The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Stepford’s Agony Aunt

Chapter Four

Dear Agatha

Last night I snuck over to my best friend’s place, we drank beer and played video games, best night of my life but whenever I glanced over at my pal, all I could think of was how much I wanted to kiss him.

I asked him what kind of girl he’s into and he told me he wants someone warm and feminine who totally adores him. I followed that up by asking if he liked big boobs and big butts, he grinned and said sure who doesn’t?

My crush then asked me if I had my eye on anybody and I blurted out I hadn’t noticed anyone, and I really wasn’t into romance anyway.

I’m such a fucking coward!

I hate my flat chest, narrow hips and tiny butt, I want him to notice me but he’s into girly, big titted babes, and I’ll never be sexy enough for him.

I wanna die.

* * *
Dear Harriet

Don’t give up hope, I know things may seem dark now but just tell him how you really feel. He might even return your feelings. After all you’re the one he’s spending his time with.

Can’t be girly enough for him? What are you talking about? Ever tried? Just slip on a dress on and tell me what you think. Ask your Mom or if you have an older sister for some advice on looking beautiful, and there’s plenty of local girls ready to give you a makeover.

Every Stepford lady gives advice and makeovers for free. We actually get off on it.

Fingers crossed,
* * *
Dear Agatha

Oh, good god, I did it. I slept with him.

My boss flat out told me he was getting sick of seeing me in a business suit, saying a career woman is about as natural as a dog walking on its’ hind legs. “Submitting to a man,” his voice droned “keeping his house, bearing his children, that’s a woman’s true calling. I’m sorry but ladies just don’t have the brainpower to handle a job like this.”

Enough was enough! Daggers shot from my eyes. I swear, I was this close from kicking him in the balls! I was going to tell him exactly what I thought of him and his outrageous, misogynistic beliefs.

“Supply room,” I said, “five minutes.”

Sure, enough five minutes later, I was in the supply room on my hands and knees whilst the man I despised pounded into me from behind.

God, he’s so BIG! It hurt to take him all in, but the pain made it even more special. I was a drooling hormonal wreck as he mercilessly fucked me.

I’m not proud of this but God his pillow talk made me even randier:

“I’m still thinking about firing you,” he said.

“Why?” I panted.

“A woman shouldn’t work, especially my wife.”

That statement made me cum. Hard.

I was soon reduced to a mess of nerves on the floor whilst my boss rose and zipped up his pants. I gazed at him with tears in my eyes.

“You really mean that?”

He burst out laughing. “Got you to climax didn’t it?”

Christ, I’ve never felt such extreme emotions in my life! I know it was just pillow talk but…

What’s wrong with me? I’m a diehard feminist, a driven career woman and yet I’m fucking a sexist asshole and loving it. Is this even normal?

Please help!
* * *
Dear Zoey

Oh dear, sounds like your man’s just showing some bravado. He clearly likes you and might be clumsy about expressing it. Keep persevering and he’ll fess up about marrying you.

Just picture him slipping a diamond ring on your finger and saying, “You belong to me”. Oh, makes a girl melt doesn’t it?

Even normal? Goodness, the fact that you’ve focused on finding a good man, and ended up snagging your handsome boss, is honestly a lot more appropriate for a young woman then working. More of us folk at Stepford are offended by a woman pursuing a career than one screwing her boss.

You just keep working hard at seducing your man’s heart.

Best of luck,
* * *
Dear Agatha

Well here I am, confronting the enemy.

Jim Jones got his followers to drink cyanide, Adolf Hitler led an entire nation into fascism, and Stepford Inc is brainwashing a whole college with its vile propaganda.

You ever felt like you were the only sane person in the room? What about the only sane person in town? It’s not fun.

But I’m not taking it anymore, I’ve signed up for a “Fuck Stepford” group online, so me and a few likeminded students are organising protests and pickets. Just last week we found out that the college had chucked all the good feminist authors into the trashcan and the library shelves now had titles like “How to be a Good Wife and Mother” and “How to Amaze Your Man”.

One woman, way more daring than me decided to act.

You think I’m a pissed off militant feminist? Wait till you meet her. Pink bubble-gum hair, tattoos running up and down her arms and piercings all over her face. Nobody messes with my buddy; one time I saw her uppercut a perv in a nightclub when he grabbed her and tried to kiss her for instance.

