The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

When Sam left Total Transformation, she headed straight to the street. She needed to get some heroine. She didn’t care how.

You would think that a cop would know how to do things “quietly”. But Sam didn’t care. And she was lost. She just needed her fix. She was able to score a little bit – but not very much… just a couple of days worth.

Sam made it home and couldn’t take her next trip fast enough. She spent Saturday night in another world.

Sunday morning, she woke in a pool of sweat, wearing only her panties… “Chrissie’s panties,” she thought happily. Sam added a pool of pussy juice to the sweat as she spent the next hour playing with herself, fantasizing about Chrissie.

Sunday was more of the same – heroine trips and lesbian fantasies.

Late Monday morning, Sam was snapped out of her sleep by banging on the door. She stumbled across the floor to the door – still wearing nothing but Chrissie’s panties. She opened the door.

“Holy shit,” Bill exclaimed as he saw the mess that used to be Sam’s well-kept apartment!

The smell was appalling. The floors were cover with trash. All of the shades pulled. And on the coffee table, Bill could see all kinds of remnants from the last few weeks of endless drug abuse – mirrors, straws, coke powder, a crack pipe, surgical tubing and a bunch of used syringes.

In front of Bill was the girl who used to be Samantha Hodge – police officer Samantha Hodge. Now a naked, gaunt junkie.

“Miss Hodge, I have been getting strange reports & complaints from the other tenants all week. I contacted the police. We came in on Saturday morning to find… this! Jesus, now it’s even worse!”

Sam could barely absorb what Bill was saying.

“Miss Hodge, I’m sorry but I can not have this in my building. Here…” Bill handed Sam some papers. “This is your eviction notice. I want you out of here immediately.”

Sam understood that. She was shocked.

“And the police asked me to give you this.” Bill handed some more papers to Sam.

“What the fuck is this,” Sam slurred?

“It’s a suspension without pay, Miss Hodge. The police saw all of this. They said you’re done,” Bill trailed off.

“Miss Hodge… Samantha… I don’t know what happened but please get yourself some help. You have so much going for you. Please, get some help.”

Bill couldn’t look at the scene any more. “What a waste,” he thought. He lowered his eyes, turned and walked away. He heard the door close slowly behind him and then he heard Samantha Hodge break down in tears and screams.

On the other side of the door, Sam was down on the floor curled up in the fetal position… hysterical. She was lost. She needed Chrissie.

Sam threw on some shorts and a t-shirt. She stumbled down the stairs and walked the streets to Total Transformation, barefoot.

Sam stumbled in the door. Cassie was expecting her.

“I have to see Chrissie,” Sam slurred and then she fell on the floor, sobbing.

An intern came out quickly and whisked Sam back into treatment room 3 where Chrissie and Bri were waiting for her.

Even though they knew it was coming – even though they had made it happen – the sight before them was tragic. Samantha Hodge. Police Officer. All-American girl. Straight as an arrow her whole life. 2 and a half weeks later, she was a strung-out junkie who had lost it all. She was at rock bottom.

“Time to start bringing her back, Chrissie,” Bri said.

“I look forward to it, Mistress Bri,” Chrissie said with a smile.

Bri left Chrissie to her work.

Through the haze, Sam heard a voice, “Sam… Sam… do you hear me, Sam?... It’s Chrissie…”

“Chrissie,” Sam thought! “Chrissie! Chrissie will help me!”

Sam opened her eyes – as much as she could.

“Sam, I’m here to help you. Do you want me to help you, Sam?”

Tears. “Help me, Chrissie,” Sam cried.

“You’re going through withdrawal, Sam. Do you understand?”

“Y…y…y…yesss…” Sam slurred, just shaking and rocking like a junkie.

“I need to give you something to get through the withdrawal, Sam. Can I do that?”

“H….h…help me,” Sam cried.

“Sam, I’m going to give you a shot of a new drug. It will help you come back down. OK, Sam?”

“Yyyessss…”

“Here we go, Sam.” Chrissie injected her with a combination of methadone and TTSS – the methadone to work her off of the heroine and the TTSS to help finish her transformation.

As soon as Chrissie emptied the syringe, Sam felt the effects. Far from normal, Sam still felt better and a calm came over her.

“Sam, I need to strap you down to the chair to get you through this. OK, Sam?”

“Yesss,” Sam whispered.

“I’m going to take your clothes off and strap you to the chair,” Chrissie said.

“Yesss…”

Moments later, Sam was naked. Her feet in stirrups attached to the base of the treatment chair, ankles and arms tied down with leather straps.

