The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“This museum always gives me the creeps,” said Bunny Darby to her Mistress, Bunny Maria, as their high heels tapped out echoes on a stone staircase inside San Francisco’s Fetish and Sex Museum. They ascended stairs from a secret backdoor entrance buried behind wood crates in a pit of basement shadows that bothered Darby even more. If a guard had sat at the front desk, the click clacks would have drawn his eyes across the floor to the stairwell where two sets of Bunny ears popped into view between marble balusters and newels. A pair of yellow ears struggled to move forward and the other set, blue rounded triangles of satin, kept turning back in annoyance. Sometimes the blue ears would seem to lecture the yellow ones. If he personally knew the yellow Bunny, he would have expected her ears to violently shake back with a retort. But that night, the ears seemed oddly unsure and tame.

With more shoe click-clacks, a guard would start to see the two Bunnies as their bare shoulders and tightly cinched bodies joined the view. Any guard would have fallen out of his chair at that point, even before Maria stepped ahead, showing her long shear nylon covered legs.

Darby carried a weighty office filing box, hence the struggling yellow Bunny ears pantomime. She knew Maria wasn’t going to help, so she shifted her hands to get a better hold. She pressed it against the chest of her Bunny uniform. Somehow her ears hadn’t pinned properly into her hair. She felt rushed and uneasy, blaming the museum and also a little—actually a lot—Maria for suddenly changing the plans and joining in on the secret exchange. Something made Darby uneasy about her boss being present. No one had ever doubted Darby’s work before. Then again, maybe it was actually better to have another Bunny present. In the past month, something had tainted the museum in an evil light, but Darby couldn’t pin it down.

She awkwardly held the box in one hand and grabbed at her listing ears with the other. A couple seconds later, she felt the headband slipping again.

Looking even slightly disorganized irked her. Doing so in front of her boss just ticked her off. Pausing in the middle of a flight of stairs, she struggled to fix her yellow ears yet again. Clearly the museum should be blamed. It felt like something in the air, like a musky smell. It unsettled her confidence—and that really peeved her. Knowing they would be meeting the mysterious head curator, named Libby, who made dodgy trades in technology and magic, didn’t help. But then again, Darby reconsidered her thinking because Libby was so nice, understanding, accommodating, and sexy. The list of positive adjective rambled off in her head so quickly, like she had rehearsed them many times before.

Darby struggled to start the last group of steps. Her uncontrolled thoughts switched to nightmarish irrational ideas of being turned into one of the museum exhibit pieces, maybe a living statue frozen forever, doomed to see the world transpire, unable to participate. Why did she think of all that?

“Stop dillydallying,” said Maria, waiting at the floor above. A gentlemen’s club should have snapped a picture of her elegant pose, with a hand resting on the Yule marble railing and the other resting on a hip of her blue colored uniform. When Darby got close enough, Maria whispered, “You fidget too much. I need you focused.”

“You didn’t have to come. I’ve been dealing with this creepy place since Summer.”

“Hush. I’m checking out what Libby is up to. Something’s not right.” The Bunny den mother checked something jammed down her cleavage. It looked like a lipstick tube. “You ready. You seemed a little frazzled.”

Darby didn’t like not knowing the plan. Her eyes peered at Marie’s cleavage—to see the lipstick tube—the cleavage was perfect though. “What’s that?”

“Shhh.” Maria raised an eyebrow at her assistant, as if questioning Darby’s competence. She turned away. Her Bunny tail bounced as she did a catwalk through the main exhibit floor.

Pursing her lips, Darby didn’t like seeing the doubting look on her Mistress’s face. It hurt. Her hand adjusted her ears again. She squeezed the box against her body and trotted hurriedly to catch-up.

The two Bunnies crossed the main atrium, the blue Bunny far ahead of the yellow. A skylight as wide as the atrium showed a view to the night’s foggy skies. A century ago, stock traders filled the repurposed floor with their yelling and waving of colorful paper slips. Now the exchange had been converted to a sex museum. Display cases, decorating the outer perimeter of the main space, presented a comprehensive collection of strap-on dildos. A four story tall stone phallic took center stage. It aimed up to the glass panes over head, offering to penetrate the night sky. Darby paused to note its name: Rock Hard. She wondered if rock was used as a verb or noun. Her scattered mind shook her confused clouded head. Something bad was going to happen.

“I can’t believe this is a museum,” said Darby, stretching her head back to see the phallic stone tip. She quickly grabbed at her ears that almost fell off. “I don’t need this shit.” She did another quickstep to catch up. “It’s like this museum sucks IQ points from my head.” She squinted to see inside a glass case. Maybe a weapon? A seppuku sword? Maybe it was another dildo with straps. It was too dark to see. She had been to the museum before, but somehow her memories had disappeared and only fear stayed behind. Her costume could feel evil swirl around her legs. “I don’t care if the Plexiglas cases have lead in them. I swear I can still feel a possessed wickedness.”

“Some of these toys actually do suck out IQ.” Deviously smiling, Maria added, “Or hammer in a tad of dumbness.” Her eyes looked sideways to a display case with a plaster head looking up, mouth open, and a rubber rod aiming back down. “Mmm. Deep throating.”

