The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Amanda Galileo took another puff from her cigarette and remembered what the doctor had told her: “You have to quit smoking! It’s killing you!”

Amanda looked around the patio, watching the junior officers gathered around the president of the company she’d been with for nearly ten years now. They were all laughing, seemingly enjoying the president’s jokes, even here at the corporate retreat. Butt-kissers, every one of them.

She was no different, of course. Amanda wouldn’t have become the youngest vice president in the corporation if it weren’t for her talents as a butt-kisser. It certainly wouldn’t have been for her looks, because while she couldn’t be called ugly by any means, the 32-year-old woman seemed to epitomize the concept of “Average.” Her 5 foot 5 inch frame was slim but figureless, with narrow hips and a slender rear, topped with B-cup breasts that commanded no attention whatsoever. Amanda also did herself no favors by preferring to tie her mousy brown hair in utilitarian buns and go minimalist with her makeup, often opting to eschew it altogether.

She wanted to be viewed as a respected and indispensable member of the company, not just a piece of eye candy for the executives in the suites upstairs to ogle on their way out to lunch.

On any other day, she would be laughing at the president’s stupid jokes like the rest of them. Today was different though. Her partner had just left her. Worse yet, the court awarded her almost two thirds of their property. Neglect was the claim. How ironic. Amanda was charged with neglecting her wife because she tried to give them the best life possible by working her butt off for these idiots.

Now, she was alone. What’s worse, her health was failing her. According to her doctor, she could die soon and all she had to show for her life was this so-called precious job.

She had to take control of her life again. The first step was to quit smoking. Get her health back, and then she could take care of her personal life.

Who was she kidding? Amanda knew she couldn’t quit. Sure, she’d quit before for short periods, but she always smoked again. Her addiction to the stuff was too strong. It was hopeless. Besides, her life was beyond “fixing” at this point.

“You look depressed,” a woman’s voice said. “Can I do anything to cheer you up?”

Amanda knew her well. Susan was one of the young up-and-comers, a tall glass of gorgeous in her mid-20’s, wearing the hell out of a wine red turtleneck bodycon minidress that hugged each and every curve of hers in a loving embrace, and clung to her already ample chest, making her breasts somehow look even bigger. Susan leaned up against the railing with a smile across her perfect red lips, brushing her wavy blonde hair to the side gracefully.

“Yeah, I can definitely think of something you could do to cheer me up,” thought Amanda. With her wife gone, she could learn to like Susan a lot, but she knew that the only reason she was being approached so kindly was because of her position within the corporation.

She noticed Susan as soon as she became a manager in the operations division, and instantly pegged her as someone to watch out for. Amanda was certain Susan would do all she could to take her job, so she was always careful never to show any weakness, never willing to give a potential rival any ammunition. Susan may easily sleep with her, or accuse her of sexual harassment, if she thought it would help her career.

She had to be strong with this woman. Keep it strictly business.

“I was just thinking about the reports from this quarter,” Amanda said.

“Amanda, I worry about you sometimes,” Susan said. “You seem so stressed out lately. You are constantly chain smoking. Perhaps I can help relieve some of the stress.”

“I thrive on stress,” Amanda lied.

“Nonetheless, all that smoking is not good for you.” Susan said.

“I can quit anytime.” Amanda was uncomfortable with the conversation and turned to walk away.

“Before I joined the firm, I used to smoke,” Susan said, “it was really hard to quit until Dr. Jones helped me.”

“Dr. Jones?” Amanda asked.

“Yes, she’s a psychiatrist. She showed me how to control my addiction,” Susan said.

Amanda was surprised that Susan would reveal such a potentially vulnerable matter to her. A psychiatrist in her past could be used against her.

“I think she could help you deal with your addiction too,” Susan said as she handed her a business card.

“I don’t need it.”

“Just humor me and take the card,” Susan said.

Amanda took the card, intending only to get more information regarding Susan’s past.

“Ms. Galileo, Susan, Mr. Baker wants to see both of you,” A young man said.

Amanda quickly put the business card in her coat pocket and walked over to where the President of the company stood. Soon, Amanda found herself laughing at one crude joke after another, not getting drunk fast enough. As the night mercifully drew to a close, Amanda took an Uber home, and promptly fell to her bed and passed out.