“Sam, I have something else that will help you through this. Something to put over your head and get you straight. Is that OK, Sam?”

“Yesss… whatever Chrissie says. Help me Chrissie…”

“I will Sam. I will.”

Chrissie pushed some buttons and a device descended from the ceiling. It looked like a helmet.

Chrissie took pair of hollow oval devices and set them into Sam’s sunken eye sockets.

“We need to keep your eyes open, OK, Sam?”

“Yesss…”

Chrissie told Sam to open her eyes and as she did, she locked the oval devices into place to hold Sam’s eyes open.

“I’m going to put this over your head and hook it up, Sam. The images and sensations will help you, Sam. OK?”

“Yesss…”

Chrissie connected probes from the helmet to each of Sam’s temples. Then, she lowered the helmet and locked the small video screens inside into each of the oval devices she had put into Sam’s eye sockets.

“Sam, I’m going to turn on a program that will help you. Beautiful images that will make you calm and happy. Beautiful images and thoughts that will bring you back to them. Back to what you are, Sam. OK?”

“Yesss…”

Sam reached over to the laptop on the table and entered a command. The video screens in front of Sam’s eyes came to life. Images of beautiful women. Sexy women. Exotic women. Hot women. Huge breasts.

Music began in Sam’s head. The images turned to exotic dancers. Sexy exotic dancers. Sam liked it. She felt warm.

Chrissie leaned down to Sam’s ear and whispered, “Sam likes girl... Remember having sex with Chrissie… Sam likes girls…”

The pole dancers were replaced with images of Chrissie. Sam’s pussy was dripping. Chrissie started kissing Sam… fondling her. Then it wasn’t Chrissie. It was another beautiful girl licking Sam’s pussy. And then another girl, and another girl. Dozens of hot, beautiful girls having their lesbian way with Sam in every way imaginable.

Chrissie’s voice again, “Sam is a lesbian... Sam likes girls… Sam likes only girls… Sam doesn’t like boys…”

Then the images changed to men. Men kissing and fondling Sam. Sam suddenly felt sick. Another man, his rock-hard penis entering Sam’s pussy. Pain! Terrible pain, Sam thought. She cried.

Chrissie’s voice, “Lesbian… only girls… big breasts… exotic dancers… sexy… lesbian…”

Images of beautiful women – dancers, huge tits… Pleasure…

“Sam likes girls,” Sam thought. “Sam is a lesbian… lesbian… lesbian…”

The onslaught continued back & forth. Wildly exotic women – exotic dancers… pleasure! Then men... pain!

Chrissie’s voice whispering, “Sam would like to be an exotic dancer… ” And then back to “Lesbian… only girls… big breasts… exotic dancers… sexy… lesbian…” Over and over again…

2 hours later, the assault was finished. And Sam was lost. Neither she nor Chrissie had any idea how many times she had come during the programming. But Sam was now a totally spent lesbian with images of hot, sexy women still in her head. The methadone had gotten her through the tough start of the withdrawal. And the TTSS had really done its job.

Chrissie removed the helmet slowly.

“How do you feel?”

“Good,” Sam whispered.

“What happened, Sam,” Chrissie asked? “Can you tell me what happened this week?”

Sam started to cry. “I’m a junkie, Chrissie. I’ve lost it all. I got kicked out of my apartment. I’m losing my job. I have no money. My life is over…”

If Sam could have curled into a fetal position, she would have. But she was strapped into the treatment chair. So she just cried.

Chrissie ran her hand over Sam’s forehead and through her hair. “Now, now, Sam… it’s OK... Chrissie is here… I can help you get off of the heroine… you feel better already, right?

“Uh-huh…” Sam sobbed. “B…b…but I s... still lost everything else. No job. No money. No life…”

“We can help you start over, Sam. Chrissie will help…”

Sam sobbed.

“Bri has connections, Sam. I know she can help. Would you like us to help, Sam,” Chrissie asked?

“Yes… please… help…” Sam said through the tears.

A few minutes later, Bri entered the room. “Hello, Samantha.”

“H…h…hi.”

“I understand that you have come upon some hard times. I’d like to help you, Samantha,” Bri said, kindly.

“Thank you ma’am,” Sam said barely starting to calm down.

“I know that you were a police officer. What else have you done or what else would you like to do?”

“I… I… I can dance,” Sam said.

“Hmmm. That’s interesting, Sam. Have you ever danced professionally,” Bri asked?