“Ew. Yeah, there’s that. Sure. Just fucking great.”

Maria gently smacked Darby’s face. “Come on. Where’s my detail oriented Bunny?” Her hand caressed and her eyes searched into Darby’s soul. “There you are.” The back of her curled fingers gently stroked the face. “I feel like you forgot to tell me something. When we get back, write up one of those droning reports of yours. It’ll relax you. A calm mind always helps me remember things.”

Darby could feel her confidence return, regrettably it was only a façade surfacing just enough to please her Mistress. Forgotten voices whispered stolen memories. Dark dread still churned in her thoughts.

Maria’s gentle touch pulled away. “Good Bunny. Now, let’s go.” Her bright white Bunny tail disappeared into a hallway.

The box-bearing Bunny dwelled at the entrance. Glistening granite contours defined a wide archway chiseled and smoothed into a giant vagina.

“How do I not remember this?” She followed, muttering to herself. “A huge dick dungeon and it’s like I never saw it before.”

Transitioning through an unlit hallway, they entered a gallery of sexual masks. Maria ventured into another gallery ahead. Darby slowed, fighting the falling cardboard box. She wanted a cart, but Maria wanted the stairs because the elevators were slow. The assistant looked at the overhead tracks of spotlights aimed at each display. The fixtures hung down dead, unlit, like lifeless bats somehow sucking radiance from their targets. Absent of light, the mannequin busts below, all wearing historical headgear, leered back like foes.

The Bunny slowly ambled passed leather muzzles, zippered hoods, gilded Venetian guises surrounded in feathers, various blindfolds, and gasmasks. A ball gag nestled into a plaster head’s mouth, customized in a stretch beyond any human limits. It caught Darby’s attention. She peered at it. Her head tilted left and right. Her Bunny ears, curled forward in an obedient bow, brushed the glass box as her eyes tried to fight the darkness and see some details. It was too dark. She gave the box a heave up with a knee then pulled her shoulders back to find a balance, all while staring at the gag.

“Oh my.” She sidestepped to the next plaster head with a metal contraption pulling its jaw open. The mechanics intrigued the engineering part of her. Good design always comforted her. She mumbled to herself, “I have to get one of these.” Enough light from the nearby gallery allowed her to read a tag: “Whitehead Gag, medical device.” She winced. “Ouch.”

“Like it?” said a woman from behind.

Darby jumped. Her ears fell off. And now she found herself hunched over, her arms crushing the sides of the filing box. “Shit, Libby.”

Libby bent down at the knees and retrieved the yellow Bunny ears. Her idea of a pleasant smile would confirm anyone’s fears. “Here, my little cute rocket scientist.” She reached over Darby’s head and returned the ears. Her fingers ran through the hair. Her mind grabbed the last whiffs of confidence from the mind inside. “Come on,” said the raven-haired museum curator in a well practiced sexy lilt. “I think Maria is over by the exhibit. I wish you hadn’t brought her.”

The box slid. It took a second to regain a grip before Darby could turn and follow the tall sinuous model, who wore a snug skirt blouse combo. Libby teased with a backward come-hither glance. She sported a black pencil skirt, white blouse, dark nylons, and black high-heeled pumps. Darby watched the woman’s walk and how the derrière wonderfully rolled left and right. The dark skirt silhouetted a perfect curved outline. When they entered the first gallery, skylight added contouring shadows that helped Darby enjoy the view. With Libby’s dark rimmed glasses and hair pinned up by a couple of number two pencils, the curator presented a flawless sexy librarian fantasy. The naughty office wardrobe was the woman’s magical costume, an alternative version of a Bunny uniform offering its own type of enchantments in unreserved sexuality. It screamed dark evil desires, yet somehow to Darby, it felt stifled somehow.

Darby envied the few women who had the luxury to enjoy taunting their costumes in a repressive way by leaving accessories off, stored in a safe place to deny their costumes’ full power. For some women, a controlling mistress cruelly withheld one of their accessories. Darby knew Libby fell into that group. The sexy curator always attempted to hide her bitterness regarding her one truant adornment. Oddly, Darby couldn’t remember what it was.

In an adjacent gallery, the two women found Bunny Maria standing before a floor to ceiling Plexiglas wall, exhibiting special masks mounted at various levels, floating like fish in an aquarium. One item’s glass lenses blazed in white highlights from the few lights illuminating the room. Matching the bespectacled Libby, but obviously the original frame, it was a pair of dark rimmed eyeglasses. A pearl beaded spectacle strap dangled about the mounting rod protruding from a black back wall. Imprisoned behind bulletproof high security Plexiglas, Libby’s most important accessory stared back. Bunny Nathalie had denied the librarian’s most basic source of magic, like locking away a Selki’s pelt, it left Libby to oblige Nathalie’s every wish.

Darby knew she had seen the display before, but it all felt new again.

“Bunny Maria,” greeted Libby. “I wasn’t expecting you.” A meaningless Hollywood hug followed, plus a couple air kisses too.

The head Bunny crossed her arms, rubbing them to keep warm. “We thought it best that two Bunnies pick up the package. When Darby told me you had a peacock, I didn’t want to chance it.”

