The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Member Privileges

Chapter 4

By William Pratt

She knew he was behind her, the last one out the door. He had a question. She turned her head slightly to take a look, acknowledge that she knew he was there. A smile spread across her face. He was being so patient. So polite. Staring at her ass.

Her nipples perked up. Her eyes fluttered and stopped half lidded. Her posture changed, making sure he got a really good look. The workouts with Donni made her ass worth a good look.

Her body swayed as she dragged the eraser over the board, scrubbing away the remnants of the lesson. She bent at the waist as she neared the bottom of the board. She didn’t have to look at him. There’d be time enough for that later.

Besides Donni said to wait until the right moment.

A strut. A strut. She bent to put the brush down. She held the pose. She felt gravity pull her breasts into her bra—her full bra—and into her blouse. Her head turned. She gave her student the look.

She had his attention.

She watched his brain melt through his eyes. Then she remembered where she was and turned off the act. She straightened up. This wasn’t a chat room. This was a classroom. As much fun as it was, this wasn’t quite how she was supposed to turn on her students. And he was turned on. Very turned on. And so was she. She didn’t need to look down to know her nipples were bullets.

She did look at him to see the effects of her show. Face flushed, check. Shallow breathing, check. Erect cock, check. Not a bad cock, but she’d seen better. Didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate it, though.

“Yes?” She smiled at a job well done. The deer in the headlights expression faded from her student’s face. Now there was just desire.

“Uhm… Miz Cromwell…”

“How can I help you, Randy?” A great name. He certainly looked randy. His eyes drifted all over her body, probably imagining it without clothes. She gazed back. Her smile grew. An idle fantasy flittered across her brain. She licked her lips.

“OK. Well, maybe I was flirting a bit,” said Marissa. “But nothing more than what I would do in the chat room.

“And maybe I was practicing a bit. But it wasn’t like I was taking my clothes off.”

“You liked it though, didn’t you?” asked Bob.

“Up until he tried to kiss me, kind-of”

“Yes or no.”

“OK. Yes.”

“You wanted him to want you. Well, you succeeded. Why don’t you show me what you did? I’ll tell you if you crossed any lines.”

Marissa smiled. She stood. Her head cocked to the side and she looked at her reflection in the little square on the top corner of the chat window. Her lips pursed and she adjusted the webcam to give Bob a better viewing angle. She smiled. Stepped back. Posed. And started.

She couldn’t do exactly what she’d done at school, no whiteboard and no eraser, but she tried to convey the motion. The attitude. She had been trying to tease, turn on, her student. He had just gotten the wrong idea. There was a big difference between wanting to look sexy and wanting sex.

Bent at the waist she swung low and looked back at the camera. Her breasts heaved and jiggled. There was another difference. No bra. She never chatted with a bra on anymore. Donni would chide her; she had one less tool she could use in the performance. One less barrier between her and the man. One less teasing, toying delay before he saw what he wanted. Less time to build up the heat, melt his brain, harden his dick.

But honestly she didn’t need much time for any of that. Today’s student was proof. She kind-of regretted not taking things further. But not much. Too many things could go wrong. And she was married.

Her back arched and she rose slowly, pushing out her ass. Wagging it slightly. She had a great ass these days. Firm and round. Muscular and soft. She wasn’t competing with a Kardashian any time soon, but performing for Bob always seemed to help.

He made her feel… Oliver made her feel pretty. Bob, more… Bob made her feel slutty. Oliver wasn’t interested in strippers, or not yet anyway. Bob was. He made her feel like a porn star.

Her hands drifted up her body and cupped her breasts though her blouse. Barely cupped them. They felt huge. She knew she was on the small side, only a D cup, but for Bob they always seemed bigger. Felt bigger. Looked bigger. And then the chat would end and she’d look in the mirror and see that she was still just a D cup. Put on a bra, just a D cup. Dance for Bob, goddess boobs.

