The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

My bitch neighbor can’t talk. only barks. dog barks.

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

Hooooooly shit

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

lmaooooooo

“We have to be scientific about this,” Noelle said. “Aden, stick your finger in Molly’s mouth.”

“Sure, that’s science,” Aden said. He flexed his fingers, and looked sidelong at Molly. Molly had been instructed to tightly shut her lips, even if a male wanted to casually prod at her teeth. She’d clamped down as hard as she could, but her eyes were obviously uncertain. Tight black ringlets bounced around her mascara.

“No. Not going to do it,” Aden said. He shook his head.

“Look,” Noelle said. “We’ve been changed. Like, internally. If we want to stay the same people, we have to know WHAT changed.”

The new decree had just arrived that morning, and just as they had arrived for work. It would’ve been nice if Twitter God-King, their cackling demi-god, had provided helpful tingles or a gold glow when he enacted a worldwide change. Instead a girl had to repetitively refresh their social media feed to keep up with constraints on their own behavior. Had to wait on refresh to see who they were, although Noelle had every intention of the answer being “Still Noelle, damn it.”

But there was no denying that she was now at least a slightly different person. For one thing, she was unsure whether or not she’d let a guy stick his fingers in her mouth, if he wanted to.

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

GOOD morning everyone and UR welcome former cancer having ppl

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

NO need to thank your friendly worldwide Killa

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

Lets enoy another beautiful rain COURTESY of KillaDaKilla. florida UR welcome i knocked that hurricane out. And ladies, lets be nicer to the men out there.

“Ni-CER,” Noelle kept worrying the term. “Ni-CER to men.”

“That’s where you’re in trouble, Noelle,” Molly said, cracking her teeth open, since Aden was reluctant. She was immediately loud. Molly dominated rooms in many ways, not least her insistence on a custom-blend of Sephora-scents she called “Mollysmells”. There were also the tattoos and the piercings and the overall bigness of her. “It says, Ni-cer. You have to be ni-cer than you previously were, and I was never that nice. Hey, Aden!”

The big girl tossed her keys in Aden’s direction. Molly had far more keys than she could ever possibly use, dozens of them, like she kept a medieval jail. They hit Aden on his shirt and impacted on the floor.

“There you go. You hit me,” Aden said. “Not at all nice.” He was the only introverted bi man that Noelle had ever met. She didn’t think the two things went together.

Molly didn’t look pleased. “I meant to throw, like, really hard,” she said. “I was going to rip a bunch of key-shaped chunks out of your cheek. Obviously no offense, because you’re mmmmmmmale.”

“And then?” Noelle said. “Like, no joking. What happened when you tried to throw?”

“And then...” Molly let out a breath. Her eyes slipped to the floor. “I just... didn’t. Sorry, Aden, if it hurt.”

From her startled look, the apology was ripped out of her as well.

Noelle walked around the coffee shop. There was very little traffic outside, and no one was looking for caffeine. There was a lot of hunkering down.

A week ago, a man had acquired cosmic power, and lorded it over everyone via Twitter. Six days ago, girls worldwide had read, with increasing dismay, his Likes and Retweets list. Three days ago, he had abolished cancer. Now he was reaching inside of them. She was Ni-CER now.

Noelle tried to slap Aden. She visualized the sequence of events—picking up her hand, swinging it backwards, rotating her hips, and then right into his male jaw. She at least expected to pick up her arm, and start the slapping procedure, even if it rapidly lost steam.

Instead, her arm sat there, unmoving. The nerves didn’t respond.

Different tack. “Aden, I was wondering... if...” even this was hard to choke out, but at least she could, if she dumped pretty-pleases into it. “...maybe, if I gave you fifty dollars, and it was super-okay with you, I could maybe slap you? Not hard?”

Aden quickly nodded his head, and Noelle felt a disturbingly warm glow, in the pit of her stomach. After a moment she recognized it as relief. She was relieved she hadn’t been mean to a man.

“As hard as you can,” Aden said. “I consent. I consent to it. I want it, I need it. Slap me, full across the face. I don’t need the fifty dollars, even.”

“No, no,” Noelle said. Her mind flashed a warning—payment was required. She fumbled with her purse, bringing it up, and counted out two twenties and a ten. “It’s part of the experiment. Okay, here’s the money, and—you consented, you did, and—”

This time she was able to get her arm moving. It traced a limp, sad arc and stopped just sort of Aden’s face. He hadn’t shaved that morning. Harming a person with beard stubble was—unthinkable. She couldn’t think of it.

Aden picked up her hand and tried to smack himself with it, but it was pointless.

The three of them considered this, somber. Aden took a sip of his mocha. Noelle had noticed herself putting an extra chocolate squirt in it. It was the nice thing to do.

“So, here’s the thing,” Noelle said, putting her arm back on the table. It worked again. For now. “I think I know who Killa is. The person.”

They both stared. She knew Sexist God.

“And we briefly dated.”

