The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“What did we do before the Internet?”

“I dunno. I was two? Three? When was the Internet started?”

“Gosh. If only we had an enormous library of information at our fingertips.”

“Ha ha ha. Googling it already. Ha! Long time ago. Wasn’t even born yet!”

“I…” a loud Deep-Deep cut Oliver off. Marissa watched as he blurred and raised a smartphone to turn off the intruding alarm. “I gotta run, baby.”

“I know. Catch your flight. Tomorrow in Harrisburg?”

“Yeah. I don’t know why they didn’t schedule these in order. Save a lot of back-and-forth travel. Talk to you soon honey.”

“Three months and then Buenos Aires.”

“I’ll see if I can sneak in a weekend before then.”

“See that you do. Getting lonely.”

“Love you, Marissa.”

Marissa fixed the laptop’s camera with a steady, knowing gaze. “I know.”

Oliver’s chuckle rumbled over the speakers, distorted by a bad connection. “You’re as big a nerd as I am, baby.”

“Bigger.” Marissa smiled “Now go get your plane.”

She closed the browser window with a wistful click. She looked out a real window. Oliver’s promotion supplied a much nicer house than either of them had expected, even in these crazy times. Mountains and skiing an hour up hill and a lovely beach with a boat launch she couldn’t wait to use one day five minutes downhill. Not far to the west was the canyon and wonderful hiking. It was close to the university, Oliver’s office, and a top-rated elementary school. But that was for a few years down the road when her doctorate was finished, her career started, and children were running wild. But hopefully not too wild.

Life should have been fantastic, only Oliver was in his close-to-home office maybe one day a month. The rest of it he spent on the road ensuring the quality plan he’d designed, championed, and suddenly found himself implementing was followed by branches scattered all over North America. And the new shop in Argentina. Hopefully she would get time off to join her husband at the last stop of his trip in Buenos Aires.

In the meantime, they kept in touch via chat rooms and, more recently Marylu’s List, an online swap-meet with a webcam P2P meeting group Oliver had found. That way they could at least see each other more than once a month.

Sure, teaching and researching and writing her dissertation kept her busy, but really…. She kind of wanted to enjoy her husband in the flesh from time to time. Movies, hikes, sailing, maybe even (Gasp!) a bit of that sex thing she’d heard about.

Fortunately, the travelling was only temporary. Once Oliver got the company straightened out, he’d have time to hire people to do the travelling. Maybe he’d be promoted again for a job well done.

All in all, things could be worse.

And the next day they were. To start with, there was the stupid new legal page. Marissa clicked accept. Then it asked again to confirm she had read what looked like 50 pages of legal nonsense in a microscopic font. She clicked yes. Then the web browser froze for, like, five minutes while it downloaded new client software. She was about to give up and send an apologetic e-mail when it finally dumped her into a chat room. No lobby. That’s when she noticed the logos were different.

“GrayDate? Wow. What a bad name!”

“Tell me about it!” said one woman, Chelsea according to the status (23, single, 5′4″, 124 lbs, B-cup) listed down the left side of her portion of the gridded screen of video streaming from the eight people in the Local Area Chat (Find your match next door, not across the country!) “I like the idea, but jeeze!” She shook her muddy-blonde-bobbed head and quirked her lips in dismay. She looked down at her blouse and tie. “I just came in to check the forum, and now I feel over dressed.”

She wasn’t kidding. Of the 8 people in chat, Only Chelsea and Marissa were female, she supposed. One of the chat windows was webcam shot of an empty, and very messy, apartment. The rest were guys. And they were not dressed to impress. The closest was “Cooper”, a man in his thirties or forties, hard to tell, whose rumpled office attire said he had just gotten home from work and looked forward to getting comfortable.

“64 straight hours, man,” said Cooper. He had a platinum star beside his name. She and Chelsea had silver, Marissa noted. “It’s up. It’s stable, and…

“Ladies!” Cooper’s eyes flicked over the left side of his screen where Chelsea and Marissa’s windows sat. “Hey! Just what the party’s been missing! Welcome, welcome! Grey’s bought out Marylu’s List, and trust me, going to love it.”

