The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It was a picturesque day at Windchaser Park in west Chrystal Heights. The sun was shining and the sky was cloudless. The water was so clear you could see the fish feeding peacefully on the bottom of the lake. Even the quacking of the ducks seemed musical.

Like I actually gave a shit.

I was mind-numbingly bored. I wanted to grab the fish, hit the stupid birds over the head with them and then stick them up the ducks’ feathery asses. There had to be something fun to do somewhere.

“Hey, Liz,” said a voice. “Another new tat?”

I glanced over my shoulder. Trish and Ellen were making their way toward me.

“Yeah,” I said, lifting the bottom of my tee-shirt so they could see my lower back. I was quite proud of my various tattoos.

“Lightning bolts,” said Trish. “Sweet.”

Ellen pointed to one of the tats on my forearm. “What does ‘FTW’ mean?”

I looked at her, then rolled my eyes.

“It means ‘Fuck The World,’ ditz,” supplied Trish.

“Oh,” said Ellen.

“Hey,” I said to Trish and Ellen, “we need to find something to do before I wig out.”

Trish threw a rock at a duck, barely missing. “Yeah,” she said. “They won’t let us hang at the drug store anymore, just ‘cuz of that stupid shoplifting charge, and the liquor store don’t open ‘til eleven. Breaking those stained glass windows yesterday was fun, but I doubt they’re fixed yet. They’d probably be watching for us anyway. Any ideas, Ellen?”

Ellen shrugged. “Not really,” she said.

“Damn,” I said, shaking my head. Not that I had expected any inspiration from Ellen. She was two years younger than me and Trish- she was barely out of high school- and she was nervous about exerting herself.

“Hey, wait a minute,” said Trish. “What about those two over there?”

I look to where Trish was pointing and I brightened. Our day had just gotten a little better.

I motioned to the other two. “Very good, Trish,” I said. “Let’s go.”

We circled the lake until we came to the pair Trish had noticed. I gave them a big smile as we approached.

“Good morning, doobies,” I said. “How’s every little thing?”

The guy was thin, with long dark hair past his shoulders. He’d be easy enough to handle if things got ugly…and I was certainly hoping they would.

“We’re good,” said the guy. “How’re you guys?”

My smile widened. “We’re just peachy, Sparky,” I said.

“Ahh, actually my name is Ryan,” said the guy, “and this is my sister, Becky.”

“Awwwww, I can see the resemblance,” I said, “except you don’t have wheels where your ass is.”

“Nope, that’s true enough,” said Ryan, seemingly unfazed. “I was lucky.”

Becky stared at me. She had the same black hair as her brother, although hers was styled in a short pixie cut. Her wheelchair appeared comfortable enough, although it wasn’t fancy by any means. It was manual, meaning she was pushed everywhere by her brother.

“Oh, isn’t she the cutest thing!” I said. “C’mon, girls, we gotta take her for a walk! Well, a roll, anyway.”

“Yeah, right?” said Trish. “Definitely for a roll!”

“I don’t think so,” said Ryan. “Thank you just the same.”

“Don’t be so stodgy, Ryan,” I said, stepping behind the wheelchair. “Becky would love to go for a spin, I bet!”

I grabbed the handles and began running, pushing the chair in front of me. Trish and Ellen stepped in front of Ryan as he moved to cut me off. Trish gave him a shove backward.

“Wheeeeeeeeee!” I said, still running. “Isn’t this fun, Becky?”

Becky didn’t answer, but then, I hadn’t actually expected her to.

Suddenly I had an idea. I turned abruptly to the side and onto the grass. Then I pushed her towards the lake.

No, I wasn’t going to dunk her…the girl obviously couldn’t swim. Still, her brother wouldn’t know that and he would freak out the moment her chair hit the water. This was going to be funny as all hell.

Except suddenly my limbs locked up.

My hands tightened around the chair handles and we came to a complete stop. After that, despite my best efforts, I couldn’t move a single muscle. I was locked in position like a mannequin.

A breathless Ryan caught up moments later. He circled around us and stood in front of Becky. He checked her over and finally nodded.

“I’m sorry,” he said to Becky. “She caught me by surprise. It hadn’t occurred to me that they would actually try something like that.”

Trish and Ellen, moving with very jerky motions, walked up and stood next to me. Once they stopped walking, it appeared they too couldn’t move.