“Oh my god,” Molly said. She covered her mouth. “You aren’t a virgin. Who knew?”

“303 is the Denver area code,” Noelle said. “Kill la Kill is an anime. And here’s what else he Liked, going through his twitter profile, besides a lot of really worrying stuff about the natural submission of females. He liked a tweet about the Denver Anime Convention of 2017. He liked a tweet about a new bar opening up in Boulder. I went to that convention in 2017. I’ve been to that bar. I think Killa is my ex. Adrian. My ex who really loved anime.”

The bell tinkled. A single woman walked in, still wearing sunglasses. She looked slumped, unhappy, until she noticed Aden moving over behind the counter. Then she perked up, swept her hair back on the other side of her sunglasses, hesitated, and took them off entirely, so he could see her eyes. They were very pretty, and she’d put on a lot of makeup.

“Hiiii!” she said. “So crazy out there, right? Can I—” Noelle saw her momentary reluctance, and knew exactly what it was. When she asked for something, from a man, what exactly was going to come out of her mouth? There was no way to be sure. “Can I, um, P-PLEASE get a latte? If it—”

“No. It isn’t too much trouble,” Aden said. He didn’t look backwards, but both of his co-workers had thrown themselves into latte-preparation action. Molly especially, who usually liked to make a production out of how much effort it was for her to do her job. Flopping her boobs and butt around, as Noelle liked to think of it.

Today she moved with economy and purpose. In a hurry to—obey.

“And, just to be clear, miss, I think a 15% tip, and no more than that, would be nice,” Aden added. “That’s the perfect, nice amount to tip.” He warmed to it, looking at her cautious, uncertain smile. “It’s nice to treat men normally. Even tell them off when they’re being shitty, which is all the time, because they’re MEN.”

“Oh!” the girl said. “Yeah—I—my husband has been... taking advantage... a little bit... of this whole...nicer... thing. Thank you. Thank you very much.”

“Came in to get the taste out of your mouth, huh?” Molly said, cheerfully.

“Molly,” Aden said. The comment was a little crass, and Aden was stressed. They all were. So it came out as a sharp, clear, masculine rebuke.

“I’m—” Molly had a brand new facial expression. Stark regret. Her eyes trembled, immediately. She cringed, physically, nearly doubling over. Molly, with all her tattoos and unapproved shop music playlists and her CUM VAMPIRE shirt under her apron, had to steady herself. She’d been reprimanded by a man, and it had really gotten to her.

“It’s fine,” Aden said. Mollifying, Noelle thought. She should make notes. This wasn’t just nicer, this was submissive. “Molly, it’s fine. We’re all... learning. Drink is on the house, miss. We’re all just... learning.”

Molly recovered quickly. She even flashed a grin at Aden, like it had been a joke that she had been in on. Although her chest was still heaving. Her brows knit. Noelle knew that look—she was going to try again, extra hard, just to show she could.

Noelle, standing there, thought—I should stop her. I should prevent her from getting in trouble with a man again, from making a man embarrassed. And this was all for the sake of Aden, who owned more eyeliner than she did.

“Miss, would you mind please opening up your mouth, so Aden can stick his thumb in there?”

Noelle made sure to watch. They were all going to have to learn their limitations. Who they WERE. The girl didn’t just open her lips. She puckered them, and bent forward, at the waist, so that Aden didn’t have to reach as far to shove his fingers inside of her lips. She kept her eyes trained on him, to make sure she was doing it correctly. And when he didn’t respond, immediately, she ran her tongue along her lips, so that they would be nice and greased for his digits.

Nice-r. Ni-CER.

In her head Noelle was already making lists for how to beat this. The big issue was, she wasn’t the only person in there.

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

GOOD MORNING everyone!! i made farts smell good. NO NEED TO THANK ME.

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

some scientsts were asking i make it colder in antarctica so I did that

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

also MEN. if you are BALD. Or even just want more hair... say KILLA GIVE ME DA HAIR.

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

BOOM!!!!

Road trip. To go murder a Twitter poster.

They rode in Aden’s Tindermobile. So named, by Aden, because he used it nearly 100% for dates. It was a nice Obama-era Mercedes, and Noelle made a note to be very careful with it.

She’d overpacked. They were headed all the way across America in uncertain times. Even in certain times she was a city girl with no road trip experience.

“What’s in this one?” Molly had thrown in one duffel, and nothing else. She wore a heavy sweater, which Noelle interpreted as uncertainty. Molly usually wore either a t-shirt with something gross written on it, or a t-shirt. And skirts, because she “didn’t like how much tights it takes to cover my ass.”

“Beans,” Noelle said.

“Beans,” Molly said, deadpan. “You’re bringing beans. Cans of beans.”

“Among other nonperishables, yes. And I remembered a can opener.”

“Great. Well-prepared. Very girl scout-y. Do you think we can fart around Aden, or is that not polite?”

“Fart away,” Aden said.

“Alright. These are supposed to be good, now.”

