The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I just about tripped over my hem in a rush to get back up the stairs. I flew into my room, shut the door, leaned back against it and stood there, my heart and head pounding. No, No, No... this is all wrong! Why am I even listening to her? The woman is insane! What? What am I doing here…? I am going to have to get out of house. Come on Cristine... Think! Focus! Ok, can’t go out the window. It’s too high and I’ll break my neck. She’s down there, I can’t just run back down and out the door naked, they’ll find me in a heartbeat. Oh no, I’m going to have to do this, just to blend in around here and buy some time! Oh, No, I can’t believe this. My house…My life!!!!

My eyes moved round the room. Where was the crap I’d worn yesterday? Where did it go? I only dimly remembered getting undressed. I didn’t remember what I’d done with my clothes and now I didn’t see them. Well Cristine, I guess the joke’s on you. I mean, duh, like look in the closet.

I moved away from the door, toward the closet, then stopped as I caught my full reflection in the mirror on the opened door. “Well, ain’t I just the sweetest little thang!” Standing there in this big ole pink robe, big diamond pattern, quilt stitching all over it, all buttoned up, frillies around my cuffs, all along the placket and all around my neck. My head seemed to just perch ever so daintily above it all, like a little egg with a little hair muff hat, balanced in this fluffy, ruffled nest. It was totally un-nerving.

Snap out of it. What was first? Underwear. Right. I moved away from the closet and the mocking reflection, to a dresser and started pulling drawers open at random. Whatever it was, it seemed to all be there. It seemed to be organized. The first one had panties and stockings, some looked brand new, in packages, the rest was folded or rolled. The drawer below it held bras, big heavy suckers, like the one I’d worn yesterday. Most of them were refrigerator white, but there were some pinks and peach colors, as well. The drawer below that one, was filled with sheets, no... they must be the slips, cripes! Then, I pulled open the bottom drawer. This was the mother lode. It was filled with all kinds of heavy looking crap, with all kinds of buckles, straps and cords hanging off them. They were for the most part, rolled up on them selves, into tube shapes. They must be the girdles. Some of them seemed to be nearly three feet long and barely fit in the drawer. What the hell would you do with something like that? I can’t believe a woman ever even moved, if she ever got inside this stuff!

Ok, the bra. I worked my way out of the putrid robe and threw it on the bed. The first bra, excuse me, brassiere, I pulled out, looked pretty much like the one I wore yesterday. I opened it up and slid it over each of my arms and snuggled it up to my chest, trying to hold it in place and at the same time get my arms around behind me to close the damn thing. This is freaking stupid! How am I supposed to get all of these damn hooks closed behind me? All of my old regular bras, just used to have one little hook in the front and I’d be done. I screwed around with it for about ten minutes. I tried putting it on backwards, but when I got it all cinched up, it was too damn tight to twist it around and get my titties into their pockets. DAMNIT TO HELL! I can not do this!

I threw it back in the drawer. Well, hell, they’re all like this. I yanked the bottom drawer open again. Didn’t it look like some of those things had bras attached to them. Yeah! I pulled out the one on top and let it unfurl. God, it was a big old peach colored thing with shinny panels and rubber panels and straps hanging off both ends and who knows what else. Yeah, maybe this will work. This thing looked like it closed up on the side and it was the whole thing, in more or less one piece. This might even be easier to deal with, I mean, after I got the hang of getting up and out of a chair yesterday, walking around wasn’t so bad. What the hell. I looked at it for a couple of seconds. Ok, you put it on, kind of like a coat and it closes across, over here on the side.

I slipped my arms through both of the armholes and let the thing settle onto my shoulders. I pulled the right side across my chest. He, he, Look at these freaking torpedoes! Ha... this reminds me of those pointy things Britney wore sometimes, when she was in her “look at my tits” phase. I wondered if my “guardian”, had ever heard of Britney Spears. I had to push and poke at my titties, to get them to stay up inside the pointy little cones, and then keep my right arm tightly under them both, while I squeezed the whole thing together and got some of the hooks fastened. Well, it was still a lot easier then that other bra was! Dang! This is tight! I had to keep sucking in my gut and holding my breath as I worked my way down the side, toward the bottom. The lower I got, the harder it got. This girdle was not very flexible to begin with and now, each time I bent over for the next batch of hooks, the metal wires running up and down and through it became less and less tolerant. Whew! I closed the last one, slipped the zipper together at the bottom and pulled it all the way up into my underarm. Whoo Whee! That’s snug! We won’t be doing many deep knee bends in this thing! Ok, What’s next?

