The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I’m not sure exactly why I did it. Well, of course the reason I chose the study topic is obvious: I can only really fill out my B cups when my weight goes up or once a month. But what the study turned into..., well, maybe it was when I saw the applicants.

You see, I’m doing post-graduate work in the bio-medical field. I saw those ads for the herbal supplements to enhance your breasts, and I was intrigued. The fact is, I can’t imagine letting someone take a knife to me and sticking that artificial crap inside. They can’t feel real; and in my studies, I’ve become well aware of all the complications possible (Yikes). Now, I’m not bad looking, but I do need just a little more up to top for the proper hourglass shape.

So, this semester, I decided to take advantage of things with my project requirements, and let some other people do the evaluating before I take the plunge and try these pills. I contacted the company for all the literature, and took a chance on asking for some cooperation. I was surprised when they allowed me to purchase enough for ten participants for only a couple hundred (I only had three to spend).

My next surprise came with the applicants. I posted at the student union and in the school paper, expecting to be lucky to find the twenty I needed: ten for subjects and ten for the control group. In the first three days I got over a hundred applications! OK, so maybe I’m an idiot not to realize that most women want bigger breasts, but not all women are A’s or small B’s. Still, you wouldn’t believe how many B’s and C’s I got (even two D’s!).

The next most astonishing thing was the women themselves. Now, I realize I have a few issues and insecurities, but I don’t think I’m too bad on the eyes. What shocked me was that most of the applicants (and the ones who replied soonest) were really good looking. I had set up interviews as soon as I could and in the order I received the forms. As the quantity grew, I was delighted with the opportunity to narrow my criteria and be able to pick and choose. When they started coming in, I was amazed by what I saw, and I started noting how outright beautiful some were. (Yes, we girls can be very critical of each other, sometimes quite catty, but most of us know a good looking woman when we see one: how else do we know when to get jealous?)

As I said, I think it was when I saw the applicants that I modified my plans. I have, at times, found myself to be attracted to other women, and I thought it was a natural thing. Maybe it was because I hadn’t had sex in six months (my last boyfriend dumped me for a ditzy girl with a huge chest). When I saw these girls sitting before me, though, I felt myself getting turned on. The thought of these attractive girls wanting to be more attractive excited me in a way that surprised me. I think it was seeing this one girl who was on the cheer squad, whom I knew to be quite popular, that really did it. I realized that it was their insecurity that aroused me so much. I mean, I never considered that they were as unsure of their looks and attractiveness as I. I suppose there also may have been a little resentment in me at the fact that as naturally pretty as they were, they wanted to be prettier.

So the corruption of my plans started simply. I increased my subject pool to forty and started keeping a second set of notes. As I went on, I found myself picking the prettier ones and judging whom I thought needed better breasts, to place them in the group receiving the real stuff. I also extended my schedule. As for all the extra participants, I guess I just wanted to see their bodies, find out more about them, and maybe have some fun.

Now, probably the real reason things started to change was because of my psychology class last semester. We studied Milgram’s experiments, specifically the one where ordinary people inflict massive pain on others because someone in a lab coat told them to. This got me wondering how far I could go with a lab coat and clipboard in a study that the subject really wanted to be in...

At first, I found that I could get them to strip to their panties and bra in front of me so I could measure them. I think that my being a woman also allowed me to go farther. I had originally only planned to use a water displacement method, but now I also used the hands-on approach. I got so turned on that with the second one, after she removed her bra, I lingered in my measurements and cupped her breasts with my bare hands. I added additional questions about their sex lives and behaviors: frequency of sex, do they always achieve orgasm, etc. I played it by ear, going as far as I could, and making some squirm. One girl even told me she had regular anal intercourse! By week two, I was stimulating their nipples and measuring them with calipers. It seemed the hotter I got, the easier it was to put on the clinical persona and push the limits. The more clinical and objective I sounded, the less they hesitated; and the less they hesitated, the more I wanted to do. I found myself getting quite hot for many of these girls, and I wanted more than I thought this study would provide.