It’s not like her breasts were big or anything. Not in Bob’s world. Bob ran a porn company. Bob spent his days buried in tits. It was amazing he still liked them.

But he did like them.

She pinched the nipples and her vision blurred.

It was time.

A strut. A strut. She bent to put the mimed whiteboard brush down. She held the pose. She felt gravity pull her breasts into her blouse. They just felt bigger, heavier, without a bra. Her head turned. She gave Bob the look.

Bob hand wrapped around his hard dick, pumping up and down. Marissa’s eyes widened. There was an immediate hit of Omigod! What the fuck is he doing? But then the slow stroking kind of… drew her in. And she realised.

“Your dick is HUGE!”

“I do ok,” said Bob. “I’d say I’ve never had complaints, but that would be a lie. A couple ladies I’ve been a touch too big for.”

Marissa blinked. Her mouth watered. Her eyes followed Bob’s hand up and down. Up and down.

“Does it frighten you?”

“No. I…”

“It just takes a little practice to get used to. I suggest you try.”

Marissa stared and drooled like a little girl teased with candy. “I… Want to try.” She hadn’t really noticed she’d been touching herself as she stared at his cock until she came. Bob popped at the same time. Thick ropes of cum erupting from his dick, cock, until one splattered his webcam and Bob vanished behind a blob of white.

Almost in a daze, Marissa logged out and went for a drive. She made two stops, one to get lettuce and a tomato for a salad and the other to buy a very large dildo. For practice.

“Donni! Over here.”

Donni’s head turned. She stopped dead outside the door to the Y. Her eyes went wide. “Rafe? What the hell! Where’ve you been?”

Rafe was a mess. He wasn’t exactly a snappy dresser, that wasn’t what had interested her. The muscles had. His sculpted physique intrigued her because it wasn’t the product of a gym. He wasn’t fit to look fit. He used that body. And with her he’d used it very well.

But that body was hidden under a few week’s struggling beard, dirty clothes, and filth. Her nose wrinkled as he approached. “God, you smell awful!”

“I’ve been staying off the grid,” said Rafe.

“You’ve also been staying out of the shower!”

Rafe looked relieved and pleased to see her. He sighed. “You’re still the you I remember.”

“What, like I’m going to give up dancing and become a stock broker?”

Rafe swung a knapsack off his back. He pulled out a manila accordion folder and unwound the binding. “Donni, look at this.” He had a stack of newspaper clippings and photos.

“Looks like my little sister.”

“It’s you, Donni.” He picked out a full page newspaper article and unfolded it.

She had half of the page to herself, stretched out and ready to fly across the stage. Donni smiled. That had been a great show. Her shoulder-length hair flowed behind her.

“Six months ago your dance group did an interview with the Straight. Can you tell me what’s different?”

“Big deal. I got implants. Are you stalking me? You don’t have to Rafe.”

“Your hair. It grew two feet in six months, Donni. You were a professional dancer. You didn’t have time to strip.”

“I still am a dancer, Rafe, and work comes and goes. What’s wrong with you?”

“God damn it.” Rafe’s face blanked. His emotion flipped off like a switch, but his voice got really dark. She felt the rage in his smooth tone. “They’ve fucked your brains completely.”

“What? Who’s? Rafe?” Donni’s eyes darkened to a glower. “Jesus Christ, Rafe! What are you on?”

“Nothing. That’s what makes this so scary.”

“Too scary. See a doctor.”

“You have to get off GreyDate. Off the Internet. Go into hiding before they change you again.” Rafe turned and walked away. “You do not want to wind up like Marissa.”

“Marissa’s fine, Rafe,” she shouted after him. “Seriously. This is me speaking as a friend, Rafe. Get help.”

He stopped. He turned. “I can’t. This is something I’ll have to do alone.”

“Watch me,” said Marissa. She didn’t have the pole, but wouldn’t let a small detail like that stop her. Not with Oliver watching. She stood up, letting her tits hang in front of the camera longer than necessary as she adjusted the screen to point in to the living room. Her tits… She used to think the term crude, but now she loved it. Tits.

