The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It was 12:15 when Mona Lisa arrived at the mall. The shopping center wasn’t exactly booming on Wednesday afternoon, but there was a bit of a lunch rush at the food court. Mona Lisa’s eyes wandered over to the businessmen and women who had showed up to scarf something down on their breaks. Her eyes lingered on a few of them. But more importantly, Mona Lisa could see their eyes lingering on her. The handsome men. The boring men. The fat men. The old men. The lesbians. And the judgmental women. Women who looked like Mona Lisa did just a few days ago. They looked down on her the way she would have looked down on her. As a jobless, deadbeat slut looking for a man to pay her way. Basically a prostitute in all but name.

Mona Lisa shivered a bit at the thought. Their desirous gazes made her hot. Their judgmental glares, if anything, made her even hotter. She gave them a few little waves and a few little winks. She giggle-snorted as one man dropped his soft drink cup when she blew him a kiss. But she didn’t stop. She had business with her new bestie Big B.

Now where was she?

Mona Lisa showed up outside of Shorelines. She was already late, but Big B was nowhere to be found. Fawk. Why didn’t she get BB’s number? Had something come up? Was BB in trouble?

Mona Lisa lingered in Shorelines while she waited. She didn’t intend to buy anything. But a few shades of lip gloss and a sparkly, pink, cheetah-print dress were all too sexy to pass up. She ignored her banking app warning her that she was spending much more than usual and stowed all the good away in her back. It was almost 1 when she finally heard a familiar voice. Lisa left the store and saw Big B walking up. Compared to Mona Lisa, Big B was a wreck. She was wearing a big T-shirt, tiny shorts, and crocs. Her makeup was hastily done and her hair was pulled up into a messy bun.

But most notably, Big B was’t alone.

The diminutive quidette was hanging off the arm of a man much taller than he was. His hair was shaved down to flat-top, with the sides totally buzzed off. He had dark, brown eyes, a big nose, and a smirk studded with two gold teeth. The gold teeth matched the gold chain around his neck and the gold cuffs around his wrists. His physique was barely hidden behind a loose tank top and baggy jeans. Mona Lisa could see his arms bulging with muscles, but his tank top still pushed out with a bit of belly fat. Lisa Ricci would have been appalled by a guy like this, and by the overpowering scent of cologne wafting off of him. But Mona Lisa offered a giggle and batted her long lashes.

“So this guy is why ya late,” she playfully chided Big B.

“Late?” Big B asked with a rasp in her voice. She checked her phone. “Whateva,” she said dismissively. “You’ll be happier if you don’t bawtha with times and just go with the flow.” Big B made a wavy motion with her hands. “Anyways this is Romeo,” she said, patting the man’s chest. “I met him last night at…where was it Romeo?”

“The Tiger Cage, babe,” the man, Romeo, replied. He looked up at Mona Lisa and whistled. “Your girl is a fuckin’ hottie, B.” Mona Lis a couldn’t help but blush through her caked-on foundation.

“Hey hey hey!” Big B objected playfully. “At least wait until I’m gawn before ya try to smoosh my new bestie!” She pushed off of the man and towards Mona Lisa.

“What’s the Tiga Cage?” Mona Lisa asked. She genuinely didn’t know. Lisa was never one for nightclubs or much of anything other than a few drinks after dark. The city’s nightlife beyond corporate bars and fake dives was limited.

“Just a joint where ya dance,” Big B said. “We can go ta-night if you wanna.”

Mona Lisa almost said yes, but some bit of her was still pushing back. Some bit of her knew something as wrong. “I mean I do gawts ta give a big presentation at work on Friday. I don’t know if I can play hookie again and still get my pruh-motion.”

Big B responded with a laconic shrug. “Hey, do what you want,” she said. “I’m not ya mamma. But lemme know if ya change ya mind. Anyways…” she turned her attention to Romeo. “Ya services are no lawnga required. Scram.” Big B waved her hand. “If you wanna plow me again, come by the Tiga Cage tonight and see if you can impress me.” The man must not have been brimming with self-respect, Mona Lisa observed, as he all-too-eagerly nodded and walked off. “So then,” Big B said. “Where you wanna stawt with pawt 2 of ya makeover?”

