The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Success is truly part of a bewildering chorus of art. Run onto the stage! Dance your dance on the stage of life! Be as the male lion in hunt. Sink your claws in and don’t let go! Smile a lot too!

Robert lowered his book upon hearing the sound of footsteps.

Ms. Martinez was quickly approaching the storefront. Her dark curls were tied back in a loose pony tail, just a few sweaty bangs glued to her forehead. She smelled like exertion. Her polyester t-shirt and legging combo clung to her body, leaving none of her curves to Robert’s imagination. He didn’t think he’d seen her in anything less formal than a frilly blouse and jeans.

She scrambled to unlock the door. Robert followed her inside, still a bit stunned. Inside, she hurried into the back room to flip on the lights, where he heard several short sneezes.

“Ugh. I am so sorry, Mr. Reiss,” she said as he entered her office, sounding almost timid. “I took some medicine last night to break up this junk.” She sniffled. “I don’t think I’ve overslept in ten years. And then I...” She blushed and waved a hand down over her body. “I lost track of time at the gym.”

She giggled.

“That’s college Karen. Stoned, running on coffee, stressed out of her mind, just going without thinking.” She looked at Robert, and chuckled nervously. “I’m not implying I’m stoned.” She cocked her head, inquiring, “What’s the matter, dear?“

Robert shook his head.

“Nothing...” he replied. He coughed, gave her a grin, and put on his best man-voice, “Don’t let it happen again, Ms. Martinez.”

Ms. Martinez giggled again, twisted a lock of hair, and batted her eyes at him.

“Oh thank you for being so understanding, Mr. Reiss!” she said, before giggling. She pressed the power button on her ancient computer.

Robert waited, rubbing at a knuckle.

“Do you think you can get Carrie on the schedule this week?” Robert asked. “That’s my friend.”

“I remember yesterday, Mr. Reiss,” Ms. Martinez said, annoyed. She smiled. “Maybe. Which shift would you like to give her?”

Dance your dance on the stage of life!

“I think she should get one of Jessie’s. Tomorrow,” Robert said. He crossed his arm. “She’s habitually tardy and left a full two hours early yesterday.”

Ms. Martinez’s mouth was slightly agape. In a moment, surprise turned to amusement, and she cracked a smile.

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do,” she said.

Robert felt his tension ease; however, he felt his face heat up as he reflected on the moment. Still, he was happy to see her jot down a note. Notes meant things would happen.

Sink your claws in and don’t let go!

“Tomorrow,” Ms. Martinez said, deflating Robert a little. “We still don’t know if Jessie will be here today. I haven’t heard anything yet. If she hasn’t quit, we’re still cutting your hours.“

From inside her purse, she produced a small, dog-eared paperback, Just His Type by Captain H.M. Abendsen. The cover was an illustrated picture of a female secretary and a man (her boss, Robert assumed) peaking from behind a nearby door and grinning.

Ms. Martinez studied the book, almost admiring it, then flipped through its pages, looking for something she eventually found about 1/3 of the way in. Smiling, she explained, “This is my project for today.”

Her eyes drifted back and forth, reading over the page.

“Is that one of the books Jessie bought?” Robert asked. Ms. Martinez didn’t respond. “Ms. Martinez?”

She looked up at him, confused. “Hmmm?”

“I asked if that was one of the books in that guy’s box,” he replied. “That Jessie bought.”

Ms. Martinez looked at the cover, and smiled.

“Yeah,” she said. Ms. Martinez paused, confused, then placed her bookmark back in. “Sorry. I was...oh yeah, I was looking for...what we were...”

Ms. Martinez blinked. After another look back down, she held up the book, and tapped the name on the cover, right in the middle of the secretary’s bulging cleavage.

“Do you know who H.M. Abendsen is?” she asked.

Robert shook his head.

Ms. Martinez giggled, and continued, “Neither does anyone else, apparently. Nothing in any database. Nothing online. I called three rare book dealers last night about this guy. They didn’t know him.”

Ms. Martinez sighed.

“As far as I can tell, H.M. Abendsen has never published a single item for any existing publisher, past or present. But...”

She held up a finger, then waved her hand over the box.

“Every last thing in there has his name somewhere on it. And everything looks like it rolled out of a professional house. The covers, the printing...it’s impressive. This was an author with an audience.” Ms. Martinez laughed again. “It’s driving me crazy. In a good way.“

She looked at the cover of Just His Type and frowned.

