The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Second Nature

The following is a story of erotic mind control. Anyone under 18 or offended by material of an erotic nature should read no further.

The events, persons and magic depicted herein are entirely fictional. They take place in a world where mind control works and STDs don’t. It’s a fantasy, people.

Inspired by the fine writing of Iron Nick, A Sinister Bent, The Mayor of Cherish, Downing Street, and many others.

1.

“The Doctor will see you Miss Coulter.” The bosomy blonde receptionist announced to the all but empty room.

Putting down her book- a copy of Feminism Unmediated- in exasperation, the young witch muttered, “Its about time, I’ve only been here for hours,” and more loudly, “That’s Ms. Cutter,” and gathered her black knapsack and leather jacket heaved her self down the hall way to Doctor Foster’s office.

When she entered the room, both she and the Doctor took a moment to size one another up. From Candle Cutter’s perspective Johann Foster was nothing impressive, a little young to be an MD, and a little too buff. Candle wasn’t impressed by jocks, or authority figures, and the muscled and tanned sandy haired MD just looked a little to cornfed for her tastes. But whatever. If seeing him once or twice would keep her father off her back…

What Dr. Johann Foster saw was another matter. Candle Cutter, or as her parents had named her, Candace Coulter looked like one more spoiled rich girl who thought she was too good for where she came from. With her dyed black hair, worn short and spiky, her piercings and shapeless black dress, her combat boots, she was clearly turning her back on her home and everything her parents had given her. He was amused to see she even wore a pentacle on a chain around her neck. A little wannabe witch, or just part of her gothic dress up games? He wondered. He thought she might be attractive under all that white face paint though.

“Have a seat, Candace” Foster gestured to a chair.

“The name is Candle.” She growled, dropping herself into the chair.

Foster gave a tight smile. “My mistake. Candle, do you know why you’re here?”

“Because my goddamn father was going to commit me if I didn’t agree to see someone, because he’s goddamn homophobic and trapped in the nineteen fifties and wants me there too. Basically my dad can’t handle the fact that I’m growing up to be a dyke. Sometimes I think he wants me to grow up to be one of those country club bimbos that his friends raised, so he can marry me off to a business partner who needs a trophy wife. ” “Woahh!” She thought, stopping, confused that she had given so much away. She didn’t need a therapist, she just needed her father to lay off her so she could keep seeing her girlfriend, practicing magic, making art. She nearly spat at him. “And don’t think I’m going to be lying on any coach or taking any pills or shit. I agreed to walk through the door and have a little chat, once or twice at most, and they agreed to leave me alone. That was the deal.”

Foster’s smile widened a little. “I think once will be sufficient, Candy.”

The girl started to object, “I told you, fuckwit! My name is not….” but Foster waved made a little gesture, and for some reason, she stopped.

“I have a slightly different understanding of our situation you see. I think you’re here because I owe your father a favour. He sorted out some financial irregularities for me some years back, things that could have made my life inconvenient. You see, Candy, I’m a powerful man, and power attracts attention; and with his government connections your father made some unwanted attention go away. So I owe him one.”

Candle was both listening and not; she was conscious of wanting to tell him off, to get up and leave, but for some reason all she could do was mumble “What do you mean?”

Dr. Johann Foster’s smile grew indulgent, “Oh, that’s good, much more civil. Its nice to see you taking an interest… Nature takes its course. Time to get down to it.”

“Huh? Down to what?” Candle was beginning to feel scared: why was it so hard to say what she though? For that matter, why couldn’t she move, or even think clearly?

“The simplest way to say this–and I think where you’re headed we’d best stick to simple things—is that I’m a warlock, a witch, if you will. I can see from the pentacle you know what that word means, or think you do. I wonder why your father didn’t mention that. Well, no need to get into the particulars. Let’s just say I’ve made deals, and in return, I get power from nature, from the stuff of things, what is and what might be. You see everything that is contains its reverse, its second nature as it were, as potential. I can not only see that, but I call it out, help foster it. So, among other things, with peoples’ permission, I can change them.”

“Change them… Like, how? Anyway I didn’t give you permission…” Her voice gained strength for a moment.

Foster cut her off. “You are becoming chatty now aren’t you Candy?”

Candle cringed at him calling her that but was unable to make herself object. Foster continued, obviously enjoying himself. “But your father did, give me permission, that is, which, with a minor is sufficient for external changes under California State Law, and what’s more, you entered my domain, my office, which in itself is a form of consent. So I can change not only outsides but insides as well.”

“Cha- change how?” sputtered the terrified girl.