Satisfied that Becky was unhurt, Ryan turned his attention to us. “You girls aren’t very nice,” he said, “and that needs to be addressed. Why don’t the three of you come stand in front of Becky?”

I suddenly found myself releasing the chair handles and walking in front of Becky. My efforts to resist my forced motion resulted in a choppy walk similar to the way Trish and Ellen had been moving moments earlier. The three of us were soon gathered in front of Becky’s reproachful stare.

“You little idiots,” said Ryan, “are obviously unaware of some of the nuances of Chrystal Heights, such as the tendency of twins to have power. At least, twins of Original bloodline.”

Twins? Originals? I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. But I couldn’t move. Nothing hurt, nothing seemed to be broken, but I couldn’t move a muscle except when he told me to. And it was obvious the same thing was happening to Trish and Ellen.

Ryan walked behind us. “Individually,” he said, “my sister and I are able to exhibit fairly impressive feats of power.” I gasped as Ryan slapped my ass. “Together, however,” he said, “we actually amplify each other.”

Ryan was suddenly standing in front of me. He reached up and patted my cheek. And like he had pushed a button, I could suddenly move my head…but just my head.

“Look,” I said. “Just stop doing whatever it is you’re doing and we’ll go, all right?”

Ryan laughed. “So you can just do this to somebody else, you mean?”

“No!” I said. “We’ll be better, really. We just got a little carried away, that’s all.”

“I’m sure,” said Ryan, in a manner that suggested he didn’t believe my heartfelt observation. He looked at Becky for several seconds, then back to me. “And Becky believes you even less than I do.”

“Awww, c’mon,” I said. “Give us a break. I mean, we’ve had rough lives. My dad’s an unemployed alcoholic and Trish’s mother beats her. Ellen’s step-dad rapes her everynnnnnnnnn-“

Ryan, who had been looking at Becky again, had flipped his hand at me and my tongue had suddenly snapped to the roof of my mouth.

“Stop,” he said. “Just stop. Your father’s a banker and doesn’t drink anything stronger than iced tea.”

What the hell was he talking about? He was obviously trying to bluff for some reason…my dad wasn’t a banker. That made me feel better. This Ryan didn’t know as much as he thought.

He looked over at Becky. “Huh? Oh, sorry,” he said. Then he looked at me again. “Your father’s an accountant, not a banker. My bad.”

Holy shit.

“Trish,” he said, “hasn’t been struck by her mother since she was eleven. In fact,” he said, giving Trish a look, “Trish has physically shoved her mother on several occasions. She appears to have authority issues, particularly where women are involved.”

Ryan looked over to Ellen. “And Ellen’s step-father has never touched her in any way,” he said. “Ellen has, however, attempted to seduce him on several occasions. He is far too good a man to let that happen, however.”

This was crazy. How the hell did he know all this stuff?

Ryan looked at Becky and shook his head. “She’s pretty dense, isn’t she?” he said. “Well, if she can’t figure it out, I’m not going to bother telling her.”

He was talking to his non-verbal sister like he was expecting answers. This guy had to be a nut-job.

“Anyway,” said Ryan, looking at me again, “you girls are definitely not nice.”

He walked forward three steps until his nose was two inches from mine. “If it was up to me,” he said, his eyes hard, “I’d just have you walk into the lake until the water reached just below your nose. Then I’d leave you there for a couple hours, so that maybe you’d learn what it feels like to be helpless and stuck in a precarious position. Like a girl in a wheelchair might feel when she was snatched and pushed towards a lake.”

My heart started pounding. Standing in the lake up to my nose, unable to move? Panic gripped me at the thought, and I fought to hold down an involuntary squeak. Please…not that…

“But Becky feels that may be a bit harsh,” he said. “She agrees you need to be punished, but perhaps in a more instructive manner.” He stepped back and chuckled. “It’s actually ironic. I’m usually the soft one.”

Okay, he was babbling now, but I still felt a surge of relief as I realized I wasn’t going to end up trapped in the lake. I doubted we were getting off scott-free, but how bad could it be?

Ryan walked over to Ellen. “Let’s start off with the, ah, sexually inappropriate girl, shall we?” He tapped her on the arm. At his touch, Ellen walked forward in that jerky motion until she was standing in front of the wheelchaired girl.

“You know, trying to seduce your step-father really wasn’t nice,” said Ryan, “and what you tried to do here today wasn’t very nice either. Becky and I think you just have too much time on your hands. So…”

Ryan reached out and lay his hand on top of Becky’s. He then reached out with his other hand and lightly gripped Ellen’s forearm.

