The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Scott paced the small circuit around his small kitchen and opened refrigerator door for the third time, willing the ingredients for a proper dinner to somehow appear. The fridge remained bare save for an assortment of condiments, a few La Croix and his roommate’s meal replacement shakes. How was he going to throw together a suitable meal for his boss and a visiting foreign executive? Who even springs this kind of responsibility on an employee at the last minute? He closed the door and sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

This is fine. Calm down and make a list.

1. Explain to his roommate that she can’t spend her one day off in sweats watching horror movies at full volume in the living room
2. Go grocery shopping for enough food with the $30 in his account
3. Marshal his mediocre cooking skills to make a dinner impressive enough to get this promotion

He leaned forward to pound his head against the front of the freezer in slow, rhythmic thumps. He was doomed.

“Fuck!” the sound came from upstairs.

“Cady?” he called, arching an eyebrow as he walked out of the kitchen and toward the bottom of the stairs in their living room.

“Fuck Fuck Owwww Fuck!”

“Cady!” he yelled, bounding up the stairs and throwing her door open. His roommate was standing on her bed in an oversized hoodie and boyshorts. He stared a little too long at her toned thighs, having forgotten just how shapely she was under the sweats she always wore.

“Hey, what the fuck? Pervert!” she cried before shoving the front of her thumb in her mouth and whimpering. He just looked at her, dark brown pixie cut in disarray and dark blue eyes looking pained. “There was a bee,” she finally grumbled, pulling her thumb from her mouth and presenting it so he could see the puffy red area on its pad. That explained the constant cursing, at least. The normally quiet tomboy got foul-mouthed whenever she got even a minor injury.

Almost on cue he heard a buzzing noise as the insect flew toward her open window. It looked…weird. It seemed bigger than a bee should be, zig zagging awkwardly as its carapace glimmered a strange pinkish hue in the sunlight. “Okay, you checked on me. Get the fuck out.”

He snapped out of his bug watching and looked back at the tomboy, managing to keep his gaze above the waist for fear of earning her further ire. “Sure, I just need to ask you a big favor…” he replied, alternating between staring at his shoes and her face. He’d forgotten how pouty her lips were, too. She was like the pre-makeover nerdy girl in goofy teenage rom-coms.

“Okay? Spit it out. I’m missing Joe Bob Briggs,” she said, hopping down from the bed and scanning the floor for her sweatpants.

“About that. I need you to not use the living room today. See my boss sprung this dinner on me and some important investor is coming and…”

She bristled, rounding on him as she snatched up her sweatpants and stood at her full height, almost as tall as he was at 5’10”. He braced for another curse-laden telling off. Instead a strange look washed over her and she just kinda squeaked as she clenched her thighs together. “You know what? Fine. Just get the fuck out,” she groaned, throwing the pants at his head for emphasis.

“You’re the best!” he cheered as the clothing hit him in the chest and fell back to the floor. He was too short on time to question the weird change of heart. He turned and walked back into the hallway. “You should be careful about sitting at your desk with the window open. The sun is bleaching your hair,” he called over his shoulder. She slammed the door behind him.

As soon as she heard the sound of footsteps going down the stairs Cady yanked her panties down around her knees and braced one hand against the bedpost as she slid two fingers into her pussy. All at once she had been taken with a powerful need to cum. She barely managed to usher her idiot roommate out before the front of her boyshorts visibly dampened. Ogling her thighs bad enough. She’d have died if he notice the damp patch bloom at the front of her boyshorts. This wasn’t like her at all! Sure, she got horny like any other girl, but she never started dripping over nothing at all.

Now here she was, groaning and clutching the bedframe as she worked herself roughly, not caring about the soreness of her stung thumb as she pressed it against her clit. She didn’t even have the patience to fish her vibrator from the back of her sock drawer. She bit her lip hard until the slam of the front door echoed up to her. Then the floodgates opened. Her hips acted of their own accord, lifting her tight little butt up and slamming her pelvis back down on her fingers. Deep, needy groans echoed from deep within her throat. There was no time for that silly porno moaning as every part of her worked in concert to pull an orgasm from nowhere as quickly as possible. Her free hand abandoned its deathgrip on the bedpost and slid under her hoodie to pinch a nipple as she leaned her top half onto the bed for leverage with her other hand.