Her nipples got hard just from contemplating tits. Well, harder. They were always hard these days because the cloth of her shirt rubbing them just drove her completely wild. Without her husband, that led to a lot of impromptu fingering.

Her tits filled up her top. Her nipples poked out to say hello and let everyone know they were there. Guys stared. A lot of them stared twice. Some of them didn’t stop until she was long out of sight. Especially when she wore one of her new shirts. The ones built for women who had tits and loved them.

And she checked out the guys. Estimating how hard she got them. She checked out other women, too. Their tits. Hers were usually better. She had great tits. All the guys on the site thought so. Oliver sure did. She couldn’t wait to use them on him in person. Neither could he.

The leggy strides Donni taught brought her to the living room. She checked herself out on the screen, making sure she got it right.

“Hey big guy. I don’t have a pole to work, so why don’t you take yours out and work it for me?”

“Uhhhh. What?”

“I want to see your dick, Oliver.” She met Oliver’s eyes while she slowly danced, more feeling herself up at this point than actual dancing. Running her hands up her waist, over her abdomen, up to her tits. Her yummy, yummy tits. She fantasized about doing this in a club for a few dozen strangers like Donni did. It didn’t give her the creeps as much as it used to. That was confidence, said Donni. That was…

Marissa’s train of thought derailed. Oliver’s cock was huge. She fought to keep her eyes from rolling up in their sockets as her body quivered. She fought to keep them focussed on Oliver’s huge fucking cock.

She’d seen plenty of dicks, big and small, since she’d started moderating GreyDate, but she’d never thought about her husband that way. Seeing Bob’s had been almost life-changing. Seeing her husband’s…

Huge. A massive, pussy-pleasing fuck-stick. And it was hers. Not Marylu’s. Not Chelsea’s. Not even that big-titted bitch Grace’s. They had to be jealous. They had a lot to be jealous of.

As soon as Oliver got home, that is.

Her husband had a cock that made her mouth water and it wasn’t even properly hard yet. She turned up the heat to make it hard. Make it hers. She unbuttoned and eased her jean shorts down just a bit. She wanted to just tear her top open and see what that did, but never show your top was another piece of Donni’s advice. So no tits for now. She turned around. Gave Oliver a solid look at her ass. Pole dancing helped it out, too.

She looked back at him. At his hand stroking his huge, hard cock. She’d never wanted to suck a cock before, but this cock she just wanted to worship. She gazed at him and licked her lips. She stopped staring and got back to dancing, imaging that it was her hands. Her pussy, her mouth, fuck, even her ass stroking her husband’s hard cock. Monsterous cock. Tear her open and break her mind cock.

She lowered the jean shorts. Slipped them down her legs. Bent only at the waist, she played with the weight on her legs, making her ass wag. She kicked the shorts away. She slithered down her imaginary pole. He could see everything, she knew it. Her panties were totally soaked and clinging, and then gone.

She tapped a foot in time with the music coming from the tinny laptop speakers. She swayed. Her hands worked up her blouse, popping buttons. She turned around. Let her big-dicked husband see her abdomen. She deliberately left one button. She groped, sucked a finger to signal what joys his big, fat cock could expect when he got home. If nothing else the ideas she’d been exposed to on GreyDate would make their home life a lot more interesting. When Oliver got home.

The pang of longing nearly crippled her, but she kept going. She knew what she was getting into when they married, and the job was almost done. Another month at the most and then Buenos Aires, where she would fuck that cock until he was sure he couldn’t get it up anymore. And then she would prove him wrong.

If his company tried to do this ever again, though… Heads would roll.

Kick. Spin.

Pop went the last button.

Tap, tap, turn. Her tits rocked back and forth. They didn’t used to be able to do much more than jiggle a bit, but now that Donni had her looking after her body better, they were experiencing a renaissance. How, she hadn’t quite figured out yet. Posture was some of it for sure, and maybe the exercise and healthier food she ate, but facts were facts. She had tits.