Molly popped a lady-like toot.

“Like perfume,” Molly reported. “Like Chanel No. 5, coming out of my butt. Aden, is this good? I can try for Calvin Klein’s Obsession.”

“It’s fantastic. I love that you fart the Macy’s perfume counter,” Aden said. As usual his expression gave him away. It was hard to hide feelings, in the face of global scary change. He didn’t like it.

Noelle and Molly shared a thought. It didn’t completely matter what Aden said. It mattered what he wanted. Were they responding to some body language cues? Some KillaDaKilla universal of what men preferred?

“Does this make any difference to the nice to men command?” Aden said, presenting his outfit for inspection. “I metro’d and then added extra de-masculine to it. I’m basically neutered, right now.” He even stuck his hands on his hips, and sashay’d. He wore black tights with a dark grey-black kilt. “I put on enough mascara for a raccoon dating app.” It was true.

“I don’t think so,” Noelle said. She’d done some reading, last night. Until very, very late into the night. Everyone was compiling notes and building FAQs, and so was she. “It works so long as you have a penis. That’s all it takes. It’s dumb.”

“Ridiculous criteria. I’m glad we’re going to fuck this guy up,” Molly said. “I didn’t bring beans. I brought a crowbar. Which Aden will use to smack him around? If that’s okay.”

“It will be my most masculine act, all-time,” Aden said, hand over his heart. “I’ll sneak up on him. And if he dodges the crowbar, BAM, I get him on the temple with a can of beans. Instant kill.”

They climbed in. Both girls in the backseat.

“Oh, come on,” Aden said, looking around. “No one wants shotgun?”

“No, you’re right, you’re RIGHT,” Molly said. She climbed her big self through the seats. It was a sign of her nerves that she’d opted for tights, with a flannel firmly cinched around her rear. And a relatively neutral DARE TO DO DRUGS shirt. “Girls in the front!”

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

hey i guess ppl who don’t speak english have been getting anxious lol

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

everyone can speak everyone’s language! haha. plz enjoy mandarin, on killadakilla

They both opened their phones as soon as Aden started the engine.

“I guess we can understand every single language now,” Noelle said.

“Full Tower of Babel, huh?” Aden said. “Reverse. Can we... speak other languages?”

“I’m reading Japanese... now,” Noelle said. “Everyone’s having fun with it. Everyone is hitting up google translate and then making fun of what a bad job it does. Huh. Yeah. This really doesn’t get the nuance, does it?”

“I’m reading Russian!” Molly reported, from the passenger side. “Wow, now I can not read Tolstoy in the original... this is really something. I can go out and not read Chekov!”

“There’s an anime dweeb mad about it,” Noelle reported, scrolling. “Because now everyone is going to flood anime and it won’t be their special little thing.”

“Every language,” Aden said. “Alright. Well. Great.”

MollyReiser @MollyGolly12

Killa can you bring back the dead do you think.

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

ooooooooooooooh damn.

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

idk!

Noelle monitored social media as they went.

It was wild to her how many people were directly responding to KillaDaKilla. Sure, liking the tweet, that made a certain sycophantic sense. Easy enough to try and put you on the good side. But the number of suggestions and personal appeals, many of them for outright genocide... it was worrying stuff. It was terrifying to consider that KillaDaKilla was not in the worst ten or twenty percent of people who could be granted ultimate power.

Governmental agencies were very quiet, and consumer brands had halted all activity. The world held its breath. And could communicate, much more efficiently. They listened to a Portuguese news broadcast.

“I can’t speak it, right? I am... trying... to speak... Portuguese. No,” Noelle said. “Maybe I can write it. Or I guess it doesn’t matter?”

“Noelle, its damn magic,” Molly said. “Its vibes-based. There’s no science going on. No rules.”

“There’s always rules, and we will learn the rules. This is classic monkey’s paw stuff, Molly. He’s gonna fuck it up and leave some sort of stupid loophole. Aden, what do you think?”

“Oh yeah, definite monkey’s paw. Eventually,” Aden said. He looked over at Molly, and then backwards. “Question for you two. Lets say something changes about you, and you clearly haven’t noticed. Example. You grow a third boob. No reaction from you. Do I say something. Yes or no.”

Noelle patted herself, alarmed. It was still just the two. They sat in her tanktop, never over-large, and now beaded with sweat. On top of all their other problems, they had humidity.

“Still just two boobs,” Molly reported. “Wait. Check my back for me.”

“Two,” Noelle said.

“Okay. Whew. And to answer your question, Aden, I think yes. Definitely yes.”

“Great. Molly, you were wearing a flannel around your waist when we got in the car. Noelle, you had a higher neckline. A much higher neckline.”

She—had—now that Noelle was directly considering it. Yes. She’d worn a gray ribbed tanktop, where even the armholes were modest. It had not scooped down to mid-chest. This one definitely did. And the sweat, running down her chest—it seemed to have better aim. She was barely damp elsewhere.