“That said, if this is any indication of his skill as a writer, I don’t know that I’m going to find a modern Gododdin.“

“His nonfiction is okay,” Robert said, with a shrug. He held up his copy of The Secret to Mastering...Your Life. “There’s a lot of good advice in here, I think.“

Ms. Martinez studied the book in his hand, and purred, “Do tell.”

“Take responsibility for your own life. Seize the day. And so on.” Robert said. “It’s not like he came up with the advice, but it’s not a bad collection of that advice. It’s interesting. Not unreadable.”

“Oh, certainly not,” Ms. Martinez replied. “Perfectly readable. I just think his grasp on fiction and story structure leaves something to be desired.” She laughed again. “And if you read some of the misogyny laced through this thing...jeez...”

She flipped open a page and read aloud:

Kathy didn’t envy Roger’s position. So many demands, so much responsibility. He was just the latest in a series of men that Kathy had watched beaten and battered by the harsh demands of the world, providing for their families and society at large.

Praise came to the lucky, she knew, but often their hard work when unappreciated, even by their wives.

Kathy knew one thing: if Roger ever took her as his, she would appreciate every last thing he did for her, and appreciate that all she ever had to was sit, type, and take phone calls.

Ms. Martinez smirked as she lowered the book. “See what I mean?”

Robert nodded.

Her eyes moved back into the book, and she continued, “That’s light compared to this one scene...” She continued to read, eyes glazing over.

Eventually, Robert cleared his throat. Ms. Martinez didn’t respond, so he cleared it louder. That caught her attention.

“Yes, dear?” she asked. Her voice bubbled with delight.

“Were you going to continue?” Robert asked. Ms. Martinez cocked her head. “About the misogyny?”

“Oh,” she said. Her grin faltered slightly. “Yeah...” She chewed a lip as she scanned the text. Slowly, her grin returned and she flipped the page. “There are these little fun parts, and I...”

She giggled.

“I’m sorry. This is a really good scene.”

Her nose was buried in the book again.

“So...should I go do some work or something?” Robert asked.

Ms. Martinez just giggled.

Chirping birds, sunshine, and a gentle breeze made Julia’s post-jog walk home very pleasant journey. She felt proud of the full 3 miles she’d put behind her. Her muscles burned from the work, and a persistent energy was beginning to fill ever inch of her body.

Still, her ass didn’t feel any smaller.

Julia had her mom’s pear shape and her dad’s tiny stature. The fat never seemed to completely burn away, but especially in her ass. Most of Julia sat low to the ground and wide.

You’re fit, you feel healthy, Julia told herself. And ‘slim thicc’ is in.

To Julia’s surprise, a text waited for her from Carrie.

Hey. it read.

Julia grinned. The text made nearly a week of constant contact.

Sup? Julia texted back.

She went through her routine, waiting on a reply. It was after a refreshing shower that the response finally came.

Wanna hang out or something?

Can’t right now, getting ready for work Julia replied. You should swing by the garage. Mom’s been asking about you. Dad is still dad. You can see me sit at a desk.

She paused, then grinned.

Robert might be jealous though. We do have some good looking mechanics.

ew stop stop stop Carrie texted back.

Followed by a picture of a middle finger.

Coffee, maybe? Julia asked. Doesn’t have to be at work.

If you buy. I fired.

A picture of a little girl looking at the ground, ashamed, hands behind her back.

Uh oh? Julia frowned.

No. It’s fine. I meant to. Start DBN soon.

Julia rolled her eyes, and almost ignored Carrie’s next text out of frustration.

Actually. I got it. When are you there?

Julia grabbed her keys.

Going now. Leaving at 3.

See you soon!

Jessie awoke feeling very sore.

She skipped both of her morning classes, choosing sleep instead. She finally relented to her phone’s annoying alarm blare around noon, tried to ignore the feeling of dust grinding away in her sinuses, and sluggishly readied herself.

As Jessie collected her things for work, she found her textbook laying on the floor....under Pin-Ups!

The previous night started to come back to her.

Jessie looked at her watch. She had thirty minutes to get to work, and the drive wasn’t going to be nearly that long...

She stuffed the textbook into her bag, hesitated once more, then slid the old magazine in as well. Jessie finally rolled into DBN around 12:45, her eyes hidden behind a giant pair of shades.

“Thanks for sticking me out yesterday,” Robert fumed at her, almost the second she walked in the door. “What happened?”

Good question, Jessie thought.

“I...was feeling sick, sorry,” she told him.

Jessie set her bag beneath the counter, just under the trade-ins, then took her perch. She slipped off her shades, giving Robert a good look at her bloodshot eyes. “I feel like I’ve been snorting dirt.”

“Ms. Martinez isn’t feeling great either,” Robert said. “She still came in today. Didn’t leave early yesterday.”