Panties. No, stockings, next. If I put my panties on now, they’ll get trapped under these freaking garters and I won’t be able to pee. I pulled open the top drawer again. Well, I am not going to wear her used stockings again. I grabbed a fresh package and opened them. What is with these people? Does everything have to be heavy? They looked like they were hand knit by the Amish or something. They felt like they had a little bit of stretch to them, but they were like a light tan in color, probably a cotton blend. They had darker reinforced sections around where my toes would be, that went back along the underside of the foot and then continued up and around the heel. Unbelievable, they seemed to be stitched together in the back. There was a huge seam running all the way up the back of each one. Unbelievable, hookers and old ladies... and I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to look much like a hooker today.

“Son of a Bitch!” I could not bend over enough to get my toes into the damn stockings. “SHIT!” It wasn’t happening. I had to open the iron maiden all the way back up to my waist, before I would be able to get the damn stockings over my feet. After enough tugging and pulling, I finally got each of them over my thighs and started the process of clipping them to the dangling straps. The front ones weren’t too bad, the sides were harder and I couldn’t get the back ones, until I stood up and that was still pretty miserable, because I couldn’t see what I was doing. Finally, OK, Let’s get this thing closed up again. I sucked my breath in and started to hook myself back together. Now my stockings and the girdle wanted to have a tug of war. Each time I bent over farther, the tension between stocking and this, this carapace, wanted to tip me forward onto my nose.

My head was pounding from the exertion. I stood there, one hand on the dresser, breathing in with hard, sharp gasps... futile attempts to fill my lungs. How in the hell am I going to get my panties on?

I was finally dressed in all of my under things, foundations, slips, whatever. And I don’t want to talk about it, ok? I was back at the closet. I had to pick something out of there to wear. Fat chance, I’ll find jeans, huh? That’s a joke. And, you don’t see me laughing, do you. What to wear, what to wear? Like, I’m all ready fully covered, aren’t I! Let’s just keep it simple. Is there a half ass decent dress in there? Oh, they’re all so bad. I closed my eyes, reached in and pulled out the first thing I felt. Oh, boy!

I stood before the mirror looking myself over. I ended up in this blue dress, it had buttons all the way from the collar to the hem, and there were seventeen of them. I know because I counted them as I fastened each and every one, and that wasn’t counting the three weird ones under the collar. This dress had a big wide, white collar that crossed over and closed off to the left. As if that wasn’t bad enough, there was a red fabric flower attached, over on that same side, that was just a little crushed, but big enough to intrude into my field of vision whenever I glanced down. The sleeves had little white cuffs, that ended about three quarters of the way down my arms, so that was cool and the bodice pretty much followed the shape of this brassiere, girdle, rocket launcher, compactor thing. It hadn’t actually been that hard to button though, since the skirt part was pretty loose and flared away from my hips enough, so that I’d been able to lift it up in front of me, to do it up. Frickin shoes. How am I going to get into my shoes. I saw the long shoehorn over on a wall hook; that wasn’t the problem. I am not going to take this off again to tie my shoes. No way.

I scanned the row of shoes along the bottom. There were a few pair that just slipped on. I extended my foot and pulled a pair of blue ones out, that I thought might match my dress. They looked to have about a 3-inch heel on them. Ok, no big deal, I’d had plenty of hot times in hot heels before, these were way more matronly then anything I’d ever consider, but all in all, this would be easy enough. I could at least walk.

Ok, Good enough! I walked through the door, leaving the bedroom and carefully headed down the stairs. I didn’t especially want to attract Eleanor’s attention, if I could just make it through the front room and get out, I’d be able to explore a bit, maybe find a bus station and look at the schedules. Unfortunately, the clackity, clack of my heels gave me away.

“Missy Crissie, Is that you? Now, you come in here and let me see how nice you look.”

Nuts... “Yes, I’m coming.”

“Oh my, well don’t you look just darling in that dress. Now, just let me look at you a minute. Well, goodness, you know you need your crinoline under that. My, my, my, it just warms my heart to see you in that dress. Now turn around, once.”

Crinoline! Where are we going... to a freaking square dance? I gave her one of my extra special, cutesy smiles and spun on my toe.

“Missy Crissie!”

Ah, Oh, Now, What’s up?

“What did I tell you about making your seams straight?