Smaller than she wanted, but Oliver loved them. His glassy stare proved it. The colossal, towering, and enormously thick cock guaranteed it.

“I want you to come for me,” she demanded. Softly demanded, but it was a demand. She fixed him with the look. The smokey stare that Donni insisted she master. It really worked moderating the videochats, a quick dose of the look shut up all but the most belligerent or drunk and usually got her a private message or two.

The look faded and she gazed hungrily. Her right hand slithered down her body to the join of her legs. Fingers teased her clit while her husband sped up his stroking. No wonder it hurt so much the first time they’d made love. It’s not like it could have grown, dicks didn’t just magically get bigger. Most likely it was just getting a sense of scale after seeing Bob’s hard dick and so many more dicks of varying sizes and shapes over the past couple months.

And a new respect for the pleasure potential inherent in a substantial schlong. And she’d actually fucked that. The rest of the girls would be so jealous if they saw it. Probably even surprised it fit. Barely. But it was hers. And it was hard. And she’d made it that way. Her.

Oliver stroked his cock. His big, fat cock. Her fingers circled her clit, pushing her up closer and closer to orgasm, but she knew it was his cock that would take her over.

Oliver moaned. He stiffened. Marissa waited for it. Her body shook with anticipation. A rope of cum shot up out of sight of the camera. Another quickly followed. Marissa sank to her knees, finger-fucking herself frantically as she also came. With the third shot she felt so good she collapsed in the ground and started screaming.

“I can’t wait to have that in me,” she panted when it was all over. Her voice went all squeaky, sounding more like a little girl than a woman in her twenties. “Wanna do that again?”

The clock said no. Their fifteen minutes of private time were up.

“Ran out of time, Bob,” said Marissa. “I’m sick of it. I work my ass off here and get what? Fifteen minutes a week with my husband.”

“Well Marissa, you have been a very good girl.”

Her body heated. “Does that mean more time?”

“It does mean you’ve earned yourself a gold membership reward. What would you like more than anything?”

My husband back formed on her lips, but before she could manage that, a baser part of her brain blurted, “Bigger tits!” imagining what she could do with a real woman’s rack and a stripper pole. Donni would be so proud. A second later it hit her that body-wise she’d be better off with better eyesight, maybe being smarter, or something useful. But she’d said tits.

“Bigger tits. Indeed. How big?”

Big big,” she replied with a grin. Why not if he was playing hypothetical games?

“Like Big Mac or Mac truck big or just basketballs big?”

“OK. Not that big. Marylu big. Kirsten big. Maybe even Grace big.” She thought about it for a second. Wouldn’t it be great to make them all just a little jealous? “Only a bit bigger. Just a bit, but a noticeable bit.”

She felt a gust of wind and heard a phoomp as air rushed into her shirt to fill the Grand Canyon between her jutting tits.

“Oh my god. Oh my god! What’s going on! What’s…” Her breasts launched forward again, doubling in size and tearing her top down the neckline. Her hands shot up and hit boob a lot sooner than they should have. The world spun around Marissa. Dizzy. Dazed. Oddly happy. Her nipples poked through between the spreading fingers of her cupping hands.

“Just as you requested. Grace, only a bit bigger. Just enough so everyone would know you were bigger. Enough to make them jealous.”

“How…?” Another pulse hit her, but this time her tits sort of eased outward instead of making the great leap forward. This time instead of shock, the swelling brought mind-numbing pleasure. Her nipples, already hard, stiffened further and swelled and sang. She pinched one between finger and thumb and pulled. She moaned. Her eyes fluttered shut.

“Relax and enjoy, Marissa,” said Bob. “And give me a dance like you did for Oliver. I want to see what I’m getting for my investment.”

He pulled his dick out and started stoking. Marissa’s mind faded out.