“Let’s just say, I want you and your father to get along. And I want you to actualize your inner nature.”

“What do you know about my inner nature?”

“Well, as within, so without. I mean its rather obvious. This rebel thing is a thin veneer. All this black clothing, it’s really not you”

“…it’s really not me?” She repeated, her eyes going glassy.

“Black is so passé. Really I think bright cheerful, perky colours suit you more. Like oranges and canary yellows, and baby pinks.”

“…baby pinks?”

“Are just the thing for bubbly, perky girls like yourself. And bubbly, perky girls like to wear fancy, fashionable clothes. To show themselves off”

Candle rallied, wanting to resist, to say that he didn’t know her, that she was an artist, a college student, that she had struggled long to have the courage to come out as a lesbian. All thatcame out was: “Not, me... bubbly...perky? ...fancy show off...”

“Of course, its in your nature. And who would dye her hair such an awful colour? Its not natural. If you’re going to dye your hair, it should be a natural colour. Like blonde, a sunny happy colour. Blondes have more fun, you know. Boys like blondes the best, and you know how much you like boys.”

“…I like boys?” She was incredulous, but also, confusingly, excited at the thought.

“Sure you do princess, you’re practically boycrazy. Good thing they like you, you little hottie, you saucy little beach bunny.”

“princess...hottie saucy...beach bunny?”

He paused to let all that sink in. “Well, It’s already begun. Why don’t we take a look in the mirror.”

Released from her chair Candle stumbled, like a sleepwalker, to her feet-her shoes were different, walking was different. She felt so strange, like her body, her whole world was different. Who was she?

Foster was guiding her to the back of the room. Looking in the mirror she didn’t recognize the girl there. Her facial piercings were gone, as was her gothic make up, her punked up black hair, her long black dress and motor cycle boots were all gone.

Instead there was this girl, this babe, really, with a killer body, with huge breasts, a tiny waist and a curvy ass and long legs. A saucy little hottie. The girl was tanned a deep golden brown, and her hair was a big, fluffy mass of golden blonde curls. Her lips were full and pouty and painted a glossy wet pink, her nose was just a cute little upturned button and her eyes were huge and blue, topped by finely arched blonde brows. She had on smoky mascara and pale blue eye shadow, a bright pink blush. She was wearing a tiny, light pink lambs wool sweater that was tented by her huge breasts and erect nipples, both low cut and cropped high to show off her belly. Her skirt was a tiny denim thing, with tiers of pink ruffles that barely covered her curvy bum. On her feet she wore adorable little pink lace anklets, and blue denim stiletto heeled pumps. On her wrists she wore chunky bracelets made of strung pearls that matched the stings of pearls dangly from her pretty ears. Her nails were long daggers in hot pink.

Peering closely into the mirror, Candle thought the girl’s face and body could maybe have belonged to her sister, if she had a sister. A compulsively vain, gym obsessed, plastic surgery addicted, nympho bimbo of a sister. The kind of girl who would be happy to be called…

Candy giggled in her breathy new voice, turning to Foster, and twirling one finger in her hair girlishly. “Like, oh my god, like, what did you do to me?”

“Oh, I just helped you recognize your inner potential.” He said smiling.

“ My pot-po.. whatever. I’m, like, Candy.”

“Yes Candy, yes you are. Now why don’t you help me out?” As Johann Foster said that, he began to undo his belt.

“Gosh, okay, like, can I please?” Candy giggled again and dropped to her knees, as if it were second nature.

2.

Janice wasn’t sure whether to be freaked out or pissed off. For a week now, her girlfriend Candle had been blowing her off, saying she had, like, too much to do, and sounding damn spacy while she was at it. Her voice was wrong, breathier, and distracted. Her girl almost sounded like some kind of airhead. Janice thought she must be high, and then it occurred to her that Candle had that appointment with the shrink her father set up. She wanted to ask but Candle had hung up. Maybe he talked her into going on meds, or put some bullshit in her head about their relationship. She should have gone right over, but she was hurt to be blown off like that. Why would Candle do that? Then just today she’d heard from Melissa, the priestess of their wicca group, that Candle had been cutting art class all week. When Barbara called to ask if she was sick, Candle actually giggled, and just said, “Nope, Doctor’s here. He’s checking me out! Byyeee” before hanging up. It had to be meds they were forcing on her.

So she called Melissa, and they arranged to drop by Candle’s apartment, after classes to see how she was, only to find she wasn’t home. Using the spare key Candle had given her, on their six month anniversary, she let herself in, only to discover

“Pink? She hates the colour pink.”

