The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Stephanie was in a panic. Could she go back to the office? Not dressed like this. Not dressed like a sex-crazed bimbo. Certainly not.

Tiff must have put her work cloths in one of those bags. Stephanie hadn’t given them a moment’s thought when she had been leaving the store. Where could she change? What could she tell Mr. Porque about where she had been? She would have to wipe the makeup off somehow. And take off the pink ribbon.

Wait, she wasn’t really wearing that, was she? Her hand went to her neck, but there was nothing there. She looked in the mirror just to be sure. She didn’t see a ribbon. But she did see flashing blue lights.

“Fuck!” she exclaimed as a siren sounded and a stern-faced cop scowled at her. What had she done? She wasn’t even sure what street she was driving down.

She saw the police officer approach slowly in the rear view mirror. What did she do? What should she do? She couldn’t think! She was such a bimbo!

The officer tapped on her window. She was supposed to roll it down. She remembered that much.

“License and registration, Ma’am,” he said.

“What?” she asked, drawing a complete blank.

“I need your driver’s license and vehicle registration, Ma’am,” the officer repeated slowly as if she was an idiot which, at that moment, Stephanie couldn’t really dispute.

“Oh! Yes! I…I have those!” she said.

She grabbed the little pink hand bag that she had just bought and transferred her wallet too. She found her driver’s license and handed it to the officer, smiling apologetically with a boobie-emphasizing shrug of her shoulders. Stephanie was relieved to see he noticed, staring for several heartbeats.

“Um, I need the vehicle registration too,” he said after the awkward silence became too awkward.

“OH! Right! Right!” she exclaimed. “I’m sorry! I just don’t know where my head is today!”

She leaned over and opened the glove box of the passenger seat to get her vehicle registration, but she fumbled with it and it dropped to the floor of the passenger side. She tittered nervously, gave an apologetic glance to the officer and leaned over to get it. It was only then that she realized she had forgotten to buckle her seatbelt back in the parking lot. This realization came just as she realized her growing boobies had changed her center of gravity and she tumbled forward into the foot well of the passenger side presenting her ass to the officer.

“Sorry! Sorry!” she said as she righted herself and handed the vehicle registration to the officer.

The officer didn’t respond, then shook himself slightly and took it from her and glanced at it. Then he looked at her license again and looked back.

“This photo,” he said, indicating her driver’s license. “It doesn’t really look like you.”

“It…it looked like me this morning,” she said, then giggled nervously, realizing how ridiculous that sounded. The officer was really very attractive. “It’s been a really, um, weird day.”

“Have you been drinking Ms. Smiley?” he asked.

“No!” she denied. “I would never!”

“Are you taking any medications?” he asked.

“No! Do you think I should?” she asked.

The officer looked around, then back at her.

“I need you to get out of the car Ms. Smiley,” he informed her.

“Oh,” she said, confused. “O.K.”

He stepped back to let her open the door. Stephanie put a leg out and the police officer’s eye immediately went to her knee and pale upper thigh. Something warm and tingly shot through Stephanie and she felt light headed. The cop was really cute!

She swung her other leg out of the car, making no attempt to stop the tiny skirt from riding up and displaying her pink garters. The cop made no attempt to pretend not to notice. Stephanie knew she shouldn’t be doing it, but she really didn’t want a ticket and the cop was so cute and she was so warm. She leaned forward with her head back, displaying her growing titties as she climbed out of the car. The cop noticed. Stephanie quivered and giggled nervously. The cop looked back to her face, blushing slightly and suppressing a smile.

“Walk back behind your vehicle, please,” he told her. “I’m going to administer a field sobriety test.”

“Yes, Officer,” she said in a soft voice. “I want to be cooperative.”

“I…I appreciate that,” the officer said and swallowed. “It won’t take long.”

“I don’t mind long,” she assured him. “I don’t mind long at all.”

She placed a hand on the car to steady herself. She wasn’t sure how well she could walk in her new heels and she didn’t want the cop to think she was intoxicated. Though her head was swimming!