She had no idea how long she stayed there doubled over fucking her own hand for all she was worth, grunting like an animal in heat. One moment she was feeling the orgasm build. The next she was slumped on the floor panting with a sore pussy and knots in the muscles of her feet. She was in control of herself just as quickly as she’d lost it, standing shakily and flexing her toes to work the post orgasm cramps out. A faint sweet smell permeated the room. The tomboy was no stranger to desire or even sex, but this was the opposite of her carefully cultivated aloofness. The raw need that had just taken her was foreign and more frightening the more she thought about it, so she just…didn’t. She popped her headphones in and sat down at her desk to catch up on the latest season of Attack on Titan. The computer screen was a far cry from the living room’s home theater setup, but she’d watched worse anime in less visual fidelity. She sighed as she settled in for the binge, brushing a strand of light brown hair from her face.

Scott rushed through the front door with grocery bags hanging from each arm, forgetting to breath and almost tripping over the coffee table in his hurry to drop everything on the kitchen counter. “One trip!” he cheered, rubbing at the angry red stripes the too heavy load left as he remembered to take a lungful of air. What was that smell? Was Cady burning incense? No, he was pretty sure she didn’t own any, and this smell wasn’t smoky. It was…sweet? Honeysuckle perfume dialed up to 11.

He considered walking up to ask, but he thought better of it. She was probably still in a mood, and he needed to cook. Fifty dollars and an overdraft fee later he had all the ingredients for spaghetti, or at least his southern family’s approximation of spaghetti: ground beef, tomato sauce, a handful of spices that were more suited to chili than authentic Italian cuisine. It was cheap-ish, he could cook a lot of it, it didn’t require a lot of skill, and it would even be fragrant enough to mask the mysterious honey scent. He allowed himself a moment to bask in cautious optimism before setting to work.

There was a puddle between her legs. Her panties were gone, forgotten somewhere along the short walk from her bed to her desk. The space between her coltish thighs was completely covered in sticky golden ooze. A bit dripped off the front of the seat and onto the floor each time Cady plunged her fingers into her honeypot. Despite the desperate orgasm she had started masturbating again before the AoT intro finished rolling. She sat there zoned out, not absorbing much of anything on the screen. Multiple times she had to reach out and adjust her monitor viewing angle up like she was somehow sitting higher and higher in the seat. The bottom of the screen where she grasped to adjust was dripping sticky gold. It was starting to become a real effort to relax her powerful thighs enough to play with herself. There just wasn’t as much room between them as she remembered. Eventually she had to spread them wide for access, legs splayed on either side of her chair. She cooed appreciatively at the new angle this afforded her fingers, bubble but slipping a little in the seat as she made small adjustments for optimum penetration.

She scratched her bare belly, smearing stickiness on it. The oversized hoodie she always wore was riding up super high for some reason. She ran a tongue over her lips as her fingering caused a particularly juicy squelch of nectar. They felt so swollen! The bit of rational tomboy that still existed under her brain fog wondered if she was having a reaction to that bee sting. The credits were rolling before she could dwell too much on that thought. She hadn’t retained anything at all from the episode. Cady sighed, adjusting her monitor again and leaning over to fish the vibrator from the drawer beside her as she hit the replay button.

The spaghetti sat simmering on the stove, the pot of water for his noodles started boiling and the oven dinged to signal that the garlic bread was warm. Scott grinned as he looked at the clock. 20 minutes to spare. He leaned over the pot of sauce and inhaled deeply to smell the mixture of tomato and herbs. What he got was honey. The whole house reeked of sugary sweetness so much that he expected gold liquid to start seeping from the walls. And Cady was just stung by a bee…

“Cady!” he called from the bottom of the stairs. “I think there’s a honeybee infestation in the walls or something!”

“OoooooOOOooooOOOOOOHHHHH!”

“Uhh, Cady?” he called again, jogging up the stairs toward her door. The smell got stronger with each step. He knocked on her door.

“Yes, yes, mmmmmmmmmmm!”

He knocked harder.

“Cock? Wait. Scott?” came a muffled response. It sounded like she had something in her mouth. He heard the padding of footsteps on the carpet just before she threw the door open. The wave of honeysweet scent hit him like a physical force, making his eyes water and rocking him back on his heels.

