The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Back at his desk, Clark spun in his chair. He was telling himself again and again that something was wrong. That Brad had done something to Lisa. That he shouldn’t take the way she ogled him so personally. That he shouldn’t have felt so betrayed. But if Clark actually believed that, he wouldn’t have to keep repeating it to himself. Feelings of shock and fear and hurt and betrayal sloshed through his mind, mixing together and coming undone as he tried to parse through it all. Clark didn’t know what to think or how to feel. But he did know who to blame.

Clark heard Brad’s shoes—and his obnoxious whistling—before he saw his bully returning from Lisa’s office. He launched up out of his chair and marched into the path between the cubicles just ahead of Brad. Clark was decently tall, just about six feet. But Brad was a head taller than him still. “Clark, buddy!” Brad said entirely too eagerly. He reached out and clapped Clark’s shoulder hard. “Just the man I wanted to see.” Clark winced at the clap, but kept his angry gaze on the other man.

“What did you do to her?” Clark demanded. His jaw was set and his voice was low and firm.

“What on Earth are you talking about?” Brad asked. “I’m just as much in the dark as you are!” Brad gave a comical shrug. “I have no idea how Lisa could change that way in, Christ, two days?” Brad counted on his fingers. “Especially those tits…”

“Don’t talk about her like that!” Clark looked like he was about to lunge forward and shove Brad. But he stopped himself. Clark wouldn’t have stood a chance in the altercation, but Brad admitted to himself he’d have been impressed if Lisa’s little pet tried. “I know you did something.”

“Even if I did,” Brad countered, walking around Clark. He turned to face the man again, having demonstrated there was nothing Clark could actually do to stop him. “I don’t think there’s any way to just reverse changes like that. And fishing those cantaloupes out…well, she’s probably got enough stretch marks as is.” Brad looked down to see Clark seething. He was increasingly convinced his chubby coworker might actually find the nads to take a shot. He wouldn’t even be mad! “So it looks like the Lisa we have is the one we’re stuck with.”

“Fuck you,” Clark sputtered. “Why are you doing this? Why couldn’t you just leave us alone?” His anger was giving way to sadness. Like a kid whose toy had been snatched.

“Hey hey hey,” Brad said, putting his hands up in a mock surrender. “I for one like the new Lisa. Excuse me—Mona Lisa. She doesn’t like it when people don’t respect her name.”

“Fuck you,” Clark spat again.

“I’m just trying to help!” Brad protested. “Seeing as she’s made it clear I’m not getting any if I keep pushing you around. Say what you want about Mona Lisa, but she’s a loyal gal. She wants me to wingman for you at the Tiger Cage tonight.”

“What’s the Tiger Cage?” Clark asked quietly.

“Oh man,” Brad said. “If your friendship is going to make it you’re going to need to learn all sorts of stuff, Clark. You know the gals who can’t get boyfriends? And then can’t get fucked at nightclubs? The Tiger Cage is where they go. Trashy babes. Babes like…Mona Lisa.”

“And what’s she going to think when I say you called her trashy?” Clark huffed.

“I think she’s going to do that giggle-snort thing she does now, agree, and then stare at my butt some more,” Brad said. “But the bottom line, Clawky...” Brad drew out Clark’s name as he mimicked Mona Lisa’s new accent. “...is that it looks like we have to share for now. And I’m sure you’re not thrilled with that. But if that’s what it’s going to take for me to tap that leathery ass—”

Brad didn’t get to finish his sentence before Clark gave him a shove. Brad barely moved a half step back from the assault. He certainly wasn’t hurt. He watched as Clark’s face turned from anger to fear at the realization of what he’d just done. But Brad just cackled. “And here I was just thinking I’d actually respect you if you threw a punch,” Brad mused. “But that was close enough. Don’t worry—I’m not going to pound you or report you to HR. That would make Mona Lisa mad and get in between me and an incredibly rubbery tit-job.” Clark’s face began to contort in anger all over again. With his victim thoroughly antagonized, Brad decided to take his leave. “Anyways, back to the old grind,” Brad said with a wave. “If you wanna try to save Mona Lisa from me or whatever, I know she wants to have lunch with you. Tell her I said hey, okay?” Brad chuckled as he walked off, jauntily whistling once more as he made a turn and headed back for his own cubicle.