She walked slowly and carefully to the back of her car, one high-heeled foot after the other. The officer followed several paces behind. She knew he was watching her ass as it swung back and forth in her tiny pink skirt. She let it sway back and forth, back and forth. She did a model turn when she reached the back of the car, displaying boobies in profile while still showing her ass.

What am I doing? She wondered with sudden horror, but then she saw the cop looking at her chest and wave of warmth washed away her worry.

“What do you want me to do, officer?” she asked in a little girl voice.

“Um, first state your full name,” he said.

“Stepha…Stepha…STEFI! STEFI LYNN SMILEY!” she exclaimed. “But you can call me Stefi! <giggle>”

“Close enough,” the officer conceded. “Ms. Smiley, I want you to take six steps towards my police car, heel to toe, then turn around and take six steps back towards me.”

“I can do that!” she announced. “But you were suposta call me Stefi!”

The officer paused, swallowed, then said. “All right. Stefi it is then.”

Stefi giggled, glad to have won him over, stood up tall and straight, titties forward, and took six steps, counting carefully and swaying her ass. Walking in the heels was feeling perfectly natural now. It was like she was born to wear them.

She turned about and walked back to the officer, oscillating her shoulders with every step since he seemed much more interested in the motion of her boobies than the dexterity of her stride.

“How’d I do?” she asked once she had come back and the officer didn’t look up from her chest.

“Good,” he said, still not looking up. “Very good.”

“Yay!” she exclaimed and gave a little hop that made her boobies pop.

The cop shuddered then looked up.

“Now I need you to, um, stick your arms out to your sides,” he said.

“Like this?” she asked, sticking her arms out wide and slightly behind her so that her boobies stuck out even further.

“Yes that’s…nice,” said the cop. “Now stick out your index fingers on both hands and then bend your right elbow and touch the tip of your nose with the tip of your right index finger.”

She did as she was told, though she couldn’t help but giggle at how silly it was.

“Good Stefi,” he praised. “Now extend your right arm again and then touch your nose with your left finger.”

Stefi giggled and did as she was bid.

“All right, now do the same thing again, one hand then the other, back and forth back and forth,” the cop said.

Stefi giggled and did so, touching her nose with one finger then the other again and again.

“Now do it standing on one foot,” the cop encouraged.

Stefi did so, bending her knee and lifting her left foot behind her, balancing on one high-heeled shoe. She giggled. It was fun!

“Amazing,” the cop said. “Now switch feet!”

Stefi giggled and tried to raise her right foot, completely forgetting to put the left one down first. Her eyes went wide as she toppled over.

“Oh shit!” said the cop.

The pain of impact sent a jolt through Stephanie. What had she been doing?

“I’m so sorry!” the police officer said, squatting down beside her. “I…I shouldn’t have…”

Damned right he shouldn’t have! What kind of field sobriety test required….

She looked up and lost her train of thought. There was a long hard bulge running half way down the inside of the officer’s left pant leg. Stefi shuddered. Her mind swirled. Her mouth watered.

“You’ve got a really big…gun,” she said, unable to take her eyes from his crotch, unable to think about anything but what was hidden there in his pants.

“I…um…shit,” said the officer. “Here, ma’am, let me help you up.”

“Don’t wanna go up,” Stefi shook her head, eyes burning through his pants. “Wanna go down. Stefi wanna go down!”

The cop looked around desperately.

“Really, Ma’am, you need to get up,” he said. “We can’t…you can’t lie down by the side of the road like this.”

He put his hand on her shoulder. She put her hand on his cock. He stood up like a shot. Stefi pouted, looking up at his crotch longingly.

“Ma’am, you can’t…you can’t do that,” he said. “I…you…you’re clearly sober. I’ll let you…let you off with a warning.”

“I’ll get you off for a warning,” Stefi agreed, nodding, getting on her hands and knees, visions of fellatio dancing through her head.