The real turning point for me came with Denise, a girl I knew from others to be a real bitch. I had chosen to have them come to me twice a day for each dose and wait afterwards for thirty minutes, so I could evaluate any immediate side effects that may occur. Denise had been rude to another participant, asking if she was still looking for her breasts, and right then I decided to have fun. It was her first dose (placebo of course), and I read her the basic disclaimer; when I got to the part about the basic side effects I substituted. I told her that many women who find success with this have acne flare-ups in the first week, but not to worry, only ten percent persist beyond seven days. Now, there were no known side effects, but these applicants didn’t know it, and I wanted to see what might happen. I followed this up with a close, clinical look at her face, and casually added that the incidence was more frequent with the fair skinned. By the end of the thirty minute wait she was almost constantly looking at her compact mirror and touching her nose. Imagine my surprise when the next morning she came in with the biggest zit in the middle of her forehead! By day three, she had broken out all over and came in heavily made up. She wanted out, but I convinced her to stick with it.

I was overwhelmed by the experience, and by the time she left that morning, I had to close the door and masturbate before my next appointment. I did manage to regain my composure, but I knew I could not go back. Denise may have been particularly suggestible, but I wanted to know if this was an isolated occurrence. I became fascinated by the power of suggestion; and the greater power provided by the lab coat, clipboard, and clinical attitude. Each day I found myself pushing the limits further. I tried suggestions on various physical effects, emotional, sensory; nearly all were a success.

By week eight, I was no longer the person I used to be. I found that a couple of my placebo subjects had gained in cup size. One in particular, Cheryl, was a very pretty girl with a nice butt and beautiful legs. She was a princess: sports car and off campus apartment paid for by daddy. Cheryl had been the reserved type at first, but in her second week, she noticed a half cup gain and was very excited. On the fly, I decided again to see what I could make happen. I mentioned there was a secondary study aspect and asked if she’d be interested. Making it up as I went along, I told her that, with this preliminary success, we could up the dosage and accelerate the process. Her eyes lit up and she jumped at the chance, maybe because she had started as an A cup. I cautioned her that there were additional side effects possible, the one most common being heightened libido immediately following administration. I put off her starting until the next day, and rescheduled her as my last of the morning and last of the afternoon, while extending her waiting period to forty five minutes for each session.

When she arrived the next morning, she was smiling and sunny, and I felt my nipples stiffen. As I again cautioned her and planted the seeds in her subconscious, I felt myself begin to get wet. I gave her the double dose of the sugar-starch pills and sat with her while we waited. Letting down my clinical attitude, I started chatting with her casually. I told her I’d try to keep her preoccupied to avoid too much trouble with any excitement she might feel. I asked her about how her boyfriend felt about her participation, and she confided that they’d broken up several weeks earlier. This provided a wonderful opportunity for me to comment on the various negative aspects of men.

Sitting next to her, I soon shifted our conversation back to the study. We speculated on the outcome, and I praised her progress and complimented her looks. Soon I brought out an album of model photos I had collected for comparison in the study. These had turned into nightly stimulation for me as I masturbated to each day’s events. As the weeks went on, I had added to the collection with cutouts from various men’s magazines. Sitting beside Cheryl, I turned the pages and commented on the pictures within, and as I continued, my language shifted from the clinical to more casual references. I displayed enthusiasm and hinted on my attraction for the wares displayed. I noted the way they enhanced the figures of the women and suggested sex. Soon I began to notice Cheryl engrossed in the pictures and squirming slightly, and so I started to compare her favorably to several attractive Victoria’s Secret models within.

The timer went off and I rose to get my clipboard. I could see a little perspiration on her forehead, and her nipples could be seen against the T-shirt she wore. I kept my casual attitude and asked her how she was feeling. She replied that she was a feeling a little bit of the side effects, but trying to brush it off. I knew she was distracted, so I kept my casual attitude and mentioned that probably meant things were working. Her eyes lit, she smiled, and I swear I felt myself throbbing in my panties. I put my clipboard down, told her things looked good, and gave her a little hug. She never even hesitated hugging me back. I pulled back, still holding her upper arms, gave her a concerned look, and asked her if she’d be all right through the rest of the day. She smiled and nodded and I gave her a relieved smile. Then I turned her to the door and walked the few steps with one hand still on her lower back. I told her I’d see her at six thirty and said ‘bye-bye’.

