The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Card reader broken. Please pay cashier inside. Thank’s!

Margot groaned and checked her phone to see if there was another gas station nearby. One that had working card readers and signs with proper grammar.

No luck. This truck stop was her only option for twenty miles, and she was already squeaking by on empty.

She rested her head against the top of her car. It had been a shitty trip so far. A late start on the road. A call from her former landlord claiming that she’d damaged a wall. And now an empty tank at the sketchiest truck stop in the middle of absolutely nowhere.

Deep breath. “Here we go.”

Between her car and the gas station entrance, there were three girls, women, wearing skimpy, tight outfits and making seductive faces at her like they didn’t know how else to interact with people. Knowing smirks, licked lips, hooded eyes. She avoided eye contact, but that took her gaze to a truck parked at the edge of the lot, where yet another woman was talking to the driver and preparing to climb inside the cabin with him.

Margot realized she might be the only woman in a ten-mile radius who was wearing long sleeves and no makeup. At least the other truckers milling about ignored her.

She hated the inside of gas stations, especially at night. The harsh fluorescent lights made her feel like she was in some kind of Geneva Convention-breaking torture chamber, and the cashiers always wanted to make chit-chat.

This cashier had a bushy grey beard peppered with food crumbs. She smelled sour cream and onion when she got close to the counter. Another scantily-clad woman, blonde with dark brown roots, stood a few feet away at the counter, idly chewing on a candy bar. She was technically looking in Margot’s direction, but she had that look in her eyes like she wasn’t really seeing whatever she was looking at, glazed over and distracted by unreachable thoughts.

“Evening, Miss,” the clerk said. “What can I do for you?”

“I need gas,” Margot said, pulling out her card. “Let’s do nine gallons on pump three.”

He took the card from her, swiped it on his machine. “What brings you to our little corner?” he asked. He wasn’t subtle about eying her chest, even through her thick sweatshirt.

“Just passing through,” she said with a tight smile.

“What’s your shirt say?” the girl eating the candy bar asked, so suddenly it took Margot a moment to realize she was talking to her. She turned to the girl, who still had that glazed look, still chewed the candy bar like it was made of pure, thick caramel. A tiny bit of drool leaked out of the corner of her mouth.

Margot didn’t answer, but angled herself towards the girl, pulling on the bottom of her sweatshirt to make the letters clearer. The girl kept chewing, made no attempt to look closer.

“Amber’s got bad eyesight,” the cashier said apologetically. “Doncha, darlin?” He winked at the girl.

Amber just giggled.

Okay. Whatever. “It says Brown University Law School.”

“Whazzat?” Amber asked.

“School, darlin,” the cashier said. “You know.”

Amber shrugged, eyes still shiny.

The cashier cleared his throat. “Amber, honey, I think I see Gunther pulling up. You know how much you like talking with him.”

Talking, sure. Margot was sure Amber and Gunther had plenty of hard-hitting topics they liked to “talk” about.

Amber grinned, but then her face fell. “You ain’t gonna let her play, are you?”

“Amber…” The cashier gave her an almost parental, warning smile.

“’Cause I got the top score right now, and I don’t want this bitch messing it up.”

“Excuse me?” Margot asked. Her first instinct was to be insulted, but really, she was just amused by the absurdity of whatever was going on.

“No one’s messing anything up, darlin. Run along, now.”

Amber gave Margot a final glare, and went outside.

“What was that all about?” Margot asked when the door shut.

“Oh, the girls got this game they like to play…” The cashier shrugged and trailed off. “So, you’re a lawyer?”

“Um, yes. Sort of. Almost. I’m on my way to Seattle for a job at a firm.”

“Well, that’s exciting.” He frowned at his computer screen. “Mmm, looks like things are moving a bit slow tonight. Sorry about that.”

“Is there a problem with the card?” Margot asked. She cursed herself silently for not bringing more cash. She’d used most of it tipping the movers. She had maybe five bucks crumpled in one of her cupholders. Not even enough to get her to the next station.

