a ton about herself.

Her name was Nancy. She worked at St. Caley Hospital in the medical records department, and was, it turned out, pretty aimless in life. Sure, she wanted a better job and a bigger home but when pressed she blushed and told Jonathan, “I’m just killing time until I die.”

Sipping his bitter, Jonathan asked himself, why not? His hand clenched the remote in his pocket and pressing down on the red button, he spoke aloud “You’re coming with me back to my house.” That command to his surprise and delight wasn’t disobeyed. Instead, the insecure Nancy stood up and nodded without any hesitation or protest.

Jesus, did the gadget work?

Half an hour later the fidgety girl sat on the sofa in Jonathan’s living room, and he, leaning back on his chair, legs crossed, arms outstretched had the fabled device by his right hand, not attracting suspicion because it looked like a regular TV remote.

Great, he thought, perhaps Arnie wasn’t pulling his leg; this thing might deliver the goods. Best test it some more anyhow.

“So,” he asked, “do you want children?”

“Um no,” replied the shy Nancy “can’t stand them.”

And Jonathan who could pull off a decent sleight of hand, pressed up on the dial marked “maternal instincts” without drawing attention.

“Well,” Nancy went on to elaborate “I don’t dislike kids, they’re fine but not my thing.”

Like increasing the volume on a speaker, her enthusiasm gradually went up.

“They’re sweet and all but I can’t say I want them right now. Maybe sometime in the future…”

Funny, this scrawny thing was becoming less fidgety, less nervous as the desire intensified, Jonathan reflected as his own prick harden at the process.

“Kids are awesome,” she said, “I dunno why I never became a teacher but a few years down the line I’m looking forward to being a mother.”

Jonathan laughed, hitting the dial’s max as an excited Nancy leapt up and screeched “I need babies, give them to me now! I need your seed!”

Jonathan hit the pause button and Nancy froze, still as a statue, as he dialled the maternal instincts down a little, so it rested on eager but not crazily desperate.

He then pressed play and Nancy unfroze.

“So,” he asked, “what kind of husband do you want?”

“Husband?” she stammered “never wanted that, hell I’m practically asexual.”

He increased the dial marked “sex drive.”

“I’ve been on dates,” Nancy said, “Nothing special I don’t want to marry but I’ve had some fun flings.”

He increased it.

“Oh god, I need a good partner,” she sighed “I don’t know for a fling or something more but…”

Increased it some more, grinning as his beast throbbed in his trousers.

“I want to marry,” she stated, “I want to fall hopelessly in love and have lots of great sex and live happily ever after.”

That was enough he decided, she was lining up perfectly and what impressed him was that Nancy’s shyness and aimlessness were being slowly erased. She was no longer mumbling or glancing away but instead she looked him in the eyes and spoke crisply.

“So,” he asked, smiling “career wise?”

“Oh, I don’t know, just make enough money.”

Ah well, he didn’t want her to have any real ambitions, so it barely took much effort making her desire to marrying a rich man and be his stay-at-home wife.

Now he moved on to a few more questions about her appearance. Nancy giggling a little, said she wasn’t ashamed of her body but after some probing, she admitted she wasn’t too happy with her flabby gut. Thus Jonathan, gentleman that he was, gifted her with a flat and toned stomach. As Nancy pulled up her jumper to examine the results, Jonathan hit the red button and commanded her to strip naked.

A blushing Nancy soon stood, completely stark as instructed. Her thighs were too pudgy, her skin too pasty and her boobs were alas non-existent. Jonathan didn’t want this in a wife, no, no, the woman he’d marry would get on the cover of Vogue, no question.

“Do you like your body?” he asked.

“Well sure, nothing to be ashamed of,” she shrugged.

Oh, that wouldn’t do.

“Anything you’d like to change about yourself?” he inquired with a raised eyebrow.

“Not really.”

“What about your breasts?”

“Oh goodness no,” she laughed “big boobs bring unwanted leers and backpains.”

He made the adjustment.

“Well,” she went on “maybe a little bit bigger, I mean, I’d like to be thought of as sexy, plus you want to give your partner something to rest their head against and…”

Jonathan increased the desire.

“Big boobs?” she sighed “Oh god yes, what makes you feel womanlier than that, the pride of being beautiful, I mean…”

Jonathan pressed another button, and at once the tiny flat things increased, inflated and with an orgasmic gasp Nancy looked down and caressed her E-cup marvels.