Mona Lisa watched Romeo walk away for a bit. She was caught between a strange confluence of feelings. Lisa felt pity and disgust for the man, while Mona Lisa couldn’t take her eyes off of his big, strong arms. She couldn’t help but breathe the remains of his cheap cologne in.

And best of all, he’d be easy.

“Mona Lisa!” Big B said, snapping her fingers. “Eyes here, slut.”

Mona Lisa looked back over and put her hands on her hips. “I’m nawt a slut!” she protested. “Romeo’s just…a real cutie.”

“Romeo is trash, like me,” Big B said. “Perfect for sluts like you.” Mona Lisa looked over at her questioningly. “What?” Big B asked. “Don’t tell me now ya gonna be awl precious, Mona Lisa.”

“I just…” Mona Lisa muttered. “Neva thawt of myself as a slut. As cheap. As trash.” Her eyes fell and she looked at herself. That same feeling from the morning came over her. Mona Lisa—Lisa—started to wonder if something really was wrong.

Mona Lisa was snapped out of it by Big B grabbing her hand. “Ya know,” she said. “I’ve noticed sumthin’ about you, Mona Lisa,” she said. “Beyond that yer a a show-awf and a slut.” Mona Lisa didn’t initially respond. She looked to Big B, indicating she was paying attention, and walked with her friend. “We had fun when we first met, yeah?” Mona Lisa nodded in affirmation. “And we had fun yesterday, yeah?” Mona Lisa nodded again. “Ya eva notice that ya have more fun when ya not thinking about ya jawb?”

“Yeah,” Mona Lisa finally admitted. “Yeah…I have more fun when I just don’t think of it. But it’s hawd. This Friday is coming up and I’m here doing this!”

“What ya wanna do, ya mean?” Big B asked. She stopped and put her hands on her hips. “Come awn. Ya gawt ya whole life to get some pruhmoshin at a jawb that makes you unhappy. You only got ten years or so before ya stawt getting too old to pull in any hunk ya want. It’s a math thing! Ya need to take advantage of this now!”

Mona Lisa couldn’t help but let out a giggle at that. “Awlright, awlright, Jesus,” Mona Lisa said. “Ya gonna run a girl down fa cold feet?”

“When they’re gettin’ in the way of greatness?” Big B asked. “Fawk yes. Now come on. We gotta get our tan on.”

“Wait, we’re goin’ tanning?” Mona Lisa asked. Big B shot her an exasperated look, expecting another round of objections. But Mona Lisa’s surprise was much more to her liking this time. “Ya didn’t tell me we were tanning,” Mona Lisa protested. “I didn’t bring a bikini or sun tan lotion or nuthin! And why didn’t we just meet at the beach?”

“Cuz we ain’t tanning at no beach,” Big B said. She made a turn in the mall and brought Mona Lisa to face a store with a big, pink sign bearing black silhouetted palm trees. The sign announced they were at Tanlines. “A Shorelines sista brand,” Big B explained. “Means we get a discount. Now I personally don’t do tanlines when I tan. I like ta be tan awl ova. But you can have ’em if you want.”

“Well I might as well,” Mona Lisa replied. “I was actuawlly gonna ask ya if we could go get waxed afta this,” Mona Lisa said. Without work on her mind—and with the pendant working its magic—Mona Lisa was beginning to lighten up again. “I was pettin’ the kitty earlier and realized I’d look good with a little work down there, ya know?”

Big B snickered. “Atta’girl,” she said. “Cawse we’ll go get waxed afta. Now let’s get you a healthier shade of orange, Mona Lisa.”

The two women headed to the reception desk. The middle-aged woman seemed mildly irked by the two obnoxious women she was dealing with. Thankfully for her Big B knew exactly what the two wanted. She led them to a room with two tanning beds. Big B didn’t even wait for the receptionist to leave before she began stripping, pulling her simple clothes off until her small, curvy body was completely bare. Mona Lisa stared a bit at Big B’s big, natural breasts hanging heavily from her chest, topped by dark areola and nipples. She had a slight paunch on her belly and her already distinct tan was laced with equally distinct stretch marks.