“Good thinking,” said Libby, stepping away and turning to the other Bunny. “You got the laser?”

Darby saw a flash of anger in the curator’s face. Confused memories resurfaced. Feelings of torn loyalties masked memories of trying to hide the night’s adventure from Maria. There were loyalties to Libby, but then why have any obligations towards her? The R&D Bunny remembered a fear earlier when asked where she was going with a laser. She managed to fight a mental haze long enough to blurt out one big impromptu lie—regrettably mentioning the one thing that would surely intrigue Maria into coming: a captured peacock girl. On the ride over, she wanted to tell her Mistress it was all a lie, but she couldn’t. That would anger Libby. The mental fighting continued. Darby let the box she carried carefully slide down her nylon legs and onto the tips of her shoes. She gave her feet a couple quick jerks to free her toes. “Yes. This system should work better.”

“Thank you for all the information,” said Maria. “It proved accurate. The gentlemen’s club, everything.”

“I try,” said Libby, visibly getting nervous then faking a restored calm.

“I’ll set up,” said Darby. She noticed her old laser and tripod powered and running in front of the huge Plexiglas wall. A red beam sparkled through the transparent barrier, hitting Libby’s eyeglasses. The Plexi-material scattered a red glow onto the surrounding ritual masks. One bone white animal skull, with dark grey curling horns, adopted an angry burning color. The straight stroke of laser through the glass showed a wall thicker than a Sea World whale tank. Darby thought how a man would be proud to be so long. She did a Bunny bow down to her box to unpack. Maybe work would regain her bearings. It was like she had never been in this room, but she remembered surveying the wall and coming up with a solution that Libby would trade anything for. During the first visit, Libby’s desperation gave Darby confidence. Now Libby seemed to have the upper hand.

“I sense,” said Maria to Libby, “that you are up to something.”

“I’m just a sexy librarian, so so in need of her glasses. I haven’t made anyone disappear in years.” Her hands slid down her skirt and pressed into a slight lap she made with a pose like Marilyn Monroe straddling a blowing subway grate. Contrary to the movie star’s flouncy white dress, Libby’s pencil skirt wrapped too tightly to billow even in a hurricane. “Oh, how the mafia loved to hire me. Yes! Those were good times.” She popped up straight and jittered her hands in excitement. “So Darby dearest, do you have a stronger laser for me?”

“Nathalie maintains a museum security staff,” said Maria, pondering the surroundings and the suspicious choice of the most secure section of the museum.

“I sent them home tonight.”

Maria approached.

Libby stepped back bumping into a display case.

With penetrating eyes, Maria added, “They are the scariest, fiercest costumes for a reason. There’s no lock for this display. There’s no door in the back walls, floor or ceiling—no access to the items inside. You have to tear it apart with heavy construction equipment—all for a reason. This wall houses the strongest most sinister magic.” She looked at the dark rimmed glasses jailed inside. As an insult, she added, “plus there’s your glasses too. Nathalie was probably just being a bitch on how she assured your servitude. Right there in view, yet impossible to touch.”

Libby actually looked rattled as Maria’s body pressed forward, sandwiching the librarian between a full body press and a tall cabinet holding a slutty looking female Samaria suit.

Maria’s hands lingered on the sexy librarian’s shoulder. Their eyes locked. The space between their faces narrowed. The Bunny used her lips to smear rouge lipstick over the stunned woman’s face. It took a few seconds and Libby didn’t move. Bunny seduction kept Libby in place.

“You make my assistant nervous,” said Maria so calmly. “I had to see how and why. Darby’s such a good little scientist. You know, she trained at NASA’s JPL.” Her fingers caressed the side of the immobilized woman’s face. “I’m sensing resistance. What did you do to the security staff?” The fingers stroked down the librarian’s silk blouse, over the protruding chest, and then over to her Bunny suit’s bullet bra. The fingers reached into the deep cleavage, pinched, and withdrew the hidden lipstick tube.

Libby breathed heavily. “I don’t believe this.” It got harder for her to talk. “You’re, you’re, going, to, actually…”

“Yes. I am. Don’t fight it,” said Maria.

“You didn’t trust your Bunny charm? You brought a sexy secretary’s lipstick? You’ll use that on me too?”

Maria shrugged. “You’re up to something.” She drew a red lipstick X on Libby’s forehead. She tapped the tip of the nose in rouge. The cheeks followed with some more X’s, a few O’s, and a Tic Tac Toe diagonal of three in a row. Each strike of make-up attacked the mind. “Now. Did you have a nice long legged peahen girl for me or not? Or were you going to make Darby disappear tonight? Along with security maybe? Wherever they went. You see, I’ve been wanting a feathered costume girl for a year now. The royals have the best of guards. And suddenly you have a royal? Nonsense. But yet, Darby’s been busy researching so very hardy hard hard for you. And you seem to be covertly plotting.”

The librarian’s facial muscles flexed and contorted as she fought the strongest of mental suggestions.

Maria compressed Libby harder against the display cabinet. The power reached the Samaria costume behind. It begged to be touched. The mannequin arms responded to the catfight outside. It moved and lurched forward. The hands reached out, until the fingertips bumped the glass—thwarted.