Altogether it would’ve been a sexy and fun tit show if Noelle had even a tiny bit of boobs.

And, nonetheless, he’d noticed, Noelle thought. She felt the warm glow deep in the pit of her stomach, again, and rejected it. Now she knew what it was, and it was not her. It was the intruder. Aden was a coworker. Of course she’d noticed him as a man, but there was so much going on with him it was too much to parse out. Her staid heterosexuality had no business testing the waters of cool bi-s.

“I LIKED that flannel,” Molly said, looking down. Much of her was on display, underneath the hot sun. And the tights themselves—were they a bit tighter, a bit less opaque? There was a world of difference in yoga pants, in this modern age. No-nonsense spandex for actual jogging. Easy-breathing casual ones. And slinky, extra-taut numbers for best display of ass. This was the last one.

“Here’s what we do,” Noelle said. “We write down facts about ourselves.” She had a notebook handy in her backpack.

“Full Memento,” Aden said. “I like it. Don’t trust his lies, that stuff.”

“I’m writing down what I’m wearing,” Noelle said. And she did. Underneath that, and then underlined, she wrote:

YOU ARE NOT ATTRACTED TO ADEN.

Thinking about it, she closed the notebook and wrote

NOELLE

on the front.

There. Rules for her future self. Whatever she turned out to be. She could fight this.

“Pull over, please? Maybe the flannel is back in the trunk,” Molly said. The “pleases” were becoming more automatic, Noelle noticed. She needed to start keeping a diary. And get a towel to dry her tits.

“Like, you never wore it? Altered time? I like it better where it vanishes,” Aden said. “I think thats less disturbing.”

“Oh, come on, please? I’ve got a translucency problem now,” Molly said. She shifted her legs. Noelle wasn’t sure if she should say something—this was not ordinary Molly behavior. Molly would, previously, grab the wheel. Not ask extra-super nicely and call attention to her legs. She was suddenly conscious that they had no idea what Aden liked in women. He was honest about his interest in men—they had to be what Aden called “Link twinks.” Blonde and slim. Did girls work the same way? What about brunettes with wet boobs?

Were these Killa thoughts, too? It was okay to notice men, wasn’t it?

“Killa seems as confused as we are,” Noelle reported, from the side of the freeway.

DogStarzz @DogStarzz

Boss my girl’s clothes keep turning into horny stuff. Like she put on a skirt and then it was a miniskirt and now it’s a microskirt

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

Oh damn lol. what.

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

okay i figured it out hahaha i had that one in drafts. i guess that works too. I’ll just put it out there.

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

you know what, fuck it. girls should look hot. i don’t care if its a wedding dress. it should be somking hot.

They were popping up fast in the early afternoon. Noelle discreetly tugged on the hem of her new tanktop. The boob-friendly one she’d now always owned. At least her shorts weren’t affected—baggy khaki ones that emphasized how her legs were lamp poles with feet. Aden had picked up his phone, scowling as he refreshed.

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

oh wow you guys like that one huh. THE LIKES AND RETWEETS ARE ROLLING IN!

Dr. Kristine Quoll @BackyardBirder

Mr. Killa, please. Lets stick to curing cancer. I’m at a baptism, we’re all watching our hems roll up.

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

Doctor i’m afraid you have lost the privilege of wearing panties.

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

KILLA KEEPS THE GOOD TIMES ROLLING FOR THE LADIES.

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS for new threads. GO. SPEND. LOOK HOT.

“Oh, fuck,” Noelle said.

She pulled open her purse. Sitting on the top, freshly made, was five hundred dollars in authentic American dollars. She checked the sequencing. Random numbers. They looked gently worn. They looked absolutely real. The U.S. money supply had gone up a lot, in the last few seconds.

Swiftly to be exchanged for cute outfits.

They danced in her head, right away. It was too bad that she didn’t know what Aden liked, but cute outfits were simple enough. Five hundred dollars meant two dresses, two skirts, some fun tops, and—a swimsuit? Some sneakers? Figure-hugging stuff. Obviously.

Noelle closed her eyes, and tried to picture herself putting this windfall into a savings account. Paying her rent down. She had real credit card bills.

She opened them again. No. It wasn’t going to take. Noelle needed cute clothes. She needed them. Right now.

“Could you get Molly in the car, please?” she said. “We really need to get to a mall, A-S-A-P. I know we’re close to one, aren’t we? Honk the horn, we are in a real hurry on this one. This one is dangerous.”

Molly banged on the window, excited. She wore a huge grin. “I didn’t find the flannel,” she said, “buuuut look what IIIII found! And I was thinking we could go REAL quick and—”

“We know. Its not us. Its Killa. Get in,” Noelle said. It was strange to shift conversational modes between Aden and Molly. She even suspected she was being a little bitchy to Molly, because it was refreshing, after saying her pretty-pleases to a man. “We’ve got like ten minutes before every woman around descends on Victoria’s Secret. Its going to be ugly.”