“No, no. It’s on our end,” he assured her. “We’ll get it sorted out, don’t you worry. Meantime,” he pulled a coin out of his pocket and tossed it to her. Margot looked at it. It was a token, gold-colored with an image of an eye on one side and the number one on the other, “free round to see if you can beat the record.” He winked at her.

“What’s the game?” she asked.

He jerked his head to the side of the store, where a single pinball machine sat in an otherwise empty corner.

“I’m not really into pinball,” she said.

“You’ve been driving awhile, right? Best excuse as any to stretch your legs a bit before you get going to Seattle.”

He was right, Margot realized with a grimace. This might be the sketchiest place she’d ever seen, but she was staring down the barrel of another twenty hours of driving on mostly boring interstate, so if she had the chance to distract herself with something colorful for a few minutes, why not take it?

The machine lit up as she approached, displaying a lurid, cartoonish image of a girl who looked quite similar to Amber and the other women who had been hanging around outside. Yellow hair, clownish makeup, big boobs barely covered by a tight, hot pink tube top, and crazy tiny jean shorts opened at the fly. She stood in front of a gas station almost identical to the one they were at, with trucks parked outside and everything. A cartoon trucker stood on the other side of the image, leering at the woman with bug-eyes and a long tongue. Across the top, light-up letters declared the game’s name. Lot Lizard Lucy.

“Hi!” a bright, friendly woman’s voice came suddenly from the machine, making Margot jump. “I’m Lucy. Wanna play with me?” The voice was girlish, high-pitched, dripping with as much innuendo as possible.

“Sure.” Margot sighed and put the token into the slot.

Instantly, the machine lit up with bright colors and loud pinging sounds. “Ooo!” Lucy’s voice moaned. “Thanks for putting it in so nice, baby. Let’s get started. I can tell you’re a pro at this already.”

“Jesus Christ,” Margot muttered, unable to conceal a laugh.

A marble flew down into the slot. Margot couldn’t remember the last time she’d played an arcade game, let alone pinball, but she at least knew how to get it started. She pulled the plunger back with one hand, and readied her fingers at the left flipper button with the other.

Pretending like she knew what she was doing, she let the plunger go. The marble flew out so fast that Margot couldn’t even track it at first. “Oh, shit,” she muttered, realizing she was about to lose it to a hole. She reached forward and pressed a button to flip it away.

“Nice catch, slick!” Lucy declared.

Margot actually laughed. “Thanks, Lucy.” She watched as the marble shot through a tunnel and snaked back towards her. She flipped it back again. This was actually pretty easy. And pretty amusing.

And pretty…hmm. Margot shook her head. Every time the marble hit something, the machine vibrated a little bit, and Lucy’s voice came through with a sexy “Ooo” or “Ahh.” Margot shuddered once or twice, hearing Lucy’s voice, feeling the machine jiggle. She swallowed, trying to figure out why she was having that reaction. The game, really, the whole station and all its inhabitants, were so far out of the realm of anything she normally found appealing. But she found herself following the marble as it zipped through the machine, eagerly awaiting the next time Lucy would make another pornstar-like sound. It gave her a jolt, like she was seeing someone she’d missed after a long absence.

When Margot managed to keep the marble in the alley for awhile, maybe a good two minutes, Lucy decided it was time for a celebration. Her image lit up in time with her words. “Oh my gawsh!” she squealed. “You can keep it going all night, can’t you?”

Margot bumped the marble again, and it jumped up and landed in a small bowl. “Ohhh, yes!” Lucy yelled, and Margot could perfectly picture the cartoon hooker spreading her legs and throwing her head back in an orgasm. She could even smell the interior of the truck she’d be fucking in, the stale bits of uncleaned food and spilled coffee, feel the greasy leather and rough blankets at her back. It made her take in a sharp breath. “That’s the money shot, baby! You deserve a reward for that.”

There was a blowing sound from inside the cabinet, and then a moment later, the marble shot up into the air, landing a few inches away.