“No!” the officer almost squealed. “I..I’m not asking for. Oh god…Just…just get back in your car.”

He pulled off his hat and covered his crotch. Stefi looked up, confused.

“G..get in your car,” he insisted. “Before I arrest you for…for trying to…just please get in the car.”

“But I wanted to…” Stefi objected.

“We’re in the middle of a public street, you stupid bimbo!” he exclaimed.

“Oh,” she said, looking around, having quite forgotten where they were, how she had gotten there, pretty much everything that wasn’t between the officers legs. “Maybe we could…”

“Just..just get in the car,” the officer insisted. “And we’ll pretend none of this ever happened.”

The tone of authority in his voice, more than anything else, sent Stefi tottering towards her driver’s side door. She looked plaintively back. He pointed firmly at her car. She pouted and got in and sighed. She had really thought he liked her!

The officer drove away, leaving her there in her car not knowing what to do. She couldn’t get the idea of sucking him off out of her mind! It would be soooooo hot!

She looked in her rear view mirror, hoping to see the officer returned, or maybe another police officer, or even a fireman! There were no cars at all. But on the sidewalk a couple was strolling arm in arm. The man was tall, dark-haired, broad-chested and all together hunky.

“OOOO!” Stefi exclaimed. “I could totally do him!”

She opened her car door just as the couple was passing.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, scrambling out and up onto her heels, leaning on the car to keep from falling over as she hurried around to the sidewalk. “Hey you!”

She adjusted her boobies in their camisole, cursing herself for not checking her makeup before getting out. She clicked towards the hunky guy who was looking at her, confused, but he had definitely noticed her titties. She was so in!

“I suck dick!” she announced to the hunky man. “Do you want some?”

“I….I….” the man stammered adorably.

“WHORE!” screamed the woman, whom Stefi had barely noticed before, as she slapped her hard in the face for no reason at all.

Stephanie shuddered at the shock of the slap. What had she just done? The woman was fuming. The man looked horrified. And she had just offered to…

“Oh god,” she uttered. “I’m so sorry. So sorry. God. Gotta….gotta get out of here.”

She staggered back into her car, vaguely conscious of the woman calling her all sorts of uncomplimentary terms, something she knew she totally deserved. What was wrong with her? How could she? How could she?

Burning with embarrassment, eyes wet with shame, shuddering with confusion she drove towards home. She didn’t know where else to go.

She sat breathing in the parking garage of her apartment complex. What was wrong with her? What could she do? Could she go to a doctor? “Hi, this is Stephanie Smiley and I woke up with big boobies and can’t stop acting like an over-sexed bimbo. Can I have a doctor’s appointment?”

That couldn’t end well.

It was 2:30. They were bound to notice that she hadn’t come back to the office. Stephanie bit her lower lip. The pain seemed to help her focus. She needed to call. Tell them she was sick. That would buy her some time to figure out what was wrong with her.

She dialed her cell, surprised that she didn’t have any missed calls. Marci, the receptionist, picked up with her cheery, bubble-headed greeting that Stephanie always found so annoying. Now, though, it was disturbing. Had she sounded like that with the cop?

“Hi, um, Marci? It’s Stef…Stephanie,” she said.

“Oh! Hi, Miss Smiley! Mr. Porque was just asking if I’d seen you!” the receptionist bubbled.

“Um, yeah, uh….could you tell him I’m not feeling well? I…I thought I could take care of it at lunch but I…I’m just really…sick. I’ve gone home. Could you tell him? And tell him I’m really sorry,” she said.

“Oh, you poor baby!” Marci said. “You get some rest and drink plenty of fluids! Don’t you worry about Mr. Porque. I’ll tell him to let you sleep! You come back when you’re feeling super-duper, okay?”

“Um, yeah,” Stephanie said. “Thanks Marci. I really appreciate it.”

She shuddered as she terminated the call. She had never called in sick without a high fever. But she was sick. That thing with the cop, with Tiff, with the couple. That was just sick. Sick, sick, sick! But what could she do about it?