“She will, maybe,” said Chelsea. “I’m bailing.”

Cooper grinned. “I suggest you just give it time, Chelsea.”

Chelsea’s face softened. Her steely eyes didn’t. “OK. You’ve got five minutes. Convince me.”

Marissa looked the new interface over. It looked radically different, but the same basic buttons were there. “Become a GOLD member!” popped up when she clicked the private room button. She killed the dialogue and kept looking. Most of the buttons did nothing but ask her to become a gold member.

Chelsea sure seemed to fit right in once she got used to it. She’d put on ruby red lipstick, seductive eyeliner, and a little blush, and dressed up her flowing honey blonde hair so that it looked longer and fuller. She giggled and flirted openly with Cooper, coming onto him like a drunken party girl.

“Hey Chelsea, uh…”

“What’s he going to do, Marissa? Slip some GHB into my iMartini?” Chelsea shrugged. “He can perv all he wants and this is still way safer than a bar.

“Besides, you’ve got my back, right girl?”

“Eeeyeah….” Marissa poked around at the interface some more. Damn near everything in the menus was greyed-out, probably where they got the site name from, unless you were a gold member. The only options she really had were to change rooms and exit the program. The first a possibility, but the pervert was focused on the giggling blonde bimbo, thank god for that, and the other option not an option if she wanted to talk with Oliver when he got here. At the very least they needed to talk and find someplace new to meet.

Chelsea barked out a laugh. “Oh as if, Coop!” She played with the single button that held her bolero jacket—the only thing she wore that was in the camera’s view—closed tight over her large—an understatement—breasts.

Maybe it was the change of clothes, but Marissa couldn’t recall Chelsea being nearly that endowed when she’d come in. And it was kind of hard to miss. She wondered what made an already attractive woman do that to her body. They had to be implants because there was no way those melons came stock on a slender frame like Chelsea’s.

She went back to looking for a way out of the trap. There had to be a private option. What good was a dating site without a way to get to know someone in private? Her jaw dropped about the same time Chelsea’s top did.

“Chelsea?”

“Like, omigawd! He’s right! It does feel better to chat topless!” Chelsea felt herself up, quivering. Her voice rose in pitch, becoming more girlish. “Ahhh Fuck! Yah! So good! Ooooh My tits feel sooo fuckn’ good!”

“So, Marissa,” said Cooper. “Why don’t you show me your tits?”

“What?”

“Fuck.” Cooper slapped his forehead and for a second Marissa thought he’d clued in to his stupidity. He had, but she quickly realized it was a completely different set of stupidity because he picked up where he left off and kept on talking. “Marissa, I suggest you—”

Marissa cut the pervert off by leaving the room. She dropped into a new channel with a single occupant. This one well dressed, not that Cooper had been poorly dressed, but… Bob. Bob wore a tailored suit and wore it well. Clearly he had wealth and taste in no small quantity. He also had a mike and speaker combo sticking out of his right ear and looked distracted by deep thoughts. Marissa approved of thinking, especially after seeing what happened as soon as Chelsea had stopped.

Bob looked up, then over at her. He smiled. “Well hello! Welcome to GreyDate, Miss Cromwell!

“Please allow me to introduce myself,” he continued, a smile growing as he talked. “I’m Bob. How can I be of assistance?”

“There is… A guy named Cooper talked Chelsea out of her shirt.”

“Was it consensual?”

“I’ll say!”

“Then what is the problem?”

Marissa blinked. Was Bob clueless? “In a public chat room? What if a kid sees it?”

“They shouldn’t be here. We do what we can to keep children out, but every now and then someone lies about their age when they sign up. Beyond the ethical and legal concerns, the kind of trouble they can get into here disturbs me, so we crack down quickly.”

Marissa snorted. “Wait a second. We?”

Bob grinned. “Robert Apollyon Lawless, part owner of Grey Inc. and president of IDO—Internet Dating Operations.”

