The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Mad Monday

by Pan

Chapter 13:

My wife impresses me each and every day. Perhaps that’s the secret to a happy marriage; she seems to be constantly raising the bar.

Admittedly, ‘swapping minds with our teenage daughter’ is going to be a tough one to top, but even the little stuff impresses me—like how she managed to change our daughter’s look from ‘freshly fucked’ to ‘presentable’ in less than a minute, talking all the while.

“Honey,” she said, adjusting her hair and wiping sweat off her…everything. “The date tonight—that’s real.”


“I know! I’m sorry. He was…I was…look, it doesn’t matter. What’s important is…you need to get me out of it.”

“Me? Why don’t you just…—“

“Andrew. Seriously. I know we just…

She paused, and shot me a firm look.

“Well, you know. But trust me, in no time at all, it’s going to be back.”

“What is?”

“It! The…the urges! The libido! The hormones. It’s a non-stop fucking loop. I have no idea how ANY teenage girl avoids getting pregnant, or…I don’t know, masturbating to dehydration. It boggles the mind.”

“Okay, so…”

My wife’s words were interrupted by the sound of the garage door closing.

“So if you don’t stop me, I’m going to go out with Philip.”


My daughter’s cheeks went red, and I realized my wife was blushing.

“I don’t want to. But…remember when I first found fancy cheese?”

“Yes. We had to stop keeping it in the house.”

Exactly. Philip is fancy cheese. If you don’t stop me, I…I can’t help myself.”

I could hear my wife’s keys in the front door.

“Ground me!”


“We don’t have time for this. Ground me! Find some reason, and…and…”

“Won’t that be a little counter-productive? We’re trying to…—“

“Fine! I’ll give you a reason. Just please…ground me!”

My wife’s head popped around the corner, and her eyes narrowed slightly.

“What are you two talking about?”

Balling our daughter’s fists, Mary turned towards her former body. She moved her shoulders back, took half a step forward, and hissed two words:

“You. Cunt.”

This wasn’t the first time.

A few months ago, Mary had discovered a pack of cigarettes in Belle’s room. Knowing what I know now about her boyfriend, I’m surprised that’s all she found.

She threw them out, of course, and when Belle found out, she hit the roof.

The C-word was used, voices were raised, and Belle had been grounded for a week.

That time, I’d been the recipient of the curse word. At the time, I’d been torn between shock and amusement. Obviously no one likes to be called that, but it also felt a little like ‘baby’s first swear’. Cute, almost.

It had really hit Mary hard, however. I can’t help but wonder if that was when she’d finally come to terms with the fact that we really had a problem.

The look on my wife’s face was…well, it was almost identical to the look on her face the first time it had happened. This time, however, the face was being controlled by our daughter.

Apparently she didn’t like being on the receiving end of teenage rebellion.

Belle’s elbow nudged me in the side, and I suddenly realized my role in this little play.

“Young lady, that is unacceptable! You are GROUNDED!”

“This is totally unfair!” she shouted back at me, and when I turned to my ‘wife’ for support, I was surprised to find that she wasn’t there.



My wife rolled my daughter’s eyes, and pointed. “Go! Comfort her.”


“Andrew, honey, this isn’t hard. Go and comfort your damned wife.”

“Right. Yes. Of course.”

“If she asks why I was so mad, tell her that I found out about the diary. She’ll know what it means.”

“Got it.”

“Oh, and honey?”


“After you’re done…come see me in my room, okay?”

I don’t know if she noticed the shudder that passed through my body as she left. Seeing that look of lust on our daughter’s face…

This wasn’t what I’d signed up for.

* * *

“How’d it go?”

“Good,” I said, trying to avoid looking at my daughter’s body. She’d changed from a revealing bikini into an equally-revealing set of lingerie. Where had our daughter even acquired such an outfit?

“What happened?” my wife said, patting Belle’s bed.

“About what you’d expect,” I said with a sigh, reluctantly sitting beside her. “She cried, she asked what had happened, I told her about the diary…she did read the diary, did you know that?”

“Of course. I’ve been writing in it every day. She forgot to put the sheet back after she grabbed it from under the bed this morning.”


I wanted to ask why my wife knew where our daughter’s diary was, but this wasn’t the time for that conversation.

“She probably just wants to know what ‘she’ is up to, but it was a handy excuse. What did she say about me swearing at her?”

“She didn’t like it, I’ll say that much. I don’t think she expected it to hurt as much as it did. I think…”

I hesitated to say it, knowing what train of thought it would inevitably lead my wife down, but I couldn’t lie.

“…I think this is really working. We’re really getting through to her.”

“Of course we are,” my wife said, her trademark grin not sitting quite right on our daughter’s face. “Have I ever been wrong before?”

“Napa Valley,” I responded flatly, and we both burst out laughing.

“Where is she now?”

“Asleep. She had a glass of wine…—“

“You let her drink wine?”

I smiled, and put my arm around my daughter’s neck.

“Honey, she’s in the body of a 40-year old. I think she can handle a little wine.”

The grin returned.

“As the owner of that 40-year old body, I can assure you: she can’t. A whole glass? She’ll be out cold all night. And that means…”

Gently but firmly, I pushed my lingerie-wearing daughter’s body away from mine.

“Sweetie, we can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep doing this.”

“Andrew, honey; she’s out cold. We can be as loud as we want…”

“That’s just it, my love. I don’t want. I know that…I know that you’re doing this for us. And I know that it’s hard for you. And believe me, I’m doing everything I can. But you just…you already…it wasn’t even two hours ago, and…”

Mary moved one of Belle’s fingers to my lips, and interrupted my stuttering.

“I’m asking too much, aren’t I?”

“Yes! Yes, honey. Too much. Once a day, sure. Fine. I can do what needs to be done once a day. But this is…it’s starting to take its toll.”

My wife thought for a moment, and nodded our daughter’s head.

“Once a day. Okay. That’s fair.”

I paused, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and was surprised to be met with…silence.


“Of course. Once a day. If that’s all you can handle, my sweet, that’s what we’ll do.”

“And…you’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be okay.”

“No…other boys?”

“No other boys.”



I smiled down at my daughter’s beautiful face.

“We’re going to get through this.”

“Of course we are, honey.”

“Thanks so much.”

“Thank you.”