“When was the last time we had someone in here after three?” Jessie countered. “I’m sorry!”

“No, you’re not!” Robert growled. He gestured at the small pile of trade-ins. “Robert does the trade-ins. Robert moves the books. Robert watches the desk for Jessie. Robert does everything! Jessie just sits at the counter...and...and...plays with her twat!”

Jessie blushed.

How did he know? Did Ms. Martinez know too? No...they couldn’t know...

“Ugh, no, that was...” Robert groaned.

He rubbed his eyes.

“That dust is getting to us all,” he muttered. He looked at her, and frowned; there was a hint of embarrassment. “Sorry for yelling, I guess.”

“It’s okay,” Jessie squeaked. “Something was...on my mind.” Her mental cogs whirred to think of something other than my pussy. “My twa...test.My test.“

She rubbed an eye, trying to relieve the pressure building in her sinuses.

“I’ve got a test on Thursday, on top of this junk. I’m not thinking straight.”

“Whatever,” Robert muttered on his way to the back.

“Fuck you too,” Jessie said quietly once he disappeared. She adjusted her butt in her chair, sending a sharp, unexpected jolt straight up her clit into her spine.

Before Jessie could dwell on her body’s new sensitivity, Ms. Martinez emerged from the back. Jessie was surprised by her boss’s casual attire. It was rushed, unpolished, and...it made Jessie feel kinda weird.

“You had me so worried!” Ms. Martinez said, surprising Jessie with a hug. The woman’s large, soft breasts pressed into Jessie as her arms squeezed tight. Jessie tried not to melt.

Body contact felt very good.

Ms. Martinez retreated from the embrace and sneezed. “Sorry, allergies.”

“Mine too,” Jessie said.

Horny. was all Jessie felt and thought.

“I told you that box of books was a terrible buy,” Ms. Martinez said. She playfully patted Jessie on the arm. “I’m just teasing. I think there’s a few interesting items in there. Not from a business standpoint, mind you. Just...intriguing.”

Ms. Martinez sneezed again, then gave Jessie a look. “What happened yesterday?”

Jessie gulped.

Words didn’t come.

Ms. Martinez didn’t seem mad...but she rarely seemed mad, just grumpy...so it was weird to see mad and Jessie didn’t want to lose her job and...she didn’t know what had happened yesterday and...

“Hey,” Ms. Martinez said, snapping Jessie out of it. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Jessie said. Her eyes felt wet, and her sinuses began to drain. “There’s a test on Thursday, and I was freaking out about it. I’m so sorry.“

Jessie wiped at her face, smearing snot and tears along her arm. She tore off a length of paper towel to wipe herself off, then blow her nose.

“Hey, come here,” Ms. Martinez said softly. She wrapped Jessie in another soft hug.

This time, Jessie couldn’t resist pressing back into the softness. Briefly, she imagined pushing a giggling Ms. Martinez onto the counter, dipping her head between the older woman’s legs, and...

“I take it the scolding went well?” Robert asked, emerging from the back and giving them both a glare.

“Excuse me?” Ms. Martinez’s voice cracked. She crossed her arms, coughed, and glared at him.

Robert opened his mouth as if to say something, then stopped, then closed his mouth. He gave Ms. Martinez a frustrated glare, before returning to the backroom.

Ms. Martinez made a soft noise and rubbed her knees together.

“Don’t do that again, please,” Ms. Martinez said to Jessie directly, suddenly serious and somewhat anxious. “You’re off tomorrow. Giving your shift to the new girl, Carrie, for training. Feel better and come back focused.”

The part of Jessie that paid bills and attended school knew that was going to hurt. The remainder knew it was going to feel great. She felt even hotter, more distracted.

Her body wanted it.

So she just nodded and smiled.

Ms. Martinez’s turned toward the back, then said, “I’m going to have a conversation with Mr. Reiss.”

Then she was gone too.

Jessie returned to her perch behind the counter, making a concerted effort not to set herself off as she sat. But her body’s eagerness remained. She couldn’t think straight.

She gazed around the room, tapping the counter with her fingernails. The store was silent except for the A/C and the faint rumble of speech emanating from the back.

Jessie sighed and dug out her textbook. She made a good five minutes worth of studying before she absently shifted in her chair again, sending another pulse of heat through her body and shattering her concentration.

It was going to be a long day.

“I’m frustrated,” Robert explained to Ms. Martinez. He felt aggressive. “Jessie literally walks off the job, and she gets a hug. But I have to beg you to give Carrie hours, and I have to take a cut in hours. It’s unfair.“

“I see,” she said, absorbing his words.