After a moment of watching Brad walk away, Clark returned to his own chair. But he wasn’t even pretending to work now. He ran his hands through his hair and repeatedly bumped his head against his desk. He didn’t even know what he was trying to accomplish. Trying to wake himself up from a nightmare? Trying to dispel some hallucination caused by a tumor or brain damage? Just trying to cope with the fact that his best friend—his crush—had been twisted into this degrading shape? Had been brainwashed into falling for the man who tormented the two of them? How did someone even deal with that? Was there enough therapy in the world to begin to cope?

—

While Clark suffered at his desk, Mona Lisa was spending her morning the same way she’d spent it on Tuesday. The novice bimbo hadn’t even bothered checking her email yet. She’d turned her computer on, but had already been distracted by her phone.

As she had promised Big B, Mona Lisa had spent the previous night working on her social media. For all her changes, Lisa Ricci’s drive and ambition were both still present in her mind. And when she could be focused she was just as capable as ever. Mona Lisa threw herself into research on how to set up a successful social media presence. Guides on the mechanics and guides made by other influencers—fitness models, bimbos, and bikini babes—all went into her work. Her XoMonaLisaoX Picstagram account was joined by a Tweeter, a Strings, and a free (for now) ManyFans account. And all four were linked together and subjected to a barrage of racy pictures. Mona Lisa had promised her fans full body, and she’d delivered with a set of pictures in the mirror. XoMonaLisaoX’s feed was now studded with bras, panties, thongs, bikinis, and any other clothes that showed off enough skin to get attention. And all with hashtags, comments, and teasers to drive more engagement.

Mona Lisa’s work the night before had paid off, and now instead of doing her job she was replying to comments and DM’s. Every single comment fed a jolt of excitement. Every DM made her want another. Even the disgusting ones—the lecherous demands, the lewd remarks, and a few dick pics just fed her craving for attention. Mona Lisa was finding between her experience at the mall and now this stream of feedback that negative attention was just as motivating as positive attention. She kept her replies short and cryptic, though. Nothing that would leave her new admirers satisfied. Nothing that would prevent them from coming back for more.

But after a short morning of ignoring her job, Mona Lisa felt her phone buzz in her hands and saw an alert come up on the screen. Lunch time. And this time she wasn’t going to leave Clarky high and dry. She needed to flag him down and talk to him about tonight. If nothing else, she needed to prove Brad—handsome douche he was—wrong. So she reluctantly closed her phone apps and got up from her desk. She fished around her things for a salad she had packed and minced towards Clark’s desk.

Mona Lisa found her guy friend looking blankly into an empty computer screen. He didn’t notice her approaching until she spoke up. “Working hawd?” Mona Lisa asked playfully. Clark almost jumped out of his seat at the sight of her.

“Oh…hey Lisa…Mona Lisa.” Mona Lisa smiled brightly at the correction. She knew it would take a bit to get used to. “Need…something?”

“Well I don’t need nuthin’,” Mona Lisa mused. “But I was hopin’ we could get lunch togetha and tawk, ya know?”

“Brad did tell me you wanted to meet me for lunch,” Clark mumbled.

“Well good awn him fa nawt bein’ a douche fa once,” Mona Lisa said. “You in, Clawky?”

Clark looked Mona Lisa once-over again and tried to hide that he was blushing. He hated what had been done to his friend. And he hated it more that he could feel his pants getting a little tighter. What about this…this trashy bimbo did he find so appealing? What was turning him on about her? Was he just a fan of big tits? Even big, fake, rubbery tits? Was it that the woman he’d been trying to get to like him for so long suddenly seemed so willing? He shook his head and tried to think of anything else. Waterfalls. Green fields. Anything but the basketballs jutting from Lisa’s chest.