“God,” she exclaimed “I love having big boobs! Ever since these milkers popped out when I was a teen, I felt so womanly and proud of it. Sure, I get jealous stares and lustful looks but that’s all part of the fun.”

And yeah, they were sweet. The kind of tits that Jonathan, ever since he was fourteen longed to kiss and caress.

So that was how it went, ass size, height size, how wide did she want her hips. He kept chipping away, transforming the downtrodden nerd into his ideal mate.

Almost near the end he shed a tear at the perfection of the woman who stood before him, gloating over her good looks.

“So,” he asked again “What do you think of me?”

Her expression changed to a scowl.

“You’re alright, bit creepy.”

He pressed the button marked desire.

“Kind of cute,” she smiled.

He pressed again.

“Hot, sexy, god how I want you.”

That would do for now. He pulled his goddess into his warm embrace and proudly displaying his effortless strength, carried her from the living room into his bedroom where he demonstrated his expert lovemaking.

Caressing and kissing those heavenly mammaries, wedging his cock in between them and gasping as she deviously ate his head. To show his gratitude he ate her out, grinning at the sight of the moaning, wanton woman, her big tits bouncing up and down as his tongue slithered here and there, bringing her to enraptured ecstasy.

God, this was perfect!

He jammed his aching erection into her moist cunt and proceeded to fuck her senseless, seeing her twist her toes into the mattress and scream in pleasure overload as he shot out his seed.

Jonathan gazed over Nancy’s flat stomach and smiled, picturing it inflating with his child before he took her into his arms and drifted into a satisfied sleep.

It was 9:15, the next morning when Jonathan Hewlett awoke.

His cock ached like hell, given how much he had abused it the night before and as he yawned, he pondered about offering Arnie his soul in thanks for that wonderful remote. Jonathan then reached out, to where Nancy had slept but frowned to find she’d gone.

The sizzling sound with the welcoming smell of crispy bacon drifted in from the kitchen. Ah, of course, his woman was cooking breakfast.

Grinning as he slid into his boxer shorts and dressing gown, Jonathan ambled his way into the kitchen to find his goddess effortlessly working the stove.

“Hey lover,” she purred as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his cock against her heavenly behind.

“Let’s oh…” she stammered as his erection entered her “not let the bacon burn.”

Another quick screw and soon Jonathan was settling down to a wonderful breakfast whilst his woman gazed at him adoringly.

“You know,” she sighed “I can’t thank you enough for bringing me here and showing me that device.”

Jonathan’s heart stopped. Last night when he had carried her to his bedroom, he left the gadget, goodness knows where. A pulsing unease began to throb in his temples as Nancy, wagging her finger, brought out the fabled remote from her dressing gown.

Before Jonathan could lunge at her, she pointed the weapon at him, and instantly he froze, unable to move an inch. Oh, he could still think, stare and breathe, but absolutely nothing else! An acute panic bubbled inside of him as Nancy giggled in the same way she had back in his bedroom. Only now he saw the relish in her eyes as she stroked the remote.

“Darling,” she said “I found this thing lying on the sofa this morning, didn’t know what to make of it but as I played with it, I started to remember things, important things. Oh, I’ve always wanted to be sexy as hell and yes, the sex last night was brilliant but as I undid your damage, I learnt why people like you shouldn’t own such devices!”

And she pointed the remote at herself, one manicured finger pressing down on the fat red button and instantly her inviting housewife demeanour changed, not so breathy, not so sweet or submissive, rather a harsh, bright eyed and cruel expression emerged on her face. This was how the original Nancy would have been, Jonathan guessed, if she had a bit more confidence.

“Much better,” she stated with a stern tut, “Now then darling, on to you.”

He wanted to plea for her to stop. He could charm her or reason with her long enough to get that stupid remote from her hands but no matter how hard he forced himself, he couldn’t even open his mouth. God, this wasn’t fair!

“I learnt something about myself last night,” Nancy went on “I thought I was asexual, but no, I was in denial. You never asked me if I was straight or gay, did you? You increase my sex drive, so I slowly figured out that I’m a lesbian, a super-duper lesbian. And while getting some dick action was fun, it can’t compare to a nice soft…PUSSY!”

