The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Warped Perceptions

Authour’s Note: Originally posted on my tumblr at Enjoy!

“I’m sure you already know that the mirror in this room… It is a very special mirror,” said the old man.

Nicole was following him through a very clean and modern building. Based on the age of the myths alone, she expected the mirror to be housed in an ancient temple with cobwebs littering every room. Instead, hallway after hallway felt like they belonged in a tropical resort. Her heels clicked on the polished tile floor and echoed off the walls. Nice, warm wooden decor lined the halls in an attempt to make you feel comfortable, but it definitely looked like the building had been built in the last decade or so. It wasn’t at all where Nicole imagined she’d find an ancient, magic mirror, but all of her research had led her here.

Nicole fanned her face as she walked behind the man. She was used to a much cooler, drier climate and had been uncomfortable since the moment she stepped off the plane. It took all the self restraint she had to not just buy a t-shirt and shorts combo, but she knew that she had to maintain a professional appearance, even if it was incredibly uncomfortable. Nicole always believed that professionalism was part and parcel in academia, especially as a female.

“The mirror will show you exactly what you most desire,” continued the man as they neared the end of the hallway. He stopped outside a large, red wooden door. The man turned to face her, “But be careful to not let the mirror shift what it is you want.”

Nicole stared at the red door. “This is it. This is really it,” she thought. Excitement flushed through her body while she gazed at the door. She had no idea what to really expect on the other side, but if the mirror was real and not just some Taoist mumbo jumbo, it could mean amazing things for the academic community. Thousands of issues could be solved just by a visit to the mirror. If there was a mathematician who truly desired the proof to Goldbach’s conjecture, this mirror would show it to them. A true crime author could finally figure out who killed the Black Dahlia. Maybe someone desperately needed to know about dark matter, boom, we’d have the answer. The possibilities were endless.

“Did you hear me, child?” said the old man. Nicole’s eyes snapped back to him and she began listening again. Her face would have flushed with embarrassment if it wasn’t already so red from the heat.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

He stared deep into her eyes. “You have to ensure the mirror does not shift what it is you really want,” he said, and he raised a fist into the air, “Your will must be firm.”

Nicole returned his gaze and nodded curtly. “An ominous warning,” she thought, “This really has all the makings of an urban legend.”

Nicole raised her own fist to mirror his. “My will is strong,” she assured him, “Please just let me in.”

The man assessed her face one last time before nodding. He quickly turned to face the door, produced a key and unlocked the handle. The door groaned and croaked as he pulled it open. The man remained behind the door almost as though he did not want to see what was inside the room. “Enter.”

Starry-eyed, Nicole stepped into the room. Her heels clicked on the glass-tiled floor and the sound echoed off the bare walls. She didn’t immediately look at the mirror. It occupied an entire wall on the right side of the room and she could see it in her peripheral view, but she wanted her first look to be focused. She wanted to be ready for whatever the mirror wanted to show her. She steeled her nerves and took a relaxing breath. On her exhale, she turned and looked in the mirror.

Confusion. That’s what first replaced her excitement. Then, soon after, it was disappointment. There didn’t seem to be anything immediately special about the mirror. It wasn’t showing Nicole any extra objects in the empty room, nor was her reflection doing anything other than exactly what it was supposed to. She waved and her reflection waved back. Her eyes analyzed every inch of herself and the room. From where she stood, nothing seemed amiss.

“Maybe it takes time,” she thought, “And perhaps some introspection.” Nicole stared at her reflection in the mirror. She tried desperately to imagine what she truly desired. It was almost silly that she hadn’t considered the answer to that question before she travelled all that way to find the mirror. It was supposed to show her what she truly desired, so then why hadn’t she decided on what that was? She assumed that if the mirror really worked, the effect would be obvious, and so she never thought about it.

She ogled her reflection and it gazed back, dressed in the same blouse and khakis as she was. Looking at her reflection, Nicole regretted not wearing something lighter, like a sundress or even a sarong. Her shirt was drenched with sweat. Even if she was going for professional attire, the amount she was sweating was anything but professional. Not to mention the heat in the building seemed magnified in the little room, no doubt due to a lack of proper ventilation.

She reflected on her need to always be professional. It was something she was taught from a young age. Both of her parents insisted on the importance of a good first impression and a professional appearance was paramount in achieving that. Nicole fanned her face again with her hand, the moving air played with strands of her shoulder-length mahogany hair. She unbuttoned the top few buttons of her blouse in a vain attempt to cool herself down. Since the first impression had already been made, she felt she could prioritize comfort. The air on her chest and neck was a welcome feeling.

