The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It had been a long day, and the last thing Katie wanted to do was suck a dick on the bus.

She’d gotten fucked four times, she’d already had five or six cocks in her mouth, and men had unloaded down her throat every single time. She had cum, in public, in front of a bunch of people, often. During lunch she’d been bent over a conference room table and pounded senseless by the company CFO, right before she could get at the chocolate chip cookies. And needed to make a big production of yowling and screaming and going nuts over his dick while the men steadily took all the baked goods.

And now this kid who was maybe eighteen was eyeing her. He had headphones in and his phone out, and no doubt there were dozens of girls at school he could fondle and fuck. Katie doubted she looked that good. Her shirt was a blue halter-top, scooped underneath her tits, matched with a pair of high-waisted shorts that showed a little midriff. She had been jizzed on all day and probably smelled like a brothel. Her feet hurt in five inch heels.

“Hey,” the boy said. He did that little head nod men used these days—the minimum necessary to communicate that they wanted a hummer. A little incline towards their own crotches.

Katie sighed internally. There was nothing for it. The Big Secret was all she had.

“Me?!” she said, in pure sex-kitten. Her mouth dropped open in shocked, pleased surprise. “Oh, really sir?”

The boy smiled faintly. He nodded her over. Katie leapt up, making her way over to him as fast as she could in the bright white heels. The lazy boy didn’t even unbuckle, making her undo his jeans. Katie made sure her lacquered nails shook with eagerness, her eyes trained on his fly. When it sprung out she gave a happy gasp, and then closed her eyes as she lowered onto it.

Well, another blowjob. She sucked with enthusiasm and hard won skill. She’d watched the actual bimbos and mimicked their methods, which were amateurish. They mostly wanted penis in their mouths, so there was no operatic licking up and down. The bimbos put their heads down and worked to get the candy out. As usual she found a way to rationalize it—it was a decent enough dick, cut, showered, pleasantly musky. Her body reacted to it, trained to explode with sexual response. Katie made sure to moan around it. Men loved that.

She snuck a peak. The boy had his head back, his eyes closed, his music flowing. She was just a pleasant way to pass the time. He’d never suspect the Big Secret.

She wasn’t a bimbo at all.

It didn’t work on her. Well, it DID, in the sense that Katie had tits that were obscene, and a body made out of sex and cream. But that was just… body. She wasn’t just her body. She could sit inside her body and think—yes, he’s about to climax, and I’m about to swallow, and coo over it and say how good he tastes, but that’s not really me.

He started to cum.

To this day she had no clue how they’d done it. Some sort of sex virus or nanomachine or something in the water or special implanted messages on TV. Aerosol released on jet planes, engineered plants. As far as she knew there’d been preparations for decades, stuffing the world with primed code, ready for activation.

In retrospect she had spent a few weeks in a particularly good mood. A really good mood, a spectacularly good mood. An enormous happiness and contentment that was shared broadly across everyone she met, smiles abounding even on public transportation. People laughed and hugged and teased each other fondly. Nothing was worrisome in the slightest. Perhaps someone should’ve said—this is weird. People just aren’t this happy. But Katie had gone with it. And if her body had glowed in the light above the mirror, if her boobs were particularly heavy that week, well, hard to complain. Incredibly hard to complain. If she’d eyed the men at work with unusual interest, if her mouth had watered, hey, she was a sexual person. Girls could look.

But that had popped when she’d run into Candace giving Ryan a gentle, lazy handjob in the conference room. They’d turned to her with utter lack of concern. She’d interrupted a peaceful, loving moment. He’d sat down on the conference table, pants around his ankles, and she was giving him a slow, sloppy tug on his oozing prick. Clearly they’d fuck or suck at some point, but they were living in the moment, enjoying this moment of sexual release. His dick was an urgent red.

Katie had—pasted a mildly embarrassed smile on her face, apologized for interrupting, and walked out. Down the office and away from the conference room, only to see her boss with an intern on his lap, his hands down her waistband, while she giggled cheerfully and whispered in his ear. When she’d cum, very loudly, no one in the office had reacted at all.

The boy was a gusher. Rich dollops of cum jetted into her mouth. She made approving noises and swallowed. At least whatever wizardry had been done to her made it taste really good. Not subtle—just sugar and salt—but good. All the girls believed with all their heart that it was extremely nutritious and who knows, maybe it was.

