The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Nicole Vaerontino, briefcase and portfolio in hand, was focused and sharp this morning as she rode the droning elevator up. The elevator music was low and in the great tradition of elevator music, it was also uninspired. She got a great deal of sleep last night, ten hours worth. Her grip she had on the leather satchel under her suited arm was tight.

The floor numbers ticked with a green glow: 15...16..17...

She felt an alleviation that was so alien to her. The kind of excitement that would be comparable to a child with a birthday present before her and a whole afternoon to stare at it, not allowed to touch it. Nicole hadn’t felt so exhilarated in years.

Looking at herself in the clean mirrored wall inside the elevator, why shouldn’t she? Her beige Dolca Vita suit tickled her smooth olive skin. It was the most expensive clothing she owned. For a University Graduate who rigidly maintained a fierce financial structure due to her modest income of waiting tables at a Beach Restaurant in the summer, she could stand to save up for a few very precious possessions. She wanted to make a very good impression.

24...25..26...

Her classes in business, advanced mathematics, marketing, and consumer psychology were met with a fanatical studious effort that resulted in making the Dean’s List. Pounding the books, she always thought to herself, had been obsessive to the point of having no outside life. She didn’t go out clubbing, or attended movies. She attended class, studied in her solidary dorm room while dreaming in short intervals of a much more enriching and happy life in the future.

Having moved from Manitoba to Toronto, she had little contact with family and old friends outside of a few two-minute long-distance phone calls every few weeks. Her parents consistently bring up that her increasingly sparse phone calls have led to a notion that the calls could stop all together one day. And every time she would assured them that its the drawback of pinching pennies so she could rise her almost genius capacity of brain power to secure a six-figure job. Then she could leave her long distanced calls drag as long as she wanted.

37...38...

Drag as long as the elevator dragged up to the sixty-ninth floor entitled to BEMBA INC. To the office of Miss Gina Huang. The music is Nicole’s breasts felt heavy, supported by her Double-D bra, making her back ache a little. Her high-heels were restricting and made her manicured feet sore and a little swollen. Impatient, she brought her gold, diamond-encrusted Dimsec watch up to her long, bone-structured face. The watch was another rare expenditure that was a gift she gave herself for succeeding the most she got out of her intense, fulfilling education. An education she was proud of. She toyed with the notion of applying for Mensa.

Her hazel-green eyes read that she was twenty minutes ahead of schedule. The diamonds sparkled, catching her attention, and her focus evaporated for a few seconds, or how ever long she looked at her watch. Her slender wrist felt strained for a while after she let it drop to her side. She blew a few strains of black hair out of her sharply-drawn eyelid, looking a little less conservative, slightly easy-going even. Just the look she wanted to give off to her would-be boss, Miss Gina Huang.

...39...

The leather satchel felt uneven. She looked down, instantly startled. Her papers and portfolio were scattered all over the silvery metallic ground. Fuck. How did she drop all of her 11″ by 17″ papers. She knelt on the floor, panicked, collecting her thinly-sliced collection of work. Work she had spent a month editing and improving to perfection out of all the evidence of her four years of higher learning. Her long skirt rose up above her knees to reveal a little of her warm voluptuous thighs. She was irritated further by making creases in her carefully ironed skirt. The more papers she gathered, the more of the superbly shiny floor reflecting a great white light.

The hurried gathering—at once stimulated by the tense vision of the elevator opening, revealing her on her knees, short and intimidated—became slower, her pulse slowing as she noticed just how shiny the floor is. How the lights reflected a subtle stream of colour like a rainbow. She hadn’t seen a rainbow since, well she couldn’t think of the last time she saw a rainbow. The floor could very well be glowing itself while the music grew louder.

She felt dazed, staring intently as the floor reflected by the ceiling light. Everything glowed, even the walls. Hell, that was an assumption, she was face-down. Listening to the pounding white noise, her hands blindly spread the papers opposite of the neat pile she was creating. She was a warm center this light showered upon. So much light as to give the illusion of limitless space. She could very well be falling in an arrested limbo.

The reflected light off the ceiling grew fainter. Darker. Was it the lights or was it she? An obscure black object was foggy in the floor’s reflection. Nicole’s focus narrowed til the object was revealed to be a surveillance camcorder hanging off the ceiling. Nicole’s focus snapped her up. The realization of being watched in this compromised position alerted her with fright. She had hoped nobody on the executive was watching. Why would they? If watched at all, she assured herself, it was probably a pervert.