Ms. Martinez chewed a lip, and thought. After a moment, she sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry, Mr. Reiss, but when you asked me to hire your...friend, you were already asking me a favor, correct?”

“Yeah, but...” Robert swallowed the surge of frustration.

Ms. Martinez still seemed to pick up on it; she shrank. Robert hung his head, and said, “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so...”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Ms. Martinez said, getting close enough that he could hear the slight wheeze in her lungs. Her hand settled on his arm, giving it a soft squeeze. “I’m your boss, but you’ve worked here long enough. I can be your friend too.”

Ms. Martinez sighed, rolled her eyes, and smiled.

“Have you talked to Carrie since yesterday?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I honestly don’t have her number. She is just a friend of my sister.” His shoulders sagged. “But she used to be my friend too.“

“Oh...hmmm...” Ms. Martinez frowned. She thought. Then gave Robert a look.

After another moment, she rubbed at her temple, sighed, then moved behind her desk. He watched her read a line off a notepad, then dial, then wink. After a few moments, someone answered.

“Ms. Mercado?” Ms. Martinez asked.

Robert blushed.

“Hey, this is Karen Martinez at the Downtown Book Nook.” Pause. “I’m well. How are you?” More chatter. “Right? Well, I’m calling because I wanted to see if you could come in for a short shift tomorrow?”

Robert squeezed his hand into a fist, feeling a little surge of victory.

“Five hours? Six if you need it. Do some paperwork. Learn how to put books on a shelf.”

Ms. Martinez laughed.

“Great! Robert and I will see you then.”

Ms. Martinez hung up, and smirked.

“There. You guys can reconnect and get this out of your system.”

She winked.

“And I can go back to being your boss...and friend. Not your wingwoman.”

Carrie texted Julia again at three...twenty two, as Julia was driving back to her apartment.

You off yet? the text read.

Julia didn’t reply until she was home.

At home now. Mom was disappointed.

Julia was too.

Sorry. :( Carrie replied. Still bringing coffee.

Carrie arrived another half hour later, shortly after Julia had slipped down a wiki rabbit hole on group theory. She had the coffee...and a large garbage bag filled with...things. Julia could see more in the back of her friend’s car.

It was Carrie’s personal things.

“This doesn’t look okay,” Julia appraised.

Carrie frowned and nodded.

“My roommate didn’t have the kindest reaction to me getting fired, she said. “I still owe them a little for last month.”

She reached in her pocket, and slid the edge of a small plastic baggy from her pocket; a bit of green leafy material was visible within.

“So I splurged a little before I came over. We can smoke a little while I figure out a plan.”

“Carrie...” Julia’s face felt hot. She couldn’t help but recall her father’s stern face and his many “no bullshit” lectures on being responsible with her own money. As Carrie lit up cigarette, Julia felt actual anger.

Carrie seemed to pick up on her friend’s judgment.

“It’s been a shit day,” she said, letting her cool drop. Her eyes were wet. “Can we just chill? I’d like to crash here too, but I’ll sleep in my car if any of that’s a problem.”

Suddenly, Julia’s father was replaced by the two of them, much younger, taking turns trying to match the pipes of their favorite vocalists. Their immature voices didn’t have the power of Cristina, not even Shayla Belle, but they tried.

And then a slightly older Carrie breaking into one of those same songs, solo and out of the blue, just to cheer up Julia after her first boyfriend dumped her.

“No!” Julia grabbed her friend’s arm, and wrapped Carrie in a hug. The anger was gone as if it had never been there. “No. Sorry. I’m working with my dad too much.”

Carrie hugged her back, and wiped her tears away. Wiping at her nose too, she asked, “Do you have papers though?”

Julia smiled and shook her head.

Carrie shrugged and picked up her bag of things. “Tampon wrapper it is then.”

“Not again,” Jessie heard Robert whine.

She stopped writing and turned her attention toward the voice. She was sitting below the counter, notebook in lap; a trade-in, The Golden Rules of Cooking by H.M. Abendsen, sat open beside her. She’d noticed the book in the pile, knew the name, opened it up, and...

The rest was blurry.

“Still here! Still here!” Jessie shouted, scrambling to her feet and giving Robert a big smile. “Just writing down some recipes.” She held up the cookbook as well as her well-used notebook.

“Recipes?” he asked as he got closer. Then, noticing the cover, he pulled the book from Jessie’s hand. “I missed one.”

“Yeah,” Jessie said. She barely heard him. She scanned her cursive, reading what she’d copied over.