“Thanks,” Katie said, with just a hint of cum-drunk slur at the end. The boy gave her a partial nod and picked up his phone. And perfect timing—she’d just made her stop. There were worse ways to spend a bus ride. Sometimes she had to half-heartedly masturbate just to keep up the charade. Bimbos didn’t stare out the window, after all.

Katie took a weird pride in her walk.

Sure, all the bimbos did it automatically, and her tits and ass now naturally swung all over the place. Still, she made sure to put extra style into it. One foot in front of the other. Little steps. Swinging the shoulder blades, so even at her much slower rate of speed her boobs jiggled around pleasantly. With all that going her butt naturally rubbed around, put friction onto her shorts.

It was funny, but all the ads on her way home had stopped bothering with sex appeal. Yes, they were garish and crude and in big neon colors, and were just shy of screaming CONSUME. But they didn’t need butts and boobs. The products were certainly much more simple—tubs of sugar cream were all well-represented, basic jeans. Hats. Girls weren’t doing the shopping anymore, so it was all meant for men. Girls didn’t even bother to look, except to marvel, very briefly, at the pretty colors.

Except for Katie.

It just didn’t work on her—all of her. Something about her didn’t switch over to sex kitten dim simpering bimbo. It couldn’t be genetic, judging from last Christmas, where Mom had spent dinner gushing about how horny she was for Dad. And all the aunts and uncles playing grab-ass around the tree. Her brainiest cousin, Elise, loved to just post closeups of her pussy on facebook, with no comments, and no reason. Often dripping cum.

Katie had hated that, especially because it meant she had to do it too.

A cop car idled by very slowly. Katie forced herself to keep up the butt-waggle, to smile casually at the oncoming black and white. It was a real challenge to keep up appearances, to pretend to be another fuck-happy dumbo with gas between her ears. It wasn’t even as simple as just throwing herself onto cocks. It was a mood she had to mimic. Lord knows what they’d do if they caught her—probably make her cum over and over until her brain was a lump of old wet towels. Kinda hot, but not worth it.

The police car paused, then stopped. Katie forced herself to keep moving forwards. But then two long-legged girls got out of both sides, in porno cop clothes, dildo nightsticks. It was a weird relief. The municipal authorities were struggling to keep the lights on, but they’d shown great ingenuity in adding opportunities to fuck to city services. Trash collectors had an entire squad of cum girls who’d clean up unwanted sperm, and every city park had bimbos for the public to enjoy.

Katie knew, intell-intellec—well, whatever the word was—that no one was hunting down resisting girls. There weren’t any. She could walk all day long without seeing other than horny glazed eyes, pick any college. Friends of hers, with master’s degrees, now wore pink shorts with BUTT SLUT on the back and had strong opinions only about anal sex. There was not enough of it.

She’d made it home.

The doorman was a sweetheart named Kennedy who kept his wife underneath the security desk. There were times Katie forgot she was there—it was very rare to see her. She apparently ducked underneath in the morning and stayed all day, to make sure she didn’t bother anyone. The best clue she was at work was when Kennedy didn’t stand up when a resident came in. And when it was really quiet out, a subtle ‘mmph’ of a cock being sucked.

“Got a fresh bag for you, Katie!” he really liked her. They’d never had sex, as much as she’d pleaded with him.

“Oh, really?? Oh yay!” Ugh, of course he did. Girls weren’t making much money anymore. And what she did make went to sex toys, the huge amount of gross candy-crunch chemical laced food she craved, and rent. So girls just traded clothes around instead of buying new ones. They were usually sticky and wet, but it wasn’t like old sex smelled bad, anymore.

Kennedy pointed at a bag on a couch, which meant he was definitely getting a blowjob underneath the table. Katie made sure to flash him her pussy anyway, bending over low and slow to dump out the contents.

“Oh its all so cute!” it was all hideous. Some sort of robot theme, or perhaps a 70s-era spacegirl look. Everything was shiny neon with faux-metal gloss. It looked like an old skating rink scraped on to too-tight shorts and tops. Katie was sure it would glow in the dark. The big heels with stars on them definitely would. “I love it! Kennedy thank you so much!”

“Its nothing.”

“Oh are you sure there isn’t room for me under there?” Katie teased, secure in the knowledge he’d say no. He gave her a quick heart attack, appearing to consider it.

“You’re making me waver,” Kennedy said, laughing. “You know you got a little something on your chin?”

Katie checked as fast as she could. Had she really let some sperm drip out? Humiliating and wasteful. There was nothing there.