“What do I truly desire?” she asked herself. Well, she had been obsessed with the mirror for years. Maybe she desired to know if the mirror was the real deal. She felt a bead of sweat on her forehead and wiped it away with the back of her hand. Her reflection did the same. Still no difference. How could the mirror show her what she truly desired, if what she truly desired was for the mirror to work? Did that cause some kind of conflict? Couldn’t it just show her fireworks in the room as a way to prove it was magic? Maybe that was too easy.

Nicole wriggled her toes in her sandals and moved her hand to adjust her bra strap under her blouse. The heat was making her so uncomfortable. She was painfully aware of every inch of fabric against her skin. A blouse and khaki pants were usually so comfortable for her to wear, but then she never had to wear them in a place as hot and humid as this. Nicole’s finger fished itself under her bra strap and provided momentary relief. She watched her reflection adjust her bikini strap the same way and sighed.

Wait. Her bikini?

Nicole looked down at the yellow bikini she was wearing. It wasn’t the most professional thing to wear, but Lord knows she’d sweat herself out of any professional clothing in this climate. Her body just wasn’t suited for the hot humidity. She really should have sprung for the sarong, though. In this light, the yellow of the bikini didn’t look as good on her alabaster skin as she had initially thought. It looked amazing on the model in the ad, but with her bleached blonde hair, toned and tanned body, and sultry gaze, even a burlap sack would have looked stunning on her. Nicole twirled a finger in her brown hair while thinking about the model in the ad. She really did make the yellow bikini look glorious.

“The mirror,” Nicole thought, “Right, the mirror. That’s more important to focus on than the colour of my bikini.” She looked back at her reflection in the mirror, and then around at the empty room. Nothing. The mirror wasn’t showing her anything that wasn’t already there. Absolutely nothing seemed different. She examined her own reflection with a bit more scrutiny. She thought that maybe the mirror was adjusting the image of her own reflection. Maybe it was so miniscule that it was hardly noticeable. With western culture being the way it is, it wouldn’t surprise her if she had deeply-rooted self-image issues.

Nicole ran her hands across her sun kissed body. Perhaps they would move strangely in the mirror if she reached a spot that was warped. As with anyone, there were definitely changes Nicole would make to her body. Too much focus on academia and not enough emphasis on keeping active could do that to someone. Her hands ran over her petite breasts while she focused on her reflection. No sudden jumps or strange movements caught her eyes. She kept looking at her boobs. They went well with her petite frame and she was generally happy with them. Of course that didn’t stop her from jealously ogling women with bigger breasts. She had always wondered what she’d look like with bigger boobs. Would guys be more attracted to her if she was more top heavy?

Nicole sighed and looked down at her belly. She traced her hand along the little tattoo she got in freshman year. At the time, it was her first year away from her parents, so she had decided to get some ink. A little flower just above her hip bone. Nicole loved her little tattoo. It carried a lot of meaning. It represented her, blossoming into her own person. At a time in her life when most of her peers were also trying to find themselves and not always happy with the results, her tattoo had always been a reminder that she’d be a beautiful person in the end.

She smiled at the little black lily. Thinking about it, the tattoo also kind of excited her. To be honest, she would have had more ink done if she wasn’t worried about hurting her professional career. She always found tattoos to be hot and almost taboo, and having her own, easily-hidden tattoo was a little flash of her wild side.

Nicole found herself looking directly at her lily as she traced it with her finger, bypassing the mirror completely. Her neck was craned to see it past her boobs, but it was definitely still there.

“Wait. The mirror. Right, I have to stop getting distracted. First my bikini, now my tattoos,” Nicole composed herself and looked around the room through the mirror. One, two, three, four empty corners. Three empty walls, and nothing new on the floor or ceiling.

She brought her gaze back to her own face. The girl sighed and doubt began seeping its way through her body. What if this mirror wasn’t supernatural? What if it was actually just shrouded in tales full of metaphors and hyperbole? What if everything that she had researched just led her astray? She’d be crushed and humiliated. Everyone back home had told her that the mirror was just folklore. Nicole had a sneaking suspicion that they were right, but she wasn’t ready to give up quite yet.

“What do I desire most?” she asked herself aloud, almost hoping her reflection would respond. It didn’t. Nicole sighed and looked at herself. What did she desire most? She tried thinking about it from an outsider’s perspective, maybe from the perspective of the mirror. Who was she? Maybe answering that question would yield the answer she was looking for.

She assessed herself in the reflection of the mirror. With bleached blonde hair, a nice subtle tan, and great boobs wrapped in a cute bikini, Nicole hardly looked like the professional she touted herself to be. All that, however, could be explained by her trip to the tropics, but the myriad of tattoos across her arms and thigh truly betrayed her image of professionalism. She looked more like a woman who always tried her best to enjoy life. And it was true. Each tattoo had a meaning, the tan was actually from the sun, not just some booth, and the yellow bikini looked too darn cute to pass up.