“Tell me,” said the blue Bunny. “We’ll still do the deal. It’s fair. I’d love to fuck a peahen tonight. Talk.”

“Mmmmm, yes, no, wait,” said Libby.

Darby felt amused to see the librarian squirm. But somehow, this all happened before. Several weeks ago, Darby had the same questions and the same dominate pose over Libby. There was the same confidence in getting answers too. After all, Libby was just a sexy cataloger of souls. Was it déjà vu? Darby felt an increasing pure pounding of terror in her chest. Something was wrong here and it made her fidget and cower like an idiot. She pressed her knees together and twisted her hips left and right like a child after consuming too much soda and needing to rush off to find relief. If she could suck her thumb, she would. This wasn’t her normal headstrong self.

A few feet away, what was Maria experiencing?

The head Bunny’s costume pushed into Libby’s mind. She shared memories, full clear images of sound and motion appeared. Maria felt everything Libby experienced.

A month and half ago two Goth women, hung ropes from the ceiling of the security training room in the museum’s basement. Both women had full eye contact lenses, covering the whites of their eyes with complete Area 51 blackness. The plastic covers impeded their vision just a bit with a tinted view on the world. To anyone looking back, the eyes looked SciFi zombie ink black dead.

When the women wore full latex suits, the full lenses completed the feeling of total encasement. Hot sweaty, restrictive rubber became a part of their bodies. Even the eyes could feel warmly compressed and contained. That day, they wore more flexible clothing, letting the skin of their arms and legs breathe. Still they looked alien with their solid black eyes. Tattoos of skulls and ravens covered their arms. Metal rods pierced their noses and eyebrows.

One of them pulled down on some ropes, pulleys squealed, and meat hooks that stuck in the back by the shoulder blades lifted the body of the second Goth, who rose to the ceiling like a rag doll. Suspended only by her hooked flesh, her frightening looking face hid the pleasure and thrill of hanging by cruel metal piercings.

Maria’s scan into Libby showed how the librarian casually strolled into the room, a tiger deciding dinner options. Examining the memories, she could feel how Libby wondered about the two Goths, how Libby considered fucking them, and how the two Goths could have been such stunning women, if they had just removed all the metal garbage inserted into their faces.

“Stop wasting my time,” said Maria, still probing Libby’s mind. “I don’t care about the staff. Forget the Goths. Where are the real terrifying ones?” Maria’s hand squeezed the librarian’s soft long neck. The defiance was strong. “Show me the enforcers. Museum security has a pair of them chosen randomly each night. Given that, you couldn’t have conspired with even one of them, let alone disappear them all—one or two at a time—not without them figuring it out. It’s full proof security.”

“Almost,” whispered Libby, fighting Maria’s psychic powers. “But they had one day this last Summer when they all got together. That’s all I needed.”

“All of them? You mind fucked them all at once? Stop showing me Goth girls. Show me the scary ones. The security team.”

In the memory, a long parade of cheerleaders rushed into the same training room, passing Libby and the two Goths. Pom poms waved. Bright red and blue short-skirted uniforms rushed about. Sexy high energy blondes and brunettes and redheads and long straight raven haired girls, all covering the spectrum of every nationality, did cartwheels. They all chanted alphabetical-nonsense: “Give me a D—for death. Give me C—for carnage…” The dozen girls formed a circle and their pom poms aimed to the ceiling in one final building yell as they all rushed into a tight huddle in the center of the room.

“That’s more like it,” said Maria, remembering the horrific method cheerleaders could kill a woman in a costume without ending the magic and therefore not violate the most sacred rule of protecting a costume from harm. Transformations were a loophole. She had seen cheerleader kill only once before. A quick mental scan—and, yes—Libby had seen the monstrous act too. They both knew the terror.

Libby and Maria shuttered at sharing a memory of so many frightening, happy, pretty little bouncy cheerleaders—pure leviathans. The snug sweater and short knife pleated skirted outfits could transform any costume. And worse, could disconnect a costume from its host, but only by killing the human. The technique violated no rules of protecting costumes since only the human died. Technically, the costumes thought of themselves as the host and the human as a mere parasite.

A petit bubbly blonde took center stage. “Today we have to punish a French maid,” said the captain of the deadliest cheerleader squad in the world. “I know. It’s cruel. Try not to enjoy it too much, bitches!”

Two cheerleaders dropped a girl in frills and puffy French maid fetishness onto the floor.

“Please,” begged the French maid. “It was a costume party. I promise never to wear another theme again. Never!”

The captain smirked then turned with a skirt twirl. “Practice on her girls. Feed on fucking her over. Oops.” She feigned shock covering her mouth in regret. “Pardon my French. I meant: let the cunt have it.”

The two guards repositioned the maid’s broken and battered body. Giving up on perfecting a model pose, they rushed away from a pile of sobbing tears and frilly lacy white petticoats. Her hair hung down bedraggled, covering her face. She looked up, peering through her loose locks, as the cheerleaders lined up single file. Her costume knew life was over.

The first wide smiling acrobat did a split. Holding her arms straight out, she turned like a gun turret, aiming her pom poms directly at the maid.