“Aw, Kennedy, now you gotta give me some,” she said, aggrieved. She waved her ass at him a little more. “You know I’m the best pussy in the whole big building!” Katie was pretty sure it was true. Slutty, resculpted body directed by a non-bimbo mind. She did things to cocks no one else did. She milked them.

“Ah, now you’re making her suck extra hard,” Kennedy said. “Go on up. I should make both you ladies—ah! Katie get the hell out of her this minute.”

She jerked up, worried she’d actually angered a man, before he deliberately winked at her.

Such a sweetie.

Home.

Her own apartment—pretty rare, now. Girls either moved in with some man or flitted from bed to bed. Of course it was an itty-bitty space and she had to fuck the landlord like, a ton. But he liked having girls in the place—a good draw to potential tenants. Of course she had to keep her door open, in case someone wanted to wander in and fuck her, but that was fairly rare. It had been days since the last time, and usually a guy on the floor she already knew.

As usual Katie checked underneath her well-worn mattress to make sure it was still there. She didn’t dare draw it out, but she could feel the warmth and sharpness under her thumb.

Her book. HER book.

She’d had hundreds of them, once, and made a big show of dumping all her “dumb-ass stupid book shit” down the trash chute, giggling all the time. But she’d held on to the one. And when she had time, and she dared to close the door, she’d read it. After dinner, and TV, and vibing.

First, a check in the mirror. Before all of THIS Katie had been a petite and scrawny brunette, nice face, but with a sense that puberty hadn’t worked very hard. A runner’s body, she’d told herself, compact and about as curvy as a Kansas highway. That had gone away real quick. She’d sprouted like everyone else, packing on shiny new thighs and bulging, oversized tits. She had stupid person lips. Katie wriggled out of her shorts, relieved. She could see her clit if she looked down—it popped out now, swollen and damp. It was weird.

Naked from the waist down, she popped open a bunch of Cow Sticks and guzzled some milk. Her body craved all of it, all the salty-sweet junk, the suspicious milk jugs that were certainly laced. It was insanely cheap and reminded her of kid gogurt, except it fueled huge tits. Then a huge bowl of Girl Cereal. That was the name she’d given it, although it had not a single word on it, with just a picture of a smiling woman on the front. It was like cheerios doused in drugs, and she ate five bowls a day. A huge box cost a quarter.

No rest for the secretly non-bimbo. Katie watched TV spread-eagled, one hand jamming big handfuls of lady cheerios into her mouth, the other idly playing with herself. There was plenty of non-porno programming, but she tended towards it anyway. Katie had a theory that the sitcom replays were the ones with the heavy sublimina—sub—the TV magic in them. There was no reason to stuff that into a porno—who’d watch it but the already heavily-bimboized?

She rubbed at her clit, careful not to cum. She had to stay wet for the guys. That, too, was part of the routine. Dinner always left her randy, her body buzzing and restless with the influx of turgid hormones. And her clit was so big and hot it was hard not to just idly flick at it, get something out of her overly stuffed new body. It felt good. On screen a girl rocked back and forth between two men. It was actually a very well shot scene, perfectly framed so that as one dick disappeared into her mouth, the other was sliding out of her asshole. It reminded her of old movies she’d used to watch, back when they had Oscars and Emmys and stuff.

“Heya Katie!”

Craig was back. Craig was back! Katie leapt up, mouth full of meaty-tasting crunchies, and ran for the door. “Craig! You’re back!”

He lived just down the hall, and traveled all the time. But when he was back Katie worked hard to invite herself over, to live as his rug. Craig was the BEST.

“Whoa! Kinda… naked there, Katie,” Craig was such a dear. He wore rimless glasses and kept himself clean-shaven, despite the big beards all the men favored these days. Although today he looked rugged, unshaven, red-eyed.

“I’ll put on some clothes and then can I come over?” Katie said. She leaned into him. Her breath had to smell like narcotics, but this was CRAIG. “Please? Please please?”

“Oh, sure,” Craig said. He pointed at her slit, which was drooling lubricant down her thighs. “Clothes! Undies! I have nice furniture!”

Undies undies undies… Katie had to have some somewhere. Pairs she wore tended not to make it home. Finally she had a burst of inspiration, and pulled on one of the mucky pairs of swim bikini briefs she’d just acquired. It was a pearl-luminescent. Over that, a silver-grey skirt. It was as decent as she’d been in weeks. She even wiped the juice off her thighs.

Craig handed her a beer when she walked in. She giggled at it. Pure Craig, offering her a beer.

