The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Minneapolis, Minnesota

“Wait a second… That was you with Kirsten?”

“Could have been. She kind of gets around. I went to see her mom, and wound up with one of her daughters.”

“Her mom.” Grace giggled.

“She used her daughter’s picture as an avatar.”

“Kinda against the rules.”

“No. Fake avatars are OK. They get outted as soon as they use chat,” Marylu explained. “We do take action on people who lie about their age, though. Nancy’s off the site for good.

“Kirsten, on the other hand, I think she’s earned a VIP token. I know the other VIPs will enjoy having her around.”

“Don’t you get it?” moaned Oliver. “I cheated on my wife, and I don’t know why!”

Marylu shrugged. “Oh, I get it. I just don’t see why it is important.”

“She’s my wife!”

“I suggest you stop shouting,” said Marylu. “Just chill, ’kay?”

“’kay,” said Oliver, wilting.

“There we go. Now I haven’t met your wife, so I don’t know what she’s like, but I have met Kirsten and I totally understand how you wound up in bed with her. She’s a high quality piece of fuck-meat. Like Grace here.”

Grace blinked. She stared silently for a moment, then said, “Excuse me?”

“She’s not here for romance. She’s looking to hook up and fuck.”

“Marylu…” Grace shivered. Her eyes fluttered and drifted shut.

“I suggest you take her out. It’ll help calm you down. Show you that what goes on between consenting adults is their own damn business.”

“Yeeeeaaaaahhh,” moaned Grace. She arched her back and her not insubstantial breasts filled up more of her top. Oliver could have sworn they grew as he watched. Hard, horny nipples thrust into her tight blouse. She shivered. Smiled, stared, probably diddled herself out of the camera’s view.

“Seriously,” said Marylu. “How can a guy say no to those tits?”

“I’m, er, not much of a breast man.”

“Well, I suggest that if you studied a few good racks like hers more closely, you’d find that you are.”

He had to admit, large breasts did look good on Grace. A vacation photo of Marissa in a revealing bikini flashed before his eyes. He blinked to clear the image, but it lingered. Her breasts drew him in. His dick throbbed and stiffened.

“I’m not half bad, either, am I Oliver?”

He caught himself trying to resolve the dark space down Marylu’s neckline and forced his eyes upward to her face. It didn’t help much. His eyes kept drifting and when they didn’t, the ratio of bikini top to breast on his imaginary Marissa dropped lower and lower as his imagination grafted on Marylu’s full and rounded tits. She posed. Pulled the triangles of her bikini top to the sides. Her breasts thrust from her chest in defiance of gravity.

He forced himself to look away from his flirtatious host. That put him back at Grace. Who was topless, her blouse torn open. She squeezed a thick nipple between thumb and forefinger.

Oliver swallowed. He couldn’t resist. “So Grace, are you free tonight?”

“For a ten inch cock? I’ll make myself free!”

And a few minutes later, Oliver tried to keep his disgust with himself under control as he chatted with his wife. She really would look out of this world with a bigger rack.

Marissa smiled at the effect her tits had on her husband. Sure, she wasn’t nearly as well endowed as a lot of the women on the site, but Oliver really liked them. She could tell. So she showed him more. And more. And her blouse hung open so he could see everything.

She giggled. “I’m so bad for teasing you like this.”

“Yeah,” he said, gazing mindlessly. He kind of looked like Rafe did when the subject of Donni came up.

“This is nothing. When you get back from this trip I’ve got a real surprise for you. I’ve taken up dancing in my spare time—yeah, I have a little—and boy-oh-boy do I have some moves to show you!”

Marissa grinned as her husband struggled to get his eyes off of her breasts. It felt awesome. Usually she wowed people with her mind. Using her breasts, her tits, was new. And very welcome.

“Who needs moves?” asked Oliver. “You look… God, I wish I was home. Your breasts look… bigger.”

“My boobs bigger? I’m not sure. Pretty much only wearing a bra when I’m teaching these days.” Marissa giggled. “Maybe bras were holding them back.”

“Yeah,” said Oliver, staring and practically panting. It was a new look for him, but she decided she liked it.

Their fifteen minutes ended far too quickly, and then she got busy earning another fifteen.

“Rafe, Preston… Cooper! I haven’t seen you for a while.”

“Hey Marissa!” Rafe sounded more enthusiastic than he looked. Donni was a harsh taskmistress in bed as well as the stage from the looks of him. “How are the lessons going?”