“No!” screamed the naughty French tart.

“Shoot!” said the captain.

Both pom poms zipped across the room sticking to the chest of the target. The long plastic strands came to life, and the balls of bright school spirit colors crawled over the costumed woman’s body.

The maid swatted helplessly at them, gritting her teeth as she pleaded. “Help!” Her teeth clenched closed as her lips blurted, “Help!”

“Just open your mouth,” said the captain.

“No!” said the victim with her teeth gritting harder.

The captain raised a hand. “You’re just making it worse.” She swung her hand down, signaling a full barrage of pom pom firing. Colored strand clumps flashed across the room. When a cheerleader shot her ammunition off, two new pom poms magically appeared covering her hands. If fast enough, she shot again. Otherwise she ran or tumbled to the back of the line, making room for the next enthusiastic skirted storm trooper.

The maid became doused in a living animated crawling cloud of color. Some Koosh balls lingered at her face. Many changed strategies and crawled under her skirts. The white petticoats, the black satin covering outer skirt, and the tiny white apron bubbled from the pom poms searching underneath.

“No!” yelled the maid, accidentally opening her mouth. “Mmmm!” she murmured, suddenly gagged as a waiting pom pom push down her throat.

Both Maria and Libby knew the pom poms had gotten under the panties. The living intruders had gone deep inside—all of them. The volume under the puff diminished. The costume’s cinching corset layers burst open, ripping along the seams. The maid’s belly began to inflate into pregnancy. Her costume lost the battle and it too change. It took only seconds before it all ended.

The firing squad applauded. Their reloaded pom poms waved. Some girls flipped and kicked and dropped into splits. Except for the captain, the cheerleaders abandoned the firing line. They started a new round of cheering after a quick huddle and energetic teambuilding yell.

Left behind, crying on the floor, sat a specimen of the worst primal fear of all costumes: a dowdy woman in brown tweeds. A flowery printed grandma blouse collared in wilted frills hid underneath a dull worn jacket. Clunky shoes replaced the sleek high heels. And worse, beyond any nightmare for any sexy magical costume, an adjustable waistband had been sewn into the tweed skirt. The alteration allowed a comfortable fit around the expanded belly.

The Bunny and sexy librarian relived the events and shuttered simultaneously. Only a cheerleader’s method of killing a costume’s human host could be worse—at least to the two women. Their costumes clearly instilled a feeling at that moment—like a correcting teacher’s slap of a ruler—that a dowdy transformation was worse and completely unacceptable. For the costumes, death was preferred.

Maria shook the horror off and dug deeper in the librarian’s machinations. Before the firing squad, Libby had helped the second Goth suspend herself. Both hung from the ceiling as the pom pom volley started. A smell of musky perfume began to fill the air. Libby had concocted something and sprayed it like an air freshener.

The Goths kicked and flailed at the ends of their ropes.

Libby stood there immune to it all.

The cheerleaders slowed and struggled.

“Bull shit!” said Maria. “Those cheerful bitches are impervious to everything.”

“I researched it, you stupid Bunny. I found the source to our costumes’ power.”

Maria pierced into Libby’s memories. No hiding would be tolerated.

At first, the cheerleader captain shook off the musk, ignoring the unknown feeling of vulnerability. She put her hands on her knees to condescendingly hover over the dowdy victim. “We don’t change costumes, now do we?”

The gagging pom poms had pushed down into the former French maid’s stomach. “No,” said the drab woman in shame. She looked down at her nine-month looking distended belly. She saw her unmoisturized hands, the unpolished nails, and worse: the deplorable bulky shoes. A mirror held by a glowering cheerleader confirmed the horror: a crooked nose. “My face!” Sobbing followed. She cried aloud to the ceiling in despair. She tried to fall forward onto the floor, but her large stomach blocked her. Her legs splayed around her extra weight. Her loose skirt provided no ridiculous puff so loved and played with. The skirt didn’t even have the other variant of tight tautness designed into cheaper mail-order slutty maid uniforms.

Waving the mirror away, the captain added, “Two years ago, the last girl—now she was made really ugly. No one wanted her. It took years before her water broke. Eventually she gave birth to a vuvuzela.”

The new Miss Dowdy looked confused.

“Vuvuzela—the horns played at the World Cup in Brazil. It must have hurt push out. Before her, normally a twirling baton was birthed. Oh my god! One pregnancy—I saw a marching band bass drum crowning. It still blows my mind. If you just didn’t fight it, you wouldn’t be carrying all our pom poms inside you. All you had to do was welcome your deserved punishment—then you’d be ugly and ordinary for a while—your costume would be stuck forever though. It would hate you, but you should have accepted your fate.”

The woman rubbed her large belly. “How long? I can’t go back to the Milpitas mansion. The other maids won’t want me now. I’m useless to them.”

“Tisk tisk. Depending on how slutty you attempt to be, you’ll be out in months. Then again, looking at you, more likely years. Go to San Jose. I hear the engineer guys down there are desperate.”

Maria began to choke the librarian. “How did you control them? No perfume could do it.”