She woke up with a severe coughing bout. Coughing bouts in the middle of the night had become usual for Amanda, but this time, it was so strong, she could hardly breathe. For the first time in all her life, she actually thought that she might not be able to breathe again.

Eventually, her coughing became controllable, and she could breathe. Amanda took a deep breath, then, only a minute after her coughing stopped, she reached for her cigarettes. The cigarette was almost between her lips when she clenched her fist, crushing it in her hand. Then she grabbed the pack and crushed it too. Amanda resolved to quit smoking for good.

As her alarm went off at 6AM, Amanda rose from bed slowly, instantly regretting drinking too much. Her head hurt so much. Then her coughing started again, which just made her head hurt even more.

The worst part was, she wanted to smoke more than anything in her life. “What do I have to live for anyway?” Amanda told herself as depression began to overwhelm her.

Amanda scrambled for the crushed pack of cigarettes, looking for an uncrushed one, but found none. Out of desperation, she slowly bent down to pick up her coat from the floor. She reached into her coat pocket looking for another pack of cigarettes and instead found a business card for Dr. Sarah Jones. She stared at the card for a long time, finally reaching for her phone.

Amanda was surprised by the fact that Dr. Jones’ office was open on Saturday. After she got repeated assurances that her sessions would be kept strictly confidential, she insisted on an appointment for that day.

Amanda felt extremely uncomfortable in Dr. Sarah Jones’ small reception area. This was a mistake. She didn’t need a Psychiatrist. She wasn’t crazy. She was getting up to leave when a woman’s voice called out her name.

“Ms. Galileo, please go through those double doors and to the second room on your left. Dr. Jones will be right with you,” the lady at the counter said.

Amanda hesitated. Since she already made the long trip from her house, she might as well see the shrink once, just to see what it’s like. After all, she may be able to obtain some useful information regarding Susan. Amanda went through the double doors and into a small room on the left as instructed. She sat on a typical psychiatrist’s patient’s reclining chair.

Almost immediately a petite brunette in a white coat walked in. “Hello, I am Dr. Sarah Jones,” the raven haired shrink said, extending her hand with a thin smile that made Amanda feel like the doctor was in on a joke that she hadn’t quite caught up to yet.

“Amanda Galileo,” Amanda stood up and shook hands with a firm grip, trying to hide the fact that she felt a little intimidated by a psychiatrist.

“How can I help you Amanda?” Dr. Jones said as she took a seat across from Amanda, looking over her file, jotting down notes.

“You can address me as Ms. Galileo.” Amanda said.

Dr. Jones flashed that smile again, “It’s somewhat unusual for patients to refuse to answer our patient information chart, Ms. Galileo.”

“I don’t have time for charts!” Amanda said, feeling a little awkward that she was still standing while the doctor sat. “I need help quitting smoking.”

Amanda sat back down on the patient’s chair. “I need a quick solution.” Amanda took a cigarette from a pack she had purchased on the way to the doctor’s office and lit it up. “I heard that you helped Susan Webster with her smoking problem.”

“Smoking wasn’t Susan’s problem, smoking was just a symptom of her deep depression stemming from prolonged stress.” Dr. Jones said as she wrote down some notes in her file. “The stress pushed her to seek comfort in a manifestation that satisfied her oral fixation. I suspect that it is much the same with you.”

Dr. Jones speaking so freely about her former patient shocked Amanda. Whatever happened to doctor-patient confidentiality? It was obvious that the discretion assurances that she got from her office were nothing but lies. She couldn’t trust this woman, and it was starting to feel obvious that she wouldn’t be of any help in getting Amanda to quit smoking, but this trip may still be useful if she can get some useful information on Susan.

“Did Susan have a nervous breakdown or something?” Amanda said as she took another puff from her cigarette.

“If I hadn’t treated her, a nervous breakdown would have been the least of her problems.”

“What did you do for her exactly?” Amanda asked, flicking some ashes from her cigarette on the floor of the doctor’s office.

Dr. Jones did not visibly react to the lit cigarette or the ashes on her floor. She simply withdrew a small pocket watch from her white coat and said, “hypnosis was part of the treatment.”

Amanda smiled internally. This woman, and more importantly, Susan, believed in such nonsense as hypnosis? This could definitely be used to hurt Susan’s credibility should she challenge Amanda for her job. Maybe she could even blackmail her into giving her more credit for the successes in her department.

