The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

If it weren’t for Mark going gaga every time the new aerobics instructor came up to the weight room to use the treadmill, Barbara wouldn’t resent the woman. So she was thin and blonde with a nice ass and freakishly large tits, and sure, that was a little irritating. But Barbara was comfortable in her body, appreciated the chiseled lines of her muscles, her runner’s build, her strength and endurance. She didn’t resent someone else for going for a different look.

“Hey,” she huffed, finishing her last rep on the bench press and sliding the bar back into place. “Stop staring at Little Miss Perky’s ass and spot me.”

Mark flashed her a quick, sheepish grin. “Sorry. Good job.”

Barbara rolled her eyes and rose to wipe the bench down. “Mmmhmm. You saying that to me or her?”

“Jealous?”

“No.”

“You sure?” Mark gave Little Miss Perky’s ass one last look before flinging his towel over his shoulder and falling into step beside Barbara. “She’s hot.”

“So am I.”

“Yeah, but you’re a scary kind of hot.” Mark gave her one of those appreciative once-overs that could have been a leer except for the honest admiration in it. “You have a better six-pack than me.”

Barbara smirked and nudged open the door to the locker room with her hip. “But you have better biceps.”

“Aw, you flatter me. You up for a drink?”

“This close to the triathlon?” Barbara shook her head. “No alcohol.”

“Guess we have to move on to the hot sweaty sex part.”

Barbara laughed. “You have as much of a shot with me as you do with Little Miss Perky.”

“You’re a cruel woman, Barbara.” Mark grinned and gave her a foppish bow. “See you tomorrow.”

Barbara was still smiling as she stripped down and gathered her shower gear. It was hard rejecting Mark. He was hot and smart and funny, but he was also a committed bachelor. If she gave in—and oh, it was tempting!—they’d go out on a few dates, fuck—and oh, the sex would be hot, Barbara was certain of that—and then some other woman would catch his eye, and then? Then things would be awkward. She just wasn’t wired the same way he was.

The steam from the shower curled around her. Barbara tilted her head back and let the water pelt her face. It was almost a pity she was wired for monogamy. Maybe a good romp with Mark would take the edge of her pre-triathlon jitters.

And maybe she should save the sexy thoughts for funtime at home. Barbara felt the pleasant tingle of mild arousal, and while it was tempting to slide her hand down her stomach, cup her mound and put delicious pressure on her clit under the pretense of getting clean, the communal shower was not the place.

Especially when someone stepped up to the next showerhead. Barbara startled and opened her eyes.

“Sorry,” Little Miss Perky said, turning her back to the spray and wetting her hair. Her posture was such that her breasts were thrust out, entirely too firm and high to be real. Real breasts sagged, especially ones that big.

Barbara caught herself staring and looked away.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” Little Miss Perky continued, a small smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.

“We’re the only ones here. I’m surprised you didn’t go at least one down.”

“I was hoping you could tell me about your friend.” Little Miss Perky turned and began soaping up her breasts. “He’s really hot.”

“Yes,” Barbara said, feeling a little flare of jealously. “But he’s a bit of a playboy.”

Little Miss Perky made a low, satisfied noise. “And you?”

“I know it’s hard to tell on a first glance, but I’m not a boy.” Barbara turned off her shower a little more forcefully than necessary.

“I meant are you a playgirl?”

“No.”

“That’s a shame.”

When Barbara got to the gym the next day, she was a little annoyed to see Little Miss Perky chatting up Mark. All right, a little annoyed and jealous. Barbara blamed PMS, even though she’d never really had bad PMS. But for some reason, she woke up a little bloated—at least, she thought it was bloating; her stomach looked and felt a tad softer than usual—and her breasts were a little swollen and entirely too tender. Her sports bra was driving her mad! The pressure was teasing and relentless. Really, an irrational part of her thought, the least the bra could do was tease her a bit, pinch a nipple, stroke her.

Or maybe Mark could, except he was busy with Little Miss Perky. And why shouldn’t he be? She was hot, and she was flirting with him. Who could blame him for responding to that?

Barbara strode up to them. So she couldn’t blame him for flirting. But she could blame him for flirting during their workout time. So she didn’t feel at all guilty about interrupting them.