“Really well, but I had no idea how out of shape I was. Donni wore my ass out.”

“Tell me about it,” said Rafe. Even coloured by exhaustion, he didn’t look or sound disappointed.

“Your ass. Really?” asked Preston. “Looks fine to me.”

“What kindsa lessons?” asked Cooper, his speech slurring.

“Pole dancing,” she replied with a grin.

“This I gotta see,” his blurry eyes focused. “I suggest you show me.”

So she did. Right up until she noticed Cooper wasn’t watching anymore.

“Cooper! Pay attention to the lesson!” she admonished.

“Don’t worry, Ma’am.” He looked up and away from whatever he’d been working on and smiled. “You’ll have my c’mplete attention in just a few sec’nds.” His final syllables were punctuated with exaggerated finger pokes at what was probably his keyboard.

More drunk than buzzed, Cooper added some real ambiance to the show by cheering wildly. She didn’t have a pole, so her options were limited, but Marissa carried on with a simplified routine. It really was good for her legs. She felt the burn in her thighs, butt, and…

Breasts?

She frowned. Risked a glance downward. She had breasts. Real breasts. Her hands snapped up to cup them. She must have been quite a sight, mouth wide open shock on her face cupping a pair that quite clearly not B-cups. They pushed against her hands. She felt her fingers spreading. The pulsing sensation wasn’t her heart. It was her breasts growing larger and larger. She nearly stumbled, letting go to stabilize herself against the wall. Her breasts bounced.

She stared down in wonder. They jutted. They thrust. They jiggled. They weren’t hers. They really weren’t hers. They looked more like Donni’s. Rafe agreed, obviously, his jaw hanging and his eyes about to pop out.

“Tha… that’s… impossible.”

Marissa had to agree with Rafe, but she couldn’t say anything. She had no control. She just felt too good. She moaned with the pleasure radiating from her breast-kneading hands through the rest of her body. Her brain fogged over. Tracking anything, let alone the impossible, became impossible. She dropped to her knees, squeezing her tits as she struggled to remember a word for boobies that wasn’t crude or infan… infantitties?

Her body jolted. It sang. She shook. She sighed when the earthquake ended. Fortunately she knew how to make it happen again. She jumped to her feet and made sure the guys got to see her titties rebound and bounce around.

She cupped them again, more to show them off than anything else. “Tits! Rafe, like, I’ve got tits!”

She giggled and looked around the room, then remembered Rafe was, like, in the chat room. Only he wasn’t. Rafe had, like, gone away somewhere. She giggled and shrugged and got back to dancing for Preston and Cooper because that was all a stupid little slut like her was good for.

St. Paul, Minnesota

At first he’d been horrified, but then they sucked him in. Her breasts. His wife’s breasts. Sure, they were fake, some kind of prosthetic, but… the way they moved looked so real. She wore a lacy bra to hold them in place and a long, blonde wig to hide the seams or whatever they were called. Her eyes glistened a vacant blue and she giggled.

It had to be her idea of a joke. Marissa sat and tittered like intelligent conversation was beyond her. Conversation was beyond her, intelligent or not. When he told her about his day, leaving Grace out, she giggled and played with her hair. He told her he’d died in a fiery car wreck.

“Well, at least you’re OK!” she said, and then she giggled.

It was disturbing as hell, but she really looked good. Something about the way the huge tits filled her bra to the bursting point. Still, something was seriously wrong. Marissa playacting was out of character. Playing a blonde bimbo was impossible.

He decided to phone a friend.

Marylu’s head turned toward the camera. Her face lit up. “Oliver! My favourite silver member!”

“Hey, Marylu, I’m kind of freaked out right now.”

“What’s the problem?”

“Marissa’s acting weird.”

“Your wife?”

“Yeah.”

“Who ya talking to, Oly?”Marissa’s vacant eyes went wide when Marylu popped up on screen. Her stare oozed desire. “Ooooo! She’s sexy! Thuhhh-reeeee-some! Giggle!”

“So this is my competition, huh?” Marissa pursed her lips. “Excuse me.” Her window went black and Marissa’s expanded to fill the space.

“Me or her? Who dya wanna fuck more? Who looks gooder?”

“Marissa… you look… gooder.”

Marissa giggled. “I like, got so many complyments from all the guys!” She leaned into the camera and whispered conspiratorially. “I think they wanna fuck me!”