In the memory showing the training room, a wafting scent created fear and panic, then obedience. The cheerleaders suddenly stopped in place. One realized the deception and, just before succumbing to domination, aimed a pom pom at Libby. The pom pom did not shoot. The process was too fast. To be safe, the curator threw a smoking canister back at them.

Outside the memory, Libby laughed at Maria. “There’s something older and more scary than any costume or furry has ever seen.”

The memory of hypnotized cheerleaders, brought Maria out of the mind meld. “But how?”

Libby smirked now, her independence catching Maria off guard. A hand moved. Something clicked and the librarian squirted the Maria in the face with a perfume bottle Darby involuntarily handed over.

Darby covered her mouth in horror. She remembered being spritzed too. She stepped back to the laser behind her. She couldn’t speak or move, now or then. At that moment she realized she had helped the enemy. The perfume bottle was from Libby, prescribed over a month ago and stuffed in the cleavage of the yellow Bunny costume. The scent ensured loyalty and needed to be applied when obedience to Libby waned and needed a recharge. Darby gasped. She had just betrayed her Mistress Maria. She watched as her Bunny Mother, her boss, her Mistress being squirted in the face again by something in Libby’s hand—something handed over so obediently: the perfume atomizer.

Maria swiped at a strong scent and wetness on her face—her shoulders. It stained her costume.

Darby remembered how her own costume fought a mental attack, but lost.

Regaining her composure, Libby pushed away from the display case. She mouthed a thank you to Darby. Now free and clear of the red lipstick marks drawn all over her face, Libby sashayed to a display box.

Maria struggled to breathe. She dropped to one knee. “This, isn’t, possible.”

“Yes it is,” said the dominating curator. Removing a key from her cleavage, Libby used it to unlock a case. She lifted its clear box just a sliver enough to remove two Victorian leather bound novels hidden under an exhibited magician’s top hat. “Here’s two girls from security. You want to see them?” The books hit the floor. Libby polished her glasses as she passed both Bunnies. She dipped her glasses into the laser light. It connected with her original sexy spectacles, physically unreachable behind the glass. The new pair recharged. “I loved kissing those bitches. I left the Goths hang there for days before I did them. Oh how they screamed. Secretly, I think they liked hanging there helplessly. Thank the gods that the training room is sound proof. I seduced each statuette cheerleader, one a day, until I had a stack of books.”

Darby struggled to move. She knew what awaited her Mistress: the loss of control—the obedience.

The two books on the floor began to dissolve into smoke. A pair of obedient cheerleaders rose from the cloud. One girl may have been the captain. The books were gone, replaced by the entranced cheerleaders.

“What!” objected Maria, swatting at her shoulders at some mysterious fumes. “Darby run!”

Darby watched intensely. Her body just stood there. Her obligations to her real Mistress, Bunny Maria, slipped away like so many times before. Each trip to the museum was a betrayal to Bunnies everywhere by helping Libby connect with the glasses. The memories of each trip were removed from her memories. The hand she had covering her mouth in shock dropped to her side. Her body froze. What was happening? Her mouth moved. “I must obey my Mistress Libby.”

The two cheerleaders rushed Maria. Each grabbed an arm and forced the Bunny to stay on her knees.

“How dare you!” yelled Maria. “And how? You’re just a librarian.”

Libby laughed and rubbed her face clear of the lipstick. She inspected her reflection in a glass display of vagina jewelry. “Silly rabbit. I’m no longer just a sexy librarian. Not now. For decades I wished I could grow back my accessories like you Bunnies. My outfit seemed so limited. Yes. I booked the entire cheerleader squad. I turned each one into a classic novel from Jane Austen to Hemingway. I’ve been alone in the museum for a month now. Well kind of alone. I serve a higher power now—thanks to the laser.”

Libby gave Darby a spank below the cottontail. “I wasn’t expecting you to bring Maria. Conquering your boss does feel yummy though. Thank you.” She shook her head at Maria. “Sorry, I don’t have a peahen. I don’t know why Darby told you that. And yes, Darby was going to stay here forever. What would you do, war with Nathalie? Ha! But now, I sense you’ve been scheming on something too. Something really trully juicy. Darby told me how you are still trying to takeover that men’s club. Why?” She hovered over the struggling Bunny, her skirt pressing taunt against the Bunny’s face. Fingers played with the hair. “Set new territories maybe, but this is somehow personal. I feel I could use you. Lucky you. Otherwise, I’d kiss you into a comic book and burn your paper prison with you screaming inside.”

“You really would do that,” said Maria, looking up, her arms twisted out in a crucifixion by the two cheerleaders. “But how? You can’t hurt a costume. You’re one of us.”

A perfume squirted onto Maria’s face. Spurt after spurt accumulated until the make up began to run. The Bunny costume tried to rebuild the look, restoring the make-up and removing the black water tracks of eye shadow that ran down to the satin shell.

Darby could see the facial stings across Maria’s face, as her costume tried its magic in desperation. Suddenly the eye shadow would look perfect again. Then it ran down the face with more added perfume. It seemed silly, but the costume wanted to regain some control.

“What’s your interest in men?” asked the librarian, tugging up her pencil skirt. The inverting inner lining clung and rustled against the skin and stockings. The beautiful rounded pantied rear showed

“Fuck you,” said Maria. “You can’t make me talk.”