“Ready?” She asked Mark with a bright smile.

Mark turned his easy grin on her. “Sure. We’ll finish this up later, Kitten.”

Little Miss Perky pouted a bit. “Aww, just when we got to the good part.” She rolled up on tiptoe, her breasts jiggling a bit. “But I like a man who keeps his commitments.” She winked at Barbara. “Have fun!”

The workout was fun, even if Barbara kept getting distracted. Mark looked hotter than usual, and she found her mind wandering. What would it feel like to straddle him on the bench press? To serve as his weight? If she had tits like Little Miss Perky—was her name really Kitten?—they’d bounce and bounce and bounce, and maybe they’d mesmerize Mark. How hot would that be? Watching him watching her tits rep after rep.

“Hey, Barbara!” Mark set the bar back in place and gave her a tiny frown. “Tit for tat isn’t your style. Something wrong?

She could feel her face flush. “Tit for tat?”

“I zone out on you yesterday, so you zone out on me today.”

“Sorry.” She shook her head, could still feel her blush. “I’m a little off today, but it’s not because of yesterday.”

He gave her a long look. “You all right?” He rose and touched her forehead with the back of his hand.

This close, he smelled hot, too. Sweaty, yes, but workout sweaty, the kind that made his soap and aftershave pop and added an undertone of musk. Barbara bit her lip to keep from whimpering.

“Maybe we should cut this one short. You don’t look so good.”

“I feel...” She trailed off. She felt a feverish. Hot. “Yeah. I think maybe I need to get some sleep or something.”

“Good idea. This isn’t the time to get sick.” He guided her out of the weight room. “Drink plenty of orange juice and load up on vitamins.”

“Yes, mom.”

“I mean it.” He gave her shoulder a quick, playful squeeze. “Can’t have you all out of sorts.”

She felt a little more like herself once she was in the locker room. Once she was away from Mark with his yummy-smelling hotness and that grin! Barbara shook her head and pressed her palms to her eyes. What was wrong with her?

Right. PMS. She tended to be easily aroused right before her period. Her cycle must be a little off this month.

“Oh, you’re early tonight.” Little Miss Perky said from across the aisle.

Barbara dropped her shampoo. It rolled across the aisle, bumping to a stop at Little Miss Perky’s foot. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“Sorry.” Little Miss Perky bent, and all right, her back wasn’t as sculpted as Barbara’s, but there was still a nice play of muscle there. “You know,” she said, straightening up, Barbara’s shampoo in hand, “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

Funny how one could be naked for a proper introduction in a gym locker room. Barbara extended her hand automatically. “Barbara Tennison.”

“I’m Kitten.” Instead of shaking, Kitten handed Barbara her shampoo.

“Really? Oh.” Her hand curled around the shampoo. “Thanks.”

Kitten laughed. “Yes, really.” She struck a sex kitten pose. “It’s part of the image.”

“What, are you a stripper when you’re not teaching aerobics?” All right, it was a catty question.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” Kitten giggled. “It’s good money.”

Barbara felt her blush return. “So I hear.” She gathered her towel and soap and slunk away to the showers.

“You and your friend should come watch me sometime!” Kitten called out after her.

There was really no point of going to the Catwalk. Barbara got to see Kitten naked every day thanks to their gym schedules, and she was pretty sure Mark had gotten an up-close view of those amazing tits. He never talked about his dates with her, but Kitten had dropped enough hints.

Barbara cupped her own. B-cups now, and she...wasn’t entirely displeased, even though the rest of her body was changing along with her breasts. Her abs were still firm and tone, but she’d lost her six-pack, adopted more feminine definition.

It hadn’t hurt her at the triathlon, so maybe it wasn’t so bad. Mark was giving her better looks, sexy “I’d hit it” looks, and he wasn’t the only one.

It was hard for a girl to choose between so many admirers! Barbara giggled. Kitten, she was sure, would say she didn’t have to choose. Maybe there was something to that.

And maybe that was why she was at the Catwalk. When it first opened, she remembered finding the neon sign—a woman with cat ears and a tail twining around a pole—tasteless, but now she could appreciate it for what it was. A crass advertisement for crass entertainment. And there was nothing wrong with that.