Page after page of recipe after recipe, almost the entire notebook filled with recipes. Except the last few pages.

Plump and Pretty (As A) Pie

• 1 cup plump
• 1 pretty plump and pretty
• 2 plump and pretty
• 1 plump

And pretty. Plump and pretty plump and pretty plump and pretty. Plump and pretty. Plump and pretty plump and pretty, plump and pretty, plump, and pretty. Plump and pretty plump and pretty plump and pretty. Plump and pretty. Plump and pretty plump! And pretty!

The rest of Jessie’s writing was the same repetition, but margin to margin.

Plump and pretty!

The phrase repeated in a steady, persistent rhythm in her head. It was making her wet.

“That guy...one of the mags had this ad with some pretty legit looking turkey in it. Kinda made me horny,” she told him. Then, thinking about what she’d said, “For that kinda food. You know...like real home cooking. I think it was even that cookbook.“

“Whatever,” Robert replied.

To her relief, he set the book back down in the pile.

“Ms. Martinez has a box in the back for those if you’re actually putting stuff up too,” he said. He pulled himself into Jessie’s usual seat behind the counter. “That box has taken over everybody’s...whoa!”

Robert bolted to his feet, reaching a hand back to feel at his bottom as he looked down at the chair. Jessie saw the wet patch on his bottom, and laughed.

Robert was not amused. “Did you pee yourself?!”

Jessie fought to sober up, while simultaneously considering whether she should tell him he’d just sat in her fluids or not. She wiped at her own wet patch, behind her back. That really set her off.

Robert is a prick, but he also has a prick, she told herself.

Her attention turned back to the cookbook. And her bag right below the counter.

“No!” Jessie protested, half-heartedly. She just wanted to grab the book and put it somewhere safe. “But it looks like I sat in it too. Maybe we have a leak?”

Robert looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t see anything.”

Jessie quickly squatted, grabbing the book and sliding it into her bag, before standing back up.

After wiping up her juices, tossing the paper towels in the trash, and giving the ceiling another long look, Robert slid the chair a couple feet to the right before sitting again.

Carrie rolled precisely one joint out of a discarded tampon wrapper, which they smoked while she dug out her glass pipe.

“So I’m not like a total loser now,” Carrie said suddenly, but calm and even as ever. They had put on a cartoon movie. Pizza was on the way.

Julia gave her friend a glance and a dopey grin. She giggled, unable to actually answer.

Carrie smirked. “You’re high as fuck. It’s just dirt weed, dude.”

“I. Don’t. Smoke.” Julia said, poking Carrie in the tummy along with each word, for no reason other than it was kinda funny. She giggled some more, setting off Carrie too.

“But seriously,” Carrie said, only half sober. She rolled her eyes as she continued, “I know what it looks like: stupid bitch can’t pay her bills and can’t keep a job but she can smoke herself stupid.” She held up a finger. “BUT...I got the Book Nook gig. And...” Another finger. “And I found another place that won’t piss test me and applied. Shooters.”

“The kicker bar?” Julia asked. She burst into more giggles as Carrie nodded in confirmation. “Did you tell them how much you hate country music?”

“Lady, I can’t hear music at work anymore. You try listening to the softest, sappiest singer-songwriter bullshit day in and day out and tell me you have any love for any music anymore.” Julia shrugged. Carrie huffed. “Right, you never had taste in music anyway.“

“Don’t act like you didn’t love Cristina too!” Julia burst into a chorus straight out of their old warbling sessions. Carrie cringed and mocked covering her ears.

“Stop!” Julia did stop. “My point is...”

Carrie giggled, setting off Julia this time.

“That was cute.” Carrie composed herself. “My point is I don’t have to like the music to work there. If I can handle an Austin bar, I can handle this podunk dive, and I did that twice.”

“Yeah, but the vibe is...”

Julia barely remembered the one time she’d been, to meet some friends who fit right in. Neon lights, lots of cheap beer, a perpetual fog of cigarette smoke and alcohol fumes, a bunch of drunk rednecks, and two zombified, voluptuous bartenders who seemed throughly desensitized to the horny comments and gawking from the patrons.

“Horny, fifty something rednecks,” Julia finally finished, still not happy with her description. “I mean, younger people go there too...I guess.”

She gave Carrie a look over.

Her friend wore a long-sleeved green shirt over a white tank top, no bra, with an old pair of denim shorts. Carrie had probably owned all of it since middle school; the tank was just a little too small for her still lithe adult body.