“Fuck me? You got that right. Now, taste me.”

Maria could smell something in the air. Her nose twitched like a rabbit, sensing an animalistic mating scent. She didn’t need a cheerleader to hold her head forward anymore. She clearly now wanted to face up into the raised skirt. Darby remembered the feeling too: the desire, the need. If she could, she’d drop to the floor and lick Libby herself. Her mouth actually watered. She wasted thoughts wondering if she was allowed to swallow. Maybe she was supposed to drool, standing there watching.

The two cheerleaders let go. Maria struggled, watching her hands involuntarily raise to touch the nylon stockings and sense the smooth silk up to the thigh-high lace. Her face looked at the garter belts. She lifted her Bunny body, standing on her knees just enough to kiss between Libby’s legs.

Darby remembered the taste, when her will power melted away. They were now both somehow Libby’s slaves.

As Maria’s greedily licked and tasted, her hands gently and carefully grasped Libby’s hips. The librarian turned to Darby. She pointed back and forth between them and mouthed the words, “I did this to you a month ago.” She shook her head in pity and gestured down to the bobbing Bunny ears. “Yes, I did.”

Libby pulled the ears off Maria, tossing the Bunny’s perfect hair around. She threw the satin headband off into a dark corner. She tapped Maria’s head. “Restore them. Now.” She tossed trusses of Maria’s brunette hair about, this time frizzing it.

Maria gasped for air. “You’re just a secondary costume with...” Pain painted her face as a new set of ears grew in.

“I love that. Even if it does hurt, I wish I could have grown my glasses back.” She pulled the new ears off. “Again!”

Maria moaned. Her disheveled tresses pulled themselves back into a preened bouffant hairstyle. New satin ears appeared and curled forward in an artistic curtsey, perfect for a well groomed Bunny.

Libby laughed and snapped her fingers at Darby. “Slave. Stop standing there. Work.” Libby looked down. “Keep going Maria. Taste me. Become one of my minions. You’re no longer Bunny Maria. You’re Minion Maria—I love alliterations.” She reveled in having the Bunny reach up under the raised skirt and pull down the panties. “Mmm. Now who’s getting naughty? I’ve never been done by an experienced Bunny. Darby’s work is a little mechanical.” A mouthed sorry and pout shot out to Darby. Libby stroked the Bunny ear tips that tapped her silk blouse while Maria worked away. The fingers threatened to pull the headband accessory off again. “Faster my little slave. You’re tongue is so angry with me. I like a hateful tongue too, but you might as well give in and enjoy making me orgasm. Be careful, because I might fill this room with so many copies of your Bunny ears.”

Darby remembered the pain and why she wished she could have left her ears at home. Instead, she subconsciously left them unpinned and loose. She subconsciously tricked Maria into coming—the whole peahen story a lore and hope that her more powerful boss would take control of Libby. And instead, the enemy took control.

Libby pulled the ears off Maria yet again. Another set grew back. “I love that with you Bunnies. Of course, it doesn’t hurt me one bit.” She raised her hands into the air in victory and giggled. “Let’s do it again.”

Thirty floors above a ruckus of bimbos preparing for sleep, Bunny Nathalie sipped wine as she looked through her bulletproof glass windows. From her San Francisco penthouse overlooking the Bay Bridge, she could see across the Financial District and the Embarcadero. In terms of costumes—a term designating women in magical outfits—she ruled the city. Like any kingdom, rebel groups conspired. But tonight she wanted to enjoy. She tasted a deep red Porte. Regrettably, her costume somehow disintegrated anything before it even hit her stomach. It left an endless hunger. She missed the buzz she used to get with saloon whiskies, the buzz her costume denied her.

A few blocks over, Bunny Maria was probably rebelling away, making a new transformation outfit. Nathalie wondered what that woman was up to? A hallway grandfather clock chimed, echoing midnight throughout the main hall. Down in the subbasement the others would be sleeping. Nathalie thought how she should probably relax too. The next few days were going to be busy.

“Bunny Nathalie?” came a voice.

Nathalie smiled and returned a look of mischief over her shoulder.

Reddie stood at the bedroom door. Her fiery hair hung down behind her shoulders. Her purple ears timidly peered from behind the door. The name ‘Sekhet’ came to Nathalie’s mind, an Egyptian goddess with the mane of a lion and the body of a woman. Secretly, Nathalie loved furries more than costumes. Electra did too. Sekhet: it didn’t sound sexy now, but it was once a very sexy name.

“Come-in Reddie. Please, unzip.”

Across the room, still holding the door, Reddie felt nervous and wondered what to do. She had to enter now. A part of her wondered if she’d simply be dismissed for the night. But no. Certain things seemed expected, especially given that the previous assistant had been fired and sent away somewhere. To Reddie, the whole Bunny world seemed new and strange. Latex puppy girls and dimwitted Bunnies locked themselves into cages. Scientist Bunnies in lab coats visited and experimented—but on what exactly? In Reddie’s mind, life as a Bunny only started a month ago. Before that, not a single memory called out. Only a void existed. Her previous experiences had somehow been erased.