“No. But I would like to,” Sam replied.

“What type of dancing, Sam?”

Sam couldn’t look Bri in the eye. She was still a bit embarrassed but inside, she knew that she wanted to be an exotic dancer. “Exotic dancers are pretty,” she thought.

“Exotic,” Sam finally replied.

“Well, Sam, you are in luck. I happen to have a very good friend that owns an exotic dance club just off of 5th street. I’m sure I could get you a job there,” Bri said.

Sam’s world suddenly got a little bit brighter. “Oh, ma’am, that… that would be wonderful!”

“Do you also need a new place to live,” Bri then asked?

Embarrassed, “Yes, ma’am,” Sam whispered.

“Well, Doug, the owner has a house that many of his girls live in. All he requires is that you sign a contract to dance for him for at least 2 years,” Bri offered.

“I can do that, ma’am. That would be great!”

“Very good,” Bri said as she turned to Chrissie. “I think our little girl here might want to think about some enhancements if she wants to be successful in her new career.”

“Yes, Bri,” Chrissie replied.

“I will go call Doug for you now, Sam. You can stay with us for a few days while you work with Chrissie on your enhancements. Then, you can move to Doug’s place.” And with that, Bri left the room.

Sam looked to Chrissie, “what did she mean that I might want to consider some ‘enhancements’?”

“We can talk about that in a minute. For now, let’s get you cleaned up, OK,” Chrissie said.

“Oh, yes.”

Chrissie leaned Sam back into the sink, wet her hair, started with the shampoo and then introduced more TTSS. The effect was immediate as Sam already had the drug in her system from the earlier injection. Sam relaxed.

Chrissie whispered in Sam’s ear, “you are going to be a great exotic dancer. Lesbian exotic dancer. You will love to live with the other girls because they are all lesbians, too. Beautiful, hot sexy lesbians…”

“Dancer… lesbian…” Sam repeated monotone.

Chrissie continued, “exotic dancers have big tits and a perfect round ass. Sam wants to have big tits and a round ass…”

“Big tits… round ass…” Sam repeated.

“Sam loves to dress like a sexy pole dancer… all the time…”

“Sexy pole dancer,” Sam repeated.

Chrissie spent a few more minutes massaging Sam’s hair before she spoke again.

“Sam?”

“Yes?...”

“Have you ever thought about cosmetic changes? You don’t really have the body of an exotic dancer. We can do anything you want here, you know. And Bri will pay for it.”

“Mmmm,” Sam smiled. “I want big tits and a nice round ass!”

“That sounds nice, Sam.”

“I want to be hot and sexy for all the other dancers. I like girls.”

“Anything else, Sam?”

“Can you give me long, hard nipples to go with my big tits?

“Sure we can, Sam. And Sam?”

“Yes?”

“I think a horny lesbian pole dancer needs a better name.”

“Sure! Whatever Chrissie thinks. Sam trusts Chrissie.”

“How about a good stage-name like Vixen. Do you like that?”

“Mmmmm. Vixen! I like that name. I would like to be Vixen. Sounds sexy”

“Good, Vixen. Good. And now do you want to talk about the details of your cosmetic surgery?”

“Sure! How big can you make my tits? Vixen should have enormous tits.”

“How about a nice double-D? And we can bump up your ass to about twice the size and round it out.”

“And big hard nipples,” Vixen added.

“Yes, big long nipples.”

“You know what else, Vixen?”

“Hmm?”

“Pole dancers shave and wax their pussies. Would you like me to do that?”

“You’re so nice, Chrissie. Yes. Yes! Please shave and wax my pussy. I want to be a hot little lesbian.”

Bri turned off the monitor in her office. “Another problem taken care of with that little bitch off the beat,” she thought.

1 month later…

Over the speakers, “Ladies and gentlemen... give it up for our newest girl… Vixen!!!...”

Vixen exploded from behind the curtain. Her double-D tits leading the way. She was wearing a sexy caricature of her old uniform. A tiny police jacket that barely could hold in her breasts and only came down to just below them. Tiny handcuffs dangling from her belly button piercing. Below, nothing but a shiny black thong. Completing the package were knee-high black boots with a 6 inch heal, a fake, sexy holster strung around her waste and a big badge that said “Lieutenant Vixen”.

5 erotic steps down the stage, Vixen ripped the break-away jacket off and leapt toward the pole. Like a pro, she caught the pole with her leg and started rubbing her pussy on it.

The crowd went wild. Vixen had arrived.