I had to lock the door again and didn’t manage to leave ‘til I’d cum three times. I then decided to go home and change into a skirt before returning for my afternoon appointments. I think it was that day that I lost all interest in the effectiveness of the supplement and decided I would go as far as I could with placebos.

Cheryl showed up on the dot. As she entered I could see her nipples still standing out (She was still not a full B cup, and wasn’t wearing a bra all the time). I started out half way casual in my attitude and asked her how the day went. She said it was fine, and I asked her if she had any problem with arousal. She confided that she did continue to feel excited throughout the day. I then got into lighter banter as I turned to fetch the dosage and get my clipboard, passing over the timer. I asked about any reaction from friends, and she confided that her roommate had noticed her improvement. I smiled, told her that was wonderful, and handed her the pills and a cup of water. She tossed them down and then commented on seeing my legs for the first time (at school, I’m mostly a blue jeans type). I had not been sure how I was going to manage things, but with that, it all became clear.

I turned and opened my lab coat and asked her if she liked my skirt. She told me it was pretty, and I mentioned that it had seemed warmer earlier and I’d changed at lunch. With a ‘well, it’s the end of the day anyway’, I took the lab coat off and threw it over the chair and steered Cheryl over to the couch. I again complimented her on her progress, remarking that the side effects seemed to be worth the effort. Then I admitted my motivation for the study was my personal desire to try the supplement. I said that if I could get as much improvement as she, I’d be a happy girl. I mentioned my love life being a little vacant at the moment and how better breasts would improve that. I began to talk about how I thought an added cup size might be perfect for me; and then abruptly asked her what she thought, striking a pose and thrusting my chest out as I sat next to her.

Before she could answer, I told her to wait a second, and quickly unbuttoned my blouse. First I held my blouse open wide, then with a shrug and an ‘oh, well’, I removed it all the way and set it aside. Back to the pose, I again asked her what she thought. With my casual attitude earlier, and her prior exposures to me, she was not phased at all with my display. She took a moment to look, and said that she thought I’d look good with a C cup. I smiled, laid my hand on her arm and said that that was exactly what I thought. I knew Cheryl wanted C’s as well and I told her she would be irresistible when she filled out. I asked if she thought she’d felt any improvement today and she shrugged and pulled her shirt over her head (we’d been measuring every other day anyway), and there her nipples were, rising in the air.

I told her I was a little jealous and placed my hands over my breasts and lifted them while looking down (and noticing that her eyes followed mine). I told her I couldn’t wait for the study to be over and try it for myself, and how I wanted that sexy feeling of added weight on my chest. I began pinching my nipples to extend them and harden them further, while I went on about how I loved sex, and loved to have my lover play with my breasts during sex. I described my desires for longer nipples, the kind made for sucking, and how I loved to have my lover’s lips do that. I wondered if the sensitivity would increase and I asked her if she noticed any.

Cheryl’s look was a little distracted and, glancing down, she said she didn’t know; so I reached out with one hand and cupped her right breast. Slowly, with almost a caress I brought my thumb and forefinger together at the nipple, then gently squeezed. Cheryl’s chin was down as she watched my movements, still silent. Again, I used my thumb and forefinger, and very gently, almost lovingly squeezed from the outer areola to the nipple, then pulled gently. She made a small unconscious gasp, and I repeated my movements, slower and longer.

Her eyelids drooped and after the third pull she remembered to answer, saying that they were a little more sensitive. I brought my other hand to her left breast on the pretense of making sure they both felt that way, to which she answered with an ‘mm-hmm’. I hadn’t stopped, but continued for several strokes; then keeping my voice low and casual, I told her how lucky she was, how wonderful she looked and how much better she would. How the sensitivity would improve her love life. Again I told her how I loved having this done, and that sometimes I thought I could probably come from just having my tits sucked. She made a sharp intake of breath, closed her eyes, and exhaled a ‘yeah’.