Trish and I watched in curiosity. I had no idea what Ryan was trying to do. They remained motionless for several heartbeats, and nothing seemed to happen. Finally, Ryan released Ellen’s arm.

“All done,” he said. “You can go.”

Ellen blinked and rotated her shoulders, apparently able to move again. She looked at Ryan in uncertainty.

“Really?” she said.

“Yep,” said Ryan.

“All right,” said Ellen. “I will.”

Ellen took a step and looked back at Ryan, who simply smiled at her. Then she took another step and faltered. Then she whimpered.

Ellen mewled as her hips began twitching, then wriggling. She then appeared to be performing a dance move made famous by Michael Jackson.

“What is she doing?” I said, vaguely registering that I could speak again.

“Ah, yes, her punishment,” said Ryan. “I probably should have mentioned that before she tried to leave. My bad.”

Ellen rubbed furiously between her legs. Her jeans appeared to be soaked along her inner thighs. Ellen tried to walk again, failed, and dropped to the ground. Her hands flew desperately to the button of her jeans and she slid the denim material over her hips, down her thighs and past her calves. Her ankles locked together by the denim, her knees popped apart and her fingers slid inside her dark blue panties.

My eyes were pretty wide by then. “Is she…?”

Ryan nodded. “Oh, yes,” he said. “She’s playing with herself. She obviously has too much time on her hands, so we decided to keep her hands busy.”

Ellen writhed on the grass, oblivious to her watching audience. Her fingers stroked heatedly over her clit. Her hips were bucking.

“She will need to do that every three hours or so,” said Ryan. “A week of that should give her a new outlook.”

“A week!” I said. I had to raise my voice slightly to be heard over Ellen’s moans. “But what if she just doesn’t do it? What if she just handcuffs her hands to the bed or something?”

“She wouldn’t even need to handcuff herself,” said Ryan. “She can’t climax indoors. She has to be outside. And if she tries to ignore the burning need, she’ll lose complete control of her bladder by the end of the first hour and she won’t get it back until her next orgasm. If she goes twenty-four hours without, her conscious thinking patterns will break down and all she’ll be able to think about is her pussy.” It was becoming difficult to hear over Ellen’s increasingly heated moaning. “Assuming this experience gives her a whole new outlook, then after the week, we can fix a few things.” He nodded. “Being good this week is definitely suggested. This is a bad week to get arrested and stuck indoors, if you get my drift. And if she’s a deep sleeper, she might want to consider a diaper when she goes to bed.”

Ellen’s body writhed as her approaching orgasm became obvious.

“Now,” said Ryan, “next is, ah, Trish.”

Ryan stood in front of Trish, who stared back with a defiant tilt to her head. Ryan gave her a bemused look.

“Something you’d like to say, Trish…?” he said.

Trish hesitated only a second before saying, “Nah. Bring it on, dickhead!”

Ryan laughed. “Sure, no problem,” he said. “It seems Becky took quite a dislike to you, Trish. When she was poking around in your head, she found you have all kinds of problems with authority…female authority in particular.”

Trish gave no response.

“Now, questioning authority can be healthy,” continued Ryan, “but shoving your mother? Really?”

“My life is my own business,” said Trish, “and none of yours.”

“True,” said Ryan, “but once you decided to include us in your life with your silly-ass games, all bets are off.”

“Look, I wasn’t the one who-“

Ryan held up his hand. “Your lips are moving again, Trish, and words are coming out. This can’t be a good thing.”

“Bite me. You and your sister can-“

Trish suddenly went silent as Ryan apparently did to her tongue what he had done to mine earlier.

“All right, that’s enough,” said Ryan. “Let’s get down to business.”

Trish did a jerky walk until she was standing next to Becky’s wheelchair. Ryan reached out once again and lay a hand on Becky’s hand and the other on Trish’s forearm.

“It seems you equate being a girl with weakness,” said Ryan, his eyes closing in concentration. “You only follow Liz here because you perceive her as being male-like and powerful.”

Me? Male-like and powerful? Heh.

“So we figure you need to learn a little humility,” said Ryan. “The kind of humility that comes from service.” He was silent for a few moments. Then he opened his eyes and gave her a big smile. “Like, say, lip service. Or, I guess you could say oral service.”