Margot gurgled, buckled forward on the cabinet with a sudden zing between her legs. As if the puff of air that had propelled the marble had stimulated her vagina as well.

“Ohh, did you like that? Did that make you feel good?” Lucy asked in a sultry tone.

Margot groaned, the side of her face pressed against the glass. What the hell was that?

“I said,” Lucy repeated, slower, but with the same attitude, “did that make you feel good?”

The machine bucked, like someone had kicked it from underneath. Margot bolted upright, holding the metal sides of the cabinet for support.

She blinked. Looked around. No sign of anyone who could have moved the machine. She looked up at the image of Lucy, who lit up and let out a girlish giggle.

Margot looked dumbly down at the game and realized that the marble had long slipped away. “Ugh…fuck,” she mumbled.

“Oopsie, where’d it go?” Lucy asked, like a parent trying to steer a child toward a hidden Easter egg. “No worries!” With that, another marble slid into the slot, ready to be launched. “You know what to do, right? It’s not too hard for you?”

“Fuck off, Lucy,” Margot said. “I’ve got a law degree from…” She shook her head. The adrenaline from whatever had just happened, combined with her inexplicable anger at a cartoon mascot that could only speak pre-recorded lines, had somehow caused her to momentarily forget the name of her school. She knew it was written on her sweatshirt, but in that moment, it was the least important thing. She knew where she went, how prestigious it was. She didn’t need to prove anything to Lucy.

Still, she looked down at the plunger, and found her fingers dancing idly over it, as if they kind of sort of knew what to do, but not really.

Just nerves, she told herself. Because as soon as she let the marble go, she’d be responsible for it, trying to track it with her eyes, needing to give it all her concentration, feeling the tension any time it threatened to fall into one of the slots.

It was a lot of pressure, was all. Lots of pressure. She thought about her new job, how much she was giving up to be in this cutthroat world where so much would be expected of her every hour of every day. She knew the hours would be long and her chances of cultivating any sort of meaningful social life would be low. She’d known this for years, since before she even applied to law school. But somehow, here in this shitty store, for the first time ever, she was thinking about how much that was going to suck, how quickly she was going to feel burnt out and frustrated.

But there was a purpose to it, she reminded herself. A few dedicated years as a rookie attorney, and she’d be making more money than she knew what to do with. She could open her own firm, or make partner. Have her name on billboards. And of course, there was all the good she was going to do for her clients.

But if she couldn’t handle the pressure of a simple pinball game, how was she going to handle the pressure of life as a lawyer?

She shook her head, trying to dispel the negative thoughts like a dog shaking off water.

“Hell-oooooo?” Lucy called with palpable impatience and sarcasm. “You still with me, dumb-dumb?” She giggled, the light flickering on her avatar.

Margot furrowed her brow at the out-of-line insult. As if in rebellion, she pulled the plunger back, and launched the marble.

“Oh, yes!” Lucy yelled with another orgasmic cry.

And Margot bucked forward again with another sudden stimulation of her pussy. This time, at least, she managed to catch herself before her face hit the glass. She also flipped the ball before it fell into a slot.

She was getting better at this. Better at managing this strange feeling while simultaneously keeping the marble on the board. The throb in her cunt was an almost constant now, like a sort of erotic tinnitus. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt aroused. She couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t been too busy or exhausted to let herself feel aroused.

If a gross, misogynistic pinball machine could make her feel that way, it was as sure a sign as any that she was wound too tight. The question was, what could she do about it?

“Fuck!” she yelled, as the second marble almost got away from her.

“Close one!” Lucy said. “Uh-oh. I know what happened. You let your thinky-parts do too much work, huh?”

Thinky-parts? Oh, her brain, Margot realized. Lucy meant her brain.

And she also realized that Lucy was right. Letting herself get distracted with thoughts of anything, especially of the stressful career that awaited her in Seattle, wasn’t going to help her keep the marble on the board.

