The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Out of Character

by Bad Penny

John’s presence is nothing more than an echo, so she knows she missed him again. She can just barrel on past the town, but he’s worked over a girl (worked her way over from the feel of it), and that just makes her so...so...so foot-stomping mad!

“Bubblegum!” And that’s another thing that makes her foot-stomping mad. There had been a time when she could say naughty words whenever she wanted, but now she’s only allowed naughty words in naughty situations.

No matter. Knowing John, she’ll be in a naughty situation soon enough. Then she can say as many filthy words as she wants. She squirms as she shifts gears, doing her best to ignore the low-level thrum of anticipation between her legs.

The taste of John’s handiwork clings to the back of her throat like too-sweet wine. She lets it guide her to a small coffee shop on the outskirts of town. She’s surprised to find the lot empty. John usually includes an audience (eager to participate in the festivities) as a part of her distraction.

She parks and eyes the coffee shop. It’s a bright pink monstrosity with blue trim, spindly spires, and a sign that proclaims the place Karla’s Koffee Kastle. She shudders, and the damp heat between her legs keeps her from believing her reaction is completely due to horror. She pouts. John always does this to her. Just when she gets close, he turns another girl into a perfect little sluttybimbo, and she has to...

She has to what? Fix her? She sucks on her lower lip. No. She only thinks she has to undo John’s handiwork. She can get back on the road. She can leave this girl to her own devices. John is only a day, possibly a day and a half ahead of her.

But then she’d be the wrong kind of bad.

“Bubblegum!” She stomps out of the car, slams the door, and teeters for a moment on her high heels. Stupid gravel, upsetting her balance. Stupid girl, for catching John’s eye. Stupid John for—

Pain lances through her, strong enough that the world goes white for an instant. She finds herself slumped against the car, panting.

Right. No bad thoughts about John allowed. How is she going to get around that when she finally catches up with him? Her face falls into a pout again, and that just makes her more upset because she really wants to frown. Or scream.

Well, no use saying bubblegum again. It’s best to get this over with. She smoothes the pleats of her short skirt, thrusts back her shoulders, and walks into Karla’s Koffee Kastle.

The inside is just as pink as the outside and just as empty as the parking lot. She stops just inside the door, uncertain. Her sense led her here, but—she catches sight of the barista—this really isn’t like John.

John makes perfect little sluttybimbos. Well, perfect except for her. And now this barista who is, well, not a bimbo. Oh, she has big tits and curvy hips, but John’s perfect little sluttybimbos do not have buzzed hair, sleek muscles, and a full sleeve of swirling tribal tattoos down one arm.

And John’s perfect little sluttybimbos do not get that evil, hungry look when they look her over. “Bobbi,” the barista says, sounding like she’s about to pounce.

“Rober—” The white pain lances through her again. She stumbles and manages to catch a chair for support. And that is the thing that makes her more than foot-stomping mad. She hates, hates, hates the name Bobbi, even more than she hates, hates, hates the too-high heels, the too-long nails, and the too-blonde hair.

“Oh, he changed your name, too.” The barista laughs, and it’s low and cruel and makes Bobbi squirm. “John called me,” her face twists, “Karl. And I liked it until he left. But now...” She shrugs and stalks towards Bobbi. “I’m back to Karla.”

“Back?” Bobbi can’t help feeling puzzled. She always has to force John’s girls back to their old selves. None of them pop partway back on their own like she did. “Then you’re...like me?”

“Maybe.” Karla circles her, reaching out to trail her fingers lightly along her lower back. Bobbi shivers under the touch. The low-level thrum of anticipation starts to grow.

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I.” Karla stops in front of her and pushes her back against the table. “John thinks I’m going to take one of the strap-ons he made me stash behind the counter and fuck you senseless. He thinks that will finally put you in your place.”

“Oh!” Bobbi likes (and hates) the flare of heat in her pussy.

Karla slides her leg between Bobbi’s and leans in close, resting her hands on the tabletop. “But Karl likes doing the fucking.” She gives Bobbi a light kiss. “Karla likes being fucked. I’m enough of her now. And I think you’d enjoy bending me over the counter.”

“Yes,” Bobbi breaths. Oh, god, yes! The delicious slide of Karla’s thigh along her pussy combined with the tickle of Karla’s lips on her neck makes her moan. She loves being fucked senseless, but she remembers (dimly) that before John got to her, she also liked fucking people senseless.

“Mmmm. Tell me what you’d do.” Karla kneels and runs a hand up Bobbi’s skirt.