Trish looked confused for a moment. Then her eyes went to Ellen- who was still trying to recover from a truly intense orgasm- and she drew a sharp breath.

“W-What d-do y-you m-mean…?” said Trish. She sounded odd. She didn’t normally stutter, even when she was nervous.

“I mean exactly what I said,” said Ryan. “Oral service.”

That’s when I realized Trish’s lips were beginning to swell. Her sudden squeak indicated she was aware of it as well. Right in front of my eyes, her lips thickened into soft swelled pillows.

“Like I said…oral service,” he said. “Becky’s idea, actually. Twice a day on women, sweetie, and a blowjob as well. For balance. A grand total of three service sessions a day for two weeks.”

“B-b-b-b-b-“ said Trish.

Ryan laughed. “To answer your questions,” he said, “yes, your lips and tongue are much more sensitive than they were, and, yes, they are very much erogenous zones for you now. In fact, stimulation there is the only way you can achieve orgasm and, even then, only if someone actually climaxes in your mouth.”

Trish’s eyes were wide. Her tongue slid desperately over her lips and she was making a mewling sound.

“You can, of course,” said Ryan, “choose to not perform your punishment. Well, I don’t actually think you can go without doing it, since one meal will be enough to drive you insane with arousal, but, still, you’re welcome to try. However, the longer you go between services, the more severe that stutter will become. Being a few hours late will be enough to render you unintelligible, so it’s really not suggested. It will manifest itself as a lisp for now, but be more than an hour or so late for your next appointment and the stutter will develop, and it will just get worse from there. Also, the longer you go between appointments, the stronger your need will become. Go a full day without servicing and not only will you lose control of your bladder, but your bowels as well. Just lick your pussies and suck some cocks like a good little girl, and then come back and see us in two weeks. We can talk then…assuming you can talk, of course.”

Trish looked stunned as she tried to process the information.

Ryan gave her a severe look. “One last thing,” he said. “If you haven’t apologized to your mother and proven you’re sorry to her by the end of the two weeks, you’re going to get all of Ellen’s punishments as well as your own.” He nodded at Becky. “Like I said,” he continued, “Becky really didn’t like your behavior toward your mother.”

Trish was squeaking from apparent need now, and Becky suddenly became very animated in her chair.

Ryan laughed. “I know, Becks,” he said. “Let’s finish up with Liz here, and you can play with your new toy then, okay?”

Becky stuck out her lower lip in a playful pout. Ryan laughed and lay his hand on her hand. Then he grabbed my forearm. I gasped at the sudden sharp pressure.

“Hey!” I said. “You’re hurting me!”

“I’d like to do more than that,” said Ryan. “I don’t have Becky’s ability to read minds, and everything happened so fast, Becky couldn’t tell me either. I had no way of knowing what you were going to do when you ran Becky toward the lake. You scared me, and I didn’t like that feeling at all.

Becky wiggled excitedly in her chair again.

“All right,” said Ryan. “Becky’s getting impatient, so we’re not going to waste time letting you worry about what we’re going to do, much as I’d like to.“ He closed his eyes in concentration. “Suffice to say that Becky won the negotiation in terms of Trish…and I won in regards to you. Your ass is mine, bitch.”

My heart raced at Ryan’s ominous words. What could he do that was worse than what he did to Ellen and Trish?

Ryan gripped my arm far longer than he had Ellen’s or Trish’s. After a long stretch of breathless heartbeats, Ryan finally let go. “There we go,” he said. “All done. Let me get Becks and Trish set up, and then I’ll explain to you what your next month is going to be about.”

Ryan looked at Becky, then nodded. “Good idea,” he said. He turned and flicked his hand at me. “Go to the edge of the lake,” he said, “and wait there. It would be a bad idea to leave.”

And just like that, I could move again.

Most of the time, I don’t mind taking chances, but this was not one of those times. This guy Ryan and his sister had some truly freaky powers, and I had no idea what they had done to me. I walked to the edge of the lake and waited.

Ryan pushed his sister under a tree, then pointed to Trish. “C’mon over, sweetie,” he said. “You can move now.”

Trish had not needed Ryan’s announcement, as her thumb had flown to her mouth before he had even finished his sentence. But then something strange happened…she started jumping up and down.

Ryan shook his head. “Sorry, I forgot to mention that,” he said. “You’re a good little service girl for the next two weeks, so you need to be barefoot. Your feet can’t take the sensation of shoes.”