The only thing that would help was instinct. Letting her fingers, her body, anything except her bogged-down brain guide her.

“Good job!” Lucy said. “Thinky-parts are no fun to use, huh?” Her tone was almost babyish now. “More you use ’em, the uglier you get. Better to just let other parts of you do your thinking for you. Like your fingers…your boobs…your tongue…your pussy.”

Margot blinked. Had Lucy just said what Margot thought she said? Who would have possibly programmed a pinball machine mascot to say something like that?

“The hell was that, Lucy?” she asked, as if Lucy could hear her.

Lucy just laughed, and Margot thought it sounded almost exactly like the way Amber had laughed.

Maybe she’d heard her wrong. She hoped to God that she heard Lucy wrong, because the alternative explanation was that someone had designed a pinball machine to say something that crass and disgusting, and that someone else had placed it somewhere children could easily find it. Or, for that matter, anyone with good taste.

“Oopsie!” The machine buzzed as Margot’s wandering, disturbing thoughts allowed the marble to escape for a second time. “That was sure silly, wasn’t it?” Lucy asked. “Don’t you just feel so silly and dumb for letting that happen?”

“I’m not—” Margot stopped herself. She was about to protest and say she wasn’t silly and dumb, because she had a fancy degree from a fancy university.

But not-dumb people could probably remember the name of their fancy universities, and the kind of degree they got. And in that moment, Margot couldn’t remember either of those things.

So, she just giggled, and the machine lit up as if in response.

“I’ll tell you what, silly,” Lucy said, and Margot swore her voice got even more high-pitched, if that was possible. Another marble flew into the starting chute. “How about I give you a challenge? Bet you can’t do this round with just one hand on the buttons.”

Bet you I can’t either, Margot thought. But sure, she’d take the challenge. Even if the machine, or Lucy, would have no idea if she cheated.

She decided to just use her left hand, since that would be the one at the ready when she pulled the plunger.

“Better make it count!” Lucy warned her. “This is your last ball.”

Shit. Okay. Margot checked her score, though the number meant nothing to her. She had no idea if she was close to Amber’s score.

Not that she was concerned about beating her. Why would she be? After tonight, she’d never see Amber again. Or anyone or anything at this station.

Lucy would be a distant memory, and Margot would be at her new life in…in…

Shit, where was she going again? What was she going there to do?

To…to work…right…getting in a car, no her car…her…how d’you drive, anyway? You sit in the seat and then you spread your legs…no, you put the key in the…put the cock in the…

She squinted with a sudden headache. Had someone turned up the fluorescent lights in here? She looked at the top of the game again, this time not at Lucy, but at the trucker staring luridly at her. What did his cock look like, she wondered? How often did he get to stick it in Lucy? Which hole was his favorite? The board was so unrealistic, she thought.

’Cause they only put one trucker on it. Lucy probably had dozens of guys lining up to fuck her. Not like Margot.

“Doing alright there, sweetie?” Lucy asked.

“Fine,” Margot said, the ball of her fist pressed into her forehead.

“Remember,” Lucy said in a mocking singsong, “it’s easier if you don’t use your brain.” Another giggle. “I’m sorry! I meant your thinky-parts.”

Thinky-parts, right. Margot considered the words and the warmth that flooded her cunt. It was so much more fun to say than a word like “brain.”

“Thinky-parts,” she said out loud with a laugh that usually only came out after a few glasses of wine. And then her mouth moved like a runaway train, singing the words over and over again. “Thinky-parts, thinky-parts, thinky-paaaaaarts.”

It was a word that was supposed to be in place of another word. What was it? Oh, she just had it, like five seconds ago. What was it, you dumb idiot?

Oh, whatever. She laughed. She’d figure it out later. Now, it was time to play.

She pulled on the plunger, let the marble fly. She quickly found it actually wasn’t too difficult to keep the ball going with just one hand. She was getting really, really good at this game.

Like, really good.