“I’d—oh! Have you finish that,” she says, spreading her legs to give Karla better access to her pussy.

Karla laughs again and pulls down her panties. “I hardly need to. You’re so wet, I bet you’ve already come.”

Bobbi braces herself against the table. “No. I haven’t.”

“Well, I’ll have to fix that.”

Bobbi plants a foot between Karla’s breasts and pushes her back. “Later.” Something’s starting to shift in her head. She afraid the distraction of being licked right now will stop it.

“Oh?” Karla sucks Bobbi’s juices from her fingers, then gives her a wicked grin. “You want something else?”

Bobbi’s thoughts are clearer than they’ve been since John changed her. “I want...I was...” Yes, that’s it! She used to be like Karla. Not as muscular, but definitely as bold. “I was you.”

“And I was you.” When Karla laughs this time, it’s warm and genuine, and the feeling it triggers is so different from Bobbi’s normal response, it takes her a moment to realize it’s Roberta, her old self, reacting. The instant she does, though, the feeling fades, and she’s left with hollow lust.

Karla takes Bobbi’s foot and nuzzles it. “John made such a mistake leaving me here for you.”

“Yes.” Bobbi holds her breath, waiting for the white pain to lance through her again. When it doesn’t, she giggles. “Yes he did.” She taps Karla with her foot. “You were saying something about being bent over the counter?”

Karla has a number of toys behind the counter. Bobbi takes her time with her selection, running her fingers over the leather straps and silicone dildos. She lets Karla strip her, enjoying the teasing pinches and cool air on her skin.

“I’m going to suck you off,” Karla murmurs in her ear. “You’ll like seeing me on my knees, won’t you? I bet you’ll come fucking my throat.”

Between the talk and Karla’s fingers, she’s close to coming now. “I’ll, ahh, come fucking your pussy, too.”

Her hands are shaking as she positions the harness. Karla helps her fasten the straps around her thighs, reaching around to stroke the silicone dildo like a real cock. Bobbi can’t really feel it except as pleasant pressure, but watching Karla’s hand sends a thrill through her pussy.

Karla moves to stand in front of her. Bobbi catches her before she can sink to her knees and pulls her in for a kiss, tasting espresso and vanilla. They’re both panting when she pulls away, and the sight of Karla’s flushed face and puffy lips sends another dizzying swell of Roberta-lust through her.

“Strip,” she says, reaching for Karla’s belt.

Karla doesn’t bother putting on a show. Bobbi doesn’t bother complaining. She doesn’t want a show, just the end result, and Karla is magnificent naked, all sleek and toned and wet. Bobbi pushes her against the counter and slides her hand down Karla’s stomach.

“Mmmm, yes.” Karla arches into Bobbi’s hand as it grazes her mound. “Like that.” She wiggles up onto the counter and wraps a leg around Bobbi’s waist. “Is this how you want me?”

As an answer, Bobbi teases her slit with the strap-on. Karla’s wet enough that she doesn’t need any additional lube, so once she has the dildo slicked up (and Karla appropriately worked up), she lines herself up and thrusts in.

The Roberta-lust rushes through her again, and it’s hot, like the white pain, but so, so good. She’s Roberta...Bobbi...Roberta-Bobbi or Bobbi-Roberta. It all coils behind her clit and then it doesn’t matter who she is because Karla’s bucking against her and clawing her back and snarling at her to fuck her harder, goddammit! And then neither of them are coherent.

Her orgasm is a Roberta-orgasm. In the afterglow, Bobbi realizes how much John fucked her over. Bobbi-orgasms are mechanical, an afterthought to squeeze the last few drops of come from a nice, thick cock. Roberta-orgasms are...she doesn’t even know what, but something more powerful than the white pain.

“Holy fuck!” Karla laughs as they slide apart. “John’s got nothing on you.”

“He’s got nothing on you,” Bobbi (no, Bobbi-Roberta) says.

“He’s going to be fucked when we catch him.” Karla sinks to her knees and curls her hands around the back of Bobbi-Roberta’s thighs. She licks the length of the dildo, gazing up at her. “We will catch him, right?”

Bobbi-Roberta slides a hand to the back of Karla’s head and grabs the short hair as best she can. “Yes,” she says, watching Karla take her deep. “Yes.”

They’ll find John. But first they’ll take the time to make her Roberta-Roberta again. She smiles. Karla’s right. He’s going to be so fucked when they catch him.