Unlike Julia, Carrie’s body barely held onto any fat; no tummy, no ass, no thighs; most settled in her chest and cheeks, blessing her with a decent bust for a girl her size and a round, freckled face. However, Carrie had given up on most makeup while in Austin; dark circles were etched around her eyes; her resting face was apathy itself.

“You would not fit in,” Julia warned. “And they get pinchy.”

She pinched at her friend’s moderate bust, just barely catching the nipple inside Carrie’s shirt.

Carrie reacted swiftly to cover her chest, but caught her gasp in her throat. She gave Julia a cold stare in return.

“I’ve been to more bars than I’ve worked, dude,” Carrie said coolly. She shrugged, and let her hand drop. “I need a job. Let some horny old man touch me, I’ll cut him.”

“With what?” Julia asked, sitting back as the cartoon caught her attention again.

“Uh, a fucking Bowie knife, bitch,” Carrie said, stabbing in the air. “Cut him, gut him, stuff...”

There was a knock at the door.

Carrie stopped, and stifled a laugh as she whispered, “I totally hope they heard that.”

Robert clicked the lock on the front door and flipped the sign to “Closed.”

Jessie was long gone, having jetted as soon as the clock read 4:00.

Ms. Martinez was in her office, gathering her things. She looked up as he entered, then stopped and smiled.

“Mr. Reiss,” she cooed.

Robert’s heart jumped at the tone. She was studying him.

Sink your teeth in!

“How are...things?” Ms. Martinez asked. She fingered the bottom of her shirt, pulling and releasing it in a steady, anxious rhythm.

“Good?” Robert replied. He rubbed at the back of his neck, and tried to not stare. “I’m good.”

Sink your teeth in!

“I was talking about the store,” Ms. Martinez said, cracking a slight smile. “But I am happy to know that too.” She was leaning slightly forward, breathing slowly. “That said...”

Her breasts jutted out at him. The slow rhythm of her breathing seemed to draw his attention in, like watching the ocean rise and fall.

Robert realized he was staring at the faint outline of her nipples. He was getting an erection.

Go away! Go away! Go away! he told himself.

But that seemed to bring on the blood flow.

“You need to be more firm,” Ms. Martinez said. “You are or aren’t good, dear. Be. Firm.”

As if she read his thoughts, she pulled harder at her shirt, pulling it taut against her body.

Blood poured into Robert’s dick, pushing his pants out in a noticeable tent.

Ms. Martinez grinned again, and licked her lips. “There you go.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Martinez,” Robert said, turning red.

“No, no, no,” she said, frowning. “Be firm! You’ve got an erection. Own it. That’s firm.”

She giggled, breaking the tension, and mused, “Literally.”

Sobering again, Ms. Martinez let the fabric of her shirt go. “I mean attitude. Tell people what you want. How you feel.” She straightened, and motioned to Robert. “Tell me what to do next.”

“Um...” Robert’s mind was spinning. He still hadn’t recovered from the word erection coming out of her mouth.

Ms. Martinez raised an eyebrow.

“Firm, Mr. Reiss,” she reminded him. She traced the curve of a breast with her fingers. “You like my tits, right? Or is it my little tummy? What do you like seeing? What do you want me to do?”

Robert gulped, and said, “Take off your shirt.”

Ms. Martinez pulled the shirt up, revealing a well-worn, black sports bra stretching to contain her large chest; the thick shapes of her nipples were even harder to ignore. She had a rough hourglass shape, her curves covered in a smooth layer of fatty tissues; a small paunch was the only apparent artifact of age.

Never breaking eye contact, Ms. Martinez pulled her shirt off her arms, folded it delicately, then laid it on her desk.

“That’s it. You just got a lady’s shirt off,” she said. “And just by telling her what you want. Next?”

She gave his crotch a long glance.

“What would you me to do?” She stroked the tops of her breasts, and tugged at her bra. “Do you need me to take this off too?” She whined, and pouted, “I didn’t plan on wearing it all day. My tits are getting sooo...”

She paused, then sighed.

“Sore.”

She grinned.

Sink your teeth in!

“Get the bra off too. And the panties. I’m going to fuck you right on that desk,” Robert said. He was stripping his pants.

Ms. Martinez took a deep, heavy breath, and there was a moment of...temptation. Her hands moved upwards, as if she intended to follow his suggestion. But then she shook her head.

“I don’t intend to fuck you, Robert,” she said, biting a lip. “This is just practice. Building confidence. I was just...”

Her eyes widened.

“Oh wow, this was...” Ms. Martinez stumbled to get out. She winced and rubbed her temple. “We’re friends, Mr. Reiss.”

She paused.