Trish barely heard him, as she had already dropped to the grass and was removing her shoes and socks. Then she started stamping her bare feet in the grass. “It w-w-wone th-th-thtop!” she screamed. “Puh-puh-puh-pwease, m-m-make it th-th-thtop!”

“Oh, right,” said Ryan, flicking a hand at Trish. “The toes.”

Trish lay back in obvious relief, trying to catch her breath.

“Your toes caused that last bit,” said Ryan. “They have to be bimbo red or hot pink, or that happens again. I’ve muted it for the next two hours, so, as soon as you’re done here, you need to get that taken care of immediately.”

Trish nodded mutely.

“Now, come here,” said Ryan.

Trish stood, thumb in her mouth. She walked nervously to the brother and sister.

Ryan reached down and pulled the front of Becky’s sweat pants away from her. There was the sound of Velcro parting, and moments later Becky was sitting in pink panties. Ryan then reached down and drew her pink panties over her thighs and calves. He then lifted her feet and slipped her panties off completely. He spread her footrests wider, then turned and looked at Trish.

“You know what to do now,” he said.

Incredibly, Trish nodded. Sliding her thumb rapidly back-and-forth between her lips, she stepped forward and dropped to her knees between Becky’s footrests. She placed her hands on Becky’s inner thighs and, amazingly, pressed her mouth to the thin girl’s pussy.

Becky made an audible moan and became quite animated, but the effect on Trish was even more electric. Trish moaned into Becky’s sex and her body shuddered as she began to lick in heated need.

This was mind-blowing. I couldn’t believe that Trish was actually licking another girl’s pussy…in public, no less. I was so caught up in what was happening that I jumped in surprise when Ryan’s voice sounded right next to me.

“Enjoying the view?” he said.

Trying to retain my dignity, I shrugged and acted bored. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. “Whatever,” I said.

“Of course,” said Ryan. “At any rate, the preliminaries are out of the way. It’s time for the main show.”

I shrugged again. I had already resigned myself to the fact that I was probably going to end up blowing the guy. Not my thing, but whatever. Ellen was going to have to play with herself for a week, Trish was going to have to lick some pussy for a couple weeks and I was probably going to have to suck some cock, but it would be done with soon enough and then we’d stay the hell away from Windchaser Park. End of problem.

“Ellen isn’t really a bad girl,” said Ryan. “just misguided. Trish is kind of a hard case, but not really smart enough to do true damage.”

“Yeah,” I said. “So?”

“The problem is you,” said Ryan. “You’re the leader, and you’re smart enough to know what really hurts people. If we keep you busy, it should be enough to keep those two idiots out of trouble as well.”

“Look,” I said, “just do whatever it is you’re gonna do already. I messed up. We screwed with the wrong people. I get it already. Just do it.”

“Already done,” said Ryan. “That’s why I sent you down to the lake. Reflective surface, like a mirror. Take a look.”

What the hell was he talking about?

I glanced down at the surface of the lake. I leaned forward so I could see my reflection. It looked fine. What the hell was he-

Then I saw it.

“My hair?” I said. “My hair is turning blonde?!?”

“Yes,” said Ryan.

“And that’s my punishment?”

“No,” he said. “Not even close. That’s just the beginning. Giving you a bleach job is fun, but that hardly qualifies as a suitable punishment.”

Actually, had he known, it would be a pretty good punishment. I have opinions about ditzy blondes, and that would have been one of the worst…

My eyes widened.

“Yes, I know,” said Ryan. “Becky is a mind-reader, after all.”

My hair was turning into a golden blonde, but, even worse, my hair was growing. I could feel it thickening on my head, getting heavier, extending past my shoulders. But even more embarrassing was the fact that I could feel my boobs swelling.

“Oh, come on!” I said. “You can’t be serious. I used to beat up girls like this in high school!”

“And now you can share their joys,” said Ryan.

I rolled my eyes. Great. I was going to look like a stupid bimbo. It felt like my hair was growing in all directions, and my tee-shirt was beginning to stretch.

“Awww, c’mon,” I said. “Don’t get crazy with the tits, all right?” I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of my discomfort, but the sudden increase in front of me was throwing off my balance. Then I realized my jeans were getting tighter and tighter. There was more to my change than my hair and boobs.

“My hips and waist, too?” I said. “Is this really necessary?”

“Yes,” said Ryan. “It is. Your fingernails as well, if you’re keeping score.”