She gathered her papers, sorted by page number. She rose to her feet. Wiping her hair back to its conservative form as best she could, looking at the fogged reflection of the mirrored wall. She gently padded her wetted eyes with the back of her clean hand. She caught a drop of spittle that formed on her bottom lip with the top of lip. She was glad she hadn’t licked it because she was wearing lipstick.

61...62...63...

The elevator was moving but it felt so still. The sense of motors and motion had been quieted to state that was so eerie. The numbers continued blinking green, identifying her escalated movement. Suddenly it had occurred to her that without the visible reliance of these numbers, she couldn’t be sure if she was moving at all.

The door opened instantly. Floor 69. Nicole Vaerontino has arrived.

She walked out, feeling a little off-balance. Maybe, she figured, this is an effect of being in an enclosed place for so long. She checked her watch again. Once focused, she estimated that she had been in there for two minutes. Almost eighteen minutes till her interview started. She felt good about that. Very giddy, in fact. She approached a large oak desk that seemed to envelope the large open space. A silver rimmed sign in a sans serif font that thinned and thicked like a snake read BEMBA INC.

The receptionist, wearing an earpiece, seated centered behind was watching blankly towards Nicole, smiling like she was aloof. Nicole found it disconcerting and very unprofessional, never mind that she herself possessed a similar expression as she hobbled and limped, going a little to the left, then too far to the right as she got closer to the swallowing pane of wood.

The reception spoke with high, cheerful voice.

“Welcome to BEMBA INC. Miss Nicole Vaerontino”.

There was an echo.

“Uh...hi. Miss Gina Hung...Huang is expecting me in....” Paused to check her prized

wristwatch and then met eyes with the googly-eyed receptionist, Nicole continued with

“...seventeen minutes” followed by the clearing of her throat.

The echo made Nicole’s face redden. She felt so small.

The receptionist looked up. Her facial features were plain with a little baby-fat despite heavy, sloppy make-up. They could easily be overlooked by her voluptuous build. Her loose, stringy top revealed a thick cleavage that made a dark shadow despite being separated by a good two inches of firmed ballooning breasts. Two nipples as large as strawberries left little mystery. This curious attire before Nicole was acknowledged but not alarming for some reason.

The receptionist looked dimly at a black-platted panel board. There were three buttons in front of her as large and as squishy looking as, well, her very own tits. One yellow, one red, one white with green swirls. She pressed the swirly one.

A door opened at Nicole’s right side. So close she wasn’t aware that she was so close to the wall. The room just gotten smaller all of a sudden. A tanned hand gripped Nicole’s padded shoulder. It extended, a wrist lined with wrapping bracelets and wristwatches of all sorts, towards a thirty-ish Asian woman with sparse and perfect features whose perfect denture smile was as wide and as inviting as her pure black eyes. Her hair was short with green highlights dividing her dark-raven hair, which contrasted Nicole’s long black hanging hair. Even her body type differed from Nicole’s being tall, rounded; Gina was short, flat-chested and rail thin. Nicole, slightly disoriented, overshadowed her would-be employer. A luscious Italian opposite a radiant Vietnamese.

Nicole was led inside a warmly lit, carpeted room with textured curtains reaching as high as twenty feet. The room was sparse except for two more doors, a large crystallized desk, a few oriental statues aligned symmetrically, two long lines of potted far-reaching, vertical plants that could be called Pretty Poison, and two cushy chairs. One of which Gina eased Nicole into for a well-deserved sit.

The door closed, Nicole’s eyes wandered to an all-ready seated Gina behind her shimmering desk. Gina was going through Nicole’s portfolio. Nicole noticed that, oh yeah, she’s not holding onto her leather satchel. Nicole slouched in her chair, feeling really hungry—starved even.

Gina, attention not wavered, directed Nicole to “have something to drink”.

Nicole looked her left and behold there was an icy, large glass of green juice. She summoned her strength to bring the glass up to her lips and drank heavily.

Gina spoke with an inclined accent, quiet and confident, closing the portfolio.

“Very impressive, Miss Vaerontino”.

Nicole, almost finished her drink, looked up.

“Thank you. I’m very flattered”.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-three last Monday”.

“Happy Birthday”.