“I, I did! I did, missy Eleanor, look!” What the heck? I got all the buttons closed in the right holes. How the hell can the seam not be straight? What’s the big problem?

As the sound of my own voice began to register what I had just said, I realized I had just called my new “friend” as “Eleanor”. For some reason, it seemed very natural. I knew her name but... how?

“Your seams, Crissie. Look at your seams. Your stocking seams are twisted halfway around your legs! Are you trying again…? I warn you, I won’t have it. You march yourself right back up those stairs.”

Are you shitting me? I can’t even see the damn things.

I turned, walked back through the front room and began the climb to my bedroom. Eleanor was right behind me.

I stomped over to the mirror and turned around, peering over my shoulder, then under my arm, it was kind of hard to see the backs of my legs. I grabbed the hem of my skirt and lifted it up over my butt for a clearer view.

“Stop that, you’ll muss your dress. Now you just take that dress off and fix those stockings right!”

I once again repeated the arduous task of the buttons, finally getting enough of them open, to slip my arms out of the sleeves and let the dress fall to the floor around me and step out of it.

“You do not drop your dress to the floor. You put a dress on and you take a dress off, over your head. Now pick that up and lay it neatly on the bed and do not do that again. Now, unclip your garters and straighten those seams!”

“I... I can’t missy Eleanor. I can’t bend down there in this girdle.”

“Nonsense. You sit right down on the bed, and lift your legs up, one at a time and bring your knees up to your chest. Now get to it!”

I sat down as instructed and unclipped the garters and began to roll the stockings back toward my ankles so that I could realign the seam. It was extremely difficult to bring my knee near enough to my chest, so that I could reach my feet, due the incredible binding of the bottom of the girdle across my upper thighs. I grunted and grunted, as I had to repeatedly roll them up and down and up again and down again, over and over, only able to judge their straightness at the back of my legs, by feel. The entire exercise took over fifteen minutes, as Eleanor would not allow even the slightest waiver in the seam line.

“That’s better. Well, you will certainly have to work on that. I hope you don’t think you will have all day to get dressed in the future. Now, go on over to the closet, there are a few garment bags at the far side. You will find your crinolines in there.”

There were indeed, several opaque plastic bags hanging from the rod. I opened the first one. I detected the strong sent of moths balls and glanced toward Eleanor. She nodded “yes”, and I pulled a stiff, gigantic lampshade from it. As I freed it from the bag, it seemed to double in size. I looked at her again and she was making strange, animated gestures with her hands that I took to mean, put it on OVER my head. There was no point in even arguing about it, as I lifted it above my head and let it float down about my waist. The stiff net material bounced around me, with each step as I crossed the room to retrieve the blue dress. This time, I hunted and found the dress’s waist and sleeves, and burrowed through the wide bottom, flipping it up and over my head squirming and wiggling until it settled around me. A couple of extra fluffs of the hem with my hands and the dress finally lay evenly over the entire substructure. I finished up the buttons, staring aimlessly at myself in the mirror.

Then Eleanor returned wich some pills and a glass of water.

“Missy Crisie, it’s time”

“Time? I m not ready yet”

“What is wrong with you girl? I talk about your medicine. It’s time to take your medicine, missy Crissie.”

“My medicine?”

“For your nervous. Alison was very strict about that. Now take your pills ”

As if it was a reflex, I opened my mouth and felt as a gel caplet of some kind was slipped inside it.

Then I felt a glass pressed up against my lips.

“Drink up your medicine, missie Crissie.”

I took in the liquid and swallowed the gel caplet. The liquid was warm. Whatever it was I knew that in no time, I would be feeling the effects of this mix. A couple more sips of liquid and the glass went away.

Soon, my head was dizzy. I felt as if the room was spinning around him. My sense of time was gone. Everything was a blur, until the voice spoke to me again, calming me.

“And now it’s time for you to go back down into hypnosis for me, missy Crissie… it’s time for you to continue your dressing…your moral dressing...time for you to continue your journey down into a deep, deep state of total obedience to Alison…into a state where she wants you are…and she …and she loves you obey me…she loves you obey me…You love to hear and obey Alison and Eleonor.”

And with that, I deppley sank into nothingness…

When I returned to my senses I was still in front of the mirror. I heard my bedroom door open. As Eleonor approached, I instinctively lowered my eyes. She walked behind me.

“Are you better now?” She asked me.

“Yes”

“Fine. Now you finished dress”.

