The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Just like every Saturday since she turned fourteen, Tracy was at the mall. At nineteen, some of the luster had worn off. I never should have gotten a job here. It’s the totally wrong vibe. Still, the discounts rock.

Worse, it was time to be at that job. Past time, actually, but now her point was made, her supremacy re-established, Nelly was gone, and Tracy was only about a half hour late for work. Pushing it any further wasn’t worth it. Her boss, Megs, got really loud when pushed too far.

She left her heavily discounted smoothie on the food court table mostly undrunk because the real goal had been to quietly demonstrate to Nelly which of the two was the hotter. Tracy won, of course. The guy at the juice bar couldn’t help himself. Tracy just leaned over that extra bit and it didn’t matter what size bra she wore. He even did most of the work for her, falling all over himself for a smile and a wink. She got a free drink, and he didn’t even get a number.

Instead he got treated to Nelly and Tracy bantering in front of his kiosk with a couple of beefcakes from Austria. That was the one without the kangaroos, they emphasized, as if an idiot couldn’t tell from the accent. They were great looking but just backpack tourists, so there was no long-term potential. Besides, she had her reputation to think about. Nobody took you seriously if you slept around.

“Hey Ernie. Got any plans for tonight?” Late or not, she had time to stop and flirt with Ernie the security guard. It was traditional. Everybody at Hot Tees did. Besides, he was cute and knew how to flirt back. If he hadn’t peaked at mall cop, maybe he’d see more than just a tease, but not from her and probably not much more. After all, the guy at the juice bar was cuter—and younger—and got less.

I’ve just got high standards, that’s all. She shrugged. But that’s no reason not to have any fun. Besides, guys love the chase.

“Sorry Tracy, but you’re too late. Hot date with milady Courtney tonight.”

“Oh come on, Ernie! How could you dream of doing better than me?” That was the truth. He couldn’t.

“I can’t baby,” he agreed, “But she’s built like Molly, so she comes close.”

Tracy sniffed and stalked away theatrically. A few minutes later, she walked past Molly Mounds, the former love of Ernie’s life and a revoltingly top-heavy mannequin Megs put out front to attract the attention of men. If this Courtney looked anything like Molly, Ernie must have met her on the stage of a peeler bar. That’s just nasty.

Seeing no one but customers in the front, she hollered, “Hey, Megs! Sorry I’m a little late! Where is everybody?”

“Little?” Meg shrieked from somewhere past the Frills and Lace section. “You were supposed to be here at one! Ooooo! Huh! Guh! Get started!”

“No. The schedule said two-thirty!” Tracy walked into the back so she could check. If Megs had run the place for two hours unassisted, she could for a few minutes longer. And half an hour’s nothing to get all shrill about. The schedule would tell the whole story, and as soon as she saw it, Tracy remembered.

“Oh.” She’d promised to fill in for June and even signed off on it. The little TP¯Tracy Pemberton¯squiggle was right next to MK¯Megan Knight¯authorizing the change with her autocratic power as owner-operator.

“Traceeeeiiii!” howled Megs, totally overacting. “Till! Now! Hurry! Harrrderrrr!”

Tracy dropped her purse out of sight behind one of the stock shelves, bound her auburn hair up and back with a clip, and walked out onto the sales floor. Harder? What the…? Is she curling?

“Sorry Megs,” she called, taking up position behind the cash register. “I forgot. Totally my bad.”

“Talk later!” Megs barked before moaning loudly.

“Geeze. What’s her problem?”

A younger girl, probably still in junior high, dropped a totally inappropriate bra on the counter along with a string bikini too stringy to be of use swimming. “There’s this guy with, like, the biggest dick, ever, screwing the hell out of her. Pretty good problem, ya know?”

Ya. Like you’d know, munchkin, thought Tracy, picking up the girl’s flowery lace purchase. She passed the tag over the reader and frowned. “This is a Double-D, Miss.”

The girl posed, thrusting out a pretty good rack for someone her age, but nowhere near the bra’s stated capacity. “I know!”