Eileen sat fidgeting at her desk. She couldn’t focus.

“Stupid! So stupid!” she whispered to herself, voice full of venom. “Please god, make it stop.”

It didn’t. It replayed. The night before. The encounter in the hallway. The smile. The compliment on her dress. The butterflies in her stomach. The kiss, a culmination of tension building for the weeks since she’d started. The dreams turned to idle fantasies, became time-outs in the bathroom, a couple at her desk during quiet moments.

And then the kiss. She’d felt her will snap. Her hungry tongue slid into his mouth. Her arms wrapped around him. She’d even moaned, quivered a little, came a little bit from anticipation. Just a little bit. It felt good, great even, but wasn’t enough to take the edge off.

She remembered the dazed drop to her knees like it was happening again. Her scrabbling hands struggling to undo his belt, fighting with his zipper. His hands in her hair. The ecstatic white-out the instant she took him in her mouth. Taking him. Making him explode down her throat. Not enough. She tore her blouse open. An earlier comment of his to a client had convinced her never to wear a bra again, so she saved time there. She fucked him with her tits, getting his cock all nice and hard and ready. And then it was inside her. Heels, a gift from a long-gone boyfriend that she’d once considered ridiculous and slutty, lifting her up enough for him to enter her easily from behind.

She loved those shoes now. Loved the way he looked at her in them. Loved how easy it made seducing him, fucking him, and they weren’t that hard to walk in. Totally worth it feeling them on her feet, rubbing when he lifted her and she wrapped her legs around him. Mounted him mid-air. Fucked. Fucked. Fucked.

Of course she wanted to do it again, but he was such a busy man. So busy. Maybe just a blow job. Crawl under his desk and pleasure the both of them while he worked. A good assistant had to do those sorts of things. A good assistant had to keep her mind clear. On the job. And this would help the both of them. He looked sooooo stressed out. He needed it as bad as she did. And maybe, just maybe, he could afford a few minutes to bend her over his glass-topped desk and fuck her brains out.

But if he couldn’t… well, he was a busy man.

She stood. She opened the door. She slipped inside.

“Bob! Someone’s been peeing in your pool.”

“Eh?”Bob jolted with surprise as Marissa took over his screen. The poor dear really did work too hard. Eight-thirty at night and still in the office. On the upside, he recovered quickly, his face going neutral, unreadable.

So she continued. “Marissa’s gone and gotten herself bimboized.”

There was no change in his expression. Bob simply pressed the intercom button on his phone and spoke. “Elise, when Cooper comes in tomorrow morning tell him I want to see him in my office, please.”

“Certainly Mr. Lawless,” came the crackling reply.

“Thank you.”

“What’s Elise still doing at the office?” asked Marylu. “I sent her home hours ago!”

“Typing up some rather complicated documents for me.”

“And what’s wrong with using your secretary?”

“I already am.” Bob’s eyelids fluttered and he twitched.

“Ah.” Marylu smirked. It really had been only a matter of time. And she’d broken a week earlier than Bob had predicted. “What about Marissa?”

“She will have to wait, I’m afraid. I have a Faustian bargain coming to fruition and can’t be disturbed.”

“Tell that to your secretary.”

“I did.” He sighed. “The poor girl’s gone and let herself get addicted.”

Marissa rolled her eyes. “Shoulda read the fine print.”

“Indeed.”

“Not everyone is as meticulous as we are, eh Bob?”

Bob shot her the predatory grin she found so hot. “Indeed.”

Marissa woke up and shook the bubblegum out of her brain. Where had the day gone? She cupped her chest for some reason and felt a wave of irrational relief. And a jolt. Her nipples instantly responded to contact the way they had for the past month, springing out into hard, exquisitely sensitive points.

The bedsheets were soaked with sweat. She hurt like she’d been beaten up from the inside.

“Ow,” she said when she sat up. Her legs spread, one on the floor, one on the bed. The one on the floor pushed glass, a sticky pop bottle, out of the way. She stood, her legs wobbly with exhaustion, and waddled to the bathroom.

The exhaustion was nothing a long soak in the bath couldn’t solve. The day started late, but that was OK. She didn’t have anywhere to go until later that afternoon. Plenty of time to relax and launder the sheets.

