The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

By the time my wife’s body returned, we’d cleaned up. Mary had managed to get a quick shower in, though she’d failed to convince me to join her.

I couldn’t. I’d seen more of my daughter’s naked, blushing, sweaty, pulsating body than a father should ever see.

I could hardly bring myself to look her in the eyes.

When Belle returned, I forced myself to act normal, but on the inside…

Truly, I wanted to die.

The feeling of my daughter’s mouth around my cock, the sucking noises her mouth had made, the choking, the gulping as she swallowed my seed.

I knew that I’d be having nightmares about it until my final days.

Worst of all—worse even than the physical transgression—was the fact that it had gotten me off.

Any decent father wouldn’t have been able to get hard, let alone cum. Any man with even a hint of morality wouldn’t have been able to maintain an erection as his naked teenage daughter seduced him, forced his throat down her cock and rubbed herself to orgasm.

God. What was wrong with me?

“I got the dress,” my wife’s voice rang out. “Belle? Honey?”

“Hi Mom,” Mary said chirpily, our daughter’s hair wet from the shower. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god! You got it?”

“Yup! And you know what that means?”

On a normal evening, Mary and I would have made confused eye-contact. Tonight, however, I couldn’t bring myself to look at my daughter’s face.

I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to again.

“Fashion show!” Belle said cheerfully, and my wife clapped my daughter’s hands enthusiastically.

“You hear that, Andrew? Fashion show!”

“Please,” I said, in a chilly voice. “Don’t call me Andrew.”

“Sorry Dad,” Mary said, rolling our daughter’s eyes. “Come on! You know you want to see the fashion show.”

“I really, really don’t,” I said, ignoring the disappointed look on both my girls’ faces as I went straight to bed.

As I predicted, I had a nightmare that evening. I dreamt that the police raided our house, and stormed in on Belle giving me head. My wife was there, in her own body, using her vibrators as she watched.

“Do it, Andrew,” she hissed. Despite being back in her own body, she still had Belle’s voice.

I woke up in a sweat. I could feel the sensations of Belle’s mouth around my cock.

Maybe I’d always feel it.

For the next few hours, I drifted in and out of nightmares, all of them involving my daughter’s body. Her tits, her cunt, her mouth.

I eventually gave up on sleep and got out of bed.

My parents have a cabin, about forty minutes out of town. We go there in the summer; just me, Mary, and Belle. (Ben goes to Space Camp instead.) When she was a kid, Belle loved it—camping, fishing, swimming in the lake.

Ever since her rebellious phase started, our visits have grown shorter and shorter. Belle refers to it as her ‘summer punishment’—privately, Mary and I have started referring to it as ‘hell-trip’. Our daughter’s attitude has managed to suck every vestige of joy out of the vacation.

This year, we were seriously considering not going.

I’m not suggesting that Mary’s plan is some kind of magic miracle, poised to solve every problem we’ve ever had, but it had certainly given me hope—with the changes we’d seen just in the last few days, I was starting to wonder if the cabin trip was back on the table.

Slipping into our daughter’s bedroom, I gently shook her awake.

“Andrew?” she said groggily. Her eyes focused, then darkened with lust. “Andrew…”

Mary tried to pull me in for a kiss, but I pushed her away.

“Honey,” I said. “I need to clear my head. I’m going to spend a day at the cabin, okay? I just…I need some space.”

My wife began to respond, but I put one finger on her lips.

On our daughter’s lips.

Our daughter’s lips which, just a few hours ago…

I shuddered.

“I really need it, okay? Please don’t argue. I’m going to leave a note—if Belle says anything, cover for me. Please?”

“Mmm,” she responded. She was clearly still half-asleep.

“I’ll see you when I get back, okay?”

“Okay…”

There’s something so very peaceful about driving at night. The streets are empty, the city is dark. Even the car seems quieter, somehow.

Shortly after arriving at the cabin, I fell into a dreamless sleep. When I awoke, I felt better than I had in days.

I spent the morning fishing. I really should have gotten some work in—while the cabin didn’t have wifi, I’d brought my laptop and enough files to get some work done offline.

Instead, I fished. I fished, and I thought.

It had been one week since Mary and Belle had swapped bodies, and I had to admit—it was working. Already, my daughter was starting to see the other side of the situation.

Again, I knew it wasn’t a miracle cure…but it was clear that she was gaining more empathy, more understanding of what we wanted from her as parents.

She could see why we behaved the way we did. That it was out of love.

Similarly, the insights that Mary was getting—they were invaluable. I’d had no idea about Belle’s drug-dealing boyfriend, her loneliness…her hormones.

My brain instinctively wanted to avoid that topic, but I forced myself to focus on it.

Belle’s hormones.

It was clear that Mary was struggling. If she’d gone on that date last night…

I shuddered at the thought. I wasn’t keen on the idea of my daughter having sex. I was especially not keen on the idea of my wife having sex while in our daughter’s body.

No, it was obvious that Mary needed help. And so, as much as it disgusted me…I had to help her.

I had to.

Seven more days. For one more week, I could put my own inclinations aside, and do what needed to be done for my wife.

Seven days.

I decided to work through the afternoon before heading home. You can’t underestimate the value of working with no internet—no notifications constantly popping up, no social media to distract you.

Having spent half a day fishing, I needed to catch up. With Freecell as the only temptation available to me, I was able to power through and accomplish quite a lot in just a few hours.

When I closed my laptop, my stomach was grumbling. There was no food in the cabin, only coffee, and all I’d thought to bring with me was a packet of Doritos.

I stood up, stretched, and prepared to drive home.

As I opened the door to the cabin, I was shocked to find my teenage daughter staring at me, her hand raised, ready to knock on the door.

She was wearing the new dress.

“Hi, honey,” she purred, reaching out and grabbing my crotch. “I’ve been thinking about you all day…”