I could see her arousal growing, so with my voice still low, I leaned in close and told her to let me help her, then descended on one nipple. First with a light lick then another, then a kiss that drew the nipple out, pulling it with my lips. I opened my mouth and used my tongue against my upper lip to milk the nipple from the base at the areola, and she let out a long low moan. I whispered that I wanted to help her and then returned my mouth to the nipple. With my other hand I kept up the soft caresses and lightly squeezing her other nipple. Soon her head fell back, and she let out a long sigh, whispering the words ‘so good’ over and over.

After a couple of minutes, I could smell the heat, but I didn’t know who’s it was. Cheryl’s hands were clenching and unclenching, and I could tell she was lost to it. I slipped to my knees in front of her, never breaking contact, and she still sighed. I continued for a couple more minutes then replaced my mouth with my fingers to whisper again, and told her she needed this to relax. Then I urged her to recline fully on the couch, and she slid down to her left. I could see a wonderful little smile on her lips as I kissed her nipple again and lifted her legs to dangle over the sofa’s arm.

I then shifted around so that I leaned over her head to get to her nipples. My own small B’s dangled over her face as I returned to my ministrations. I switched my mouth from one to the other using my fingers to never break contact. Finally, I began to let my chest descend until my nipples brushed her face with the lightest touch that sent electricity to my cunt. I didn’t have to say a thing, as I felt her head turn, and on one pass my nipple was captured by her mouth. She wouldn’t let go as I heard her breathing harder through her nose. She duplicated my movements, then opened her mouth wide and sucked me inside. On her second pull inside, I felt her pin my nipple with her tongue, squeezing it against the roof of her mouth, and I gasped out loud feeling each squeeze all the way down to my cunt. She giggled slightly but continued repeating her motions, and I couldn’t help but say ‘yes’ over and over as I continued to make love to her nipples.

Cheryl let up slightly and I renewed my attack, trying to mirror her actions. I realized we both were moaning now amid wet smacking sounds, and I felt my juices begin running down one thigh. We both seemed to be getting off on the sounds, and we both became louder and more rhythmic in our actions. I could feel myself reaching that final bend and gasped out an ‘Oh God, I’m almost there’ between sucks. I was out of control, and I could feel she was as well. I found myself in a crescendo, alternating a smacking suck with a forceful ‘yes’. She felt me get higher, and as I thought my voice would go no higher, she bit down on my nipple. I immediately did the same, and my mind seemed to explode as I came. I felt her cumming too, and that sent my orgasm beyond any place I’d been. We both were locked breast to mouth, shaking and gently thrashing, neither of us wanting to break the current that seemed to connect us.

Slowly we came down off the high; we used gentle licks and kisses to relieve any hurt to our nipples. I kissed each one last time and shifted to her face, kissing her cheeks, eyes, forehead. She made kissing motions trying to kiss me back and finally I met her mouth and we shared a long, slow, wet kiss; our tongues languidly caressing the other.

Finally we parted, and I asked in a whisper if that had helped. She said it did and thanked me. I helped her to sit up and slid in next to her, one arm around her, and one hand against her cheek, while I gazed into her eyes. She smiled, gave me a little peck and asked in a sweet little voice if I’d help again tomorrow. I replied with an ‘of course’, and as I moved to kiss her deeply once more, images of the other participants came to mind and I felt that throbbing again.

I was on fire: I wanted to see her on her knees before me. Leaning back on the couch, I wanted to see my legs on either of her shoulders and look down on the top of her head as she went down on me. My thoughts were running out of control, and I was barely able to bring myself back. I pulled Cheryl up and helped her with her top while I gave her little praises and encouragement on her progress. I gave her a little kiss as she left. I knew I had plenty of time; and I would make her kneel.

My head swam and my blood still simmered as I closed and locked the door. I felt a rush of excitement and power. I was still quite aroused and very wet as I sat at the desk and pulled out the participant folders. I lay their photos out, and moved them about. In the names and faces before me I saw subjects beyond this study. In my haze of lust I knew I must choose carefully to avoid suspicion; I would find the ones most suggestible, and I would make them slaves to my passion. I knew then what I want to do for a living.