“Oh.” Her hand shot up to her lips. “Oh!” And then the rest sunk in. “Oh.

“So complaining about Cooper being fresh is a waste of time.”

“Pretty much. He’s an employee. He comes here to flirt.”

“He went way beyond flirting with me!”

“Miss Cromwell, this is an adult dating site.”

“Missus Cromwell.”

“Missus… Mrs. Cromwell, I reiterate. This is a site for individuals seeking partners. You will be flirted with. Men will try to pick you up. So will more than a few women. Some of them will overstep your bounds. You add them to your ignore list and keep looking for your perfect match. That is the nature of the game.”

“I have a perfect match. And it didn’t used to be a game. My husband and I would open up a private room to talk.”

“Private channels are now only available with paid subscriptions, however, there is the community support option in our EULA.”

“Eew-law?”

“The agreement you read and elected to follow in order to use this site. It grants some paid privileges to those who contribute to the site in some measurable way. We need group discussion moderators, preferably female because there are almost always more men than women on the site. And men tend to respond better to an attractive woman.”

“Oh. I suppose I could do some of that,” Marissa surprised herself by saying. “I don’t have to date any of them, do I?”

“Only the ones you want to.”

“I’m married.”

“Oddly enough so are most of our users.”

“Eeeew.” She made a face. “Well, I guess I could try to help with group discussion. I used to be on the debating team in high school.”

Ten minutes later, Marissa was back in Bob’s virtual office, seething.

“Things got a little out of hand?” he asked.

“Out of hand? The men… the boys in chat won’t listen to me. They don’t know anything about debate! All they want is to scream at each other… and see tits!” shouted Marissa. “I don’t know what I’m saying wrong, but I just can’t get through! No one could moderate those… those… them!”

“You probably aren’t saying anything wrong. Men respond more… Visually.”

“Well I’m not taking my shirt off.”

“Then I suggest losing the bra.”

“What will that do?” she asked, lifting her shirt up over her head.

“One, a skilled observer will notice immediately and respond much more favourably. The less skilled, well, their brains tend to blow out when they realize that all that’s between them and your breasts is a thin sheet of fabric. That and a camera, and at most a few hundred miles. A man going ga-ga over boobs he thinks he might see will do almost anything you want.”

“OK. And the second?” She let her bra fall down her arms and then tossed it away.

Bob’s eyes swept over her and then narrowed. “It has been suggested that the sensation of your clothes against your bare nipples is an incredible turn-on.”

“And this is just a suggestion?” Her skepticism bucked like a horse. She pulled her shirt back down. It rubbed her breasts. A nice feeling, but nothing special. “Got anymore tips? I think I’ll need them with those animals.

“Keep an open mind. But not too open. Your brain might fall out.”

Marissa snickered at that idea. Her little laugh rapidly rubbed her breasts against her shirt. It tickled her and made her feel a little dizzy.

But Bob was right, kind of. The men in the chat room paid much better attention. Or maybe she paid less. It was hard to tell and probably a bit of both. High beams came up in the conversation a lot.

She’d turn her head and her shirt would brush her nipples. Her nipples would stiffen in response and that would turn her on. Aroused, they stuck out more, rubbed more, teased her more. On the upside, she didn’t mind the conversation topic anymore. In fact some of it sounded pretty darn good. Oliver licking and sucking her breasts….

She found herself playing with them at one point. Her nipples felt weird. Big. Thick. Really, really sensitive. They never got like this, even during sex. But they were now. And how!

And they attracted a lot of attention. Way more than her bug-bite breasts ever got in even the skimpiest of bikinis. As she logged out of the group chat, her mission accomplished, Marissa decided she liked it. The new format, the attention, and her perky nipples. She turned the camera off, undid her blouse, and got lost in playing with her tingly, excitable breasts.

Harrisburg, Pennsylvania

“Tech support. Marylu speaking.”