“Ugh, Cady. What the hell is going…on…” he choked out, wiping his eyes to get a clear look at his roommate. Whoever was standing in the doorway wasn’t Cady.

She was standing eye to eye with him, for one. It took about three panicked scans of her frame from top to bottom before he realized it was because she stood on the balls of her feet, heels in the air. Her taut calves looked even more toned than they usually were. Her thigh gap was gone, upper legs needing to be much larger just to keep a halfway proportional transition from her coltish calves to the mother of all bubble butts. He saw it peaking out from the front on either side, the kind of ass Instagram fitness models showed off with the help of Photoshop. She flexed her thighs idly, making the sticky honey substance all over them sheen.

The source of that honey was obvious. It seeped from her bare pussy, oozing in little rivers down her legs until it dripped onto the carpet. It was on her hands, her thighs, her flat tummy, and her tits. They were definitely tits now, at least three times the size of her old barely B-cups. Heavy orbs with fat pink nipples, conceding to gravity only enough to take on an inviting slight teardrop shape. They were certainly big enough to suck on judging by the light coating of honey and saliva on each erect nipple. Her hoodie rested on her neck and shoulders like a scarf, yanked up and forgotten when her arousal addled brain decided it needed easier access to her chest.

The most shocking change of all was her hair. In their five years of living together she always wore a pixie cut. He found an old yearbook showing her with shoulder length hair once, and she hit him with it. This girl had hair down to her back, wavy and sort of dishwater blonde. It framed her more than beestung lips well as she fluttered her long eyelashes.

“Cady?” he spluttered after a long period of ogle filled silence. She didn’t answer.

Instead she giggled and ducked into a crouch, her round ass resting comfortably on her heels. Her body looked tailor made to rest in that position forever. Before he knew what was happening her manicured nails popped the button on his jeans and had his erection fished from his underwear. The blonde managed to wrap her puffy lips around it and take his average length down her throat in one smooth motion before he hooked his hands under her arms and forced her on her feet and off his cock with a sputtering gag. Her glassy blue eyes took on a glint of genuine hurt.

“Cady, what the fuck?” he groaned, gripping her shoulders and fighting her powerful legs as she tried to kneel again. “I don’t understand this! I don’t have time for this! My boss and the director of European affairs will be here in ten minutes. I can’t have you doing…whatever this is!” he shouted, releasing her arms as he gestured to her cartoonishly proportioned body. She nodded along as he spoke, pouty lips puckered as seriously as she could manage. She grabbed his hand and tried to pull him toward her bed.

“Fuck me,” she singsonged as though it was the perfect solution to his issue. Scott felt his grip on reality sliding away. He couldn’t accept whatever this was, at least not until after his stupid executive dinner. He let her drag him until he was close enough to shove her onto her back on the bed. Cady grinned up at him as she spread her legs wide, a fresh blast of honey sweetness filling the room. He sidestepped at the last possible minute before her thighs could wrap around and keep him trapped. Her grin warped into a petulant frown as he grabbed the wireless headphones from her nightstand and forced them over her ears. She kicked her heels rapidly against the bottom edge of her mattress in a fit. Her tits jiggled hard enough to smack her chin.

“Shhhh,” he cooed over his shoulder as he brought up Pornhub on her computer, skimming the thumbnails for the most vocal looking couple and feeding the audio into her headphones. The effect was immediate. She halted her kicking fit and clutched the ear cups with both hands, tongue running over her juicy lips as her hips bucked at the air. Scott wondered if that would be enough to keep her content throughout his dinner when his eyes swept from the keyboard to her soaked computer chair. Lying there in a puddle of golden honey sat her purple vibrator. He closed his eyes for a moment and contemplated how profoundly weird his life was before snatching the sticky sex toy up and rounding on the entranced bimbo.

The toy went into her easily despite the apparent viscousness of the mysterious honey frothing from her pussy. She let loose a low “mmmmmmm” as her air humping skewered her on the vibe. He held it there until she found a stable rhythm with it, all the while praying she wouldn’t remember any of this if she ever returned to normal. Scott grasped his roommate by her wrist and gingerly pulled her hand down to grasp the base of the vibrator. He released his grip and stepped away, breath held. Cady laid there, eyes closed and blissfully unaware of her surroundings as she worked the purple phallus lazily in and out of her honeypot. Surely in this state she could occupy herself for hours. That was his hope, at least, as he tiptoed to the door and closed it.