I looked at myself in the mirror, feeling a strange sensation. All my tensions and nerves were gone. I felt happy, very happy, strangely happy.

Soon, my thoughts changed. More looked at myself and more changed. I guess it wasn’t so bad. The crinoline held the hem of my dress out and away, just covering my knees, by about 12 inches all around. In the heels, my legs looked a little shapelier and longer. I guess I didn’t look quite as dowdy now. The outward flair of the dress, with the heels, did seem to give me a more youthful appearance. I raised my gaze toward my head. The lavender tint of my tightly permed hair, didn’t seem quite as garish as it had earlier. The color now seemed to be a suitably soft compliment to the primary colors of the blue dress, large white collar and the bright red fabric flower. I don’t know if I can get used to not having eyebrows, though. It looks really strange. I had no makeup on at all, and I thought my face looked slightly pale, almost angelic. God, all I need now, is for my ears to morph into giant wings and I can fly away from here! Eleanor’s bumbling around behind me, caught my attention.

“Here’s your clutch, Dear. Why don’t you do your face, while I go back downstairs and call Alison. Meet me in the kitchen, when you’re done.”

“Yeah, OK!” I don’t know... I guess it’s going to be tough to ditch her today. Ruefully, I watched Eleanor leave the room and then opened the purse. What is in there that keeps giving off this pungent, sickly smell? I rummaged through it, until I came upon an eyebrow pencil. I wonder if I can even do this without a template. Sure, I’d used makeup a million times, but I’d always had my own eyebrows to follow and enhance. This would be a first. Peering closely into the mirror, I could detect only the barest of a resemblance at the root pores, where my brow hairs had been shaved away. Tentatively, I laid the tip of the brown colored pencil, roughly in the middle of where the brows had been and began to draw arches over each of my eyes. It was hard to get them to look even. One would have a little bump at the wrong place, then I’d get the other one too high. I kept going back over one, then the other, until I though they matched pretty well, but now they seemed awfully big. Unreal. Yeah, Well; they’re not there for real anyway, are they? I dropped the pencil back into the bag, fished around inside and came upon a little container of blusher. I opened that up, picked out the little fluffy pad and dabbed it into the color. Eyes back in the mirror, I rubbed little rosy accents across and into each of my cheeks. Done, with that. Back into my bag for that old tube of fuchsia, popped the lid and made a face at the mirror like I was going to give myself a big sloppy kiss. I rolled a thick slab of the color around the outside of my mouth, duplicating how Eleanor had slathered it on me back at Alison’s salon. No point in being subtle, It’s completely wasted on these Yahoos, and besides, I was starting to get into this entire ungodly look. I could rob a bank and never be recognized. God, if my friends could see me now. That sent a shudder down my spine. God, if my friends ever saw me like this, I’d die.

Well, what more could I do? I turned to leave and noticed a jewelry box on the vanity. Why not, It might save me another trip up and down the stairs. I flipped it open. It was filled with what I gathered, were all the rejects from the last yard sale. It was pretty much a split between cheap plastic junk and even cheaper looking metal crap, medallions, beads, pins, little gold plated birds, big gold plated birds! I settled on a pair of flat white plastic disks, at least an inch in diameter and screwed them on to my ear lobes.

“Alison wants us to come over now.” Eleanor greeted me as I entered the Kitchen for the third time today. “I thought we could do some shopping first, but I guess that will have to wait. Alison has a full schedule the rest of the week, so we’ll go there next.”

“What’s it like out side? Do I need a sweater?” Cripes, listen to me! And what’s with Alison already? I was just there, yesterday. What the hell was left to do?

So, there I was, walking down the street, in broad daylight again, with Eleanor. I couldn’t walk quite as fast as I could yesterday in the oxfords. My gait was a little over exaggerated because of these heels. True, I’d sometimes worn heels and platforms, even taller then these, when out clubbing, but usually I’d have gotten a ride from friends or a taxi. And my floor time normally centered on bumping, grinding and dancing. I’d never had to cover any great distance walking. The heels also seemed to force me into a pronounced, hip swinging rhythm, yet, as I walked, the tight girdle restricted the length of my stride. This translated into the crinoline developing it’s own swinging motion, first swaying to the right and then the left, and back and forth and back and forth, with each step. I felt like I was wearing a giant church bell, clanging and ringing around my legs, drawing everyone’s attention to me, as we moved down the street. I was totally mortified.