“Thanks”.

“Your intelligence is very intimidating. You are obviously very hard-working, very sensible, responsible, well-rounded both mentally and physically. You belong to a high caliber of mentally and consciousness”.

Nicole straightened herself up, her finished drink back on the table.

“That is very commendable, but what was that about physically...physicality?”

“You’re a very beautiful looking woman. Your figure and your bust is ideally stimulating for your future work”.

Nicole’s confusion outweighed her fuming anger. Her anger curiously felt contained, almost subdued.

“That doesn’t sound like anything I was expecting, Miss Huang. In fact, my aspirations are polarized by this degrading, even insulting proposal.”

Gina flicked a switch under her desk. Music, much like in the elevator, played but more prominently.

Nicole looked around. “What’s going on?”

“You’ve become very suggestible to the subliminal messages you’ve listened to very recently. You have just undergone and completed your second stage in the mind-molding chamber, otherwise known as our elevator. Unbeknownst to you, you have accepted and absorbed your newly morphed mental capacity that reinforces gullibility, trust, and obedience. You are on the fringe of losing cynicism, skepticism, and doubt.

These traits would distract from the third, final stage.

“Third? Second? When was the first?”

“After receiving your posted resume along with your head to waist profile on a high-profiling job query engine, I called you personally to set up an interview.”

Nicole was silent. This was last month. Alone in her dorm.

“My arrangement was followed by an arrangement of sounds easily confused as static that held mind at a high capacity leaving you immobile, unthinking for...indulge me Nicole, were you standing or sitting?”

“Standing.”

“You stood with the phone to your ear for six hours. You wouldn’t have noticed this since one of the many subliminals instilled in your sponge-like mind made that realization impossible.

Nicole was scared. “Impossible...”

“Impossible? Nigh. Here’s another shocker for you my now curvaceous beauty. It is amazing what mind over matter can do. For example.”

A photo of Nicole’s profile was displayed in Gina’s hands.

A closer study revealed...what?

Gina continued, “You can’t notice. But this picture of you is actually rather different from what your hypnotized mind lets you see. In reality, when this photo was taken, you have a cup A size chest. Barely even mosquito bites. Your subconscious has radically altered your body chemistry to balloon your breasts to a very impressive double D cup. Your mind simply believes you have always had Double Ds.”

Nicole began to feel up her transformed breasts inside her blouse.

“That is one of many changes that have been made to you both mentally and physically. I don’t want to bore with your other changes.”

“Other changes? What are they? Please tell me!”

“I’m keeping them for myself. There’s no reason for you to know them. After all, you won’t be able to contain such facts for more than a few seconds by the time these subliminals are finishing you off.”

“Why are you doing this? Why me?”

“Why not you? You who has so much to gain and so much more to lose?”

“What’s going to happen to my brain?”

“Such information as memories, facts, namely your I.Q. will dissolve into that, like of say…the green liquid that you have readily finished before hand. And like liquid, your I.Q. will fall through the cracks of your neutered brain into oblivion.”

Nicole shed a few tears. Her thoughts echoed, almost vanishing. All of my work. Gone?

Her interior monologue was now gone too. All poor Nicole had was the sound of her breathing to accompany her.

“The second stage in the elevator was much longer. You were in there for twelve hours. Kneeling down, which you’ll do a great deal of, considering that your legs won’t remember how stand. What with your mind going to pot. Incidently, it is why your watch was more or less accurate. Twelve hours. I assure you that behind these curtains, there is a beautiful cityscape aligned by nightfall.”

Nicole gazed at her watch. Gina stood out of her chair and approached Nicole. She lifted

Nicole’s limp wrist, unbuckled the watch and slid it off. Gina put it on her own wrist.

“This is a beautiful watch. Dimsec, right?”

“It’s mine”, Nicole stated weakly.

“No, it’s my beautiful watch now, Nicole.”

The music played on.

Nicole gained some focus. “Your watch is beautiful”.

The music.

Nicole wondered aloud, “Why isn’t the music affecting you, Gina?”

“Because I have not been exposed to either Stage One or Two”.

“That makes sense”.

“Let’s see just how much more sense we make for you my busty, suggestible young woman”.

“Sure”.

“Do you realize what’s happening to you? After all, you’re a smart girl for now.”