“Well?” Mona Lisa’s shrill accent snapped Clark out of it.

“Oh yeah, sure,” he said. He stood up, realizing that his erection hadn’t gone away. And that Mona Lisa was staring right at it. But the guidette gave a cackling giggle-snort at the sight.

“I was wonderin’ if you was happy ta see me!” she teased.

“Sorry, Mona Lisa,” Clark mumbled. But Mona Lisa cut him off.

“I take it as a cawmplument,” she said. “I awtta send ya my new Picstagram so you can take care’a that on ya own time. But see? This is why I wanna take you out tanight!” Mona Lisa put her hands on Clark’s shoulders and led him towards the exit of the office block. She steered him to the elevator, continuing to talk as she did. “Ya clearly gawt some stuff goin’ on that only a prawpa woman can take care of.”

Once the elevator doors closed, Lisa pressed the ground floor. The conversation she wanted to have was a bit too personally for a full break room. “We’ll go ta my car,” she explained. “And we can tawk all nice and private. But let’s go ahead and stawt here.” Mona Lisa turned to Clark and put a hand on her hip, cocking it to the side. “So hawnestly, truly…waddya think?”

Clark looked Mona Lisa over again. What did he even say to that? When he looked in her eyes, he could clearly see Mona Lisa wanted his acceptance. As gaudy and trashy as she was now, she cared what he thought. But the way Brad had spoken to him before was clawing at his mind. He couldn’t take the thought that Brad was going to steal Lisa from him like this. That he had done this to her. Already pushed to his limits by his bully, Clark couldn’t even try to fake being happy for her.

“Lisa, how can you not see that something is wrong!?” Clark almost shouted. Lisa took a step back, her face caught between shock and hurt. “Look at yourself! People don’t change like this in a single week! Brad has done something to you! He’s made you this way and you’re not even fighting it! You’re just…just giving in!”

Mona Lisa looked Clark in the eyes. And for just a moment she felt doubt begin to swirl in her mind again. The doubts from her bathroom mirror. The doubts from the tanning bed. Lisa looked down at her long, fake nails. She held them up to his face, fumbling for words. For just a moment she allowed herself to wonder if something really was wrong.

For just a moment, Clark was sure he’d broken through.

But then she looked down. When she initially caught sight of her enormous, fake breasts, the feeling of doubt grew. But then Mona Lisa stared at her pink pendant. Her doubts faded. A smile crossed her lips…followed by a frown. She looked back at Clark. But she wasn’t doubtful or vulnerable anymore.

Mona Lisa was pissed.

She stood back up to her full height and took a forceful step forward, now just inches from Clark’s face. At this distance her hair product and perfume were overpowering. Clark coughed from the smell of it all. “Fuhst awf,” Mona Lisa said, her voice raised. “It’s Mona Lisa.”

“Lisa—” Clark tried to say, but he was cut off.

“MONA Lisa,” Lisa said. “And how dare ya tawk to me like that?! Look at myself? Like I’m some kinda freak? Like I’m some sorta embarrassment? Like ya too good fa me?”

The elevator doors opened into the parking garage, giving Clark a chance to try to back away. But Mona Lisa’s heels did nothing to stop her from keeping up. “That’s some big fawkin’ tawk fur a guy who popped a boner the moment he saw me! Twice!” Mona Lisa held up two fingers and took delight in Clark’s deep, red blush. He’d hoped she hadn’t noticed this morning. But it was no good.

“Mona Lisa,” Clark acceded. “I…I don’t think you’re a freak. If this is what you want, you look great! But I don’t think it is. Brad did something to you! I don’t know what but he did.”

“I’ll have you fawkin’ know that Brad didn’t do none of this ta me,” Mona Lisa protested. “I gawt my nails and makeup done by myself awn Monday. I gawt my hair and my new clothes on Tuesday. And I gawt my tan and my cooter waxed on Wednesday. And the way I tawk? It’s how my new friends tawk!”