Mr. Davis stared daggers at Scott when he opened the door after the third knock.

“Sorry! I was finishing up the noodles. Didn’t want them to get soggy,” Scott fumbled, offering a hand toward the tall woman with black hair in front of him. She sniffed and looked down her statuesque nose at the hand before walking past him into the living room.

“Gluten free?” she asked with the barest hint of a Scandinavian accent as Mr. Davis and a third man he didn’t know rushed in behind her.

“Uhh. No? Maybe? I’ll check the package,” Scott offered, still standing dumbly at the door with his hand outstretched. He turned to see the woman frowning at him as Mr. Davis shot him another glare of disappointment. “I apologize, I wasn’t made aware of your dietary needs, Mrs. Whitlock.”

“Director,” she corrected in a clipped, disinterested voice as she surveyed the room. The decor like everything else so far seemed to be below her standards. “Dietary needs are a part of my executive biography which you committed to review by agreeing to our company code of business conduct.” Mr. Davis flushed pink from the sheer tension. Director Whitlock’s unnamed assistant just shook his head. She cocked her head as she finished her sentence and made a beeline for the wall. Even in a pencil skirt and heels her gait exuded more fearsome corporate efficiency than human sex appeal. She pushed aside the tall ficus he’d hastily pushed in front of Cady’s Jaws poster with the point of one shoe and shot a thoroughly unimpressed look back in their direction. Mr. Davis was the same hue as a cherry tomato, which Scott thought served him right for subjecting them all to this instead of shelling out for a proper restaurant on the expense card. What kind of dining experience did he expect from an underpaid millennial in a shared apartment?

“I must apologize, there was a slight disagreement with my roommate over decora—“

“OooooooOOOOOooooOOOOhhhhhh!”

Scott stood there stunned as the sluttish moan from upstairs went on and on. The nameless assistant looked aghast, and Mr. Davis was beyond tomato on his way to eggplant. The director just looked at him and smirked before turning her attention on his boss. “This was clearly an error in judgement, Davis,” she said as she smoothed her suit jacket and inclined her head toward the door. Nameless assistant started walking in that direction and Mr. Davis turned to follow. “Wait,” she commanded just as the assistant laid a hand on the doorknob. She walked over to the couch in the center of the room, brushed imaginary dust from one of the cushions and sat down before looking up at Scott with a predatory smile. She pulled a cell phone from her breast pocket. “Policy dictates that a disciplinary report of this severity be filed immediately,” she explained, malicious sweetness in her tone. “You will bring me a water while I work,” she instructed, waving a manicured hand in Scott’s direction as her other typed away.

He stared into the fridge and enjoyed the cool air. Not like putting a rush on that water was going to help matters any. After a few minutes he grabbed a pamplemousse La Croix and inspected the can. She’d find a way to bitch about the water. I didn’t want carbonated, the executive biography says I’m allergic to grapefruit, aluminum is poisonous to Scandinavians. He closed his eyes and sighed, already updating his resume in his mind.

“Mitä helvettiä?!?”

Scott kept his eyes shut and let his head slump against the freezer door as the Finnish expletive cut through the air. What now? Whatever it was he couldn’t hide here in front of the ketchup and fizzy water any longer. He straightened up, shouldered the fridge door closed and turned the corner out of the kitchen.

The ice queen sat on the couch and gawked up at the nude form standing in front of her. Mr. Davis and the other guy were similarly wide eyed. Scott felt his own mouth gaping.

She had a halo. Her hair looked like honey spun into fine, shimmering threads. It caught the light and reflected it in a million different ways, framing her face in a golden glow. The most eye-catching feature on that face had to be the lips. Overripe pink pillows so puffy and round that speaking without slurring her words would be a miracle. A familiar set of blue eyes flitted about above her button nose. He could almost see Cady somewhere deep down in them, beyond the confusion and raw arousal. A bead of drool fell from the corner of her lips.

