The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The drive home was quiet. It took several minutes for my wife to muster up the strength to cover our daughter’s body once more. Even after several minutes of driving, she would still sporadically twitch with pleasure.

For my part, I couldn’t stop thinking about how stupid we’d been. How stupid I’d been.

Fucking my daughter was bad enough. I knew that the images—the sensations—would be permanently burned into my brain. But doing it in broad daylight, with the curtains open?

Anyone could have seen. And it would just take one glimpse, one rumor to…

No.

God.

We were doing this for our family. We were doing this for Belle. I knew it was hard for my wife, but we had to be safe.

We had to be smart.

And that meant we couldn’t fool around. Not even so much as a kiss. If someone saw—if Belle saw…

It wasn’t worth the risk.

When we got home, Belle (in my wife’s body) was in the kitchen. No one in our family is much of a cook (we order out a lot) but I could see that Belle had made an effort. Some kind of pasta bake. It looked like she’d even attempted to include a vegetable or two.

“What’s the special occasion?” I asked, trying to force a jovial tone. Trying to think about anything besides my daughter’s cunt, twitching with pleasure as she came around me again and again.

Belle sat my wife’s body down next to mine, and grabbed my hand. It felt…natural. Normal. Nice.

Had my wife switched back? Had my words gotten through to her, and she’d realized that I was right, that we couldn’t be doing this? Had she given in?

“Da—…t’s a good question,” she said, clumsily turning ‘Dad’ into a different word. A word that doesn’t even start with the same letter.

Nope. My wife was still my daughter, and my daughter was still my wife.

“Oh?” I said, re-plastering the smile onto my face.

“Yeah,” she said, and sighed.

Oh, shit.

Did she know? Had she…had she somehow seen?

I took a deep breath, and realized how stupid I was being. No, after catching her former body having sex with her father, I was sure that Belle’s first reaction wouldn’t be to bake a casserole.

I felt like I was going mad.

Sitting patiently, I waited for her to muster up the courage to say whatever she was going to say.

Sitting patiently, I tried desperately not to think about my erection, so recently buried in my daughter’s wet, quivering pussy.

“There’s something I want to tell you,” Belle said, closing one of her mother’s eyes. I remember our daughter doing that when she was just learning to talk, as though that one eyelid would magically hide her from the world, while letting her keep an eye on the other person’s reaction. “And it’s not going to be easy.”

“Of course,” I said, my voice calm, my mind determinedly not thinking about our daughter’s perfect, bouncing tits as she rode me.

“I just want to say…I’m sorry.”

I blinked twice. For a brief moment, Belle’s words had actually distracted me from remembering the warm, wet feeling of my daughter’s pussy lips sliding down my cock.

“Pardon?”

“I’m sorry.”

I hadn’t actually been counting, but it felt like it had been approximately eight hundred years since I’d actually heard my daughter apologize.

Of course, she thought I thought she was still my wife. I knew I had to play along.

“For what?”

“I know I can sometimes be difficult,” she said, clearly choosing her words carefully. Apologizing to her father while pretending to be her mother. I imagined it wasn’t an easy task.

“True,” I said with a smile.

“But I know that you work hard. And I know that…”

Belle sighed, and I suddenly noticed a tear running down my wife’s cheek.

“…I know that you love me. And, y’know. I just wanted to say…I love you too.”

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I was all choked up.

“I love you,” I eventually said, more gruffly than I’d expected.

“Come here,” she said, sniffing, and before I knew what was happening, my wife’s arms were wrapped around me as my daughter pulled me into a hug.

It was a touching moment (literally), but the mood was quickly shattered.

You see, even after half an hour of being ridden by a buxom, horny teenager, I still hadn’t come. I mean, how could I?

I couldn’t.

I couldn’t.

But the images seemed to be permanently burned into my brain.

And so I was…I was still hard.

Just hours ago, my wife—in my daughter’s body—had felt my erection buried deep inside her.

Now, my daughter—in my wife’s body—had inadvertently felt it press against her as she pulled me into a hug.

“Oh my GOD,” she shrieked. “DAD!!!”

I gawped at her, speechless. In that moment, the entirety of the English language escaped me. I remembered the words ‘buh’ and ‘fluh’, but decided not to bring either of those out right now. Neither of them seemed appropriate.

Before my vocabulary could begin to rebuild, Belle realized what she’d done.

“Uh. Uh. Uh. Dad,” she repeated, I could almost hear the gears grinding. “…called. My Dad called. He said Ben is having a great time at Code Camp.”

For the past few days, our son had been staying with Mary’s parents, going to a special camp for ‘junior coders’. Maybe her Dad really had called—that was a conversation I would have loved to hear. Belle pretending to be Mary, speaking to her father/grandfather.

“Oh,” I said, suddenly remembering how to talk. “That’s great. That’s great, honey. Thanks for letting me know. Thanks.”

“Igottagonow,” my daughter said in a quick breath, and before I could muster up a reply, my wife’s body was dashing out of the room.

Fuck. Fuck. As if fucking my fucking daughter wasn’t enough, now I’d…

I shuddered.

I’d pressed my erection against her. Against my daughter. The real one. She’d have a memory of that for the rest of her life.

As would I.

This was not my day.

And as Mary sauntered Belle’s body into the room, I somehow knew it was about to get worse.