And as she pressed another button on that horrid remote, Jonathan felt his own cock and balls tighten, almost like a potato peeler was slicing away at his dick at the same time a fist was punching his nuts up into his hips.

He tried to scream but couldn’t even fidget as he felt the agonizing and unnatural feeling of his genitals being remodelled into a brand-new vagina.

“A pussy,” Nancy playfully pouted, pressing one finger against her cheek “is well and good but I love a woman with a nice rack, don’t you?”

As her finger struck another button, Jonathan whimpered internally to the alien sensations of breasts, firm, bulbous breasts, rising from his formerly flat and hairy chest. Nancy then proceeded to dance around him in her mockingly singsong voice, issuing all kinds of adjustments. Longer hair, painted nails, wider hips, and pouting lips. Soon where a strong manly guy had stood there was…Jonathan didn’t even want to think what he had become.

“Let’s march,” barked Nancy, making the unwilling former male stride towards the full-length mirror out in the hall. There stood a bosomy blonde stranger, in an ill-fitting dressing gown staring right back at him.

His reflection showed a feminine goddess of course, but too extreme, almost a parody of his ideal woman. Boobs a little too large, hair a tad too fluffy. Yeah, he understood the insult. He knew petty revenge all too well.

“Now,” asked Nancy “do you like your job?”

She pressed a button and Jonathan’s clenched jaw opened. He gasped, finally able to speak.

“Please,” he cried in a high-pitched voice “Don’t do this to me. God, I’ll pay you. I’ll pay you heaps, I’m sorry, I swear to God, I’ll never try to…”

Nancy shook her head and pressed the remote. making Jonathan wince in pain.

“That’s not what I asked. Do you like your job?”

“Yes,” he answered truthfully, “I love it.”

“Not any more you don’t,” she laughed “Now you wanna stay at home.”

“Please,” he winced “stop…”

But he felt it then, the charm of his job, deep rooted and never questioned, simply vanish. The idea of the daily office grind seemed at once horrible to him and the thought of lazing around at home, suddenly held a lot more appeal.

“Shit!” he gasped.

“Like it?” laughed Nancy “yeah that’s how it felt last night. Anyway, about your IQ?”

“God no!”

“Let’s shave off a few points and oh yes, you like women but that won’t do. Shouldn’t a bimbo like you crave a big strong man? And of course, there’s the matter of children.”

More and more commands were issued, and Jonathan felt pain and dizziness throb in his brain as it was rewired. It was getting harder and harder to think or focus for even mentally screaming “NO!” couldn’t stop her.

Nothing did.

It wasn’t long until Jonathan lay on the sofa, all knowledge of his former life evaporating like steam.

“I think,” Nancy mused “we’d better get you ready for your husband.”

“My…?” a dazed Jonathan spluttered as Nancy pressed down on the red button for one final time.

The jangle of keys in the front door, snapped Julie Crane née Hewlett out of her slumber.

“Baby!” she squeaked as her Lord and Master entered his home.

Running on high heels, she leapt into his arms and kissed his oh so precious lips, moaning as his firm hands squeezed her bosom.

“Oh honey,” she gasped “the casserole is in the oven but let me take your coat.”

Cooing in her overprotective way, Julie led her handsome husband to the sofa. As he kicked off his shoes and sat down, she dutifully fetched her man his whiskey and scotch. Julie sighed, hopelessly in love when her master slapped her rump, his simple way of letting her know she was his.

Oh, how she cherished being his housewife.

Arnie didn’t get a response from Jonathan all weekend, figured the lad was too busy with his new toy. He still found it odd that Jonathan wasn’t already at work come Monday morning, because that eager beaver was always the first to arrive.

And to add to the unusualness, a rather sexy young woman stood by Jonathan’s desk, dressed in a grey business suit. She regarded Arnie coolly as he looked her over.

“You’re Jonathan Hewlett’s friend, right?” she inquired.

“Sure,” he replied, “what’s he done now?”

“Gotten married.”

Ah that explained it, most men in the office often became hopelessly smitten over their creations. Perhaps Jonathan had embarked on a spur of the moment honeymoon.

“Yes,” said the woman not returning his grin “And I stole a little item from him, perhaps you’d care to explain this?”

She then reached into her pocket, bringing out the woman altering remote.

And now it was Arnie’s turn to scream internally.