She could snap out of it, whatever it was. The shock of the woman slapping her had brought her around. Biting her lip before talking to Marci worked to focus her as well. If she could snap herself out of it, maybe she could beat this thing, whatever it was, without the embarrassment and career-killing paper trail of checking herself into a mental hospital. That was it! She could beat this thing! She just had to keep her head.

She looked with sudden trepidation at the bags of clothes in her back seat. Her work suit was bound to be in there, but she didn’t want to dig through it. All that pink fabric. She shuddered. She couldn’t risk it. It was still the middle of the day. She could make it to the elevator and into the apartment without anyone seeing her popping out of the short skirt and bolero jacket. No reason to keep wearing the pink ribbon around her neck, though. She went to take it off…but there was nothing there.

She shook her head, bit her lip, and got out of the car, marching determinedly towards the elevator, no other goal than reaching her apartment. In her tiny skirt and even less substantial panties, the cool of the garage was a shock. But shock was good. It kept her focus.

Except for her nipples. No, the effect of the cool on her nipples was definitely distracting. But she couldn’t think of that. Mustn’t think of that. She focused on the elevator. Click click click went her heels in the big deserted concrete structure, echoing.

The ‘ding’ of the elevator sounded like salvation. It opened up…empty. She sighed and stepped in, pushing the button for the 8th floor. The elevator rose. She would be home soon and no one she knew would have seen her dressed like a bimbo. She went to tug at the pink ribbon, which was chafing, then she shook her head, reminding herself there never had been a pink ribbon.

“Only a dream,” she muttered to herself.

The elevator stopped. She had only a second to wonder how it had gotten to the 8th floor so fast when the door opened in on the lobby. There was Barry Sacks, the ‘writer’ who lived on the 4th floor. Stephanie had spoken to him a few times at parties that David had dragged her to, though she hadn’t spoken to him at all since she and David had broken up. Stephanie swore softly. Barry worked from home. Of course he would walk in to the elevator at just this moment.

“Well hello!” Barry said, coming into the elevator and standing closer to her than necessary. “You’re new in the building, aren’t you?”

“I’ve lived here for 4 years, Barry,” Stephanie said, scowling at him and digging a fingernail into her palm to stay focused. He was staring at her titties…breasts! He was staring at her breasts. Hadn’t even seen her face. Pig! Did he like them? Men liked big boobies!

Not that she cared! She definitely didn’t care!

The writer managed to tear his gaze from her chest, then blinked in confusion.

“Stephanie?” he asked, clearly doubting the identification. “Wow! What did you do?”

“None of your god damned business!” she spat and looked at the ceiling of the elevator, determined not to look at his crotch. She didn’t doubt that he was looking at her titties again. Her nipples were throbbing! Barry was such a horny bastard. No doubt he was tenting his trousers for her right there in the elevator, hoping she would rip his pants off and go down on him right there! But she wasn’t going to do it! No she wasn’t! No matter how hot it would be!

“I’m sorry, I…I didn’t mean to pry,” he was saying. “It’s just…you look good! Really good! I mean, not that you didn’t look good before, but this…you can really work this! I never would have guessed…”

Stephanie closed her eyes and pressed her thighs together. She would NOT invite him up! She would NOT invite him up!”

The elevator dinged.

“Well, um, I’ll see you around then,” he said. “Sorry about…well…sorry…”

The doors closed. The breath exploded out of Stephanie. She gasped. She had done it! She had overcome the strange urges that had been tormenting her!

“Yes! Yes! I did it!” she exclaimed to the empty elevator and the uncaring universe. “Yes! That’s right! I’m in control here! Oh yes!”

She slipped her left hand down the front of her skirt and grabbed the tingling nipple of her right tittie with her right hand, reveling in her triumph.

“Oh yes oh yes oh yes!” she exclaimed, exulting, feeling so very, very good about herself as the elevator started rising again. “So good…so good!”