Oliver blinked, then made a double take. First, the tech support line was now video. Second, the woman providing the support didn’t look like any computer nerd he’d ever seen. Actually, the last time he’d seen a woman that looked anything like Marylu had been lingerie-clad and gazing lustfully out of a TV in a cheap hotel when he’d gone scrolling through the pay-per-view offerings. She’d made Oliver’s longing for his wife that much more intense.

Marylu did the same, and she did it without lingerie. She wore a blouse that wouldn’t have been out of place in any office anywhere in the world if it had been buttoned up all the way to the top. And if she’d worn a bra beneath it. Maybe she did. She must have, given the size of her breasts, but it didn’t obstruct any of the view.

Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail except for bangs that arced over her forehead to dangle just above of her sultry and sleepy, half-lidded, green eyes. This exposed her ears and an ear mike running down her cheek to her creamy-pink, bow-shaped lips. Her heart-shaped face demanded a second look even though he had yet to look away. She had a hell of a webcam and tonnes of bandwidth. The picture was flawless.

“Uhhh hey, Marylu. I’m trying to open a private chat for me and my… friend.”

“A private… Oh, I’m sorry. That’s a member privilege now. Can I see yours?”

“My what?”

Her tongue teased out, moistened her lower lip, arced up to do the same to her upper, and vanished back inside. Her voice came out as pure sex. “Your member. I suggest you show it to me.”

It was a simple request. Sure it felt weird, but… there had to be some logical reason for her to make it. He stood up and undid his pants. He slid them down, made sure Marylu got a good look, and sat again with his pants around his knees. “I’m not a member.”

“No. You’re not,” she said, looking somewhat disappointed, then brightened, her smile creeping back, only more predatory. “Would you like to be?”

“Not at this time. Thank you.”

“There are benefits to membership, Oliver,” said Marylu. She leaned forward and, as far as Oliver could tell, touched the screen with the index fingers of both hands. She dragged them apart and then leaned back, smiling at a job well done. “I think you’ll like them. Consider this a free sample.” Her tongue once again teased out across her lips and she reached out to touch her screen.

His penis twitched and he felt an odd tugging sensation. He looked down, and felt slightly embarrassed. Marylu’s beauty and aided and abetted by the time away from Marissa already had his dick as long and thick as it ever got, but oddly not yet preparing for launch. If Marylu kept smiling at him like that it was only a matter of time before he was in the upright, locked position.

“Now… imagine your wife, your friend, taking you into her mouth, her lips sliding down, down, dowwwn as her tongue caresses your shaft.”

That did it. He felt his dick throb and lift off of the chair. “Oh she would never do that.”

“Well then, I suggest you imagine me doing it. Me sucking that fat cock of yours into my mouth. Sucking on it softy. Teasing it with my tongue. Making it swell and harden. Making you stiff. Taking your cock and exciting it beyond your ability to resist until it’s all thick and hard and burning to be stuffed over and over into a wet, wanting cunt until it explodes and fills the lovely lady with delicious, white-hot cum.”

Oliver stared at Marylu in shock, partly at what she said and partly at the seductively over-the-top way she said it. She looked him in the eyes the whole time, and Oliver knew how difficult that was. He and Marissa had logged hundreds of hours of practice, and the second you looked at the screen instead of the camera, the illusion of togetherness ended, but if you didn’t look at the screen, it never started.

It felt like Marylu had him on her mind the whole time, while describing a perverted sex act and typing rapidly on her computer.

As he stared at her, her smiling lips spread into an “O”. Her head tilted forward. His dick jumped as her tongue touched it, licked around it, and down it as it slid into her mouth. It throbbed and his head snapped back. A moan ripped from him. He caught on fire down below. She stoked the flames, blood pounded, filling him, making his whole body stiffen, and the electric sensation of impending orgasm—

“OK. Stop. You aren’t going to have any trouble finding dates around here, that’s for sure.” Wearing more of a smirk than a smile, Marylu finally looked away from his face and down, suggestively.

Oliver gave thanks that his camera still pointed at his face. She couldn’t see what she’d done to him and he wasn’t going to rise to the bait by looking down and telling her.