Anyway, my militant friend flung those sexist housewife books into a canister before setting them alight, making sure we filmed it and posted the whole thing online. Sure, she wound up fined by the college, but the whole thing’s gone viral, so hopefully other uncomfortable people will learn that they’re not alone.

I’m here to warn you we’re not taking any more of Stepford’s crap. Ball’s in your court lady.

* * *
Dear Brix

Tsk, tsk destruction of someone else’s property is nothing to be proud of, and I dare say you’ll look back on this protest of yours in a few years’ time with embarrassment.

But of course, dear, tire yourself out and then maybe learn why everyone who’s embraced the Stepford way is strangely happier than you. You may call Stepford’s teachings propaganda but it’s quite the opposite, we just show people the simple truth of how life should be, and most reasonable folk readily sign up, the ones who resist out of stubborn pride only succeed in making themselves unhappy. Think about it honey, life’s short. Do you want to waste your college years completely miserable?

Hopefully you’ll soon wake up to how much better your life can be.

Best wishes
* * *
Dear Agatha

Thad here, exploring Stepford is certainly interesting. Maybe I should get a few film making friends of mine from college to come down here. We might make a fascinating documentary.

And I don’t mean to say unkind things about the town you clearly love but I’m struck with an overwhelmingly fake feeling about this place.

It’s not like Stepford is the 1950s perfectly preserved, instead it feels like something straight out of Disneyland. You don’t notice it consciously at first but when every street, every building is spotless without a trace of peeling paint or long grass on the lawn, it begins to feel unnatural.

I’ve yet to see a boarded-up store, or a pothole in the road, or found anything that makes a town real. Come to think of it, I’ve yet to even find a stray soda can littering the gutter.

As for the locals? Like I’ve said, no diversity, all jocks and cheerleaders, no alternative culture. I hate it but Susie finds it amusing, so amusing in fact that she’s spending all her time flirting with the local boys. Granted they’re handsome hunks and she’s fat and nerdy so it’s not like she’s got much hope. It’s just she keeps comparing me to these beefcake boys and makes it plain I fall short.

Look I’m not the jealous type but when we went to a pool party held by one of my dad’s neighbours, Susie spent her time ignoring me and hanging around with the hot guys. You know how it is with dudes who practically live at the gym, they’re the first people to whip their tops off and will talk about their bodies for hours if you let them.

Susie was giggling with those guys, caressing their six-packs and laughing at their crude jokes. I’m not jealous, I swear I’m not, just these were the type of guys who bullied me in school, now my girlfriend was swooning over them whilst I stood next to her, and as she caressed a dude’s bicep, she said “Oh if only my boyfriend was built like you.”

She laughed but those two jocks turned to me with a hint of disdain in their eyes.

“Yeah,” asked one guy in an almost threatening manner “why aren’t you buff like us? You lift bro?”

Jeez Louise, having two sneering frat-bros cornering me brought back some horrid memories of high school, which might explain why Susie and I got into a hell of a fight that night. She accused me of ogling all the women in Stepford and ignoring her. What is she talking about? I can assure you; I don’t stare at women. Christ, she can be such a gas lighter at times.

I won’t lie, being here has strained our relationship, she keeps talking to young mothers and sighing at the babies, and she asked me if I’d ever pop the question or want to be a dad.

Jesus, we’re not even out of college, do I really have to think about stuff like that?

I’ll be frank here, dear Agatha; I don’t often agree with what you tell me, but I find a native’s opinion kind of interesting. And maybe you know how to help a troubled relationship out.

* * *
Dear Thad

First off, my sympathies. I know how bad a lover’s spat can be but don’t fret too much.

Personally, I flirt with other men just to make my husband jealous. Oh, it’s cute when he gets angry but if you’re worried about your woman doing it, perhaps you need to act more assertive and put your foot down when your girlfriend does something you don’t like.

I dare say if you just firmly grunt that you don’t want her flirting with anybody else that demand will make her breathlessly swoon. Trust me honey, us women may tease a little but when our men put us in our place, we love it.

And if you’re so jealous over those frat-bros, why don’t you hit the gym, pump iron and soon your girlfriend will be cooing over your bulging biceps. Wink, wink my dear.

Best wishes