Her eyes rolled back in her head as she leaned back against the elevator wall.

“Alllll goooood!” she sighed “Aaaallllll Betterrrrrrrr! Mmmmmmmmmmm!”

She was shuddering with orgasm when the door opened on the 8th floor. She blinked, wondering where she was and how she got there, realized she didn’t care and giggled. She headed down the hall, weaving like a drunkard, giggling to herself and thinking how wonderful life was.

She recognized her apartment door and giggled at how stupid she was to have forgotten where she lived. She unlocked the door and went and opened the curtains in front of big bay windows of her living room. The sun was so bright and pretty! She didn’t know why she didn’t skip work more often.

“I want a bubble bath!” she announced to the empty room. It seemed like a great idea. She stripped off her new pink suit. It was so pretty, she hated to take it off, but she could always go down and get her new outfits after her bath and try on more of them. Barry had liked her new look. She could offer to model all her outfits for him! She just wished she hadn’t forgotten them back in the car.

“Stupid Stefi!” she chided herself, then giggled to show she wasn’t really mad.

Her little pink thong was positively soaked from her finger frigging in the elevator. She pulled them off and sniffed them, then giggled, deciding she liked how her pussy smelled. She decided to keep the pink ribbon around her neck. The bubble bath wouldn’t hurt it any.

She looked up and saw that there was someone in the window in the building across the street from hers. A young man about 19 who was staring very intently at her. She waved enthusiastically. He waved slowly back. Stefi giggled. She really should get to know her neighbors better. Some of them were really cute!

She blew her admirer a kiss, then headed to the bathroom, still intent on bubbles. She wished she had pink bubble bath. That would be really nice. But her regular bubble bath would do for the moment.

In the bathroom she turned on the hot water, then drizzled in the white bubble bath that smelled faintly of lavender. She wondered if they made bubble gum scented bubble bath.

“That’d be, like, double bubble!” she observed aloud, then giggled at her cleverness.

As the bubbles grew in the tub, she sat down to pee. The urine flowed out in a hot rush and she sighed. It was a really nice sensation.

“I really like my pussy!” she announced, then looked down at it to stroke it appreciatively. Then she squealed in delight! Mixed in among the brown hairs there were several blonde ones she hadn’t noticed before!

“Do you wanna be a blonde, little pussy?” she asked her twat. “You’d be such a pretty blonde pussy! Do you think they’d bleach you down at the salon? <giggle> Of course, I’d have to do my hair too, so we’d match. Tell you what, after our bath, I’ll google ‘blonde pussy’ on the computer and we can see what you’d look like!”

Her pussy didn’t seem to disagree with the plan, so she stood up, turned off the water and stepped into the tub.

“FUCK!” Stephanie yelled, pulling her foot out of the scalding water. “GOD FUCKING DAMNIT!”

She looked at her foot, having to push her growing tits out of the way so she could see if she had done it serious damage. And then her activity of the past few minutes came back to her and the pain in her foot got pushed aside by the feeling of the cold lump in her stomach.

“God-fucking-damnit” she whispered softly as her eyes widened and a cluster of bubbles slowly ran down her leg.

She went to pull the pink ribbon off her neck in disgust. It wasn’t there. It never had been.

Trembling, she grabbed her bathrobe. It was navy blue. A dark, sensible color for a sensible woman. She tied it around her. She still wanted a bath. She felt absolutely filthy. But not a bubble bath. Not that. And it was too hot to get in anyway. Though thank God that it was.

She went to her bedroom and pulled on a pair of sweatpants under the robe. She didn’t want anything rubbing against her pu…vagina, but she didn’t want to be naked either. The robe would have to do for the rest. Nothing she had would fit over her monstrous breasts.

Except for the new pretty pink outfits in her car that made her look so yummy!

SMACK!

She slapped herself in the face. Why couldn’t she stop thinking such things! This was horrid! And it couldn’t just be a nervous break down. Not only were her breasts growing, now her pubic hair was changing color! It was impossible!