“Robert. Even if one of us is the boss.” Ms. Martinez was seeming more herself, but also much more anxious. “That is, I meant to give you personal advice, not make you uncomfortable.”

She was scrambling to put on her shirt.

“I don’t know what came over me.”

Shirt back on, she almost cowered in front of him. Her fingers fiddled together. “Was that too much?”

“No...” Robert gasped in response. He paused, almost by reflex, awaiting a feeling of uncertainty and confusion. But he didn’t feel it. Instead, he smiled. “That was kinda fucking hot.”

“We don’t have to be crass, Mr. Reiss,” Ms. Martinez scolded. Then, she blushed and smiled, “But thank you.”

“And helpful!” Robert quickly added. “I know what you were trying to do. It’s cool. Er...hot.”

The anxiety seemed to leave Ms. Martinez all together. She clasped her hands behind her back and pressed her chest toward him as she twisted, just slightly. Playfully.

“You’re so understanding of my condition, sir!” she chirped.

Ms. Martinez’s hand shot to her mouth. She turned and began to quickly gather her things again. “I don’t know why I said that.” She waved the copy of Just His Type at him before sliding it in her purse. “I was in...it’s from...“

She closed her eyes and rubbed at her temples.

“Kathy’s boss calls her Kay...and my nickname is Kay...for Karen, of course,” she explained. She paused. “I think? I just...”

Ms. Martinez stopped and took one last concerned look around her desk. She rubbed at the back of her neck, and frowned. “Just forgot to do a couple things. I hate being behind...I’m just jumbled up.”

She sighed, gave Robert a friendly smile, and raised her elbow towards him. “I’m ready for you to walk me to my car...”

Ms. Martinez didn’t say the last word so much as it just rolled out in a warm purr.

“...sir.”

Robert felt firm.

He can smell me, Jessie thought to herself, desperately trying not to masturbate in front of the poor drive-thru employee.

Jessie found him cute enough, but...

He does not want to see your pussy right now.

As he handed over the order, Jessie allowed herself the thrill of allowing her still damp fingers to brush along his hand, once or twice, as well as a flirtatious wink before she took off.

She devoured two of the five burgers in her bag, as well as a full medium fries, on her way home. Inside, she tossed the uneaten dollar-menu burgers and her bag onto her small couch.

Jessie headed for her bedroom, one thing on her mind.

The heat and tingling that had tortured her through the end of her day and all the way home hadn’t stopped growing. A fog settled over her brain, blocking any thoughts about anything but getting her rocks off.

She couldn’t get out of her pants fast enough. She needed this. She needed to be filled.

Jessie dug into her underwear drawer to grab a soft, thick toy as well as her small vibrator. She flipped it on, and brushed it lightly over her clit. Her body trembled in anticipation.

Kneeling atop her bed, she slid the soft cock shaped toy into herself, quite easily; her muscles grasped it firmly as she adjusted her position.

Jessie positioned the vibrator with one hand, secured herself by grasping the headboard with her other hand, then sat down to grind her clit against the vibrating head. She relaxed and let the softer toy slide downward, just far enough that it was pushed back in if she lowered her butt.

She ground her hips and imagined riding her partner.

In her fantasy, Jessie didn’t have to be a little waif, with a tiny pair of tits and no butt; she could hold Him down and feel His fingers digging into her soft, spongy backside.

Plump and pretty. Plump and pretty. Plump and pretty.

The mantra pulsed through Jessie’s head, as present and intense as her immediate fantasy. She kept her imaginary lover pinned under her imaginary thickness. He was starting to look familiar. Jessie swore she could recognize...Him. The...He.

Jessie made herself focus long enough to set off a hard, very satisfying orgasm. His face faded into the ether.

Hunger pains almost immediately replaced the overwhelming urge to fuck fuck fuck, but the experience was worth it. She lazily slid to her feet, letting her toys fall where they landed.

Still shaking, still feeling an occasional aftershock, Jessie returned to her couch, and dug a burger out of the fast food bag, followed by Pin-Ups! from her purse. She absently bit off big chunks that she chewed as she admired the girls in the mag.

Plump and pretty. Plump and pretty. Plump and pretty.

Jessie stood and walked to her bathroom to use the vanity mirror. She stood the copy of Pin-Ups! just below her reflection, then turned to compare herself with the model.

There was a big difference between Jessie’s reflection and the svelte woman in the magazine, but she had more of an ass than she realized. She wiggled it in the mirror, letting her cheeks jiggle and bounce and languishing in the feeling.

Jessie quickly finished the burger so she could grab a cheek in each hand. It was orgasmic to dig her fingers into the healthy cellulite and just knead. Teasing towards her asshole was...