“What-ever,” said Tracy. A sale was a sale even if Little Miss Lil’ Kim wanna-be was doomed to bring it back. The green-gold, nylon/lycra scrap posing as a bikini was even less suited to her form. Tracy sighed. She’ll have to shave totally bald down there to wear this thing.

The girl sniffed in response.

Tracy looked her in the eye and raised an eyebrow.

“It’ll fit,” the girl proclaimed and handed over a gift card.

“Ya,” shot Tracy, stifling the “Right after you get stripper implants” that ran through her mind. She ran the card. It easily covered the oversize bra and the spandex tit-tent the teen princess insisted would fit. Tracy flipped the card over to update the marked value before she handed it back, but the girl was already making a bee-line out of the store clutching her prizes.

“Good luck.” She put the card off to the side and scrawled a note to whoever was on to give it back when the girl returned her ridiculous purchases. She sighed, took the next customer’s selections, and asked, “Did you find everything OK?”

“I think so, dearie,” said the gray-haired granny as Tracy scanned bits and pieces of an ensemble that would scare the eyes off of any guy who saw her in it. Nor did they look like the sorts of clothes Tracy’s grandmother bought for her. “Though I wouldn’t mind some of what your friend is getting. Oh, to be a young heart-breaker again!”

A very male moan bubbled out of the Frills and Lace fitting room followed by a giggle and gasp. “Ooooo! It’s still so big! You can keep going?”

That was definitely Megs. The old woman shivered. Tracy stared gap-mouthed. “But that’s… Not possible!”

“Oh, of course it is dear,” the old lady said cheerily. “Didn’t your parents ever tell you about the birds and the bees?”

“No! You don’t get it! Megs is a¯”

“Aaaah! Deeper! Harder! Eeeeyeeessss!”

“A lesbo,” Tracy finished, whispering. “She’s playing a joke on me. This has to be a joke!” She looked at the till and tried to put the silliness of Megs and a guy doing at work out of her mind. “One hundred eighty-three seventy-eight. Cash or¯”

“Cash,” said the old lady, a youthful twinkle in her eye. She dropped nine twenties and then went hunting for smaller change.

While she did, Tracy looked around and tried to ignore the noises coming from the fitting room. Kimberly, the blue-eyed wanna-be model, should have been here too, but she wasn’t, so Tracy knew she wouldn’t catch all of the shit. Just most of it because she was the one here. Keep your head down, Trace, she told herself, taking granny’s money and handing back twenty-two cents. Try and push as much of it off on Kim as possible.

Slowly she worked her way through the queue, praying for the return of the vanished Meg. Any time she actually got anywhere, she was called off to help out a customer and returned to a longer line-up than before.

Finally Meg reappeared. Her clothes were rumpled, her blonde hair a mess, but she wore a huge smile on her flushed face. Even her eyes—wide, glassy, and excited—told the tale. But she was back!

“Meg! Oh my god! You abandoned me! To uh….” Screaming, “to go fuck in a fitting room” was in extremely bad taste. Accurate maybe, but not a good move with kids in the store.

“Trace…. So good. It was soooo good! I….” She turned away and dashed to the nearest mirror and felt herself up, or maybe she was looking for her compact to freshen up.

“Megs!”

“She doesn’t have to explain anything to you.”

“What?” Tracy twisted around to glare at the speaker. He was some skinny, scruffy-looking guy in his forties probably here to grab something for his daughter.

“Daughter-in-law,” he said, correcting her inner monologue.

“What-ever,” said Tracy. The impossibility never really sank in.

Meg also turned away from the mirror and looked at her defender, but then lost herself tracking the confused-looking studly as he staggered out of the fitting room. Their eyes locked, an embarrassed glance was shared, and then Megs grinned. “Didn’t get your name…?”

“She fucked the guy and doesn’t even know him?”

“Extenuating circumstances,” said the father-in-law. “She’d been working her ass off for hours and needed some relief.”

“That’s crazy!”

“Why be so judgmental?” he asked. “It’s mostly your fault after all. You could have been here on time. You thought about popping your head in, but decided to go shopping instead, totally ignoring the nagging feeling that you’d forgotten something.”