“You used to LOVE beer,” he said, settling into the couch.

“I used to love a lot of shit,” Katie said. She settled into the couch, putting her legs across his lap, her calves across his lap. They’d probably end up fucking, but Craig always liked to chit-chat first.

She sipped at it, cautious. Foul, heavy, dank. It was hard to believe she’d used to like this stuff. “Yum,” she told him.

“You don’t need to pretend,” Craig said. She shrugged, checked to make sure he’d closed his door. His apartment was pristine and cultured. Books packed tight into bookcases, prints in nice frames on the wall, a collection of scotches on a walnut drink cabinet. He had a collection of knickknacks from travel up on the mantle. Katie snuggled in. This was nice.

“So, how’s the trip?” she said, when he didn’t immediately put his hand between her legs. “You look super duper tired.”

“Yeah, it’s—it’s getting weirder. I get to my hotel and on the check-in there’s a form, like a WRITTEN form, where I can put down what girl I want for my room. This isn’t even a very nice hotel. It’s a chain. They’re listed by hair color.”

“Ooh,” Katie said, interested. She rarely heard about what was going on in the world. “What’d you pick? Redhead?”

“Redhead was—no kidding—an extra charge!” Craig took a long draw from his bottle. It was a very manly look. He smelled like jet planes and leather jackets. Katie wanted to close her eyes. “So who’d you pick?” she insisted.

“Brunette,” Craig confessed. Dark brown Katie with the real nice tits giggled, delighted. “There’s hundreds of beds, are there really—and then you know what breakfast was?”

“Pussy.”

“Pussy and cereal. That garbage that gets you hard all day long. Not even raisins. And milk. Maybe cow milk. Maybe. And then naked girls walking around. They had a little bar set up at waist height for the girls to hold on to. Coffee was good, though.” he finished the bottle.

“What was her name?” Katie said.

“Huh?” Craig seemed confused.

“The brunette.”

“Oh,” Craig flushed. He didn’t remember. “Amber.” No way it was Amber.

“Who’d you fuck on the plane?” Katie said.

Craig reached for her bottle. She dodged, playful, nestling it between her boobs. But after he continued, more determined, she gave it over. He drained that one, too. Then he turned on the TV with a very resolute gesture.

“Katie, you remember this show? You used to tell me about how much you liked it?”

Katie gave it a brief glance.

She’d thought about telling Craig the Big Secret. She’d definitely masturbated to the idea, dozens of times. They’d fuck and fuck and fuck and then she’d confess that it was all a show, that she was somehow immune, and then he’d sob tears of joy, and they’d fuck some more. She’d wear normal person clothes in his apartment, and they’d discuss literature stuff, and drink scotch.

But… Craig was a man. How could she trust a man with the big secret? Ultimately she was theirs to be used, right? A plush fuck bunny with a nice warm cunt. How much respect did a sex toy deserve? No one kept their toy’s secrets.

“Do you?” Craig demanded, intense. Katie looked for real, startled. Right, the show with the dragons. And just then, one of the characters was getting what was definitely a mildly-off-screen blowjob.

“Oh, hey now, here we go,” she said, appreciative. Off-screen blowjobs! What a world it had been.

Maybe she should tell him. He looked so sad. Katie decided—she’d rub at his dick. If he turned her down, as snuggly and wet and hot as she was… maybe he could be trusted. Maybe. She’d at least hint. She arched her toes and dipped into his lap, where he was extremely rock-iron hard. Craig sighed.

“Alright, I’ve kept you waiting long enough,” he said. He put down his beer. “Flip over, bimbo. Lets try that butt you keep waving at me.”

She’d been urging him to try her ass for a long time, so she didn’t feel… disappointment, exactly. A little sadness, maybe, evaporating already as Craig’s nice strong hands took hold of her, positioned her on the couch so her ass was in the air. Would it really be better, to give up the big secret, and forego a vigorous ass fuck? Was this all so bad, to be secretly the worst bimbo in the world? And the best one, too, judging by how Craig moaned the first time he pushed all the way in. Her body started to light up. His dick was so familiar, so hard.

“Amber. Come on,” she teased, as he started to grunt and push. “How dumb do you think I am?”

Butt full of Craig cum, Katie flopped hard onto her own bed.