This was getting bad. My ass was swelling, my hips were widening and my waist was cinching in. The sensations were beyond weird, although, strangely, it didn’t hurt. The pressure below my waist continued to build until, finally, the seams on the hips of my jeans popped and the pressure suddenly disappeared.

I grabbed the waist of my torn jeans with one hand. I held up my other hand. My fingernails had extended beyond the tips of my fingers,

“We arranged a slight delay in certain sensations,” said Ryan, “but, take my word for it- your fingernails and toenails will need to be painted a bright hot pink before or right after you get home, and they will need to be that color or a similar shade for the entire time you are in this state.”

I clenched my teeth and let my retort remain unspoken. This was bad- without a doubt, I looked like a stereotypical airheaded bimbo- but, hell, it could have been worse. At least I wasn’t ending up like Ellen or, worse, Trish. “All right,” I said. “Hot pink. Got it. Am I allowed to wear shoes?”

“Oh, yes,” said Ryan. “In fact, you’ll have to. Once you get home, your feet are going to arch. You’re going to require a four-inch heel to be able to walk anywhere.”

“What?!” I said. “I have to wear high heels?”

“Yes, you do,” said Ryan. “You’ll have to put on heels if you wake up in the middle of the night and have to go to the bathroom.”

I fumed, but silently. This was ridiculous. I didn’t even know how to walk in those kind of heels.

Ryan nodded. “Well, your physical transformation is just about done, and I must say you look marvelous.”

“Very funny,” I said. “Can I, like, go now?”

“Of course not,” said Ryan. “Only your physical transformation is finished so far. Your inner changes are just beginning.”

I’d heard enough. I tensed, considering the possibility of flight.

“Don’t bother,” said Ryan. “Your change is already triggered. It’s happening whether you stay or run. If you run, though, it’ll be permanent. Up to you, of course…”

Arrogant bastard. Gawd, I wished I could take him down. Who the hell did he think he was?

“Why, Liz, I think you’re getting mad,” he said. “Are you really getting mad at someone for bullying you the way you bully everybody else?”

“That was just for fun!” I said. “I didn’t ruin their lives!”

“And I’m not ruining yours,” said Ryan. “This will be done in a month…assuming, of course, you do everything you’re supposed to do. I don’t mind if you try to skimp, though. Your change was by far the most complicated, and it wasn’t easy to arrange. I personally hope you get stuck with it permanently.”

“Whatever!” I said. I wanted to put more heat into it, but it was getting hard to concentrate. My nipples were becoming extremely sensitive, and they were rubbing against the fabric of my bra as they swelled. Then I gasped as they suddenly popped out of the now too-small bra cup.

“Well, there’s one of the changes,” said Ryan. “Your erogenous zones are amplified. A lot. This means your lips, nipples, clit and that tight little backdoor.”

Gawd. He was right. My nipples were rock hard and threatening to push right through my shirt. I was pressing my thighs tightly together, but every little movement caused an explosion of heat from my clit.

“Yep,” said Ryan. “Everywhere.” He leaned forward and unexpectedly goosed me. I squeaked, practically having an orgasm from the invasive contact.

“Stop that, cutie!” I said, giggling. My eyes widened at my words, and I clapped my hand across my mouth.

Ryan laughed. “There’s another change,” he said. “You get to sound like the adorable ditz you resemble now. Every sound you make, every movement, will be translated into adorable bimbo-speak.”

I stamped my foot in frustration and finally cut loose. “Oh, you big meanie!” I said. “You are such a poopy-head!”

Oh, fuck no. This wasn’t happening.

Ryan couldn’t stop laughing. “This is priceless!” he said. “Damn, we’re good. And the changes aren’t even done yet.”

“What?!?” I said. “Cutie, like, c’mon! I can’t stay like this! I’ve learned my lesson, honest!”

“No, you haven’t,” said Ryan. “Yet. But you will when this is done. Now, I’m going to tell you about your new structure.”

My heart pounded. This was getting out of control.

“You know about Ellen,” said Ryan, “and you can see what Trish has to do as well. Guess what yours is going to be?”

This couldn’t be good.

“You,” said Ryan, “are going to have sex twice a day for the next thirty days.”

My eyes widened. “Twice a day for thirty days?” I said. “Like, totally no way!”

Ryan nodded. “Way,” he said. “And there’s more. Each time has to be with someone you haven’t been with before.”