Tracy stared at him. “How…?”

“You bought a pair of shorts that you can’t really afford because you liked the way they showed off your ass. You flirted with a with a young gentleman in Sports World by performing a PG strip tease down to a bikini you didn’t buy. You toyed with a couple of guys in the food court giving them little glimpses and talking dirty with a friend you don’t really like right in front of the cutie who risked getting fired to give you a free drink you left on the table, barely touched.

“And that’s a slow day for you. You put the tease in Hot Tees.”

“Have you been following me?” It was creepy, but also empowering proof of the power she had over men.

“Why would I waste my time?” said the guy, rolling his eyes. “You’re not that important. You’re not important at all. You are a dime a dozen. The only reason I’m bothering with you at all is I’ve got a few minutes to burn, and I might as well spend it teaching something.”

“What?”

“A long time ago I wanted to be a teacher. Didn’t work out, but anyway, it’s time to teach you a lesson.”

“How? Call up a demon to drag me to Hell?”

“Too Raimi. I think you’d be better educated by Old Testament horror. Let’s try Steven King.”

“Steven¯ What?”

The man leaned against Tracy and whispered into her ear, “Sluttier.” Then he walked away.

Tracy shook her head and got back to customer service as Meg ignored her clients and played verbal footsy with studly.

“Well isn’t that fantastic!” said Tracy’s mom. “It covers all of your classes for next year?”

Work was over for the day, but Tracy had a hard time believing it because this was ten times as painful. She sat in her appointed seat at the appointed time to eat a family-building, home-cooked dinner. It wouldn’t accomplish anything except waste more of her life. It wasn’t even like she could talk to her parents about a weird day at work—they were too out of touch to get it—and talking to Jason was impossible. Even being seen around him was bad for her reputation.

The stupid old line about picking your friends but not your family was one hundred and ten percent true. Tracy liked her friends, mostly. Her family? Not so much.

Jason nodded. “And books. Board if want it.”

“Don’t you dare move out!” threatened their mother, beaming with pride.

Their father grunted softly, adding “Don’t blow it. Keep up the good work and…”

He paused to swallow a fork full of dinner, but Tracy didn’t have to wait for the passive-aggressive nagging sure to follow. She made good money at Hot Tees. Besides, she could go to school later. Meg didn’t waste her time with college until after she opened her shop, and she’s done just fine!

Wouldn’t mind enough money to move out, though. Jason’s so lucky, and he’s too stupid to take advantage!

“And you can go anywhere,” her dad finished.

“Yeah. Like pro football,” said Tracy, deliberately not looking at her reed-thin brother. She also ignored the glare from her mother. Contrary to their opinions, Jason was destined for nothing. All he did was play stupid games all day and somehow get lucky at school. That didn’t equate to success in the real world, and there Jason was a loser. Compared to her boyfriend Rob, Jason was a total failure. Rob worked out and looked after himself. He got awesome tips at Mario’s and played guitar in a very popular local band. He was going places. He was hot, too.

Jason will just be another loser accountant like dad, so who cares if he gets a degree? Dad never used his. What the fuck good is Economic Philosophy, anyway?

“Almost anywhere,” her dad conceded. “At this point we’ve missed the bus on most pro sports, but I doubt that ever troubled Bill Gates, eh son?”

“And he never graduated!” the two finished together.

Tracy rolled her eyes and tried to ignore the nerd-laugh fest. How dad and a lard-ass like mom combined to produce me, I’ll never know. Jason’s so much more likely. So what if he has enough scholarship money to go to school until doomsday? Who wants to? It’s not like he did anything to earn it, he just got lucky, that’s all. He always gets lucky.

Tracy’s abuse-filled day at work just didn’t matter to some people, but apparently her brother’s usual performance at school still did. But what did she care? They were losers, and Jason would probably die a virgin, still crushing on Nelly. No matter how much fortune favored him, He’ll never get lucky with Nelly!

Her friends, though, they did understand. Sitting in the cramped living room of the tiny apartment Carrie rented, and far away from the idiots Tracy had to live with, the redhead laughed about the day’s strange events, delivered somewhat selectively, with them.