Melissa was equally shocked, “Holy Athena, what is this? Candle is a goth. What’s she doing with stuffed animals all over the place, Lindsay Lohan posters on the walls and a fucking canopied princess bed? This looks like a thirteen year olds’ apartment. Only thirteen year olds generally don’t have apartments.”

“Forget why, when? When the hell did she have time to do this?”

Melissa looked at her, “You’re right. Janice, I’m getting a really weird feeling about this. This isn’t just meds or some shrink… There’s something else going on—“

Just then, behind them the door slammed open, and into the room stepped Candle, or Candy…

At first neither girl recognized her. Candle was blonde and tanned, and that was just the beginning. Her face seemed different somehow, impossibly her breasts looked larger, much larger. And she was wearing her blonde curls gathered in pink scrunchies into two high ponytails and had a lollipop in her mouth. Her breasts were practically spilling out of the strapless, extremely brief and nearly translucent, white babydoll dress she had on—they could see she was wearing elaborately ruffled bright pink panties underneath. On her legs she wore knee high white stockings decorated with little pink hearts, and on her feet, pink patent maryjanes, with a chunky highheel. There was a sexy but kind of simple minded smile on her face.

She was holding hands with two men, a young sandy haired athletic looking yet professional type and, an older more distinguished gentleman, who was exclaiming “Johann, she turned out beautifully. She’s my little girl but I swear if her marriage wasn’t already arranged—”

“Believe me, Walter, I hear you...”

“Candle! What happened to you?” Candy’s father looked first shocked, then enraged to see Janice who, recognizing Mr Coulter wasn’t looking too pleased herself.

“Young lady, what are you doing here—“

Candy looked around confused.

“This is the girlfriend I presume? Rather butch, isn’t she.” Foster coolly took in the young women, who were simultaneously looking utterly shocked and angry, as they faced off against Candy’s father. Janice—the girlfriend—looked both punk and bookish, her dark brown hair close cropped and gelled into spikes, above little coke bottle glasses. It was impossible to tell much about her body under her plaid workshirt, baggy black jeans, and combat boots. Melissa’s style was a cross between goth and hippy. Her long red hair was worn in a long braid down her back and she had wore a long purple velvet dress and Birkenstock sandles. Both women wore pentacles like Candles’ around their necks. So, Foster observed, a coven then.

Candy interrupted his reverie when she finally recognized her friends. “Like, Janice, Melissa!

“Johann, what are we going to do.” a panicked Walter Coulter exclaimed.

“Don’t fret Walt, you might get your wish, or at least a reasonable facsimile. And this will give us an opportunity to prevent the little dyke from coming after you.”

Janice growled, “You homophobic asshole—“

“But you said there was a need for consent…”

“Which was forgone when they trespassed on your daughter’s property…which you pay the rent on, am I correct?”

Janice started towards them, “What the hell have you done to Candle.”

“I’m, like, Candy now Jan- Janey.”

Janice stopped and stared, torn between wanting to cry and wanting to kick the asses of the two bastards that had somehow done this to her girl.

“Isn’t she just. So Walter, do I have you permission to address their nature?”

“Yes.”

At that several things happened at once. Janice tried to grab Candy away from the two men, and Candy, overjoyed to see her lover, threw herself into her arms. Melissa started, she suddenly recognized what was bothering her about all this, who this man was, what had been done to her friend, and what he was proposing to do to Janice and herself. “Janice, take her and run. This guy’s a warlock. Probably a major warlock. He’s warped Candle somehow, to suit his fantasies. I’ll fix her later after I deal with him. Get Candle out of here!” And then in an incantatory voice, she called “Goddess of the Triple Crown, bind this man, bring him…”

Johann Foster made a small gesture, and all three girls froze. “That’s enough out of you little miss witch. Goddess of the triple crown, indeed” He snorted. “Walter your daughter is-well, was, a witch; why didn’t you tell me she was a witch?”

Candy’s father shrugged, “I just thought she was a lesbian and a weirdo, listening to all that awful music and dressing in black all the time.”

“Well, no matter, these girls are strictly minor league, though there is some power to the redhead. Given time she could have amounted to something. Even now, she’s fighting the hex I put on her.” He smiled at Maria, who was visibly straining under the effort. “Good luck trying little girl. I am indeed, a major Warlock.I may look young but I was master of these arts before you were born.”