The interior was everything the sign promised. Barbara gaped a bit at the waitresses, decked out in black thongs and pasties, before catching sight of Kitten at the bar. She was actually dressed, and Barbara vaguely remembered her mentioning it was her night off.

Kitten waved her over. “So you made it!”

“Yeah.” Barbara sat next to her. It took her a moment to realize the flutter in her stomach was trepidation. This felt like...like something permanent. Irreversible.

“Have a drink with me.” Kitten motioned to the bartender, and a moment later, she placed an electric blue concoction in front of Barbara.

Barbara took a tentative sip. It was sweet and fruity with the unmistakable bite of rum. It went down entirely too easy, made Barbara’s head entirely too fuzzy. She drank it anyway, and then she drank the next one the bartender placed in front of her. The third.

And then she let Kitten pull her to her feet, let Kitten lead her through one of the doors in the back, then down a hall, into an office, let Kitten push her down into a plush couch, onto slick, cool leather. Protesting was...more trouble than it was worth.

Besides, everything was so fuzzy, and she felt so light and giggly! And Kitten wouldn’t do anything bad. Barbara giggled. Kitten was a kitten. And kittens were harmless little balls of fluff.

“What’s so funny?” Kitten straddled her, and Barbara was dimly aware of Kitten plucking open the buttons of her blouse.

She reached up to stroke Kitten’s hair. “You’re so soft. Like a little fluffy kitten.”

“Mmmhmm,” Kitten purred. “You know what else is soft?” She worked off Barbara’s shirt and leaned down to nuzzle her breasts. “Cute,” she tweaked Barbara’s nipple through her bra, “little,” a swipe of her tongue along the top of Barbara’s breast, “bunnies.”

“Oh!” Barbara straightened up. Cute little bunnies were soft. Just like kittens.

Kitten slid a hand down Barbara’s stomach, to the waistband of her jeans. Barbara arched up into the touch. Kitten squeezed her mound though her jeans, and oh! It would be better without the jeans, but Barbara was too focused on her building pleasure to break away, and Kitten was making such lovely noises while teasing her breasts through her satin bra.

Or maybe she was making the lovely noises. Barbara couldn’t quite tell. Everything was fuzzy, and then everything was sparkly, and then she was coming and it didn’t matter what everything was.

Kittens and Bunnies were made for the gym. Nothing felt better than a good jog on the treadmill, tits bouncing, ass working, men watching. Bunny gave one of the personal trainers a sly wink when he stopped to gape at her. He was new, one of the few she hadn’t done yet, and she couldn’t wait to catch him out in the parking lot one evening.

Kitten had gotten to the last new trainer first. Bunny was determined to win this time. Cock was all well and good, but it was more delicious when she got to suck it first. Bunny didn’t care as much about riding it first, though that was nice, too.

Bunny clenched her cunt, enjoying the pleasant tingle. She’d have to jump the boy tonight. If she didn’t, Kitten would make her move.

“Doesn’t he look yummy?” Kitten asked.

“I call dibs.”

“Awww, you know the rules. You can’t call men like you can call shotgun.”

“All right, I call victory.” Bunny upped the speed on the treadmill. “I’ll snag this one first.”

“You said that last time, and I seem to recall sneaking in before you.”

“That’s all in the past. I’m a future sort of girl. Care to make a wager?”

“Oh?”

“The next time we snag Mark for a threesome, the loser has to lick his cum from the winner’s breasts after a titty fuck.”

“Oh, you’re totally on. I’ll make you lick these tits so clean.” Kitten rolled her shoulders back.

Bunny snorted. “Whatever.” Kitten had amazing tits, but it wasn’t worth losing the bet just so she could lick come off of them. She could always do it the next threesome. Mark never got tired of watching them lick his come off each other.

Truth be told, Bunny never got tired of it, either. Mark tasted as yummy as he smelled, and she loved putting on a show for him. Plus, Kitten tasted pretty damn good, too. It was totally a win, win, win situation.

But the win, win, win situation had to come after their competition. She and Kitten glared at each other. Then they both smiled. This conquest, like all the others, was going to be so much fun!