But the dresses, her mind told her, they just had to be cute. She had to get them right away. Was this her, Noelle wondered. If she had to drink, or pee, she didn’t think—this isn’t me, this is some urge. Now the urge was to buy cute outfits. Was it really so different?

She shivered.

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

LOL A GIRL RAN BY OUTSIDE MY WINDOW probably to Hot Topic

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

one of those big girl stores if i’m being honest lmao

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

SEND KILLA YOUR PICS FOR MORE KILLAKASH. LETS FUCKING GOOOOO

They were right by a dying suburban mall outside of Pittsburgh, and Noelle was aware that was a best-case scenario. What was happening to girls in the distant steppes, just now finding American currency underneath a dusty rock? There was some female scientist, in Antarctica, with a disturbing itch to go to Bebe. An inch she couldn’t scratch. Then what?

“You can’t fight it?” Aden said, pulling, too slowly, into the parking lot.

“I can, but, I don’t know where it goes, is my concern,” Noelle said. “That’s what worries me. You don’t scratch an itch. Sometimes the itch goes away. Sometimes it prickles, and prickles, and—”

“Oh, god, Noelle, stop,” Molly said. She had not located her flannel shirt, in the trunk. It was lost now. Disappeared. And her butt was looking downright drinkable in hot tight tights. “Now my legs itch. Thanks.”

“We should strategize,” Noelle said. Aden eased the car into a spot. “I think the key is to just get in, get cute stuff, some frills on it, nice and sexy, and then we bolt. Just leave the money on the counter, no standing in line. Aden, keep the car...” she had to stop talking. Her tongue was tripping on itself. It wasn’t nice to preemptively give a man some orders. “please... please...” there, it was juiced with apologies. “...please keep the car running. We’ll be back A-S-A-P.”

“Women be shopping,” Aden said, contemplatively, staring out the window. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

“I’m going for Express,” Noelle said, once they were out. Her khakis were feeling tighter and tighter. “Expensive but cute, that’s the key, you know? We’ve got a full five hundo to burn. You doing okay?”

“Such a weird feeling,” Molly said, shaking her head.

Noelle had quit smoking, and it wasn’t unlike that. It wasn’t hard to fight off. It was just—sitting, in her head, and in a lot of her head. Like a test she was taking in ten minutes, a job interview that meant a lot to her. A heavy weight, with ‘spend $500 on cute clothes’ written on it, plunked down in the very center of everything she thought and was.

And, like all addictions, a promise of sweet, wonderful release when she gave in.

“If they don’t have Express... and no way this place has Bebe... I think I run to Nordstroms juveniles. Overpriced short skirts, ideal. Aden will....”

Noelle stopped her mouth, too late.

“Aden will... think its cute?” Molly said. Despite her grumbling she was walking fast. The first few competitors were appearing—girls without even their purses, just clutching the money. No one was holding the door open. “Yeah? I bet you don’t know what Aden likes.”

“Do YOU?” Noelle said, shouldering her way through the door. A few girls broke into a full run, inside the 80s-era entrance.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m big. I have one option, which is to show a lot of skin. Either he likes the skin or he doesn’t. And I have one store, which is whatever the big girl store is, and I better damn hurry. Have fun with your retail options.”

Damn it. Noelle grabbed Molly by the elbow, before they pulled apart. “This isn’t us,” she said. “Really. I’m just... we’re just... doing what we have to.”

“I’ll play by the rules, same as you. Now, excuse me, I gotta buy the ten most expensive chokers they got,” Molly said, and broke away.

Reese @TepidAire

Can we sell our clothes to each other? Has anyone tried that?

Sipe @XXITSSIPEXX

doesn’t work. doesn’t stop the need.

An employee—a male employee—was trying to close down Anthropologie. He’d gotten one door locked, Closing the other meant slamming it in the face of a steady stream of college-aged co-eds, who apparently had the same strategy as Noelle. There weren’t that many stores that sold shorts for nearly $100. Noelle joined the throng, all of whom gave heartfelt, sincere apologies to the man. He had a big mop of blonde hair, and the corners of his mouth drooped down with honest, adorable concern.

Then she was in, ahead of a surge. Girls had come in in nursing scrubs, and one in doctor gear. They’d arrived in work shoes and everyday apparel. Noelle looked over at the actual fashion, at the dresses with long hems, the cropped sweaters, and felt—nothing. Cute. She had to be cute. The action was on the short-hemmed skirts and especially on getting extra pairs of too-tight shorts. A scrum had broken out between two women, one wearing pajama pants.

Pajama girl fell backwards and nearly cracked her head open. Two pairs of black shorts fell right next to Noelle.

She picked them up. A size too big, but she doubted that would be an issue. All clothes were now shrink-to-fit. No one was bothering with the register. A big wad of American dollars had built up on the counter. Noelle threw on $200.

Three hundred to go.

Into a sea of females.