And on her way to class, she bought a couple of new bras, because the one she had on was killing her, and was somewhat pleasantly surprised to find she fit quite comfortably into a C-cup. And it looked really, really good. If she wasn’t teaching the class, though, she would have gone braless. She imagined the looks on her student’s faces when they realized. Just like in the chatroom she would have had all the attention she needed. Craved.

But it would not have helped her with the girls in the class, quite the opposite, and that’s what tipped the balance in favour of the bra. She couldn’t afford any complaints or controversy.

The potential backlash from the pole-dancing classes alone could destroy her academic career before it even got started.

Minnetonka, Minnesota

“Oliver Cromwell SBQC Limited.”

“Oliver Cromwell? Oh wow.”

“Hello Grace. No relation.”

“I guess. Parents had a strange sense of humour.”

“No, just a weak background in history. Fortunately it’s not the sort of name that gets you beat up in school.”

“I guess not. I was Grace Hardy-har-har. And Grace Hard-on after I sprouted boobs.”

“What’s up Grace?”

“Oh, I finally decided to drop some money and become a gold member.”

He had no idea why, but Oliver started getting hard. Really hard. The evening he’d spent with Grace started popping up in his memory. The feel of her body against his. Her lips. Her breasts… Grace Hard-on indeed. And she said that was after a reduction.

“And I learned a few things about how things really work. You really should pony up. It’s fan-tastic! Anyway, you’re still in town, right? Meeting this morning, then flying out tonight?”

“Uhhhh… Sort-of.”

“Then I suggest you drop by my place.”

“Uh. OK.”

“That easy? This is so cool. What else… What else…? Uhm… I suggest you get ready for some serious pussy pounding action ’cuz I brought a friend.”

No problem there, he thought, his balls starting to ache with anticipation. He called a cab while bolting out the hotel suite door. The training seminar started early, ended early, and then he was in another cab, over to Grace’s. His dick had stayed rock hard the whole time. Fortunately he had a podium, but when he stepped out from behind it to get a snack during a break, he got stares. Alyssa, a twenty something CSR with a very nice chest, started up a coffee table conversation that got as far as the wedding ring and probably would have gone a lot further in spite of it if not for the schedule.

Grace looked amazing. Duh. Of course she did, a stunning combination of fitness and softness that she’d actually had to reduce in order to get the fitness the way she’d wanted it. No one had any right to could complain about the reduction because her breasts were more than big enough for anybody sane. He didn’t want to know how big they had been before, but a vision of Grace with breasts the size of basketballs seared its way through his brain. Maybe he did want to know, but just for a look.

And she was a gold member. Something about that was just plain erotic.

And she really had brought a friend. “This is my sister, Karen,” said Grace. “I’ve been trying to talk her into joining Marylu’s List for months, but now that it’s GreyDate, bonus! I kinda hoped you could prove to her that the guys on the site aren’t all horny perverts.”

Oliver pushed down the creepy feeling. It wasn’t difficult. His rock-hard cock made an excellent lever. “Hi Karen. I’m Oliver.”

Karen looked him over, unsure and a little surprised. “Well, you look like a normal guy. I figured you’d be fat.”

“Nope. No time to eat.”

“He’s quality manager. Travels a lot.”

“Girlfriend in every town, huh?”

“Nope.”

“But you’re on a dating site.”

“Just to keep in touch with—”

“Why don’t you just join and find out?” asked Grace.

“Why don’t I just ask him?”

“Because you can log in and read his profile.”

Karen rolled her eyes. “Pfffft.” Regardless, a few minutes later she finished filling out the form and clicked register. She laughed at the next page.

“That is a long license agreement. What is this? 8-point font?”

“Just the usual crap,” said Grace. “Click through.”

Karen clicked “I agree.”

“Now go to your e-mail and follow the instructions to log in.” Grace looked like a woman on the hunt. She had her laptop open, ready, and GreyDate loading

“OK, but I still don’t see the point.” G-mail loaded and Karen opened the newest message. “Don’t you already have what you want right here?” She looked up and over at her sister and clicked “I confirm! Let me meet my match!”

“How come your screen is different from ours?” asked Oliver. Grace had a huge array of extra buttons, dials and what-have-you.

“I’m a gold member,” said Grace. She added Karen to her private room, then clicked on and virtually turned a dial, setting the indicator dead center. “We get all sorts of extra options.”

Karen’s gasp sounded surprised. She looked surprised. Her eyes misted over then recovered, but she looked at her sister… differently.