It landed on the fattest pair of tits Scott had ever seen. Two massive gravity defying pink balloons covered her torso, their bottom curve obscuring the top part of her stomach despite their perkiness. One of her hands, its fingernails the same sparkling gold as her hair, squeezed and tugged incessantly at one nipple as she swayed back in forth in a daze. Her ass bounced with each slight rotation of her hips, the blemishless cheeks jutting out behind her almost as far as her tits did in front.

She was a vulgar caricature made flesh, thick thighs tensed as if ready to slam her crotch against the first thing that could possibly grant her sexual relief. The new Cady looked down at Director Whitlock, the business bitch’s mouth open with her tongue lolling in shock. The bimbo giggled in a melodic tone that made all three men half erect despite their shock. She moved too fast for anyone to react, her right hand shooting from between her legs to clutch the back of Whitlock’s head by her black hair.

Scott didn’t even realize what was happening until he heard the wet slap of the director’s lips against the sticky honey faucet between Cady’s thighs. The woman choked out a string of Finnish curses and spluttered against the tide of liquid gold as the bimbo let out a low moan. The Scandinavian harpy’s hands sunk into her captor’s round ass as she scrambled for leverage against the manicured hand wrapped in her hair. After a few futile attempts to pull herself back, something changed. Her fingers pressed even further into the former tomboy’s more than caked up assets as she started lapping at the honey. She pushed her face so hard against the golden pussy that Cady was forced into a sitting position on the coffee table. They both moaned as she spread her legs wide and wrapped her calves around Whitlock’s head.

The warped tomboy’s sticky fingers left a pale gold stain on the other woman’s dark hair as she released her grip. That stain spread inch by inch, rendering the entirety of her jet black hair a pale, platinum blonde within moments. The coffee table screeched against the floor as Cady adjusted herself, forcing Whitlock to release her grab on the bimbo’s backside and slide off the couch onto all fours. The sound of ripping fabric filled the room as the conservative pencil skirt split down the back.

Scott didn’t even clock the movement from the front door until the nameless assistant was staring down at the globes of his boss’s dress ruining ass and unbuckling his belt. Without a hint of hesitation he shucked his bottoms around his ankles, kneeled and guided his erection into her already glimmering pussy. Within fifteen minutes from answering the door the biggest business dinner of his career had devolved into a man he didn’t know anchoring a bimbo fuck train in the middle of his living room. Scott watched as the director’s exceedingly average chest swelled with each smack of her huge ass against her underling’s pelvis. They went from fine THWACK to big THWACK to huge THWACK to gargantuan, jiggling tits so big he could see the largest part of their curve swaying back and forth past the hanging edge of the suit jacket they’d blown open, and they didn’t seem to be stopping. She lapped greedily at Cady’s honeypot and twerked her hip hop video butt against her assistant even as her brown nipples started flirting with the floor.

Scott finally snapped out of it long enough to really think about what was happening. Something here was deeply fucked up. Too fucked up to solve, but he couldn’t stand there and watch a woman suck and fuck her way into immobility by titflesh without trying something. So he did the only thing he could think to do. He got a running start and dove across the coffee table, wrapping his arms around the sticky slut formerly known as his roommate and falling in a heap with her right under the Jaws poster. He heard a high pitched groan from the woman on all fours as the font of transformative honey was ripped from her lips, but she went silent within a few moments.

He laid there on his back with his bell rung as his mess of a roomie rendered his shirt sticky with her scrambling fingers. She got her bearings well before he did, perching above his waist as her hands popped open the fly of his jeans just as deftly as she had last time. He was enveloped in a cloud of thick honey scent. Whatever strange pheromone coupled with the wobble of her porn star rack as she pulled his pants around his thighs made him painfully hard, the blood flow making his cock twitch against her slick pussy as she hovered just above him. She rocked back and forth, but her thighs clenched so tight that he could see defined muscles despite their plushness. She was rigid, completely unwilling to lower herself onto him. Their tumble into the wall must have knocked something loose, because he looked up and saw the old Cady’s eyes glaring at him through the veneer of raw sex.

“I’m going to kill you,” she hissed. Her nails dug painful grooves into his chest until he was sure it would draw blood. “If you even think,” was all she managed to seethe before the glassy look started creeping into her bright blue eyes. She shut them tight and shook her head. It didn’t help. He felt her grinding on him more needily as the steeliness in her voice faded with each word. “About…about trying to,” she bit her lip and looked at him with real fear in her eyes for a moment, and then she was gone.