Definitely no risk of Craig thinking she was secretly a smartie, from the way she’d behaved. They’d fucked as close to animal as possible. Katie doubted she’d said any real words, and he’d been savage, pumping into her, barely letting her catch her breath. Her tits felt thin and stretched. It had been good—all sex was good—but it wasn’t totally clear it was human. And from his pent-up spooge he hadn’t jizzed all day. Some of it had spurted across her back, a river of thick jizz that barely flowed when she finally stood up. She made a note to visit him the next day. It wasn’t healthy to only cum a few times.

When she’d finally come to, he’d been sprawled, asleep, his dick floppy between his legs. She’d covered him up with a blanket and made her way back, leaving her clothes there. Always good to have an excuse to go over to Craig’s apartment.

Should she have just… TOLD him? They’d have the secret together, and then they could watch the dragon show together, read books to each other, all the stuff smart people did, reveling in a shared confidence that was the most intimate thing anyone could have. It’d be like marriage on the spot. They could even fuck like actual smart people, and do things like talk during sex, instead of snarling and pawing at each other, bodies jackhammering in a pleasurable haze.

But he was a MAN. Men were… different. How could she presume to impose on him? To force him to hold a secret? And then what—did she expect him to stick to her, or go around banging brunch bimbos?

What if he liked her dumb?

Enough.

It was time. Katie had closed the door. She pulled the covers over her, reached underneath the mattress, and slid the book out. She kept a flashlight in with the dildos and vibrators in the bedstand. She flicked the light on, and turned to the first page.

“It is,” Katie read. A wave of fatigue swept through her, and the old familiar fear. She’d done it, no reason to tempt fate and whoever was watching for still smart girls. She switched the light off, put the book back, and laid down in the bed. The sheets were stiff and musky—overdue to wash them. And she needed a shower. But she was so, super tir—

There was a knock at the door.

Katie risked a very long sigh.

She sat up. What if it was Craig, returning her clothes? She slid out of bed, naked, and opened the door.

Another girl, someone she didn’t know. In a trashy blue t-shirt that read YUM on top of CUM, YUM warped by some of the bigger boobs Katie had ever seen.

Katie had no idea what she herself looked like—stark naked, bleary-eyed, sleep-fuzzed and continuously fucked.

“Oh!” the girl squeaked. There must be gas in those boobs, Katie thought. “I’m, um, Mandy! My boyf… my owner and I just moved in down the hall and I thought I’d say hi! Hi!”

“Hi!” Katie said, smiling. Oh, so she’d be having a lot of sex with this person, in the near future. It was thoughtful for her to come over and introduce herself, without the boy. She wore a blue collar with a heart-shaped locked on it. That was getting to be common. “I’m Katie! Come on in!”

“I brought booze!” Mandy said. She held up a bottle with a pink liquid inside. It had a pink bow around the stem of the bottle.

Mandy slept over.

They woke up to a new day. Saturday, if Katie remembered right. No work. The sun came up and blazed on her, glorious, filling her new curves with warm heat. She always made sure to catch the sunrise on her tits. It was a very nice morning.

Her head pounded from finishing the bottle. Mandy’s owner was off somewhere, so it was just two girls, having a night. It was clear they were going to be good friends. Mandy had brought over some of her own vibrators and they’d traded, getting to know the taste of each other. What they each liked. That sort of thing.

“Come back under the covers!” Mandy whispered. She had the softest, squeakiest voice Katie had ever heard. She complied. They snuggled against each other in translucent morning light.

“Do you want to know a secret?” Mandy said, after awhile. She pulled her fingers away to emphasize that she was being solemn.

“Muh?” Katie said, still a little drunk. At least she didn’t get hangovers anymore. Heck, she felt good. Soon there’d be a shower, with Mandy, and then some girl cereal, and then Craig, and then she’d figure out the rest of her life.

“I’m not actually a dumb bimbo,” Mandy said. She stared into Katie’s eyes. “Don’t tell anyone. It has to be a secret. I’m smart as FUCK.”

Katie jerked back. Just like that? They’d met last night.

Mandy looked at her earnest, afraid. What was she supposed to do with this? A perfect bimbo would giggle and forget about it. A good bimbo would say “uh huh Mandy girl” and let her master know she was being bad. And was she for real? Mandy seemed pretty dumb. Although she’d acted with the best etiquette so far, even letting Katie use the extra-big vibrator with the amazing probe attached to it. Of course there was an easy way to test—pull out the book underneath the bed, let Mandy read from it, share secrets. But that wasn’t how bimbos behaved.

Mandy was waiting, nervous. They were under all the covers together.

Katie opened her cocksucker mouth to respond.