“Tell me more,” Amanda said as she stubbed her cigarette out, lighting up another immediately.

“Why don’t I show you?” Dr. Jones said, “look at this watch.” She started waving the watch right in front of Amanda’s face in a steady rhythm, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth...

Despite her resistance, Amanda found her eyes following the watch as it swayed, almost soothingly.

Amanda smiled smugly. What was this doctor thinking? It was obviously just a sham. But how could it be a sham? Dr. Sarah Jones would never participate in something that was not legitimate. She trusted her completely…

Amanda was confused. Dr. Jones believed that hypnosis would work but it didn’t. She was wrong.

“Amanda, your stressful job is the root of the problem.” Dr. Sarah Jones said.

Amanda reached in her pocket for a cigarette and found none. “Yeah, Doctor, I know. But there is nothing I can do about it. I can’t quit. It’s the only thing going for me. I just need to quit smoking and get my life back together.”

“I didn’t expect you to quit,” Dr. Jones said with that damn smile. Amanda really liked her smile, it was so friendly, so warm she thought.

“Just disassociate yourself from your work during your free time.”

“How do I do that?” Amanda asked.

“For starters, don’t wear a suit during the weekend.”

Amanda felt embarrassed that she did not bother to change from her work clothes, especially since she slept in them last night. “I will change as soon as I get home.”

“No.” Dr. Jones said firmly. “I think it’s important for you to change for the rest of the session.”

“But I didn’t bring anything to change into.” Amanda said.

“You will find a patient’s robe behind the partition there,” Said the doctor as she pointed to the corner of the room where a tasteful folding partition sat.

Amanda sighed deeply. She was hesitating, but for some reason she just knew that the doctor was right, so she walked over to the corner of the room.

She took off her jacket, blouse and slacks and grabbed the robe on the hanger. Strangely, it looked more like a dress than a robe, a small yellow dress with flowers to be more exact. Amanda just held the robe in her hand, confused.

“Amanda, is there anything wrong?” the Doctor asked.

“The robe... it’s a...” she just couldn’t call it a dress. After all, the doctor called it a robe, and the last thing Amanda wanted to do at that moment was contradict Dr. Jones. “It’s a little too feminine, not like a normal medical gown.”

“I apologize,” the doctor said, “most of my patients are women and they prefer more casual gowns that make them feel at home. So we had the standard medical gowns modified. If you feel uncomfortable, you can bring your own non-work clothing for your next session. But that’s all we have now, and we are losing valuable time.”

Amanda finally put the robe on and walked back to her seat, feeling more than a tad self conscious about wearing something so skimpy.

“You look embarrassed by your appearance,” Dr. Jones said, “there is no need to feel that way. Remember, I am just a doctor.”

Amanda looked at her hairy legs, and felt the burn of embarrassment more intensely. When was the last time she shaved them? She just wanted to crawl into a hole at this point. And to make matters worse, her embarrassment made her crave a cigarette more than ever. She absent-mindedly put her right hand to her mouth as if to smoke an invisible cigarette.

“Suck on your thumb,” Dr. Jones said in a firm voice.

Amanda did as instructed, and she felt slightly better.

“That’s replacement therapy,” Dr. Jones said, “you have just replaced cigarettes with your thumb as the source of satisfaction for your oral fixation.”

Amanda continued to suck on her thumb as the Doctor continued.

“You will find this to be more fulfilling than your thumb.” The doctor said as she handed a stick, roughly the size of her middle finger, to Amanda. “It’s called a dipstick, and it will replace your need for cigarettes and your thumb. Suck on the rounded end.”

Amanda removed her thumb from her mouth and started to suck on the dipstick, feeling much better. As she continued to suck on the dipstick, Dr. Jones handed her a pink bag with several items.

“I am afraid your session is almost over so please listen carefully. In your bag, you will find a twelve month supply of the dipstick, a cream to help with your skin, medication for your stress, and an audio tape. Pace yourself, I want you to try to make the supply of the dipstick last twelve months. The skin cream is there to help remove some of the blemishes caused by the nicotine. Take the medication, twice a day, in the morning and at night. It will help you to deal with your stress. Start listening to the audio tape each night as a sleeping aid.”