“I guess I’m being hypnotized. I’ve been hypnotized and I am exhausted and what’s worse is that I’m aware of this. The drink is obviously drugged. These subliminals, well, you’ve already explained them with enough detail.”

“That’s very impressive. Considering that you can’t rehearse your thoughts to yourself. You’re sampling winging it.”

“Well, I used to have a better...you know...knowledge of words.”

“Vocabulary?”

Nicole, her being eyes glazed over, let some drool escape her lip. “Yeah. That sounds right.”

“Nicole. You are a smart girl.”

Nicole began to giggle a little. “Yeah, but not as much as I used to be. Because of you.”

Gina laughed with her, toying Nicole’s long black hair. “Because of me.”

Gina smiled eagerly now. “So are you gonna brainwash me or something?”

“I am.”

“Like how?”

“My suggestions will be from now on be confused in your mind as truth that will override all of your preconceived I.Q.”

Nicole was very happy because it was the easiest thing to be.

Gina noticed, very amused, that Nicole’s wide open, receptive eyes—windows to the soul- her pupils in her eyes began to lose their round shape, expanding and separating like wet paint. Nicole Vaerontino eye colouring began to swirl. Her eyes were literally transformed into spiraled balls.

Nicole looked so warped with her large, bugging eyes spiraling unnaturally and told Gina, “I guess I don’t have a choice. There’s really nothing I can do. I mean, I’m really fucked here.”

Gina very kindly stated “You sure are. And you won’t be missed.”

“Won’t be missed”.

“You will stay with me until the day you die”.

“I’m going to be with you for always”.

“Even in spirit. What is the soul without consciousness.”

“I am going to be like this forever.”

“Nicole Vaerontino, numbers confuse you.”

“Numbers confuse me”.

“What is two plus three equal?”

“Numbers confuse me”.

“Nicole Vaerontino, you no longer know what the alphabet is.”

“Gina...I don’t know what the alphabet is?”

“A, B, C, D. Continue.”

“D? Uh? A? Hmmmm... D?”

“I guess you get a F”.

“What’s an F?”

“Nothing, you idiot. Now, you know that these clothes you’re wearing belong to smart people. Not imbeciles like you.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll take them off”.

Nicole lay there for a moment. Gina’s impatience grew, but it didn’t let it affect her cool, soothing, condescending demeanor.

“Take your clothes off Nicole, my fool”.

Nicole laughed “I don’t know how!”

Gina sighed and picked a pair of scissors off her desk. She returned to lazy, spiraling-eyed, smiling Nicole and began to cut her laces off of her high heels followed by her skirt, her coat, and now her blouse.

The scissors sliced her expensive fabric up her forearm. One snip felt snug. Gina’s heart skipped as a small forming red grew from a dot on the beige suit. The scissor was retracted. Gina inspected, her worst fear, visible damage by opening the slit of the clothing material. A small cut followed by a line of blood down her arm quickened Gina’s heartbeat and panic. She met eyes with Nicole who remained infused. For the first time Gina’s strong resolve had faded into a sincere remorse. Had Nicole been conscious to make such an observation that was now impossible for her mind to make, she would’ve savored it.

“I’m sorry, Nicole”.

Nicole, head-tilted lazily to her shoulder, closely to the nick of her flesh, looked unfazed. Her eyes were watery, but not tearful so much as lulled. Nicole tried to speak slowly and clearly but instead slurred.

“It’s...okay. I don’t even...feel...feel it”.

Gina regained her composure but she was still intent.

“The last thing I want is to hurt you”.

“Hurt me?”

“I promise that you’ll enjoy the rest. Ignorance is bliss. You should be grateful for a long future life spent as a horny retard. You’ve worked very hard. Now what’s more gratifying than that?”

Gina smiled ear to ear. Her slightly imperfect teeth displayed. “Horny…retard!”

“You’ll be so happy that you will be oblivious pain, sadness, and insult. I could humiliate you gravely and you’d still be a vapid, excited puddle of joy! Defeated in the conventional sense, but then you’ll never have that dark, sinking feeling again. I almost envy you. You, now stupid and ridiculous, are in heaven. My gift to you.”

“I love you, Gina. It was so hard and sad…and hard before this.”

Gina turned away and headed to her executive washroom. She returned her half-naked, slightly-swerving headed young woman with a wet towel. Her wound was met with gentle, soothing rub that Nicole only noticed every once in a while. She hadn’t noted a band-aid was applied over the wound and that Gina continued cutting, but more consciously.