She entered the expansive bedroom. She didn’t want to do anything wrong. She hurried now. Her new purple costume had provided some memories of the Bunnies that shared its lineage, but the details were scattered. She stopped near a corner of a massive four-post bed. Drapes defined a box tent. The bedframe lifted the mattress high above any typical Captain’s bed. The elevation required stepping stools on either side of the bed, necessary to gracefully reach the plush open field of layered sheets inside. The plateau leveled at just below chest height. With legs straight, a standing maid making the bed could rest her Bunny boobs on the edge while pulling the sheets taunt.

Grabbing a bedpost to steady herself, Reddie was visibly anxious. Her costume’s cinching forced her breasts to raise and lower with each nervous breath. Her worries quickened her shallow gasps, making her soft full flesh heave faster. She regained her strength, let go of the carved wood pole, and promptly reached behind her back with both hands to pop her cottontail off. She set it on the bed, and then unzipped her costume down below her waistline, over her butt, to where the tail had covered the base of the zipper path.

Reddie had been allowed in her mistress’s bedroom before to help clean. She never thought she would be here to spend time socially—maybe sexually? The suit now slid down her legs—of course, sexually. Why have such a stupid thought? She was striping, not playing cards.

Nathalie sat on an upholstered bench at the foot of the bed watching as Reddie bared her breasts and stood waiting in her waist cincher, shear nylons, and high heels.

“I need a new assistant,” said Nathalie. “You’re it. Congratulations.”

“Yes, Bunny Nathalie. Thank you. I’ll do my best.”

“Relax Reddie. Enjoy. You’re a healthy human now—well, in a way you are. I guess none of us are normal anymore.”

“Yes, thank you Bunny Nathalie. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t rescued me.” It was odd how some memories came back and then disappeared. She paused and thought for a second, “Mistress?”

“Yes,” said Nathalie, unzipping her own costume.

“Can I ask just one thing?”

“Sweetie, ask what you want but climb-up under the sheets and keep me warm. San Fran is so cold at night.”

The Bunnies stood on either side of the bed, facing each other. They pulled their ears off then kicked-off their heels, leaving their cinchers and tights in place. Simultaneously, they stepped their stocking feet up on the stepping stools, mirroring opposite sides of the bed. They met in the middle under the covers. The room was dark except for the glow of foggy window light.

“Mistress, I heard you found me back in the 1980’s, but I don’t remember anything till a month ago. What happened during those thirty years?”

“Cursed objects, like the one that held your soul, are difficult to defeat. I didn’t know a fast way to get you out without invoking dark magic. I wanted another method, a Bunny costume option. You were trapped, so we had you mentally frozen. You would have gone insane otherwise.”

Reddie kissed her mistress and then climbed on top pressing pelvis to pelvis, bosom against bosom. As she lifted her bare breasts away to better position herself, the sheets slipped down her back to her waist. “Yes, I can see that now. I would have lost it completely. Thank you mistress.” She began gyrating her hips to grind against her mistress.

Nathalie relaxed, feeling her clitoris getting some lovely manipulation. It was rare that her costume let her out of her cincher and tights. And tonight her cincher still didn’t offer any laces in the back. They just didn’t exist. On occasion they reappeared when her costume decided not to keep her body sewn in. Sometimes the magic allowed for a few hours away, but never longer—and sex had to be involved. She remembered how overt sexual acts made the laces appear more often, how the perversions extended the allowed time to play. But she liked the company of Bunnies more than swallowing some guy’s cum. She would be stronger if she stopped resisting. Not doing so kept her trapped in nylons, but she liked it.

She could feel her costume’s frustrations. It wanted deviant sex. It wanted a trip to Bolinas, California; where centuries of pirate smuggling created saloon girl costumes into the kinkiest fetishes. No, she thought. The swords and the vore were too much. She had her limits. The costume sitting at the foot of the bed burned with desire. It watched her and with its cincher and tights wrapping her body, it felt everything too. She suppressed its more drastic longings. As Reddie tribbed away, the costume finally submitted.

Nathalie returned to enjoying the half naked Bunny scissoring her at the moment. She watched as Reddie reacted to the movement inside both their bodies. The redhead wasn’t just trying to please; she was trying to enjoy. Desperation defined Maria’s previous assistant, a failure now named Duchess and locked in a dog cage. Confident selfishness moderated with desires to please signaled the potential for a great sex partner. Nathalie liked this girl’s attitude.

Reddie twisted sideways to get her inserted dildo’s end to rub against Nathalie’s matching hidden plug. Despite the nylon layers between their rubber plugs, a magnetic feeling arose and a connection snapped between the intruders. Reddie pulled her hips up lifting Nathlie’s plug a couple inches out, tenting the nylon tights. A push back down and a repeated pull up, that left Nathalie’s plug in place as Reddie’s body lifted, but now the other plug slid. Again and again the two alternated who squeezed their vaginal muscles so the other could feel the friction.

Nathalie smiled looking-up at the redhead whose breasts jiggled, whose eyes squeezed shut, whose hips gyrated so assertively, and whose mind stayed lost in reaching happiness.

Yes, Reddie would be a great carnal partner.