There were a few men, obviously heroes, acting as moving screens for their partner. Noelle had a spare moment, to herself, and used it to stare at them. Her relationship with men was definitely changing, reverting to a more Dark Ages attitude. If she could find a man she could rely on, a bulwark against whatever she was becoming...

No. Killa thoughts. She had to rely on herself. Obviously.

“Ohhhhh,” a girl moaned, near her. A tall black girl, out of place in the usual clientele. She held a pair of overalls, and seemed to be overcome. She leaned against the counter, into the wads of money, breathing hard. Her eyes were closed. “Ohhhh my god, my god.”

The urge to shop wasn’t getting any weaker, especially in the press, surrounded by the sandalwood scent of candles on sale. Merchandise no one cared about.

It was hard to get out the door, and Noelle resorted to stacking up behind a family of women, headed by a six-foot-something woman throwing fearless elbows. What happened, she wondered, if she bought from another girl, on resale? Was there a potential loophole there? Probably not. She had to buy it, that’s what her brain was telling her. But that was a good thought—loopholes. She needed to be on the lookout for loopholes.

And then—where? Pink was nearby, and there were loud moans from the interior. All the facial expressions around her were closed, numb, determined. Everyone was feeling her same real urge. They all knew what they were capable of.

Brooks Brothers was—next to empty, actually, and right next to her.

And didn’t they carry girl gear? They did, they did! She was sure of it—her Dad had gotten her a BB shirt, when she’d made some noises about applying to law school. The front held three male mannequins in tailored apparel, but there just had to be preppy gear for girls on yachts. Noelle deliberated, and went for it. It was that, or try and punch her way into American Eagle.

A man with a gray beard, and in an impeccable suit, gave her a nod.

“Tell me you sell cute shit,” Noelle said. “Please, sir.”

The ‘sir’ was a new addition. But she was too frazzled to think about it.

“Cute. No promises on cute. But we do sell women’s apparel. We moved the skirts to the back,” he said, eyeing the women outside. “Don’t tell the crowd.”

Noelle pumped her fist. Something in her head rewarded her, for being a good girly shopper. Adrenaline and oxytocin flowed in equal amounts.

“Any idea what the screams are about?” the man said. They were distant, here in a refuge of white noise and wool suits. But they were becoming more frequent, more intense. Moans, more than screams.

“Uhh,” Noelle said. She shrugged, unsure. “Probably something bad.”

“Hmm. Doesn’t sound.... unhappy. And what does it feel like?” the man said, leading her towards the back. The staff had camouflaged the girl section with a line of white polycarbon mannequins in dark suits. “The urge? I’m sure it’s coming for us, you know.”

“I mean, I’m not one, but probably like being a big time alcoholic,” Noelle said.

“That bad?” The man shook his head. He pushed through the untouched suits and racks of ties. “Women’s suiting. Here is the plan. Give me what money you have. That’s how much one skirt will cost, okay? Does that work, under the rules? We’re Brooks Brothers. You might actually be short on funds. I just hope its—cute.”

They stared at each other, wondering, jointly, how to properly appease a demon that had been set in her head. Noelle looked at the offered clothes. Suit stuff, for women. Stretch, yes. But nearly knee-length, and it wasn’t clear if it was cute.

She felt the anxiety grow. She couldn’t go back out there.

“Yes, I know,” the man said, checking her expression. “Lets work together, shall we? A size smaller, lets say, and I’ll hack off two inches of the hem with scissors. Three inches. You have my word that you will look like you’re trying to score with your boss. And, this is the Brooks Brother promise, he’s at least a Vice-President. Does that help?”

Noelle took a deep breath. She picked up the skirt. It was a deep navy blue. With three roughly hacked-off inches it would be weirdly slutty, clearly intended to show lots of leg. A blend of remaining elegance and brash sexuality. It would, for the right kind of weird mind, qualify as cute. And she did have a weird mind. “I’ll take it,” she said, and smiled at the man, to show her appreciation. “Thank you, mister!” She handed him three hundred dollars, which he dropped to the ground, disdainful.

A spark lit.

It was a pressure on her abdomen just long enough for Noelle to frown, and back away. Something was—happening. It took her too long to work it out, because she was standing, and in a store, and not having sex.

Nonetheless, she was about to cum. Her brain was shutting down in a way familiar to her getting fucked, or licked out, and not at all normal during shopping. The first wave of it flashed through her, shockingly fun, easily in contention for her best cum of all time.

“Oh, holy shit,” Noelle said. She tumbled down, barely getting her knees to control the fall. Ripple after ripple of the best ever orgasm followed, merciless in how good it felt. And yet it was—all wrong. Orgasms didn’t arrive without physical stim. For it to just happen left it uncentered, a wild spray of nerve tingles. She clenched her pussy against nothing, bucked her hips against no one. She was cumming, shockingly, her body triggered by some switch she couldn’t see. Couldn’t stop. Not even begin to stop .

It felt very good, in a bad way.

“I’ll just cut this up,” the storekeeper said, eyeing her, writhing, on his floor. He plucked the skirt from her boneless grasp.