“Glad ya like the view,” Big B said with a snort. Mona Lisa snapped back to reality somewhat. “Now your turn, hot stuff.”

Mona Lisa nodded and began to shed her clothing. She wasn’t so familiar with her new outfit, so it took her a moment to fully remove it. But as each piece of clothing fell away Big B’s smile grew. “Damn, girl,” Big B said. “With a little time at the gym you’d go from a 10 to an 11. And are your fawkin’ tits bigger than when we met? I don’t remember ya havin’ falsies like that.”

“I think so,” Mona Lisa said as she tossed her bra away and let her increasingly fake boobs free. “And I don’t know why. But fawk are they hawt.”

“Well I don’t believe in questionin’ a good thing,” Big B said. She walked up and slyly groped Mona Lisa’s boobs, causing the changing woman to squeal and snort. “Or two good things.”

“You bitch!” Mona Lisa shrieked playfully.

“Guilty as chah-ged,” Big B said. “Oh, and you’ll need to take that pendant awf, too. Pretty as it is.”

Mona Lisa looked down and slid the silver pendant over her neck, setting it on the table. As she did she felt a strange tingling throughout her body. Removing the necklace didn’t reverse its effects. Nor did it break the hold the necklace had over her. But its powers did weaken. As Mona Lisa took off her thong and her heels she felt the same creeping doubts as before begin to encroach into her mind. Big B kept watching and burst into a fit of laughter at the thick, heavy bush that had been concealed by Mona Lisa’s underwear.

“Fawk a Brazilian,” she cackled. “I’m gonna need three Brazilians and a weed whackea fa that thing! Two for you, and one to keep me busy while they work. Eh?”

“Yeah…” Mona Lisa said. She looked around, and then back down at her body, and then at Big B.

“Awlright, let’s get this party started!” Big B said. She grabbed two pairs of goggles from a nearby table and put one over Mona Lisa’s eyes. “Ya gawta wear these,” she explained. “So ya don’t get cancer or nuthin’. Now from here…” Big B went on, leading Mona Lisa to her tanning bed and patting it. Mona Lisa compliantly laid down, unable to push back against the pushy little guidette’s orders. “...ya just lay down and wait. Ya awl good in there?”

Mona Lisa looked up. She didn’t reply, which Big B took as an affirmative. Mona Lisa’s friend closed the lid of the tanning bed on her, shrouding her in darkness and silence.

—

The darkness and silence lasted about a minute. And it was a minute of confusion for Mona Lisa. She couldn’t see anything. She couldn’t hear anything. And she could only feel the cold surface of the tanning bed.

Then UV lights turned on. Her naked body was illuminated in soft, blue light. The glow of the tanning bed was surreal and otherworldly. And with the pendant removed from her, the sight of her altered form caused Mona to gasp. It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen herself before. It wasn’t that she hadn’t noticed the changes to her body or the way she had been acting. But Mona Lisa hadn’t stopped to think about the past week before. She hadn’t really stopped to consider what she was doing. But now without the pendant and with her naked form fully on display, the intrusive thoughts that the necklace had kept at bay fully seeped in.

And with the tanning bed locked down, she was alone with her thoughts.

“Oh my God,” Mona Lisa—or perhaps Lisa once more—whispered as she looked at herself. Something was wrong. Truly, utterly wrong. Something was wrong with her body, for one. Women didn’t just grow fake tits. She reached up and touched her inflated breasts with her right hand. Her left shot up to cover her mouth and keep her from screaming. This was impossible. It had to be a hallucination of some kind. She had to be seeing things. Lisa had to have lost her mind. None of this could be real. She needed to see a doctor. No, she needed to see a psychiatrist. But before that, Lisa had to get back to work! She had to offer Clark as many apologies as it took to get him to put in overtime for her presentation before the board. She had to make up for her fake sick days to her bosses. She had to…

“Ya eva notice that ya have more fun when ya not thinking about ya jawb?”