Amanda concentrated on everything the doctor said until she was surprised by a creamy substance that came out of the dipstick and into her sucking mouth. She would have spit the substance out except that it was tasty and sweet, so instead she let out a surprised moan.

“The sweet cream is there as a positive reinforcement,” the doctor said, “it also lets you know that you are done with that particular dipstick.”

Amanda found that she no longer got any benefits from sucking on the dipstick. She took it out of her mouth.

“Your session is over,” the doctor said as she looked at her pocket watch, “you may leave after you change. Make another appointment with my office once you run out of the dipstick.” Dr. Jones got up to leave, then added, “don’t forget to bring non-office clothing next time. I don’t want you even wearing underwear that you’ve worn at work.”

Amanda thanked the doctor as she left.

For the next eight months Amanda did almost everything as she was instructed. She took the medication and used the skin cream twice a day, listened to the tape at night, and leaned on her dipsticks when she needed to sate her fixation.

She had to admit, she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so good. The late night coughing fits that used to wake her up every night had even ceased.

As time passed, Amanda felt a growing desire to experiment with her hair. Perhaps it was her way to fight stress, by going against the typical corporate image for a change.

Strangely, this did not save her trips to the salon. She decided to change stylists and went to a more modern salon that had a sign that said “Hair Stylists For All Occasions”. She just wanted to do something different, so she went often, asking for a different style every visit. She wasn’t sure where she had learned about all of these various hairstyles, maybe she was just more hip than she thought?

Eventually, she found one she liked: A layered look that amplified natural curls that now reached her shoulders, dyed a bright golden blonde that resembled a wheatfield photographed at the Golden Hour.

The only thing that Amanda could not do as instructed, no matter how hard she tried, was pace herself with the dipsticks. She sucked on more and more dipsticks each day. Now, she only had a handful left. By the end of the day, she would be completely out. This bothered her greatly. She wasn’t sure if she was more bothered by the prospect of running out of the dipstick or by the uncomfortable feeling that somehow her lack of discipline would disappoint Dr. Jones.

Other things bothered her too. She was gaining weight. Her bathroom scale said she was actually losing weight, and her stomach was flat as usual, but the evidence was clear when she looked in a mirror: her behind and breasts had grown noticeably.

Dieting just didn’t seem to work. Out of desperation, she even joined a jazzercise class, but that too didn’t work. Then she figured it out. The sweet cream in the dipstick was making her fat. But even with this knowledge, she just couldn’t stop drinking down the cream. She was addicted. In fact, the more stressed she got about her weight gains, the more she felt a need to suck on the dipstick and gulp down the yummy cream.

By this point, Amanda began to notice that the slacks and blouses that made up the entirety of her wardrobe had stopped fitting her. This forced Amanda to buy an entire new wardrobe, but the new clothing was different.

These clothes were so bold and hip that she got funny looks purchasing them. She guessed that, even with her new hairstyle, she still looked too conservative in her now ill fitting slate gray slacks to buy clothing from these places. She also decided to buy underwear that fit her better and more supportive bras for her ever-expanding chest. She even bought them in different colors other than her customary gray.

For her non-work clothing, Amanda decided to keep trying new and different fashions. She bought some dresses that were similar to the ones at the doctor’s office, and picked up some cute, shiny, thigh-high socks. She even had her ears pierced just like the young women she saw.

As soon as she got home from work, which was earlier and earlier each week, she changed into her non-work clothing. They just felt more comfortable.

The almost constant sucking of the dipstick caused another problem. Her lips felt dry and chapped. At first it was just a tiny annoyance. But lately, her chapped lips bothered her more and more.

All these issues were starting to affect her at work. Amanda just could not concentrate. She was always taking breaks to smoke her precious dipsticks. For some reason, she just could not bear anyone seeing her smoke her sticks. Perhaps she was worried about embarrassment and potential fallout if anyone found out she was under the care of a psychiatrist.

This meant that she missed meetings, eventually becoming excluded from the decision-making process entirely. It got so bad, that on that day, the president suggested a temporary leave of absence. Amanda surprised herself when she agreed with him and suggested Susan as her temporary successor.

With some sadness, Amanda left her office. On her way home, Amanda smoked all of her remaining dipsticks, one after the other. When she realized that she was completely out, she called Dr. Jones’ office almost in a panic.