I squeaked at the implications as I did the mental math. “You mean…I have to do, like, sixty strangers?!?”

“Yes,” said Ryan, “although there is one caveat in your favor. You can do someone you’ve been with before as long as it’s a different, ah, orifice, so to speak.”

I blinked, working his words through my battered psyche.

“In other words,” said Ryan, “if Mister X screws you silly on Monday morning, and then you give the fellow a blowjob the following morning, and then let the gentleman nail your tight little backside the following day, they will all count just fine. But nothing else from Mister X will count after that.”

“But that’s still, like, ummmm….”

“Twenty strangers, assuming all of them work all your, ah, orifices. But there’s another caveat that works against you, and it should make you much quicker to offer your services rather than letting guys- or girls- come to you.”

“What, ummmm, what cav…cavi…cav…what else is there?” I asked.

“The other caveat,” said Ryan, “is that you can’t say no to anyone who asks to do you in any way.”

“Can’t say no?” I said.

“That’s correct,” he said. “If Mister Z walks up and says, ‘How about a blowjob, baby?’, then you have to blow him…and it won’t count towards your twice a day requirement.”

“What?!?” I shrieked. “That’s, like, totally not fair!”

“Neither,” said Ryan, “is pushing a girl in a wheelchair into a lake.”

I giggled. I covered my mouth, but it was too late. I could feel my body becoming an overheated, erotic play-toy. Every move felt sensuous. In the space of minutes, I had become a helpless piece of fluff.

“You can’t orgasm unless someone has orgasmed inside you,” said Ryan, “unless, of course, you’ve done a woman. Their orgasm will trigger one for you. Servicing others rewards you. Get it? Heh.”

I giggled inadvertently. Yeah, I got it. Grrrrr.

“Missing even one, ah, appointment would be bad,” said Ryan. “Miss one, and your condition will be extended for three more days. Miss an entire day and a week will be added.” Then he chuckled. “And my favorite part…miss two consecutive days, and your I.Q. begins to drop. Permanently. So whether you do it or not, you’ll be too busy- or too dumb- to cause any more problems for people.”

I stamped my foot in frustration and looked at my reflection in the lake surface.

A lush, blonde stranger stared back at me.

My hair was full, big and blonde, all the way to my waist. My lips were full and pouting, seeming to beg for a cock. My breasts had swelled beyond my ability to guess a size, though I suspected my bras would now require double-D or E-sized cups. My waist had cinched in about two inches, but my hips and ass had widened by the same amount, creating ridiculously lush curves. My eyes were big, blue and devoid of thought or malicious intent. I looked embarrassingly sensuous and dumb.

“Look,” I said. “I’ve totally learned my lesson, honest! I mean, like, totally totally!”

“I’m sure you have,” said Ryan, “and maybe I’ll even believe you when you come back in thirty days and tell me that.”

I was too aroused to get good and mad at him now. My hips were wriggling unconsciously and I was dying for some cock. Any cock.

Then I noticed it was quiet. Very quiet. And I realized why. Trish had brought Becky- and by proxy, herself- to several intense orgasms by mouth, and they were both recovering now. They, along with Ellen, were actually watching Ryan and me with interest.

Ryan’s back was to them both, but he nodded. “Yes, I know they’re watching us,” he said. “I can hear Becky’s thoughts in my head, remember?”

Gawd, I was hot. My breasts jiggled at my slightest move, and every jiggle sent heated tendrils shooting through my belly.

“You look really needy, Liz,” said Ryan. “Why don’t we put on a show for them?” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating his sister and Trish.

As if! I’d probably have to fuck everybody I met for the rest of the day, but I’d be damned if I was going to give him the satisfaction of doing it in front of his sister and Trish.

Ryan laughed. “I was right,” he said. “You haven’t learned yet. Say, Liz, can I fuck you up the ass?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but suddenly found myself turning around and bending way over, my rounded ass in the air. My eyes widened as I felt his hands drawing my tattered jeans over my hips and down my thighs.

“You see,” said Ryan, “this could have counted as one of your assignments for today. Now, since I asked you for it, it’s a freebie and doesn’t count against your daily total. And we get to show you off for an audience.”

I found myself stepping out of my jeans and panties, still bent over, Ryan’s hands sitting infuriatingly on my bare hips. That’s when I realized there was a crowd of people on the other side of the lake watching us.