Too much!

Jessie made herself stop. She was still hungry.

She grabbed another burger from the bag and promptly returned to compare herself to the smiling woman in the magazine.

Jessie had put on enough weight to get a little tummy too, but her tits lagged far behind the model. She pushed the last half of the burger into her mouth as one chunk, and pinched at her pathetically small upper half.

Disappointing as her boobs felt in her hands, groping them sent a warm thrill through her entire chest and her mind right back into the gutter.

But she didn’t want to work up any more of a sweat. Not just for comfort, but because that just wasn’t the way to become plump, nor was it pretty.

Instead, she went back for the last burger and The Golden Rules of Cooking from her bag.

It occurred to her, briefly, that she had literally stolen the book.

Plump and pretty!

But she was quickly back to looking for a specific recipe, forgetting the other matter entirely.

Plump and pretty...

“As A...Pie...” Jessie mumbled to herself aloud. She lost several minutes literally drooling over a few other recipes before she found her fondest desire.

His Favorite Dish! Plump and Pretty...As A Pie!

The book reminded Jessie of the thick binder of her grandmother’s handwritten cooking notes, but more. In number of recipes, skill required, and pure decadence. The notes had always seemed boring to Jessie, full of delicious food she could just let her mom or older sister make.

There was a running series of tips throughout the book, The Golden Rules of Cooking. Each helpful blurb was intermittently nestled in the margin of a given page. Each rule was a new epiphany. Each rule was a new law.

Jessie had never realized cooking itself was so fascinating.

She took a huge bite of the burger to sate her craving. It wasn’t enough. But the pie...

Plump and pretty!

It was a savory dish, using beef or lamb, which Jessie didn’t have. Reading on, she didn’t have half of the necessary ingredients.

I don’t have enough for Him! Jessie thought. hated her body. And how small it was. Of anything!

Frustrated, she tossed the book onto her couch.

She occasionally thumbed the page over, earnestly looking for something to make, for Him and her, while her other hand worked furiously in between her legs. It took the edge off, made it easy for Jessie to just analyze the components of each recipe, consider what she had, and actually do some unit conversions.

Mashing her clit just right made simple math operations possible again, but after keeping it going long enough, she found herself capable of remembering introductory calculus.

I probably don’t need that much math Jessie found herself thinking.

She felt a brief sense of horror, but concrete certainty that she agreed with the notion the longer she considered it.

Calculus is definitely irrelevant.

And just like that, limits were literally no more.

Jessie could take the edge off as much as she liked, and ride the clarity for a solid two minutes, but never seemed to get past geometry. If all the shapes was geometry...

It was easy enough to find something that sounded exactly right, but seemingly impossible to find something for which she had all the ingredients. It was a fresh frustration every time. But she eventually found a simple cornbread recipe.

Imagining the buttery taste made her mouth water. She had everything.

Jessie slurped up a tendril of drool, then brushed at the spit that had soaked into her top, trying to flick it away. It didn’t work, and the dampness was annoying, so she pulled it off, going to work in the nude.

She continued to half-consciously play with herself. Flour and corn meal hand prints covered her body, especially around her most sensitive spots. She occasionally stopped to finish off a really good one, but otherwise Jessie was single-minded in getting the ingredients mixed and the dish in the oven.

The recipe called for buttermilk or yogurt. Jessie poured yogurt straight from the container into the mixture, the rest straight into her mouth. She mixed in an extra stick of butter, for a total of three, and ate the last remaining half-stick.

The hardest part was waiting for the thing to bake. She wanted to dive back into the cookbook, or really relax through an orgasm, but the baking cornbread kept seizing her attention. She snacked for a distraction.

And, she supposed, to help herself along.

When the kitchen timer dinged, she rushed to pull it out of the oven, then took a big whiff of the fresh cooking. The smell alone set her off. A violent orgasm that almost took her knees out from under her. She could hardly believe she’d made something that smelled so good.

Jessie focused for a moment, dug through her kitchen to find her sole pastry server, then cut into the bread. She lifted out a thick, uneven wedge.

The taste was completely worth the lingering burn it left on her tongue.

Jessie came even harder, and her knees did go; she fell straight onto her softening bottom. The jolt surprised her, and elicited a giggle. She languished in the aftertaste and aftershocks.

Finally, recovering and able to stand, albeit shakily, Jessie took stock of her kitchen and the aftermath of her impatient snacking.

Then, she gave the cookbook a glance. Recipe after recipe briefly flashed in her mind. She was getting even wetter, dripping and drooling over the vivid fantasy of their taste.

I need to make a list!