“And the breasts?” Clark protested. Once again Mona Lisa faltered. The one thing she couldn’t explain. But a look down at the pendant caused any sort of questions she had to melt away. Clark watched it happen. Her shock. Her look of doubt. Then she looked at the pendant…just like she had done in the elevator.

“Guess it’s a growth spurt!” Mona Lisa said dismissively.

“A growth spurt of plastic?” Clark snorted. “You can’t possibly believe that.”

“Don’t tawk to me like I’m fawkin’ stupid,” Mona Lisa said. By now she’d backed Clark up against the wall of the parking garage. With cars on either side, he was running out of places to go. “My point is that otha than work, I haven’t seen Brad at awl. The only thing he’s done since I gawt it is encourage me. Tell me how amazing I look. And offa to be nicer ta you.”

“Because he wants to fuck you!” Clark shot back.

“And you don’t?” Mona Lisa snarled. Clark’s face went from red to white. It was all the confirmation Mona Lisa needed. “Brad told me you was inta me and I thawt he was wrong. But seeing what a little bitch ya being about me showing any otha guy some attention I guess he had a point. Ya jealous ova a girl who ain’t even yours.”

“I’m not jealous!” Clark complained. “I just…” he was trying to find the words, but he couldn’t. Lisa wouldn’t listen to him. Saying the same thing again would just make her even madder.

“Well here’s the scoop, Clawky,” Mona Lisa said. She spread her legs slightly and crossed her arms. “You ain’t neva gonna touch this. No offense, but you ain’t my type. There’s girls out there fa fatties and furbawls, but I ain’t one of them. So you can be my friend. I can help you out findin’ a prawpa brawd. And ya can learn to live with the changes in my life. Or you can jerk it to my Picstagram photos awl on yer own. So what’s it gonna be, Mistah Big Bawls?”

Clark looked at Mona Lisa standing in front of him. His face was etched with hurt. His friend had insulted him. Belittled him. She had broken his heart like it was nothing. And had basically told him she was off to fuck the worst guy he knew. Clark knew it wasn’t her fault. He knew Brad had done something. And he knew he needed to fix it. But he always knew that if Mona Lisa cut him off, he never could.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m…I’m sorry, Mona Lisa. For yelling. For saying those things.”

“Damn fawkin’ right ya are,” Mona Lisa said. She scowled at Clark, an expression that caused him to slump over. But even after all that, she felt a little bit of sympathy. She walked forward and touched Clark’s arm. “I’m sawry I had to be so rough on ya, Clawky,” she said quietly. “But I want us to stay friends, awlright?”

“Yeah,” Clark said. He turned away. He didn’t want Mona Lisa to see him holding back tears.

“I think it would be betta if you skipped the Tiga Cage tonight,” Mona Lisa said. Clark nodded. He agreed. “And I think we should get back to work.”

Clark nodded again. But this time he spoke up. “Hey…Mona Lisa?” he asked. “Can you tell me one thingr?” The guidette raised an eyebrow and looked to him. She gave him a nod.

“That pink pendant,” he said. “I was just wondering where you got it.”

Mona Lisa’s eyebrow raised higher. Why was he asking about the pendant? “This?” she asked. “Oh I just found it awn my desk on Monday. Why do ya care?”

Clark shook his head and sniffled. “I just…thought it looked really nice on you,” he said. “I think it goes really well with the new look. That’s all.”

Mona Lisa softened her stance and smiled at what she saw as a peace offering. “Well thank ya, Clawky,” she said. “I appreciate it. But I should be heading back up, awlright? You dry ya eyes before you come up. Nobody wants to see a grown-ass man cry.” Clark nodded, slumping to the ground. Mona Lisa turned and walked back to the elevator, her heels clacking against the pavement as she returned to the office.

Clark waited for Mona Lisa to leave before drying his eyes, getting up, and making his own way to the elevator. He didn’t go all the way up to his cubicle’s floor, though. He pressed the button to stop at HR. He had no idea if his plan would work. But what did he have left to lose?