All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball on her bed and sleep. Maybe she could wake up from this nightmare. She was about to do just that, when the unmade state of her bed reminded her of where it had all started. She recoiled from the innocent seeming bed in horror. The dream! That had started it! And the dream when she fell asleep in her office—that had made it worse!

She backed away from the treacherous bed as if it might attack her at any moment. She staggered back into the living room. She saw the peeping tom was still there. She swore again and emphatically pulled the curtains closed.

What could she do? Whom could she call? She didn’t have any close friends. She rarely saw her family and she certainly didn’t want her parents knowing about anything she had done that day. A psychiatrist wouldn’t believe the changes in her body, but she was SURE she hadn’t been busty the day before. She had the bras to prove it, damn it! They were right there in her dresser, next to the evil, evil bed. Could it really be evil? She had never been a believer before, but if anything was satanic, surely this was. Should she call a priest? No. It would be harder to explain to clergy than it would be to a doctor.

But pain seemed to stop it. Any kind of shock really. If she could just stop it before it went too far. She’d just slap herself silly…or rather NOT silly…until whatever it was gave up. It wasn’t a great plan but it was the only one she could think of. Either that or call up David and ask him to spank her every time she was bad.

SMACK!

The red imprint of her hand fresh on her face, she turned on the television and sat on her couch, determined to smack herself again at the first hint of a sexy thought.

Several hours later, Stephanie was sitting on her couch, her swollen breasts contained in her bathrobe. She was jittery from 12 cups of strong coffee. It was helping keep her awake but it was also making her need to pee. Peeing was dangerous, she had learned. Luckily, the tub full of water had cooled off by the time she first need to go. That water, splashed on her face, had saved her when she felt herself drifting off. Now, there on the couch with her, was a bucket of ice water, a bottle of Tabasco sauce, a wooden ruler and a rubber band. Her face was numb from slapping, but a hand or foot in ice water, a shot of the hot sauce, a ruler whacked on her thigh or a rubber band flipped on her inner arm all seemed to work to fend off the demonic bimbo that was assaulting her. She hoped she didn’t have to move on to thumbtacks, but she would! She had a box right there waiting.

She had gone back to watching television. She had tried reading, but she kept drifting off like she had with the spreadsheet that morning. Writing in her journal wasn’t good either. She had doodled something extremely vulgar before she had the presence of mind to slam the diary closed on her hand. Surprisingly enough, Infomercials seemed to work the best. Something about watching people make absurd claims and seeing the studio audience stupidly believe them made Stephanie feel smart. Feeling smart was good. Granted, there were only so many infomercials out there, and some were not really effective, such as the Skanks On Parade video that was being peddled on one station. But the ‘Become a Millionaire by Selling your Worthless Shit on the Internet’ was good for an hour of wakefulness.

At least it had been the first time she watched it. Now, instead of laughing at the absurd business plan, her eyes kept drifting to the women in the background that were the unspoken reward for financial success. One of the girls lounging by the pool looked a lot like Tiff. But with bigger boobies.

She should call Tiff and go out like they had planned.

NO! No she shouldn’t! She should stay right there at home and watch TV. Watch the idiot box. The boob tube. She giggled.

“Boob tube!” she said. “Maybe that made my boobies grow!”

She shuddered. That was stupid!

“Stupid, stupid bimbo!” she chided herself, then gasped in horror at what she had just said.

She got up and paced. TV was not helping distract her anymore! Everything seemed to remind her of either the debacle at the lingerie store or the uncomfortable incident with the cop or, worst of all, the strange dreams that seemed to have started it all.

It was well past midnight. How long could she put off sleeping? Maybe she was going about this the wrong way. It had started with a dream; maybe it would end with one. What were the chances of her having the same dream twice? No, a new dream would clear out the old one. Surely that’s how it would work. She resolved to go to bed before 1 am.

She was asleep on the couch with in seconds of having made that decision.