“Cum in me!” she singsonged in her innocent, honey-sweet voice. She wrapped a hand around his cock and held it straight as she brought her drenched pussy down onto it in one smooth motion. Her thighs were powerful even before whatever happened rendered them downright Amazonian, so she released his chest and brought both hands up to toy with her own as she bounced up and down on his shaft with confidence that he couldn’t buck out of her straddled leglock. He wouldn’t have even if he could. The gold nectar bathing his dick as she bounced her jiggling butt up and down was the perfect lube: thick enough to accent the pressure of her muscles clenching around his rod and warm in a soothing way that all those gimmick jellies from sex shops always missed. Between feeling the curve of her ass rock against him with each pump of her powerful thighs and the view of her pinching her pale pink nipples as those enormous tits wobbled against her palms he was ready to burst within a few minutes.

“Cady! “I’m gonna—“

“Daisy,” she corrected matter of factly. “Like the flower bees like,” she giggled as she tucked a hand under her perfect bubble butt to squeeze his balls. She simultaneously stopped bouncing on him, thighs rippling again as she brought her pussy down all the way and flexed its muscles. White hot ligtning raced from his cock to his brain as he came harder than he ever had. She spasmed and slumped drunkenly onto his chest as his cum filled her. “Cream for my honey~” she cooed as her hips gyrated to milk him for all he was worth.

Finally pollinating her flower seemed to reset the girl who would only look up from idle rubbing her clit if called Daisy, at least mentally. She was still a being of pure sexual need, but she was content to sit against the wall and play with her own titties while Scott pulled his pants back on and tried to get his bearings. He turned around while buttoning his pants to find Mr. Davis doing the same. Judging by the mess of saliva and the satisfied look on the bleach blonde titty monster that used to be his boss’s boss’s face it was obvious that Davis had taken it upon himself to fill the whole Cady cum Daisy had vacated when she was tackled. His boss was normal colored again and looked significantly less stressed.

The assistant, having seemingly finished with Whitlock’s back end when Davis finished with the front, reached down and shouldered the cock drunk woman into a standing position. “Jesus,” Scott whispered. Her tits were so big that their bottom curve obscured her belly button, and the fleshy beachball squished against No-Name’s thigh indicated that her ass was at least proportional. Her assistant gave her butt a hard smack and she giggled as the impact set her pendulous boobs wobbling. “Owwie,” she squeaked in a much higher pitched voice.

“I believe we can mark this dinner a complete success,” Nameless announced with a wink, holding Whitlock’s phone out so Scott could see him delete the half finished disciplinary form.

“What?!” Scott stammered. “There’s a fucking bioweapon or something loose! We can’t just smile and nod while two women have been rendered brainless fuck…machines…” he tapered off as Mr. Davis held up a finger and glared for the umpteenth time that night.

“Alexa here was a pain in everyone’s ass,” he said. “Nobody will care that she takes a long sabbatical, and Henrik would be glad to assume her responsibilities.” The assistant tried to bow at the mention of his name and almost fell over as the top heavy sex doll he was supporting went with him. He settled for a flourish of his free hand.

“These women are sick,” Scott protested. “We can’t just bend this to our careers!”

Davis rolled his eyes. “Shut the fuck up and I’ll double your salary. Not like she’s going to need hers,” he offered. “Or don’t shut the fuck up and be jobless.”

They had to borrow a sheet to make Director Whitlock, now the giggling Alexa, halfway decent. “Well, what do you think?” Henrik asked as they posed her in front of the long mirror beside the coat closet.

“Fuck me?” she responded, her arms squeezing her bra-obliterating rack together as she idly pinched the dark brown nips still showing clearly through the white sheet.

“We’ll take turns in the car,” Henrik laughed as he smacked her ridiculous shelf off an ass again. With a little careful maneuvering of Alexa’s assets the trio was through the front door and gone. Scott let out an exhausted sigh and let his head rest against the closed door with a light thunk.

“Cream time~” the singsong voice chirped from behind him as a manicured hand reached around to unbutton his jeans. “Yummy cummy cream!”