The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Sarah Marker watched the player piano in the hotel lobby. She watched as the keys lifted up and down, several at once to make chords, banging out some old ragtime song. A cardboard sign said “Please Do Not Play the Piano” and was placed where usually there would be sheet music. Sarah grinned, thinking that the old player piano must be pretty good to know this song so well by heart.

Luke walked over from the check-in desk and made one of those exaggerated “the hell?” gestures toward the piano. Sarah shrugged as Luke held out an envelope containing her room key.

“For some strange reason, they gave me the room next to the ice machine, so lucky you,” he said.

“Well, I’m sure that means mine’s by the elevator. It all evens out, right?”

“I guess so,” he said, grabbing the handle of his luggage. “C’mon, let’s get settled in.”

“I’ll follow,” she said.

Luke’s room was actually next to hers. “Let me know if you want to get dinner later. I’ve got the company gold card this week.”

“I will,” she replied. “Though I may take a quick nap first.”

She slipped the plastic key into the slot and waited for the light to turn green. With a click, she opened the door.

There wasn’t anything special about the room. A narrow foyer with a dark enclave that stored a useless stand to put your luggage on. An oversized cherry wood cabinet with a television inside it. A round table with two seats on either side. A nightstand next to a queen-sized bed. A bathroom to the right of the bed with a tub and a stand-up shower, encircled by a plexiglass door.

The view from the window, however, was magnificent. Sarah could see down the boulevard that the hotel sat near the clubs and bars with their colored lights just now starting to turn on. Past that were the buildings that made up the financial district and then the mountains. It was still an hour away from sunset, but the mountains were already causing things to get dark.

Sarah stood in the window and finally took off her black suit jacket and threw it across one of the chairs. Her back was feeling a little sore and she rubbed the small of it, thinking how she wouldn’t mind just changing into some comfy clothes and staying in, but seeing this view made her want to explore a little.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, exhaled, and patted her business skirt on the knees three times. Her reflection was visible in the dark screen of the television, slightly out of proportion as it bulged forward. She spread her arms across the bed and leaned back on her palms, still looking at her reflection. Cocking her head to the side, she decided that she’d take a nap before going out.

She unbuttoned her shirt and laid her head down on the pillow.

It’s one of the most disorienting feelings you can have: waking up and not knowing where you are. Sarah’s vision was blurred from sleep and she licked the top of her mouth from thirst. Her throat was so raspy. The light in the foyer was on, allowing her to focus her vision on something. Her coat was still on the chair, but it was dark outside the window. The room was incredibly warm as she gathered her bearings and the hotel sheets felt so rough against her bare skin.

Her bare skin. Sarah realized that she wasn’t wearing her clothes anymore.

The clock on the nightstand said 6:02, but she couldn’t quite figure out if it was morning or night just yet. She pushed the heavy blankets off of her, pulled her legs around and stood up, her breasts swaying. Her skin was wet from perspiration and felt very sensitive to finally being free in the open air. She stepped across her discarded clothes and turned into the bathroom, covering her eyes with one hand as she felt for the light switch with the other.

Her eyes adjusted and she looked at herself in the mirror. Her shoulder-length blond hair was matted and soaked. Her cheeks were red. And maybe it had something to do with being exposed to the air, but her nipples stood hard from her large melon-sized breasts. Her sex was moist and she could smell herself in the room. She again felt a bit disoriented, not knowing if she had had a fever or just some really wild dreams.

She relieved herself and then got into the shower. She started to feel better. She still couldn’t believe she had slept so hard. Faint memories zapped past her, like an airplane in the sky that you can hear but can’t see. Falling through space, feeling the throbbing of her pulse from inside. She definitely felt like she had been out for more than just an hour.

She walked back into her room and saw daylight slowly turning her window blue. That answered that question. She might as well get dressed, grab a bagel at the continental breakfast downstairs and meet Luke at the booth in the adjacent convention center. She hadn’t even unpacked her bag from yesterday afternoon. It had been a long couple of flights with a layover at Mansfield, but she couldn’t believe she had been that exhausted.

She turned the television on to the Weather Channel and pulled out her outfit for the first day of the convention. She took her time putting on her underwear and bra, a white blouse with pleated stripes, a gray skirt that came to an inch above her knee and her matching blazer.

She pulled her stockings out, but for the life of her, could not get the holes to go over her feet. She tried for a few minutes, sometimes feeling like there was no hole and other times as if her feet were too big. When she accidentally ripped a hole in them, she sighed and moved on to the shoes.

The hose was one thing, but now her shoes wouldn’t fit. They were your plain black woman’s business shoe with no flair that she had worn a million times, but she could not for the life of her get her feet to go in. She tried for thirty minutes. She could get the toe in, but not the heel. She could get her heel in, but not her toes. She’d put one side of her foot into the shoe, but could not turn it where the other side would slide in. Each minute more frustrating than the next.

God Dammit! she cried and threw the shoes across the room into the foyer. She sat on the chair with her hands gripping the sides of the armrests. “The hell?” Luke said as he noticed the piano yesterday. It summed up exactly what she was feeling at this moment.