Noelle kept trying to push her hips towards no one. It took all her willpower to stop from grabbing her cunt. Not to make it feel better—it couldn’t—but out of a primal urge to have something touching her, down there. If she was going to cum she needed physical pressure—to at least focus on.

Between waves she managed to roll into a ball. It was a little more dignified. By fighting very hard she managed not to squirt. Perhaps if it had been Old Navy or GAP. But not here.

Not in Brooks Brothers.

Molly beat her back to the car.

She had six tanktops, a leather skirt, her promised handful of chokers, and a new black eye. She’d already put the skirt on.

“I’m gonna look like a slutty banker,” Noelle said. She lifted her skirt up, triumphant. She did feel triumphant, sort of. They were one of the first to leave. The traffic to get there had backed up onto the freeway, and girls were just turning their cars off, and running down the ramp, $500 in hand.

ColumbusPolice @ColumbusPolice

We are rushing additional officers to the ShadeTree Mall. We have received word that mutual exchange is effective if conducted in a store-like environment. Please, spend your money on clothes from neighbors in the garage.

ItsNarfield @Wowzab000

Just buy from the closest other girl who can pretend to have a cash register. BUT. SIT DOWN FIRST. DO NOT EXCHANGE MONEY WHILE OPERATING A CAR.

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

Is everyone enjoying the little treat I put in Drafts? SURPRiSE! plz think of me when UR buzzing.

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

Whats next everyone. I want tos ee ideas. TELL KILLA what you like.

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

You girls being real nice to the boys???

“Big cums. Huge,” Molly said. She stretched her arms out to show how big the cums were. She’d put on one of her new chokers, Noelle had noticed. “Gargantuan cummies.”

“Uh-huh,” Aden said. He’d adopted a neutral tone of voice. They’d driven quietly towards the setting sun for a few hours in silence, recovering. “A booby trap, then.”

“That’s how I got the black eye,” Molly said. “The girl next to me went over the edge and just start flailing. I guess everyone is different. I know I don’t start windmilling my fists when its go time. At least that warned me what was cumming, ha ha, when I handed over the monies. Noelle, care to share on your own special moment?”

“Not really,” Noelle said. She checked her phone again. Killa had given them the rest of the afternoon off. Even reporters were reluctant to detail the chaos. What if that meant Killa himself, singling them out? Everything was written in neutral terms—In Malls, Shopping Mania went the New York Times. And all the reporters were men.

“Motel look okay?” Aden said, pulling in. They’d gone a long ways, despite the detour. Noelle had spent it with her legs very tightly crossed. Her panties had spent a long time drying out. She kept checking underneath herself, to see if she’d gotten Aden’s seats damp.

They’d pulled in to a standard off-freeway spot. “What do you think they charge?” Molly said. “I heard there’s been some inflation recently.”

“Oh, did you hear that?” His eyes lingered on Molly’s collar. Noelle had kept her own eyes on the rear view mirror. He’d flickered his eyes back there, perhaps at her cleavage, a half-dozen times. “You two wait here. I’ll book the room.”

Noelle stirred. Was this how it started? Relying on a male? “I’m coming,” she blurted out.

“Ooh, finally,” Molly said. She’d been waiting for a slip-up like that, and followed it up with a self-satisfied chortle.

Noelle checked her notebook. The reassuring YOU ARE NOT GOING TO FUCK ADEN was still there, a bulwark against ultimate hanky-panky. She wrote in her outfit—the brand new wool skirt with the cut-up hem, and her now low-cut tanktop. She wrote in some stars around it, to indicate that it was a very cute outfit. Ironic stars, she was sure of it.

Except—there was still a little itch. But it was easy to address. “Actually, go ahead,” Noelle said. She threw in a “please!” on the basis that she hadn’t said one for awhile. When Aden had closed the door, with one final concerned look, Noelle unbuttoned her now-tight shorts and wriggled out of them. Her plain blue panties were finally dry. It was a challenge to pull her new skirt on, but worth it—straightaway it was clear that although it was mostly slutty business, it was also a work kind of cute. She breathed out relief.

Molly was still in the leather skirt. Her big creamy legs were damp with what was probably sweat. “Good call,” she said, evaluating the skirt. Molly paused, then pulled off her shirt. Noelle got her first look at Molly’s boobs. They were constrained with a meticulously engineered bra, and only barely.

“The bra is from EUROPE,” Molly said, catching her look. “It cost me so, so much money.”

“Mine is Fisher-Price,” Noelle said.

They followed Aden inside the main doors. And caught his immediate stone-face, once he caught sight of the two of them. The clerk, behind him, was a dark-haired girl in a very tight zip-up hoodie. The jean skirt she wore was definitely not chain hotel apparel.