After explaining to the receptionist that this was an emergency, Amanda was told to come right over. Amanda turned her car and headed straight to the Doctor’s clinic.

Amanda was finally at Dr. Jones’s office. Without the dipsticks to calm her, she was really feeling depressed, and her anxiety was now very high. She needed those sticks.

“Hello Tiffany,” Dr. Jones said as she entered the room. “I didn’t expect you for another four months.”

“I ran out of the dipsticks,” Amanda almost yelled in panic, “I need more.”

“Calm down, Tiffany,” Dr. Jones said with that familiar grin, “we need to take things one step at a time. First, your clothing, you were told not to wear work clothing to my office, yet you are still wearing them.”

Amanda cursed herself for forgetting to change. “It’s just that I panicked when I ran out of the dipsticks. I just wasn’t thinking.”

“Then you will have to wear one of our dresses again.” Dr. Jones said.

“Dress again?” Amanda said, confused. “You called it a robe last time.”

“Yes I did, didn’t I,” the doctor said with a giggle, “I just wanted to make you feel more comfortable. If you want to call the slinky dress a robe we can. But, you and I both know what it is.”

Amanda knew that she was just lying to herself when she called the dress a robe. What was she thinking? Why did she put that dress on in the first place? Should she do it again now that she could not hide behind a lie?

“We can’t continue this session unless you change.” The Doctor said.

Amanda’s need for more dipsticks was overwhelming. She started disrobing before she had even gotten behind the partition, reaching for the slinky dress once she turned that corner.

When she sat again in the patient’s seat, Amanda couldn’t help but cross her legs in a feminine and sexy manner.

“Last time you were here you were given a whole year’s supply,” Dr Jones stated. “What happened?”

Amanda hated to disappoint the stern and beautiful doctor, hanging her head in shame. “I smoked them all; I just couldn’t help myself.”

“I see,” the doctor said, “that explains your weight gain and chapped lips. This is very serious. It suggests that your oral fixation is stronger than I diagnosed. I am afraid there is very little we can do for you, unless...”

“Anything,” Amanda began to cry, “please help me.”

“Well, you will have to move into our clinic so we can monitor you better.”

Remembering that she was on temporary leave Amanda responded quickly, “no problem.”

“Good,” Dr. Jones said, “you will have to sign this document so that we can gather your belongings and bring them here.”

Amanda quickly signed the document, barely acknowledging the title: “Power of Attorney.”

“Now can I have my dipsticks?” Amanda asked.

“I have a slightly different version of the sticks,” Dr. Jones said. She produced a tube, the size of a large felt tip pen, the kind used on those white boards, except this had a bulb shape at the end of it. “This version will help you control your weight gain. Suck on it.”

Amanda wrapped her lips around the bulbed end of the tube and started to suck it. Instantly, she started feeling better, and after a few minutes, a salty cream, instead of a sweet cream, surprised her.

“The cream in the dickstick is one hundred percent sugar free. Here is six months’ supply. It’s very important that the supply lasts six months.”

Amanda briefly thought that the doctor called her stick a dickstick but knew that she was wrong. She was a licensed psychiatrist for Christ’s sakes.

After being given a special chapstick for her dry lips, Amanda was led to her room at the clinic. She was happy to find that her room was fashionable, with a pink and white motif from the bed to the carpeting to the walls. Soon, the staff at the clinic brought her her non-work clothing, which she made sure to hang up carefully in her walk-in closet, and in no time her new surroundings started to feel like home.

Over the next four months, Amanda spent most of her time attending special hobby classes designed to help relieve stress. She especially enjoyed theater class, where she was learning how to apply theatrical make up and act as different characters. Her teachers were so proud when she finally learned how to control her voice. They told her to continue practicing using a particularly high, breathy voice that sort of made her sound like a bit of a ditz.

Tiffany also took classes in typing, embroidering, dancing, hair design and cooking. There was also an extremely well equipped gymnasium that Tiffany took advantage of by joining aerobics and yoga class.

The new, rigorous workout routine was doing wonders for her figure, keeping her stomach flat and tight as a drum, which made her now quite full chest look even larger. It also helped sculpt her thick thighs and filled out hips, which helped frame her ever growing bubble of a butt.