Nicole’s hazel-green spirals spun more rapidly against white on what are now her freak-like eyeballs.

Gina leaned the tall, busty Nicole with the long black hair forward so she could snip her bra off. She peeled it off to reveal Nicole’s large, luscious boobs.

“Nicole, look at your breasts.”

Nicole complied. Her massive mounds of olive, near pink flesh were very compelling.

Gina began to slide Nicole’s panties down her luscious thighs to her swollen, smooth feet and off.

Gina inserted her fingers into Nicole’s shaven snatch, another subliminal instruction only

Gina knew. Nicole crotch will always be smooth and shaven.

Nicole, still transfixed by her breasts, felt the tingle of the Gina’s intrusion.

Gina looked up at the spiraly-eyed, naked babe before her. “Now Nicole, your breasts are so important.”

Nicole, always smiling with her imperfect teeth, slurred, “My breast’s are sooo important.”

“They are even important than you”.

“My breasts are more important than me.”

“They are the most beautiful thing about you. You are just an extension of them. You are actually very plain, almost bordering on ugly.”

“I am ugly. Breasts, my breasts are the only beautiful thing I am connected to.”

“In fact, you aren’t even a person so much as flesh that occasionally talks and always follows orders. Your breasts are indeed human, even godlike. You worship them Nicole as you are humble and worthless.”

“I’m worthless. I’m ugly. I’m humble. I love and worship my breasts”.

“You are not worthy, Nicole. When you think of breasts, think of them as titties.”

“I am not worthy of my titties.”

“Your breasts are greater than you.”

“My titties are like greater than me.”

“So great that you will focus and make your great breasts larger.”

“Focus...larger titties.”

Before them, Nicole’s breasts ballooned out instantly. Full, firm and round till they reached her knees. Gina looked astonished.

“You have done well for your masters.”

“Masters?”

“Your breasts are your masters and I am their voice.”

Nicole was stunned. She had never had masters before and she was connected to them. She was elevated beyond any limit of true happiness. Nicole’s eyes continued to spiral, like they always would. Her breasts imitated the same spiraling colouring with tanned olive and pinky flesh, from her pool-ball sized nipples expanding to her chest. Her spiraling complimented and fixated on her now visually-spinning breasts. Nicole, now drooling on her enormous boobs, would forever be transfixed by her body’s fleshy colour action.

Between a string of spittle, Nicole sighed quietly to herself, “Wow.”

Gina sucked on the right tit and was amazed to be sucking up milk. It was so delicious. She feared that she would succumb to the power of Nicole’s masters. This was truly bliss.

“Nicole, insert your arms into your cleavage and begin massaging you clit.”

Nicole did as the voice of her titties told her.

After Gina gulped the milk, she looked up at her new accomplishment.

“How do you feel, Nicole?”

Nicole was flattered that her titties spoke to her at all. After all, she was worthless except for being the lifeline to her masters.

“I feel really....silly.”

“Are you happy, Nicole?”

“Yeah. Happy. Silly.”

“Stupid?”

“Stupid.”

“That’s your name. Do you like it, stupid?”

“I’m stupid.”

“Does that bother you at all? You? My beautiful, docile, grotesque, helpless, mutated, lost, stupid girl?”

And with that, the spiral-eyed young woman Stupid inserted her whole hand into her vagina and made popping bubbles out of her spittle. She hummed something familiar. Off-note, true, but she hummed with the music that made her so irreversibly damaged both mentally, physically, and spiritually. As Stupid pumped her hand harder, Gina messaged her new oblivious employee’s gargantuan breasts, pinching the nipples into a white, hot flash. Stupid’s spiral eyes, reflecting her outlook, literally whirled in such a speedy succession that it became illusive, yet mesmerizing. Stupid orgasmed awesomely, dripping juice, screaming with relish. Her eyes were forever at a blurry standstill, spinning and spinning like a child’s toys. Her eyes, her retardation were constant and quick, never decreasing speed.

Gina, smiling wickedly, decided to be cruel.

“That was well done, Nicole?”

Between gasps, Stupid continued to drool, her eyes looked up and became white. She laughed obscenely. Then her eyes spiraled again, gazing forever at her spiraling, fleshy breasts, her masters.

“What’s Nicole?”