“I figured you’d just get the grayed out tools.”

“Well, yes, but I also have a VIP token.” Grace wore a huge smile. “You can have a lot of fun with a VIP token. For a day, so we better pick things up. Time’s running out.” She clicked on her sister’s window, right on Karen’s left breast. It turned slightly blue as though selected. She clicked the right breast, also turning it blue, then clicked a dial and pushed up on the mouse.

Karen’s back arched, slamming her breasts into her blouse. She had nice breasts. Really nice breasts. Oliver’s eyes popped. They were nothing like her sister’s rack, but…

Must run in the family, Oliver figured. But they didn’t look that…. He looked over at Grace. His host stared a hole in her monitor screen examining every detail of her sister. She clicked and dragged.

Karen shuddered. She moaned and panted for breath. A button burst from her overloaded blouse. She squeaked and cupped her surging breasts. “Wha-wha-what? Grace, what’s happening?” her nipples slammed dents into her straining top. Her icy-blue eyes glazed over.

“You were always jealous, even before I got reduced. Now you don’t have to be! I suggest that you show them to Oliver.” Grace turned another dial all the way to the left. “You’ll love it.”

Karen’s head spun toward Oliver. Her eyes locked onto his groin. She wore a stupid smile as her eyes glazed over with lust. The hands holding her blouse together switched from push to pull and wrenched it apart. She had a goddess’s breasts, too large to be as perky as they were, but Oliver wasn’t complaining. He’d been paying a lot more attention to details like that lately. If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn they….

Nahhh….

“Hiiiiii Oliver,” she cooed. “So GreyDate is just full of studs like you, huh?”

Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t but his finger on it. And it wasn’t just the distraction wrought by an awesome pair of boobs. Or her fingers pulling his zipper down as she smiled, staring lustily into his eyes. The fog was something else. Grace pressed into him from behind.

She licked his ear and unbuttoned his shirt from the bottom up. “Relax. Enjoy. She’s good at this.”

“Like hell I am!” giggled Karen. “I’ve never…”

His dick dropped out of his pants and slapped against Karen’s belly.

“Oh my fucking god.” Her head tilted down. Long, midnight-black hair concealed her face, but Oliver didn’t have to see anything to know she stared in rapt wonder. She touched his cock tentatively. Her hand tried to wrap around it. “Grace… There is no way….”

“It fits,” said Grace.

Karen slid to her knees. His cock fell into the valley between her tits. They closed around it, compressed by her hands. “I… I’ve….” Karen stared up at him, then her head tilted back down and her lips massaged the head of his cock on its way into her mouth. “Mmmmmmmm!”

To Oliver’s disappointment, she broke off a few seconds in. “I love this! Oh m— ”

Grace pushed her sister’s head back down onto Oliver’s cock. Karen moaned and gleefully returned to work.

“I have wanted this for… years I think,” Grace whispered into his ear. “She’s always needed a good fucking. Way too uptight.”

Later, as Karen bounced on his cock, screaming with pleasure and amazement that she could take so much of it inside her, Grace watched, feeling up a full, firm breast and playing with her clit. She spread her legs wide. “Hey, sis….”

Karen cooed, slowed her fucktastic ride to an equally stimulating wave, and leaned forward to kiss her sister. “So good! Oh gawd! So good! Oh fuck, I’ve been mmmmmmmmm-wah! Missing out!”

Grace guided her sister’s head down lower and lower and before long lay on her back writhing as the big-titted, raven-haired slut feasted at her pussy.

Oliver had to change position. As amazing as it looked, it hurt like hell. Karen’s body practically bent his cock to the breaking point so he lifted her up, got her on her knees, and joined her kneeling, but didn’t stop fucking her brains out.

Not that she didn’t help. She did. But mostly she moaned and wriggled and lapped at her sister’s snatch. Occasionally he heard a muffled cry. What he really liked was the, “Yah yah yah yah! Fuck my pussy!” followed by the shudder and milking of his cock while she came.

Grace looked to be enjoying herself to the same degree, on her back, sightless eyes alternating between staring up at the ceiling and rolling back to look at her brain. And Oliver knew he wasn’t far off. Karen slammed herself back into him, taking his shaft deep just in time for him to stiffen and pump her full.

Grace’s webcam dutifully recorded everything. Marylu licked her lips and teased her clit with her vibrating friend Big Joe, wishing she could be there in person. Joe parted her and slid inside.