Fuck it, she thought. I’ll just work the booth in my bare feet. This was going to be a long business trip.

Sarah felt the hard carpet of the hotel’s hallway under her feet, checked to make sure she had her materials and room key, and shut the door with a ker-chunk. A room service cart was parked in front of an open door, sunlight shining into the otherwise dark hallway. She thought about knocking on Luke’s door, but after the whole shoe episode, decided that getting down to the booth and behind the counter was what she really needed right now.

Luke was already there anyway and together, the two of them gave away notepads and envelope openers with their credit union’s logo on them to passerby and convention-goers, who were there mostly for the lectures and workshops as well as God knows what after five o’clock with their company credit cards.

It wasn’t until after lunch that Luke even noticed Sarah’s lack of footwear. “Where’d your shoes go? Your feet getting tired already?”

Sarah felt tense for a moment, having almost forgotten about the strange twelve hours between taking a nap yesterday to leaving her room this morning. There was no way that she could tell Luke or anyone that she simply had been unable to fit her feet into her shoes. She was starting to wonder if she had made that up or just been confused in her grogginess.

“Just going al fresco today! I knew I’d be behind this booth where no one could see, so I just decided to leave the high heels in the room.”

Luke stared at her bare feet for a moment and then kicked off his brown loafers. “Makes sense to me.”

“Are you hungry? You were a no-show last night, and we both have some pretty good allowances as long as we use the card.”

“What’s nearby?” Sarah asked.

Luke was boxing everything up and hiding them behind the green curtain that hung from the display table. “I dunno. There’s some chain restaurants around here. We probably can’t get too fancy or expenses will be on us.”

“Yeah, I could go for something quick like that.”

“Well, you’ll need to put on some shoes first. Don’t want to get detained for health violations.”

Sarah hadn’t even thought of that. How was she supposed to go anywhere between her room and the floor without shoes? Okay, she thought. This is stupid. She was going to go up there, put her shoes on, and be done with this silliness.

“Of course, I will,” she said to Luke. “I’ll meet you in the lobby in a half hour.”

She padded out of the convention area and waited for an elevator. One fella noticed her feet and gave her a look, but she got back to her room without incident. She closed the door behind her, went straight to the bed, sat down, and picked up her left shoe.

Or she tried to. She couldn’t even pick the shoe up anymore. She would reach her hand down to the shoe lying on the hotel room floor, and her hand would go numb. She tried to stick her hand inside the shoe like a stump, and even that wouldn’t work. She tried to pick it up with both hands, but the shoe would suddenly feel greasy and gross and slippery and she couldn’t get any traction on it.

The same thing happened with the right shoe. As soon as she pulled her hands away from the footwear, she could feel her extremities again. She began to tremble and called Luke. She could faintly hear his phone ring through the wall.

“Yeah?” he answered.

She was trying to stay calm. This was going to take longer than she thought and there was still no way she could tell anyone, even her co-worker. She would have to sort this out on her own, for now.

“Go eat without me. I suddenly got some stomach pains. I’ll catch up later.”

“Uh, okay. I hope everything’s all right. Can I get you anything?”

She could feel tears in her eyes. “I’ll let you know, okay?”

She hung up the phone and fought back her frustration. The insanity of it all was giving her a temperature.

After two hours of staring at her shoes and feeling like she was having a nervous breakdown, Sarah stood up, picked up her key, and went back downstairs. In the hall between the hotel and the convention center was a convenience store selling gum and aspirin. In the corner, she found a rack of those ugly rubber Croc shoes, pinned together by a plastic clip.

As soon as she reached for it, her hands went numb. This could not be happening. She grabbed the rack and shook it, trying to rattle the cheap shoes off of the rod. The shoes wobbled, but did not fall.

As the cashier asked if she needed help, Sarah ran out of the store and back upstairs. She laid across her bed, her eyes darting back and forth toward the ceiling before finally welling up and sobbing again. Her vision blurred from the tears.

The next thing she realized was that the room felt like it was on fire again. She also noticed the air was humid and thick and smelled like, well, herself. She sat up and saw that not only had she fallen asleep without warning, but her clothes were on the floor again.

And she was so horny that she couldn’t stop rubbing and pawing herself. It was like a fever dream, where she was pulling a thread of nylon that remained taut and held back by something. She fell back on to the bed and kept tugging harder and faster, her left hand grazing across her inflated nipple, her jaw gaping open and closed, perspiring in the room’s heat as her scent became more pungent before finally, something snapped, and her back arched across the bed as she struggled to find her breath.

She lay in her wet sheets, smoothing the damp hair off of her forehead and staring into space, wondering what time it was this time. She turned her head to the left and winced, 5:19 AM.

Her shower was uneventful. She stepped across her shoes and gave them an indicting look. She pulled her panties on and snapped her bra shut in the back. She put her arms through a yellow blouse and buttoned it up before absent-mindedly picking up an olive-colored skirt and stepping her right leg up to put it on.

No matter which of the hundred combinations there were to try, and she did nothing but try for 90 minutes, there was seemingly no way she could pull her skirt up.