For entertainment, Tiffany watched various videos designed to calm her. She was not allowed to watch any action or adventure movies, or dramas unless they were romances, or sports (tomboys were not encouraged, it seemed). Tiffany’s videos were mostly romances, those that featured women talking about men. To Tiffany’s surprise and ever dwindling embarrassment, some of them were quite explicit.

Tiffany couldn’t recall when everyone had started calling her Tiffany. It just seemed so natural, as if that had been, like, totally what everyone had always called her. She couldn’t even remember what her “real” name was… Like, what was it, anyway?

Throughout this time, various doctors and nurses performed several tests to monitor Tiffany’s progress. She received regular shots, and even underwent some minor surgery on her face.

Tiffany did everything she could to obey all of the staff’s instructions. But no matter how she tried, she just couldn’t pace herself with the dipsticks. By the end of the third month, Tiffany was out of her precious dipsticks and begging Dr. Jones for more.

“This is very serious,” Dr. Jones said, obviously disappointed by Tiffany’s inability to control her consumption.

“I’m so so sorry,” Tiffany said, “I will, like, totally try harder next time.”

“I am afraid you cannot control your appetite.” She said, “We’ll have to try something more drastic. The procedure involves negative association. Simply put, we associate your addiction for the sticks to something that you find unattractive.” With that she produced an item that was a replica of a large penis. It even had balls that were hairy.

“That’s a dildo...” Tiffany said. “I can’t suck on that.”

“That’s the idea,” Dr. Jones said. “Here, hold it.”

Tiffany held the offensive item in her hands. It felt so heavy, so hard.

Strangely and shamefully, a part of Tiffany actually felt excited by the obscene toy.

“The cream contained in the artificial testicles contains pure sperm, kept at a warm temperature.” Dr. Jones said. “This knowledge should add another disincentive.”

Tiffany dropped the dildo. “I want and need dipsticks Not these things.”

Dr. Jones looked seriously at Tiffany. “I am afraid that we have reached a desperate stage of your treatment. Your oral fixation is very strong, and I feel this procedure is the only remaining cure for it. I am sorry, but you won’t get any more dicksticks. Whether you use the cocksticks or not is your choice, but I do have other patients to see. If you want more cocksticks just ask the staff.” And with that, Dr. Jones left Tiffany with a great dilemma.

She really needed something to suck on. Anything but these cocksticks would be fine, but she just couldn’t suck on these things. As tears started to cascade down her cheeks, Tiffany walked back to her room.

That evening, Tiffany watched a video that featured women talking about the joys of performing fellatio on their lovers. One woman kept saying that she loved the way it made her feel feminine. The video continued even as Tiffany drifted to sleep

That night, Tiffany had a strange, lucid dream. In it, Tiffany was one of the women in the video, a bimbo slut really, talking about the joys of performing fellatio, describing various techniques that clearly displayed her expertise. As she started to demonstrate one of her techniques on a cockstick, Tiffany awoke.

She really needed to suck on something. She put her thumb in her mouth and sucked, but she got very little comfort. With tears in her eyes, Tiffany rushed to find the nearest staff person she could, and asked for the cocksticks. As soon as she got her lips around one of those cocksticks, Tiffany felt waves of not only relief, but euphoria.

Over a period of a week and half, Tiffany developed a strong addiction to the cocksticks. Sucking more and more each day.

One day, her ballet class was interrupted by Dr. Jones’ summoning.

“I will get straight to the point,” Dr. Jones said, “your insurance company notified us that you are no longer covered. It seems that your company has fired you. Without insurance, we cannot provide any more services to you.”

“This can’t be,” Tiffany said, more concerned about the treatment stopping than her loss of her job, “I will sell my stuff to pay for further treatment.”

“Except for your clothing, you don’t have anything,” Dr. Jones said, “we sold everything else to pay for your deductibles.”

“This can’t be,” Tiffany repeated.

“I am afraid so,” Dr. Jones said, “you have twenty four hours to gather your belongings and say goodbye to everyone.”

“What about the cocksticks?” Tiffany asked.

“You will have to do without them,” she answered.

“I can’t!” Tiffany said, “I need them.”

“Then find your own,” Dr. Jones replied.

“Where?” Tiffany asked.

“Approximately half of the population carries one in their pants,” she answered giggling. “and the best part is that they are reusable after a wait.”