“Now Janice, like Candy here, there’s no real magic to you. I guess you were just in it for the chicks, hmmm? What shall we do with you… I know, I’m sure Candy here would love a playmate...you’d like that wouldn’t you, seeing as you two were so close?” Unable to speak, Janice felt her body shake as a wave of change washed over her. Her spikedhair grew longer, and lighter, gathering volume and height. Her glasses disappeared and her face was covered with sparkly make up, candy pink on her puffy pouting lips, glittery blue eye shadow under pencil thin eyebrows. As her plaid shirt and baggy black jeans were replaced by a pink gingham baby doll top, so tiny it left her belly exposed, and an itsy bitsy pair of daisy duke short shorts, it became apparent that Janice had measurements to compare with the original Daisy Duke. Her high heeled white pumps were open toed exposing cherry red nails to match the talons that now topped her fingers. With her bouffant blonde hairdo, and toned yet impossibly curvaceous body, she now looked more like a teenage Pam Andersen than K D Laing, though someone who knew Janice well, and looked closely, might half recognize her despite the seemingly surgically enhanced bust, collagen fatty lips, bobbed nose, slutty attire and bimbo-ish blonde ‘do.

With a snap of his fingers, Johann released the girl, and Candy, who had been in the process of launching herself at her former girlfriend when she was frozen. Both girls simultaneously gave high pitched squeals of “pretty” and proceeded to make out.

Johann Foster chuckled, “I guess that lezbo gene ran pretty deep in both of them. No matter, they’ll both be fine fodder for threesomes.”

“Now, you. Little Miss Melissa, what shall we do with you? It’s actually lucky you’re here today, you know, because you actually could have caused us some trouble if you’d figured out what was going on. Maybe you have some real magical connections, or were you self taught? Were you the queen bee of this little coven of school girls, Missy? Ahhh… now there’s an idea.”

Maria mustered her will and in a desperate attempt to save herself forced her mouth to make the words, “Hecate, I implore thee—”

“Enough with the imploring—“ Foster made another gesture and her mouth snapped shut. “Still resisting. Very impressive. Like I said, you do have a bit of power to you. That could be useful in the future. But its important that a girl like you receive the right tutelage, otherwise who knows what silly ideas of independence or autonomy could sneak into your brain. Now what was I saying before you so rudely interrupted? Oh yes, a coven of schoolgirls…I could go for one of those... Of course, you’re a bit old to be called aschoolgirl, no offence. Let’s fix you up a bit, Missy.”

Again Melissa tried to call the magics but without words, it was no use, and she could feel his spell around her, within her nature, turning it back upon itself peeling it away, until he found what he wanted. Her true name—he was taking her true name and teasing it apart… Inside she could feel all of her discipline, her control, slipping; her mind, her very sense of self, slipping away. Beneath Maria, she was...what did that basta-no, that man...ah, the Master call her? He called her Missy! A sexy schoolgirl.

Missy was getting wet just thinking about it. On the surface of things she could feel the braid of her hair undoing itself, and curling itself into a mass of tightly permed bright red ringlets. With her own magical power (as well as her eyes) she could sense her body shrinking, dropping years from her twenty-three to a “mature” sixteen. Physically petit, barely five feet tall, but with suddenly excessively large C cup breasts, she watched as her long velvet dress changed into a skimpy parody of a school girl’s uniform. Her satiny pink blouse was thin and tight enough to show off her erect nipples and knotted below her ballooning breasts leaving her tummy exposed. Her pink and white checked mini kilt rustled over ornately rhumba ruffled pink panties it didn’t quite cover, and instead of knee socks, she wore sheer white thigh high stay ups with garishly bright pink garters. Her pink six inch stiletto heels gave her back a bit of height but made walking something of a challenge.

“Now Walt, you can choose. I’m sure either Candy or Janey here would do for your client. Does Candy being your daughter really trouble that conscience of yours? If so, there’s Janey, but I’m sure Candy would love to move back home and be her Daddy’s little girl forever.

“Oh daddy, can I can I can I— Puhhlease!”

“Well, I…”

“It’s done. Perhaps she and Janey can still have sleepovers when you and your client are conducting business.”

“I suppose so.” Walter Coulter said, smiling indulgently. Patting his daughter’s ass indulgently Coulter continued, “Candy, perhaps I can overlook your curiosity about bisexuality. After all, Dr. Foster here assures me that it is perfectly natural.”

Johann Foster continued. “For my part, I’ve been thinking of adopting and I’ve always been partial to that actress from Pretty in Pink. Of course my little Missy, here is both less and more, ahh, developed, shall we say, than the Ringwold girl, in different areas. Aren’t you pumpkin?

Despite herself, Missy found herself giggling in her little girl lisp “Oh, yeth daddy!” as she did her best to saunter sexily over to the man who’d shown her true nature.