“Are you kidding?” asked Carrie, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder and staring out with amused disgust in her sea-blue eyes at Tracy. Carrie was too chunky to really be pretty, but some guys did go after her for her oversize boobs. They could have them, as far as Tracy was concerned. One, faux-bi girls who made out with other fake-ass girls to look cool were gross, and two, thin was in.

“No! Megs was all over the guy, but he was kinda hot. And Megs been… totally off the market forever, so I guess it makes sense that she’d pop like that sooner or later. Seriously, I thought she was gay.”

“What, she isn’t?” asked Nelly. Slim and dark-haired, Nelly was almost a threat. Plus she had the hottest boyfriend. Still, after Carrie, she was still the closest thing Tracy had to a best friend. Even if that jerk at the mall didn’t think so.

Seriously, what did he know? Tracy and Nelly had so much in common, right down to taste in boys, and sometimes that made her difficult to be around. Like now.

“But she had sex with some total stranger in a fitting room? Eeeew!” Carrie giggled.

“Yeah, but….” Tracy trailed off. With the right guy, maybe. But he’s totally got to be the right guy. Really super cute.

“No,” said Tracy, cutting off Nelly’s almost-missed suggestion. “I was at the mall for twelve hours already today.” Even if that hadn’t been true, Tracy would have probably rejected the idea because it came from Nelly.

“Different mall, Trace,” Nelly countered.

“I don’t care. I want to see people who aren’t shopping.” Tracy rolled her eyes. “Go to the bar?”

“Too fattening,” said Carrie. “How about clubbing?”

Tracy perked up. “I dunno….”

“Not a loud one.” Carrie pulled out her cell to text her tit-fiend sort-of boyfriend. “A real dancing one, not a meat market.”

“I’m OK with a meat market,” said Nelly “Jake’s getting kinda stale.”

Tracy really perked up. Nelly’s the only thing that’s kept him off market. Teasing was OK, but stealing boyfriends…. Not from a friend! Even if that asshole today thinks I don’t like her. But if she’s going to cut Jake loose…!

“Tracy?” Nelly verbally shook her friend from what was rapidly transforming into a torrid daydream. Nell’s own tales of Jake’s prowess had sealed his fate. Now all Tracy had to do was ditch Robby. Cheating on him would not be cool if it got out. Totally burn my rep!

“Tracy!”

“I’m in. Let’s go!”

“That’s not what I asked. Are you going to call Rob?”

“Nah. Gotta keep him hungry if I want to get the really good sex.”

Nelly’s face twitched and showed a quick flash of a smile.

Ha! Looks like my bragging about Robby’s caught her attention. I wonder if she’s inflated Jake as much as I have Robby. You know, if I set things up to look like she and Robby have been fooling around, I could try out Jake free and clear and see if he really is any good with no guilt or strings.

‘Course I would kinda have to lose Robby.

“Jesus, Trace,” said Carrie. “You’re on another world tonight.”

“Yeah. Sorry. Had a weird day at work today. After Meg finally dismounted her boy-toy, this old guy tried to explain to me what happened—well duh! This, like, fourteen year old had it figured out, and she was so clueless that she was buying bras almost four sizes too big. Anyway, he blamed it all on me! Then he had the guts to call me a slut! Funny, huh?”

“Dull” best described the night at the club. She didn’t really expect any different, though, so she kept the smile up, flirted politely, and kept the alcohol consumption low. Even the crowd was typical. The cute guys were taken or turned out to be complete douches when they opened their mouths. The rest of the guys were deadly. They treated the club like a chat room, you could hear the “UR”s and the “Me 2”s, and they didn’t dance¯probably a good thing since she had heels on and not steel-toed boots.

The cutest guy was also the creepiest. He had a huge package and made no attempt to hide it. Tracy stared at man in his most awesome cluelessness until he met her eye and winked. She ignored him after that. Mostly. He danced and danced pretty well, but Tracy just couldn’t keep her imagination from drifting back to ways to take advantage of his big dick.

Eew!