So good that she figured, she could make use of her right hand. Real good use of it. Her hand opened the fly of her jeans, something she’d never successfully done one-handed before. She reached under the waistband of her panties and dug her index finger into her folds until she found her clit.

“Jackpot!” Lucy moaned, and Margot did too. She was no longer keeping the marble on the board just to get a good score. She was doing it because every time it hit a bumper, every time the machine lit up and Lucy made a little noise, it was like Margot’s finger got an extra burst of strength, increasing her pleasure tenfold.

Her vision blurred. Her body warmed as if lit by a campfire from within. Her knees quaked and pressing the flipper buttons felt like the only thing keeping her upright. Oh, fuck, she’d never felt like this before. So uninhibited. So turned on. The pressure was building and building and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to cum, wasn’t sure if she wanted this feeling to ever, ever stop.

She couldn’t think of anything more important than this. She’d been on her way somewhere, hadn’t she? Eager to leave this place as fast as she could. Why? What…ugh, whatever. What the fuck ever. As she writhed, she felt a lump in the back of her jeans. Keys, right? For a car? What would she need with those? She tried to think about it, and as she did, her jaw hung slack, drool seeping out like a faucet accidentally left on.

“Wow, you’re doing amazing!” Lucy screamed. “I bet you could go all night, couldn’t you?”

“Hell, yeah, Lucy,” Margot said. Her voice had a sudden twang to it, which sounded strange at first, lower class than someone who’d gone to…oh, it was a place, right? With like, books, and…and…chairs. She was pretty sure there were chairs. Oh, and boys. Lots of cute boys and she was pretty sure they offered her beer one time but she didn’t drink it or want to fuck them, which didn’t make sense at all. She remembered maybe wanting to do something else…like sit in her room and open that…oh, what was it? She just had the word, before it seemed to turn to the liquid seeping out of her pussy and onto her fingers. Something big, with pages, and big words, which was so dumb because what did she need big words for? Or any words, really?

“Oh yeah, that’s it, that’s it!” Lucy’s voice reached a fever pitch that echoed around the entire convenience store. Margot doubled over again, and could no longer concentrate hard enough to keep track of the marble as her eyes crossed.

“Unh…unh…oh fuck!” Her orgasm washed out what remained of her intelligence, her memory of whatever she’d intended to do before she walked into the store. But she didn’t mind, because with it went her stress, her worries, and anything else that had ever threatened to age her prematurely.

She looked down at the board. The marble was gone.

But Lucy couldn’t have sounded more pleased. “Look at you, darling! You just got the new top score! Congratulations!”

Top score…top score…

Margot smiled. Her lips, cheeks, pussy, and right hand were sopping wet, all a reward for her hard work.

Hardest she’d ever have to work again.

“Well,” a man’s voice spoke from behind her, “guess you liked it after all, huh?”

She turned around to see the cashier from earlier. He had a plastic card between his fingers. “Says here your name is Margot, but that don’t sound too right for a brainless bimbo, do it? Got silent letters and everything.”

What the hell was he talking about? She frowned. Was he gonna fuck her or something? Then why all the chit-chat?

“Whaddya say we call you Misty instead?” he asked. “I think the guys would like that better.” He put the plastic card into his pocket and as soon as he did, she forgot he’d ever been holding it.

If he meant that guys would be more likely to fuck her if her name was Misty, more likely to make her perpetually-hard clit feel good, then sure, she’d be Misty for them.

When she didn’t answer quick enough, the cashier reached around and grabbed her ass, hard enough to hurt. She grunted, but she liked it. She giggled a perfect imitation of Lucy’s. That was another reason she wanted to play the game more and more. So she could learn to be more like Lucy, learn how to make guys look at her the way the cartoon trucker looked at Lucy.

That was how learning happened, right? Playing pinball games?

For anything important, anyway.

“Lose the sweatshirt,” he said.

Misty hadn’t even realized she was still wearing it, but she couldn’t get it off fast enough. So fast that she got all tangled up and got her arm stuck in one of the sleeves. “Here,” the cashier said, and pulled it off her in one quick move. He held it to look appraisingly at the front. Then he turned it to face her. “What’s this say, darlin?”