“Oh,” Noelle said. She was starting to recognize his looks. Get dependent on his looks. This one was: really? Did you HAVE to show so much thigh? “Molly. We did it again.” She glanced downwards. They both had a lot of leg on display. At least she had the most professional look of the three of them girls. It was still the most thigh she’d ever shown in public, the wool tight around her butt.

Aden decided to not say anything about them playing involuntary dress-up.

“I really think you should’ve stayed in the car,” he said. As a straightforward male reprimand it made both girls wince. Noelle tried to shake it off—wasn’t this more than Be Nice To Men required? She felt terrible, absolutely terrible. This wasn’t being nicer.

It was obedience.

Aden relented, running his hand through his hair. “Lets go,” he said. “We have nearly the whole hotel to ourselves. No breakfast but there’s poptarts in the vending machines.”

“I’ll be here all night!” the clerk chirped. Only at Aden.

KillaDaKilla @KillaDaKilla303

Whats next everyone. I want tos ee ideas. TELL KILLA what you like.

RedBlaster @RedBlaster

Give girls big tits.

9696 @CasterofSpells

Big tits big tits big tits. give girls BIG TITS.

Derek Mann @DerekMann

Dude just get it over with and give the girls BIG FAT TITS

“I don’t think he knows anything about how it works,” Noelle said. Molly and her had their own room, but they’d all piled into Aden’s. “What he wants comes true, he doesn’t need to word it like a Genie wish. Its not trying to trick him. He gets what he intends.”

They were being open and honest with each other. Which meant that Noelle was being open and honest that ‘nicer to men’ was trending closer to ‘deferential to men’. After all, the new itch hadn’t been simply to try on her new clothes. Aden had to see them. He just had to.

“What if I wear lipstick and a skirt? Go hard femme?” Aden said. He was on the bed, sprawled out, with the girls on either side. Noelle had drawn her legs up very carefully to the side, so she didn’t flash him. Aden shook his hand, disgusted. “Forget it. We’re going full gender roles obviously. We should just hurry and crowbar him.”

“I texted—the guy I think is Killa. And messaged him on facebook,” Noelle said. “No response.”

“Facebook! He’s really on facebook? You dated a guy on facebook?” Aden looked over. They were all charging their phones up. Keeping the battery topped was important. “I didn’t know he was a fifty-eight year old Mom. God, if he has a facebook account we’re doubly screwed.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t have an account,” Molly said. “You told me about it after your ex went anti-vaxx.” She had her legs up on the bed, and angled so that a tiny creak would split them, right at Aden’s field of vision. She’d also swapped out chokers.

“I should’ve seen it coming,” Aden admitted. “Her name was Gladys. Like, it was Gladys. Straight up, Gladys, like she ran a saloon in the old west. And she knitted. So old-fashioned she wanted to get measles.”

“Here he is,” Noelle said. She’d chosen a pic of her and maybe-Killa, together. Overly exposed and indoors, both of them unsmiling. She was sitting on a desk, and he wore poorly-fitting jeans.

“NOT what I was expecting,” Aden said. “Look at his face! No zits at all. I was picturing full-bore neckbeard guy.” Maybe-Killa was sallow-faced, even boyish, with tufts of brown hair and a cowlick on a slight frame. “He’s what, five foot five?”

“Yes. And he hated it. He looked in to special shoes,” Noelle said. She held up an imaginary glass. Molly had brought a bottle of scotch, but none of them particularly felt like drinking. “Here’s to past loves.”

“Aden, lets see Gladys,” Molly said. “I bet she’s into this. I bet she got a gingham skirt and thought the big cum was god’s light or something. I bet she’s in heaven. Please.”

“Please,” Noelle echoed. For no reason other than it felt good to say please.

Did Aden sense their sudden intent? Molly stood up, suddenly, and started to walk around, and Noelle immediately knew why. She hadn’t quite lied to a man, but she’d disguised her true intent. The idea of it was repugnant now. It was not nice to lie .And they both really wanted to see what Gladys looked like. Very much so. What did Aden like?

It would be nice to know.

“Alright, alright,” Aden said. He flipped through screens. “Gonna try and do this without reading the news feed. Don’t really want to see all my aging relatives looking young and hot... okay. Here.”

Gladys was red-haired, had widely set eyes.

And was big.

Molly-level big. There was skin throughout the photo. In the back of her head Noelle had been convinced that she had an edge, because she was more boyish, and Aden had a hankering for boys. She’d even given a little thought to trimming her hair shorter. But, no, when it came to girls he wanted soft, rounded curves. It was, Noelle thought, a little selfish, not that she’d ever say it. Not even Aden could appreciate a woman with a flat ass and unremarkable chest.

“Well, cool, I’m gonna hit up the vending machines,” she announced, jumping up. Noelle paused, and realized she was waiting for Aden’s permission.

Which he wasn’t sure about giving. He caught his breath, head tilted, and then let it out, explosive. “Fine. Yeah, fine. I don’t care. I’m not your mmma—your—I’m not your MOM. There. See if they have poptarts.”

Noelle left the room. Her phone buzzed.

New tweets.