Her body told a story in itself. She loved her body. Well… most of it. She glanced at her boyish hips and frowned. They never filled out quite like her boobs did. When her body matured and her boobs came in large and perky, she remembered hoping that her hips would follow, and her petite frame would be forgotten like sand in an hourglass. But it never happened. She did her best to keep her butt looking plump, she did squats for days, but there was something to be said for wide hips that matched your bust.

She blinked and shook herself from her fantasy. “Wait, right. What was I thinking about? Right. Who am I?” Nicole took a good look at herself, “I’m a woman who doesn’t let drab professionalism get in the way of her identity.” She smiled about her assessment; it really was true. She didn’t try to hide her tattoos or her bleached hair. She wore things that showed off both her boobs and her art, and she enjoyed it. And realistically… no pantsuit, blouse or pencil skirt in the world could hide her curves.

She turned around and checked out her ass. It was an ass. Not a butt or a bum, but an ass. She had heard plenty of men refer to her as thicc or a shortstack, and she was proud of it. Curves like hers were something to be flaunted. Her wide hips and her great tits meant that guys could check her out coming and going, and she did everything to encourage it. Even this simple bikini bottom was swallowed up by her ass. It was one of the reasons she bought it. She even turned down the sarong that the clerk offered her because she wanted to show off her body.

Nicole loved it when guys checked her out. It actually turned her on so much. She was admittedly disappointed that the old man didn’t seem to pay her any mind. She always got such a thrill whenever she caught a guy checking her out, even more so if she could see the tent in their pants. She bit her lip thinking about guys and their yummy cocks. It had been far too long since she was last touched by a man, maybe a day or two. She’d have to find someone when she got back to the hotel.

Nicole gave her ass a spank and watched it jiggle in the mirror. She smirked before realizing that she had gotten distracted again.

“OK. Let’s give this one last try,” she thought, “What do I most desire? To figure that out, I should figure out who I am. What did I decide on, again?” Nicole pursed her lips and gazed at her reflection. “I am a confident, sexy woman who enjoys her body and likes to let men enjoy it too.” She smiled. That was a perfect description of her, except… well, it didn’t really include her professional life, did it? She thought about how she could reconfigure her description of herself to include her career, but just couldn’t make it work. Different combinations and permutations of words flew through her head, but no description felt as good as her first.

“Is my professional life just a means to an end?” she asked herself. “Does my profession complement who I am as a person, or does it just get in the way? What if I could find a more fitting career to support my lifestyle?” Nicole gazed at her reflection introspectively. Her image was not traditionally professional. In fact her lifestyle, her interests, her passions, all of those belied her life as a professional woman, “Maybe I should find a career that is more in line with who I am… Is that what the mirror is trying to show me?”

Nicole began to slowly pace around the room. Her flip flops echoed around the room as they paced the floor. “What else can I do with my life?” she thought. The tattoos on her arm caught her attention. “Could I be a tattoo artist?” she briefly considered before casting away the notion, “Naw, I can’t draw anything more than stickmen. But what about a tattoo model? Do those exist?” She quickly thought about the logistics of being a model for her tattoo artist or a studio, but she realized that she’d never be able to convince an artist to pay her as a model.

“OK, then what about just a model?” Nicole stopped pacing and looked at her reflection again. She moved her body into a pose and drank in the results. She’d be a hot model. Of course, not a runway model or, like, Victoria Secret, but she’d definitely be a hot glamour model, if those still existed.

“Do glamour models still exist? Or is it all just influencers and OnlyFans models?” Nicole had heard of girls making tons of money through OnlyFans and other similar ventures. Maybe she could do that. She might not even have to make super lewd content. Guys would probably just be happy to see photos of her in a bikini just like the one she had on. She could get people to pay for that, right? To practice, she shot the mirror a lustful gaze and her reflection did it right back. Yea, she could make a killing doing just that.

Nicole watched her reflection and struck pose after pose imagining herself in different outfits: booty shorts, cutoffs, bikinis, lingerie. She started thinking about all the guys who would sign up for her subscription, just to see hot photos of her. Jerking themselves off thinking about her. Sending her tips for being hot. Maybe they’d even send her cum tributes. Fuck, that would be hot. Her pussy throbbed thinking of guys jacking off onto a lewd photo of her.

She imagined all the guys gawking at the scandalous photos of her… and her boobs… and her ass… and her tattoos. There would be hundreds, no thousands of dirty fantasies featuring her body. Men imagining her in all sorts of positions, thinking about thrusting their cocks in her thicc body.