Still, she wore a silky smile of self satisfaction. “So I see you travel a lot.”

“Errr… Yes?”

“That’s pretty good. You look like you need two or three sluts a night to feed that much man-meat. When you get to Akron, look me up.”

“I’m not…”

“I know. But what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

“Actually, yes it would.”

“I suggest you don’t worry about that.”

“Well…” A great weight lifted from his shoulders. Embarrassment at Marylu verbally manipulating him into erection faded. And a good thing, too. He hadn’t been this horny since high school, and in high school the only time a girl that looked like Marylu would even talk to him was in a dream. And previously they had all met their match as soon as he’d gone on his first magical date with Marissa. “If you don’t mind my saying, you are very pretty.”

“Thank you! Why don’t you show it? Touch yourself for me.”

“What?”

She smiled. Her eyes twinkled. “Your cock. I know it’s hard. I suggest you stroke it.”

Oliver looked down when his hand wrapped around his hard cock and the thumb and fingers failed to meet. His head snapped back up. “Wha? I…”

“Stroke it for me. Show how much you want me.”

He pumped the throbbing, huge, hard penis that wasn’t his. Had to be his. It was attached to his body. He certainly felt that. “What’s going on? It… It grew!”

“Of course it did, darling. I do that to men. I get them big. I make them hard. And then I fuck them.”

“No! Not like this!”

She sighed. Her head shook side to side in disbelief. “You’re supposed to be happy. Your friend, she’ll love it as much as I will, but if you’re going to freak out, I suggest you forget how small your cock used to be and just enjoy using that monster.”

He couldn’t think of a reason not to take that advice, but then he could barely think. His hand pumped faster, up and down. He added the second hand. His vision blurred. His balls tightened and pulled up. In his mind’s eye, Marissa smiled just like Marylu, her tongue teasing her lips. Her head tilted downward. Her lips parted. He came like a fire hose all over the monitor.

“The rules are the rules,” Marylu said, nonchalant as though people came all over her virtual face every day. “You have to spend time in the community. Paid members have unlimited P2P chats, but the free users can earn private time by providing services.”

Oliver barely noticed, his mind shattered by the intensity of the orgasm and his cock already aching and throbbing for more. “Uhhhh what kind of services?”

“Chatting, dating, but that’s mostly for the ladies to address the gender gap around here. There is also moderating forums and a few other things. I think you’d like the dating. I know the date would.”

“I’m not really into… Listen, I have a wife.”

“And I’ve had three husbands. None of them could keep up. I’ve linked a profile. She’s a new member and looks about your age. Looks pretty damn good. Too good, actually. The profile pic is probably a few years out of date.

“Anyway, single mother, but she can afford the membership fees, so she’s not too bad off. I suggest you drop in on Nancy and see how it goes.”

“What if she wants… things?”

“Who doesn’t?” asked Marylu. “I suggest that you do what she asks. She is a gold member after all.

“Is he taken care of?”

“Oh he’s going to be distracted all right.” Marylu giggled. “And I didn’t even need to use my tits.”

“But I see you did give him a nine-and-a-half inch penis.”

“And it’s a bit over eight inches around.” Her tongue made a hungry, anticipatory orbit.

“He’s not a platinum member.”

“No, but I seem to recall that I am. And I own half of the fucking company, Bob, so I can do whatever I want.

Marylu’s smirk widened. Her eyes narrowed into a challenge. “Besides, didn’t you pick out his wife because her slender body would look stunning sporting tits the size of her head? Have fun watching them go boom-boom-boom as the little airhead danced around her living room?”

“She’s still the same smart and sporty lil’ number who logged in.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Why? Change everything all at once and she’s fun for a day. Two, tops. Leave her fully aware of herself and her surroundings and tinker slowly…. Watching her puzzle over the twists and turns her life takes, slowly succumbing to new needs and desires, and finally aiding and abetting her transformation from mouse to maniac…

“Bet she’s still giving me wood a month from now and you’ll have moved on from Mr. Megadick.”

“Oh, I can keep him pretty entertaining.”