“You mean suck on, like, a real cock,” Tiffany said, “I can’t, I won’t.”

“Really Tiffany?” Dr. Jones rolled her eyes, “you are such a prude. I thought we helped you with your repression.”

“Repression? What repression?” Tiffany asked.

“Look, it’s time for you to face reality,” Dr. Jones said, “this is your last session. You cannot hide behind pleasantries any more.”

Dr. Jones handed Tiffany a file. “This is your file. Look at the first entry.”

Tiffany read: “Bimbo Dysfunction With Extreme Oral Fixation. Help Patient with Repression.”

“Bimbo Dysfunction!?” Tiffany yelled, outraged by the suggestion.

Dr. Jones laughed. “Just look at yourself. You are wearing a ballerina dress and you are sitting with your legs crossed. Your voice is higher than mine with a ditzy twist. You even painted your nails CFM red. Not to mention your huge, well I can’t call them breasts, can I? Huge tits.”

It was then that Tiffany noticed her reflection in a mirror behind the doctor, and she was shocked by what she saw. There she was, in a pale pink ballerina’s dress that barely contained her now downright huge tits, neither could it cover her ass, which was now a plump, pert, peach. Her shocked expression did nothing to hide the fact that her face was now flawlessly made up and framed with curly platinum blonde hair that hung well past her shoulders.

Dr. Jones was right. How the hell did Tiffany get herself in this situation?

“The first day you wore a slinky yellow dress with just a little encouragement,” Dr. Jones continued, “after that you even purchased short skirts, tight tube dresses, blouses, lacy panties and thongs, pink and red pushup bras, and pantyhose. You got your hair done in a sexy, slutty, sultry style, pierced your ears multiple times, and started to wear lovely hoop earrings. You wear bright red lipstick and other makeup that you now know how to apply with an artist’s flourish. And, lastly, you are addicted to cocksticks. Stop denying who you are, Tiffany. You are a Bimbo Slut.”

Suddenly Tiffany realized what had happened to her. “You hypnotized me!!!” she said, pointing an accusatory finger at the doctor.

Dr. Jones laughed. “You and I both know that you can’t hypnotize someone to do something that she doesn’t want to do. I merely removed your inhibitions.”

Tiffany knew that Dr. Jones was not telling her the whole truth. She knew that she did not have a bimbo dysfunction before she arrived at this doctor’s cursed office. Strangely though, she found that she could not directly contradict Dr. Jones. Tiffany even felt a warmth for her, and a need for her guidance. Tiffany could no longer question this woman. All she could do was cry as she sucked on her last cockstick.

Despite hating what happened to her, Tiffany could not bear the idea of getting rid of her new clothing. So she carefully packed everything in a matching luggage set that was absolutely adorable, and left the clinic.

Tiffany took a taxi to her house, only to confirm that it was no longer hers. She really had nowhere to go. Tears were flowing freely when Tiffany realized that her hunger for the cocksticks was growing. She wanted to go back to the clinic, but knew that they would only turn her away.

What could she do? The clinic would only accept her if she had insurance. The only way she could get insurance coverage again is to get her job back, but how? Even if someone at the corporation wanted Amanda Galileo back, Tiffany knew that no one would even recognize her now. Then she remembered Susan Webster. Susan always seemed to care about her, and she knew about Dr. Jones. She may actually believe who Tiffany really is. She might even remember Tiffany’s “real” name!

After thinking hard, Tiffany remembered the office party at Susan’s house, almost a year ago. She asked the taxi driver to take her to the address.

Once they arrived, Tiffany was embarrassed to find that she had no money to pay for the cab fare. The driver was a big guy, and she began to worry he would beat her up. Tiffany began to cry with fear as she told the driver that she forgot her purse. The driver looked annoyed, then stated “You can pay with a blowjob.”

The word blowjob made Tiffany’s heart skip a beat, and a part of her was excited by the idea, but she really did not want to do anything like that. Tiffany was about to suggest a loan when the driver took his cock out of his pants.

Tiffany could not help but stare. This man’s cock was simply fucking huge! Her mouth watered and the part of her that wanted to suck it grew louder. Tiffany found herself rationalizing that this was the only way to avoid getting beat up for not paying the cab fare. The driver became annoyed with the hesitation and put his hand on Tiffany’s head, moving it down towards his cock. As soon as Tiffany smelled the man’s crotch, she lost herself to her needs.