She’d had a really good dream in the night. Strutting around on a stage with huge knockers, blowing everybody’s mind. It felt like she’d really been on a stage in a real club being screamed for by a crowd of real horny men. She strode into the audience and felt their hands on her hungry body. She ground in Bob’s/Olivers/Bob’s lap, fucking his mouth passionately with her tongue. His cock was huge, but it fit perfectly. She rode it for a long time, through a storm of nearly continual climaxes, keeping him hard and making him fill her pussy with cum again and again and again.

After a much needed shower she found she’d outgrown her new D-cup bra. The older ones were no-hopers, so it looked like the guys at school were getting a treat. Her nipples hardened at the thought.

She made an appointment to see her doctor because that was just silly. Tits didn’t just grow while you slept. It was probably just posture or something, but the doctor would know.

Sacramento California

“The doctor didn’t know, Oliver. He has no clue why my breasts are growing.”

“That’s… um… frightening?” He wasn’t frightened. Nope. Not a bit. Were they bigger? Maybe a little. Nothing like Marylu or Grace big. Maybe all of the boobs he’d seen lately had destroyed his sense of scale. The thought of Grace-boobs on Marissa set his heart racing.

But then Marissa didn’t look afraid, either. Quite the opposite, but she played along. And with her bigger tits, cupping, squeezing, lifting and fingering her nipples. “Yes I’m frightened. Frightened they’ll stop!”

“You don’t want them too big.” A mental image of Marissa took her place in front of his eyes. A Marissa with the largest attributes of his imaginary pre-reduction Grace. She looked both awesome and disturbing.

“No, silly. Stop too soon. It’s not like I want boobs the size of a Mac truck. Just big enough to make the other girls on the site jealous.”

The imaginary Marissa-Grace’s breasts swelled out even larger. She literally stood behind them, giant orbs impossible to support outside of the imagination. Oliver shook his head. Too much. Even for a breast man like him. Yet his cock burned and throbbed.

He changed the subject. “How’s the thesis going?

“Not so good. I’m having trouble concentrating for some reason.” The lusty emptiness of her gaze filled in one pretty big reason. The obvious pleasure she took in playing with her beautiful breasts was another.

“I’ll be home soon,” said Oliver.

“Yeah. I’m also spending way too much time in chat, but I have that worked out. We just use a regular room. Save the private rooms for… for when I show you stuff.

“Like this.” Marissa stood. She leaned over to adjust the camera and her tits hung and swayed. Maybe they weren’t the size of her head, but all in all Oliver had it pretty good.

He was rock hard before the dancing started and she’d barely started dancing when he popped.

Marissa didn’t find that funny, but she didn’t look or sound upset either. “We definitely have to get you home so I can take care of that properly”

“Ready to go?” asked Donni.

“I… I think so. You sure…?” Marissa looked at her bookworm slut self. A naughty librarian in glasses, a lacy new Double D-Cup bra and high heels that made her worried about the extra distance she’d fall. If she fell. The rest was pretty much what she’d worn to school earlier, only tighter and more sheer. Almost transparent. Her body, the slut, was sure she could pull this off. Her mind… Needed some more convincing. Sure, she made Oliver pop early on in her set, but Oliver was a normal guy, not the sort of horny pervert who saw this every day.

Well, a normal guy who was hung like a fucking horse. She licked her lips.

Her teacher grinned. “Can’t know how good you are without an audience. You have to teach yourself now. What you learn here you put into the next set. Think of it as post graduate studies.”

“Post grad stripping.”

“You got it.”

“A newcomer to our stage who’ll have you coming back for more: Valeria!”

Donni shot Marissa a glance. A raised eyebrow. “Valeria?”

“Valeria the Librarian,” said Marissa, dancing onto the stage. When she danced off she knew that it wasn’t forever. She was really just a postgrad student having a little fun on her night off. She knew she’d be back to writing her thesis tomorrow. But soon she’d be back, drinking in the lustful stares. Dancing for their pleasure and hers.

And she also knew that she really needed to fuck. Too wired to sleep, she did get some hours in on her thesis. And ran the batteries in her vibrator dry.