I giggled. “But, cutie,” I said, “there’s, like, people watching!”

“Yes,” said Ryan. “Think of it as marketing.”

I gasped as Ryan’s fingers suddenly swiped wetness from my embarrassingly lubricated pussy. Then I gave an adorable squeal as his cock suddenly pressed against my tight rear opening.

“Oh!” I said. “Cutie, be careful! I’ve never had it back there! I’ll-“

And suddenly my ass was full of cock.

I squeaked and shuddered, paralyzed by an explosion of heated sensations from my erotically enhanced rear opening. Breathless, helplessly aroused, it registered through a haze that Ryan’s cock was stroking into my virgin ass. His hands were holding my hips as his pelvis pressed against my rounded cheeks again and again.

“Wow,” said Ryan. “This is excellent. I am really going to fill your ass, sweetie.”

This wasn’t happening. I was not getting butt-fucked in front of a crowd in a public park. This wasn’t happening!

Oh, it’s definitely happening, said a voice in my head. But I do hope you enjoy it when my brother fills you up back there.

“I’m totally sorry, Becky!” I said. “Please, like, I really really am!” But the sense of her presence in my mind was gone. A moment later, Ryan’s hands tightened on my hips as he buried his cock fully inside my ass.

“Oh, yessssss…!” he said, and I felt his cock swell as his cum began surging into my ass.

My eyes widened, and suddenly I was squealing as my body erupted in pleasure. My boobs jiggled wildly as I wriggled and writhed in helpless rapture. I couldn’t stop. Heated sensations were searing every nerve ending I had and colors were exploding before my eyes.

It seemed to go on forever, but eventually, slowly, I came back to earth. I was still breathing heavy and my heart was pounding, but conscious thought was returning. In fact, conscious thought had returned enough for me to register the fact that the crowd on the other side of the lake was still cheering and applauding.

My cheeks reddened and I glared at Ryan. I stamped my foot in frustration, inadvertently causing my huge boobs to jiggle and sparking more applause from the watching crowd.

“You…you…you stupid-head!” I said.

Ryan laughed. “Don’t worry, we’re almost done,” he said. “Just some parting gifts from Becky and I.”

My heart pounded again. What else could they possibly do?

“From Becky,” said Ryan, “is a gift that will keep on giving. Your body and psyche have been realigned to complete receptiveness of semen. In other words, semen now has an addictive effect on you, which becomes stronger with each exposure. And yes, that includes women’s ejaculate as well.” Ryan gave a nasty chuckle. “You’ll be a fully addicted slut by the end of the thirty days.”

Addicted to sperm? Bastards…!

“And, finally,” said Ryan, “is the matter of your tattoos. Your present set isn’t really becoming for an adorable bimbo girl, sooooo…”

What? My tats? They couldn’t…!

Suddenly I was covered with the horrible feeling of ants crawling under my skin. I slapped at my arms, but I couldn’t get it to stop. The horrid sensation continued for nearly a minute. Finally, exhausted, covered in sweat, I felt the sensations stop.

“There you go, Lizzie,” said Ryan. “New bimbo-centric tattoos. No charge.”

My eyes widened yet again. The ink of my tats had apparently slid over my body and regrouped into new designs. Looking at the lake surface, I realized the dagger on my shoulder blade had become a rose. My forearm tats had reformed to “I ♥ Hello Kitty,” with a picture of the kitty right above the words. My Asian symbols had become hearts. And, worst of all, my lower back lightning bolt had become a thorny vine circling the word “BIMBO.” I now had a true tramp stamp.

Ryan gave me a smile. “One last thing about your tattoos,” he said. “For every person you service over the next thirty days,” he said, “some ink from that vine will move itself to your ass and form the name of that person. So, at the end of your punishment, you will have twenty to sixty names permanently tattooed on your ass as a reminder of your punishment.”

I blinked. “Like, oh my gawd!” I said. “That’s, like, totally wrong!”

“Also,” continued Ryan, “any new tattoos you try to get, the ink will simply move to the vine to await redistribution, so to speak. If you liked the sensation of the ink moving under your skin, feel free to get new tattoos.”

My heart pounded. We had lost to a skinny guy and a girl in a wheelchair. I couldn’t even reply.

Ryan waved to the crowd on the other side of the lake. Then he winked at Becky, who smiled back.

“Yes, I agree, Becky,” he said. “It’s simply a picturesque day here at Windchaser Park.”