Within moments, she was sucking cock like a pro. Tiffany loved this cock, and loved how slutty she felt when she sucked it. After maybe 7 minutes or so, Tiffany was rewarded with the familiar creamy substance and gleefully swallowed every drop. With the deed done, Tiffany felt shame overwhelming her, and left the cab with tears welling in her eyes.

Tiffany ran up to Susan’s door and rang the doorbell. A moment later, the door swung open. “What can I do for you, Miss?” Susan asked.

It took a long time to convince Susan that the slutty bimbo at her doorstep was actually Amanda Galileo, former vice president of her firm. It didn’t help that poor Tiffany just couldn’t remember her old name for the life of her, but after she recounted to Susan their conversation regarding Dr. Jones at an office party almost a year ago, Susan finally believed her.

Tiffany told Susan all about Dr. Jones’ treatments as well as her current financial condition.

“So, how did you pay for your cab ride here?” Susan asked.

Tiffany’s face turned red as she explained how she paid. She broke into tears and said, “you have to help me get my job back.”

“I don’t see how I can help you to get your job back,” Susan replied, “no one else will believe that you are Amanda Galileo. What did Dr. Jones call you now.”

“Tiffany,” replied Tiffany.

“That’s a pretty name for a secretary,” said Susan, “I can’t get you a job as a vice president. But I can pull some strings for you so that you will get a job as a secretary.”

“Secretary!?” Tiffany felt insulted.

“That’s all I can do,” Susan said, “You can type, that will help, and your need to suck cocks may also help. It’ll at least give you an income, and it will also get you back on healthcare so that you can seek some help for your… Condition.”

Having health insurance, which meant she could get more treatments from Dr. Jones! That was very important to Tiffany. After a brief moment of hesitation, Tiffany agreed to go to work at the corporation as a secretary.

Tiffany was very nervous the first day she started as Susan’s secretary, and her nervousness created an unbearable need to suck cock. She somehow managed to control her need for the first few hours, but things eventually became uncontrollable. Rumors traveled fast, and soon everyone knew that the new secretary could not say no to a blowjob. Rumor was that she had an extreme case of oral fixation.

The first time, it took the guys several minutes to convince Tiffany to take a cock smoking break. But eventually she found herself on her knees sucking cock after cock, all of which belonged to her former underlings. At first, it saddened Tiffany to know that she was once their boss. Soon, though, she was so addicted to sucking cock that she actually begged the guys to feed her.

It didn’t matter where. In the bathrooms, she’d be on her knees in one of the stalls, as a line of men stood, waiting to get blown one by one. Sometimes, she’d meet up with them in the parking lot and suck their cocks in their cars before they went home to their wives or girlfriends. She would crawl under the desks of the senior executives and lose track of time worshiping their cocks. There were even those times where she would put one of the conference rooms to good use by hosting after hour blowbangs.

Fortunately for Tiffany, her boss, Ms. Susan Webster, did not mind her secretary’s constant breaks. To Ms. Webster, Tiffany was a valuable tool, distracting all her potential competitors, and buttering up the execs.

During off hours, Tiffany went to Dr. Jones’ clinic to get further treatments. At first she did not like Dr. Jones’ suggestion for her to get breast implants and collagen injections in her lips. But after watching videos of women talking about how beautiful and great it felt to give titty fucks and blowjobs with puffy lips, Tiffany changed her mind, and soon enough she was experiencing the joys of having a fat, throbbing cock between her bolted on tits and dickpillow lips.

She had to take time off for the surgery and recovery. When she came back to the office, she learned that Ms. Webster had become the CEO of the corporation. Apparently Mr. Baker, like Amanda Galileo, became addicted to drugs and had to leave the corporation.

This was a good thing for Dr. Jones as well. Ms. Webster, as CEO, had enough clout to convince the board to completely fund all of Dr. Jones’ research. Tiffany thought that maybe she should feel jealous of Ms. Webster’s success, but surprisingly, she felt completely satisfied with her new life. Tiffany no longer had any stress, just simple needs. She soon learned that she had, in addition to an oral fixation, a vaginal and anal fixation, and all she wanted was more men to satisfy these needs.

Luckily for her, the corporation was expanding, and more men were being hired every day.