The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Mad Monday

by Pan

Chapter 55:

“You know you can’t wear that bikini to the beach today, right?” I asked.

Mary had spent the last few minutes with a pout on our daughter’s face, trying to get another round out of me before everyone else woke up.

I’d fobbed her off, telling her—truthfully—that I was but a man. A man with limits.

A man with limits which had been stretched almost to breaking point over the last few days. If I’d expected this to continue, I would have had to make a trip to the pharmacy for a bottle of little blue pills.

But without medical intervention, my cock was done for the morning, so we just lay there chatting, my skin touching hers under the covers. I was naked, and my daughter was wearing nothing except the skimpiest bikini I’d ever seen.

My eyebrows shot up at her response—I’d expected either agreement or an argument. Instead, she just let out a soft moan.

It seemed that just the idea of wearing the revealing outfit was enough to turn her on.

“Mary?” I pressed. “You know that you can’t wear that again, right?”

“But I want to,” she whined. I honestly couldn’t tell if she was doing a perfect impression of our daughter, or if this was her true reaction.

“I’m sure,” I replied flatly. “But…you know you can’t, right?”

Again, my wife’s response was neither affirmative or negative. Instead, she just let out a long sigh.

“I know,” she finally said. “I mean, I know. But god, if you weren’t here telling me…I don’t know that I’d be able to stop myself.”

I propped myself up on my elbow and gave her a serious look.


“Mm-hmm,” she groaned. “Frankly, it’s…it’s a little scary. It feels like our daughter’s hormones are the ones running the show.”

“I know the feeling,” I said quietly. My plan had, after all, been to do the bare bare minimum to help Mary get through this. It wasn’t even six in the morning yet, and I’d already released two loads into my daughter.

“And this is with decades of life experience behind me,” Mary continued. “I mean, I know what could happen if she messed up. It’s frankly impressive that she managed to keep her virginity for this long.”

Mary gestured to the teenage body she was temporarily inhabiting.

“This body, combined with these hormones…our daughter has always been someone who knows exactly what she wants.”

I nodded. Belle had been born six weeks premature. She’d been fine, thank heavens, but we’d joked at the time that she didn’t give a rat’s ass about the birth plan. All that mattered was what she wanted…and she’d wanted out!

“What should we do?” I asked. “I mean, that we haven’t done already.”

A smile slowly spread across my daughter’s face, an expression that could only mean one thing:

My wife had a plan.

* * *

“Can you talk to her?” I asked quietly. “I’ve tried, but…well, she won’t listen to me.”

My wife is normally fairly in control of her emotions. I suppose she lets loose a little in the bedroom, but…well, our sex life doesn’t really inspire much beyond “arousal”, “pleasure”, and various flavors of playfulness.

Belle, meanwhile, hadn’t yet mastered keeping her emotions in check. And so in response to my question, I was met with something I hadn’t experienced in many years—a quick succession of expressions on my wife’s face.

Fear, first. No, that might be too powerful a word…nervousness, that was closer. Anxiety.

As far as my daughter was concerned, her consciousness existed in two places at once. Belle had no idea that Mary was the one currently controlling her body; she thought that it was her. The same her she’d been two weeks ago. A copy of the original.

It was almost funny, the realization that being the one who had to get our daughter in line was enough to make anyone nervous. Even Belle herself.

She managed to clamp down on the nervousness within a moment or two, and it was immediately followed by…regret, I suppose. It was clear that she didn’t want to stop her body from dressing in a bikini. Last week, she’d enjoyed it.

But a lot can change in a week, and the final emotion manifested on my daughter’s face in the form of determination.

As I said: when Belle wants something, you’d be a fool to stand in her way.

I could all but see that she was thinking about the police. The sight of her body being shown off to the two police officers (and the subsequent look of lust on their faces) had impacted all of us.

And, as intended, Belle had taken it as a warning sign.

Inside Mary, meanwhile, it seemed to have lit a flame. As our daughter had cum around my cock three times that morning, I wouldn’t have been surprised if my wife had been reliving that moment.

The skimpy outfit. Belle’s innocent expression.

The look of unbridled lust on the cops’ faces.

Me? I also hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, but my reaction was somewhere between the two. On one hand, I couldn’t deny that it had turned me on as well. Knowing that my daughter was so sexy that even two officers of the law were affected by it…but I was the only one who got to fuck her.

It was completely messed up, but so damn hot.

And then the fact that I found it hot was its own special brand of messed up, of course. Freud would’ve had a field day.

But it had served as a wakeup call for me too. If we were going to protect our daughter’s reputation, her future…she couldn’t continue parading herself around the town mostly-naked.

“I’ll talk to her,” Belle said, a familiar note of determination in my wife’s voice. “Leave it to me.”