The question this woman—Big B—had asked Lisa cut through her increasingly panicked thoughts. The pendant still had some influence. But that thought came from inside Lisa herself. She laid her arms back at her sides as she mulled over that sharp memory.

Because Big B hadn’t been wrong. Even now with a clearer mind, Lisa begrudgingly admitted to herself that she had been having fun. More fun than she’d had in…months? Years? Work kept her busy. Lisa was passionate about her climb up the corporate ladder. But it was hardly anything she’d call fun. The money was good. But what did she do with it? Pay her exorbitant rent? Buy new gray businesswear? Pay for a gym membership she was too busy to use? Save for retirement so she could have fun once she was too old—and too ugly—to do anything as fun as she was right now?

Lisa bit her lip. She could feel the warmth of the UV lights all over her skin. She knew it was darkening. She knew with every second she didn’t demand to be let out, it would be harder for her to look respectable and certainly harder to land her promotion on Friday.

But a tan would help her pick up more followers on Picstagram.

And she’d fit in more with Big B and her friends.

And besides, Lisa had to admit to herself, she liked how she looked. As despicable and trashy as she felt it was, there was something compelling about her new appearance. It was almost enticingly gross to the young woman. And the attention. Just thinking about the stares of lust and envy made her wriggle in the tanning bed.

Lisa knew she shouldn’t be doing any of this. But she liked it. She had no way of knowing that the pendant had driven her to this behavior or altered her body like it did. But even with its hold diminished, Lisa realized she enjoyed living like this.

She liked looking like trash. She liked the stares. She loved her new friend. She delighted in the clothes and makeup and hair products and perfume. And she was curious about the men. Just what kind of men could she get like this?

What kind of life could she have as Mona Lisa? She pondered that question until the lights turned off. Lisa was left in darkness for just a moment before the lid opened—and Mona Lisa emerged once more. She sat up and stepped out of the bed, peeling off the goggles and looking down at herself. Mona Lisa’s skin had gone from a deep tan to something truly outrageous. Her skin was an even shade of orange-brown from head to toe. But more than that, it had taken on a slight sheen and a slightly leathery feel. All of Lisa’s blemishes—the stretch marks from her growing breasts, moles, and lines on her face—looked even more obvious now. She looked a few years older.

Mona Lisa let out a giggle-snort. She was so fawking hawt!

“Damn, betch!” Big B called from behind Mona Lisa. The newer guidette turned to see her friend sporting much the same complexion she was. “Way to rawk a tan, sweethawt! Ya look amazing.”

“Awwww, ya too kind,” Mona Lisa replied. She reached out to grab the pendant and put it back around her neck, fully banishing what lingering doubts she might have had. It seemed like almost a waste to get dressed again, but it wasn’t like she could walk around the mall naked. As much as she might have wanted to.

As she got dressed, Mona Lisa picked up her phone and checked her notifications. Another text from Clark she left unread. A few work emails she blew off. And a notification from Picstagram. She had hit a thousand followers on Picstagram. Which meant she had a promise to keep. Mona Lisa quickly snatched up her bra and thong and handed the phone to Big B. “Big B I need ya ta take some picshas of me,” she said. “I prawmised my followas if I hit one lawge I’d give ’em a show. Then what do ya say afta that we get our nana’s shaved. Then you can head to the Cage and I can head home.”

“Home fa what?” Big B asked as she took the phone. “Ya still gonna be obsessed with work and shit?”

“I mean I gawta make money,” Mona Lisa said as she posed. “But ’til then I’m gonna work on my new socials. I only gawta work until something else can work out.”

“Atta fuckin’ girl!” Big B said. She took one picture. Then another. “And the Tiga Cage?”

“Tamarra,” Mona Lisa said.

“Ya prawmise?” Big B pressed her.

“I prawmise,” Mona Lisa affirmed. “Craws my hawt and hope ta die!”

“Then see ya tammara,” Big B said. “I’ll be swappin’ our numbers to make sure, though. There’ll be fawkin’ hell ta pay if you flake on me.”

“Fawk flaking,” Mona Lisa said. “Fa awl you know I might be bringing company!”