They could even recognize her in public. They’d pull her aside in the street for a sexy selfie. Maybe they’d even ask to cop a feel. She couldn’t say no to a request like that, and maybe it would progress to something else. God, that sounded so hot, but…

“I can’t really do that, can I? What would my family think?” Nicole shook herself from her fantasy. She had long stopped making poses in the mirror and now, as she gazed at her reflection, she saw herself leaned against a wall, one hand cupping her tit and playing with her glorious nipple. The other hand was deep in her pussy, diddling herself. She looked down to confirm that she was indeed playing with herself. When did that happen?

Niclle looked at her reflection again. There she was, a wanton slut with a fucking hot body. She loved sex and she loved turning men on. The more she thought about it, the more right it felt. She should absolutely start doing some erotic modelling. Not just tasteful stuff either. If guys were willing to pay enough, they’d get hardcore content. Fully nude with a cock, fake or real, whatever they wanted. Whatever fetish they had, she could fulfil their fantasy. Family be damned. She didn’t need the chains of propriety. She was a hot slut and it was time she started profiting from it.

Nicole’s hands maintained their ministrations, and she slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. The pleasure was too great and she couldn’t think straight. Her gaze focused on her reflection, on the hot slut furiously masturbating on the floor. She thought of all the guys who would jerk off to her videos. Nicole imagined the mirror was a great big screen and her reflection was a movie of her masturbating. She started putting on a show for her audience of one while she imagined an audience of thousands. Thousands of men, or even women, playing with themselves as she did the same. Nicole wondered if they’d try to time their orgasms with her own. She embellished her moans and let her tongue fall out a little while her hand expertly pleased her cunt. She felt her arousal build up in her body. She was going to cum soon.

Her fans would love to see this, the moment of no return. Undoubtedly, they would imagine jacking off on her jiggling tits while she furiously rubbed her desperate snatch. Or maybe they’d imagine her body instead of their wives while they were having sex. Oh, God. That was hot. She imagined countless men groaning her name while they finished inside their boring wives. Hell, she could even fuck a fan or two and really fulfill their fantasies. She could almost feel their heavenly cocks unloading inside her pussy as they gratefully banged their dream girl.

Like a river breaking through a dam, an orgasm washed over her body. It flooded through her, knocking out all of her senses at once. She couldn’t see, she couldn’t hear, she couldn’t even vocalize. All she could do was ride the waves of her orgasm. Her hand kept furiously fingering her dripping cunt throughout it all. She wasn’t in control of it; she wasn’t in control of anything. Her body acted of its own accord. Her eyes rolled back into her head and Nicole disappeared into the ecstacy.

As the orgasm began to subside, she started to regain some control. Nicole moaned… loudly. She noticed her legs were extended and shaking. Her toes were curled as if her feet were trying to make fists. She sucked in the air. Oh, the heavenly air. She could taste her sweat and her juices as they wafted around the room. Nicole felt sweat drip down her forehead and she realized she was lying down on her side. As her orgasm drifted away, she took a moment to catch her breath and rest.

When she was ready, Nicole opened her eyes and sat up. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. The mirror that brought her there. The mirror that was supposed to solve all of the world’s problems. Nicole chuckled and slowly fixed her bikini. The legend was full of shit. The mirror wasn’t magic. Not once did it show her anything that wasn’t already there. It was all just some religious mumbo jumbo metaphor. Sure, she had a life changing revelation in that very room, but it was because she was actively looking for it within herself. The mirror was just that. A mirror. And it was surrounded by lies and deceit to force people to be truly introspective.

She stood up and tussled her blonde hair to fix the few loose strands. She gave her reflection a seductive wink and then laughed it off. Nicole turned and approached the red door, a changed woman, even if the change wasn’t as tangible as she first hoped. She grabbed the handle to open the door, but she found that it instead opened for her. Walking through the door, she looked around it and found the old man holding it open. She smiled and waved at him. He returned her gaze and sighed. He hung his head, Nicole assumed it was in shame for being a fraud.

“I am sorry, child,” he said. He gestured down the hall towards the exit.

Nicole chuckled and strutted down the hallway, shaking her ass with every step. The old man knew the mirror was a crock of shit, but he continued to perpetuate the myth anyway. Still, Nicole was glad she made the trip. Even though the mirror was a fraud, she had a truly eye opening experience. She’d call her academic advisor in the morning and quit the program, but for the time being she needed to find a young stud to fuck. Her mind was full of possibilities for her modelling, but she needed to first get her pussy pounded so she could focus and come up with a plan for cameras, lights, microphones. After all, if she was going to be putting her image on the internet, it couldn’t look like an amateur shot it. Making it look professional was of the utmost importance.

Nicole waved goodbye to one of the other old men occupying the building and left through the main doors. She stepped out into the hot fresh air and took a deep, satisfied breath. She was really looking forward to her new career.