Misty gripped the edge of the machine from behind and squinted at the scribbles. She shrugged, her eyes large and doe-like.

He chuckled. “Usually it takes a bonus ball or two for Lucy to snag us a new lot lizard, but you must’ve had plenty of stress waiting to be sucked outta ya, huh?”

“I dunno,” she said, idly twirling a lock of hair in her index finger, which still smelled of her pussy.

“Got that brain of yours nice and,” he shook his head, “ah, fuck, you know. Lazy. Like it ain’t worked in years.”

If Misty had still been Margot, she would have known the word was “atrophied,” but Misty just bit her lip, doing her best to look sexy and slutty. She couldn’t think of anything except when she’d get to play pinball again, and when this guy or some other guy was going to fuck her.

“You’ve got a nice enough body,” he said. “We’ll have to let your hair grow out, of course. We’ve got some clothes and makeup in the back you can wrangle up to make yourself more presentable.”

“Like Lucy?” Misty asked eagerly.

He nodded with a lecherous grin. “Like Lucy. The guys would prefer you be naked, but there’s only so many bribes the local fuz’ll take.”

She grinned back. She knew she could never be as pretty as Lucy, with her cartoon hair and boobs, but at least she’d get to try. At least she was already good at sounding like her.

“Not many girls come to us willingly these days, meaning the guys’ve been eager for some fresh meat, so you’ll go fast and you’ll go often.” He grabbed her arm suddenly and turned her around to face the machine. “What’s that score say?”

“4…2…9…”

“Good, so you can still do numbers. Perfect.” He turned her back around. “You’ll need that for counting bills the guys pay you with. Amber or someone can fill you in on the price for stuff, but most of the guys know the deal and they know not to cross me. Any time you finish with a client you’ll come back in and hand the cash over to me, you got that?”

She nodded.

“Great. You’re a fast learner. Pegged you from the start. And don’t worry; you’ll get to eat whatever you want from the store, and we’ve got showers and cots in back for when you need ’em.”

“What about the game?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah,” he winked, “when you’re an extra good girl, giving our visitors an extra good time, then you’ll get to play again.”

“But I got…I got…” Where had Amber gone? She wanted to rub it in her dumb face. “I got the top score. Lucy said.”

“Lucy said, huh?” He looked over her shoulder at the scoreboard, then chuckled. “Aw, you dumb whore. Amber wasn’t talking about that game. The other girls have a little contest going, to see who can rake in the most bucks for me before the end of the month.”

Misty’s eyes went wide with understanding.

“You’ll have a nice chance since you’re bright and shiny and new, but you still got a lot of catching up to do. But you’ll be a good girl and do your best, won’t cha?”

“Yessir!” she said eagerly.

“Knew you would.” He pinched her cheek. “Now, get yourself dolled up and get out there.” He slapped her hard on the ass as she walked away.

Fifteen minutes later, she emerged in front of the store, made up as gaudily as Lucy herself, wearing a neon green tube top, fake fur jacket, and skintight leather pants. She took her place among the other girls, making sure to give Amber a pointed stare, who raised her eyebrows challengingly in response.

None of them thought it was strange that a woman who had walked into the store just minutes ago wearing a Brown University sweatshirt and absolutely no makeup was now ready to sell her body like the rest of them. Misty, of course, wasn’t bothered by it at all. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

She did think it was weird that there was a car parked by one of the pumps with no sign of a driver. There was no one in the store who it might belong to. She shrugged to herself. Whatever. Trying to figure it out was making her head hurt, and it was no fun anyway.

“Hey, girlie.” She blinked as she realized one of the approaching truckers was talking to her. “Whaddya say we go on back to my truck? I’d love to break you in.”

She followed him without another word, and as soon as the abandoned car was out of her line of sight, she forgot it, or Margot, had ever existed.

The End