The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Are you ready to begin, Blake?” The priest asked in a whisper as he placed a hand on my shoulder, his voice easy to hear among the deafening silence of the church’s main hall.

The tall man with a complexion as dark as the long, abyssal vestment draped around him wasn’t impatient, nor was his question. The funeral was supposed to have begun half an hour ago, but I suppose Father Wexon already knew that no one else would be arriving. So did I, on some level, but you know what they say about hope: It’s wasted on the hopeless.

“Yeah.” I said with a nod, looking up at him while I sat on the far-right side of the front, center pew; the only one in attendance to say goodbye to my father, aside from Father Wexon, who apparently had known the man in their youths many decades ago. “Thank you, Father.”

Wexon only nodded in response, then turned away from me and towards the elevated podium several yards away. It was instinctual, by nature even, but I couldn’t help but examine this strange man of God as he made his way up the wide steps of the altar. He was certainly taller than me by a foot-and-a-half, at least, but that wasn’t saying too much given that I’m only five-feet-tall. Still, he was a tall individual with short, golden-blonde hair and a five-o’—clock shadow that was just on the border of being a small beard. Wexon also always appeared to have a slouch and an odd disposition about the way he spoke and carried himself in the brief time I’ve had to study the old man.

He didn’t move like a devout priest would, his motions were careless and undisciplined, although his attitude and expressions weren’t any less solemn and sincere than my own. Whoever this strange, stumbling man was, I do believe that he was the only other person than myself that had any care left to give for my quiet, reserved father. According to him, the Father owed it to my own that he would be the one to escort him to his final resting place, right beside my mother.

I hadn’t ever known her, being only two-years-old when she passed away, so the lack of memories kept me from feeling as cut by her loss as the emotional gash that had been opened three nights ago pained me, when the sound of my father’s heart-monitor flatlined in that hospital bedroom. Ever since that moment, I’d been carrying around a chest wound that never seemed to heal, always bleeding me out once I had even the slightest amount of energy to continue onward with my life. That brings us back to Father Wexon, the awkward priest who had bothered to go through the trouble of arranging everything.

It was maybe an hour after the doctor called the time of death when I answered a call from a blocked phone number, my entire being completely numb from the ordeal at the time. Wexon was on the other end, telling me not to worry about a thing, just to arrive at the church at the designated time, and that he would handle the rest. The man was true to his word, it seemed. My father was below the priest’s podium in a lengthy, sleek, black casket, the half containing his upper-body closed upon my request. I’d said my goodbyes already; this funeral was for anyone else but me.

But there I sat, the only one there aside from the drunk priest who’d braced himself against the edges of the church’s podium to stay upright.

“Thank you for coming.” He said, his voice as tired and weary as his expression, looking right at me with cold, dead eyes and an empty smile. “We’ve gathered here today to mourn the loss of Joe Andersson, one of the most… humble men I’ve ever met.” The Father chuckled at that, then looked up and away towards the high ceiling thoughtfully. “I can see that miserable prick up there already, trying to talk to God as an equal…”

Father Wexon had a few interesting, yet accurate depictions of the version of my dad that I’d heard in stories from him and Miss Roth during the priest’s eulogy. Apparently, he used to be a huge lady’s man and womanizer, going after every young piece of ass that caught his eye and hardly ever failed at the task. The versions of my father that I knew, the one before and the one after I left to join the Corps, hardly had any trace of that man left within himself. He was broken yet always still breaking for as long as I can remember, and I returned to a shell of what he once was after four years of absence, finding him trapped in a hospital bed without an ounce of muscle on his gigantic, boney body… I had to stifle down a bit of spite towards Father Wexon for not being there to help out back then, wherever he was at the time, just as I did for everyone else that was absent that day, and every other day prior.

I was the only one who was ever there for my dad.

Although, I’m a rational enough person, and I knew my father better than anyone else. He simply didn’t know how to have or keep friends, and always did what he pleased, or rather, was able to do, in his later years. The man was cold, but he had a big heart; Joe Andersson just didn’t know how to properly show that to people. His favorite way to express himself was through a crude joke or snide, cocky remark, even when he was dead wrong in a situation or conversation. Despite the fact that his abrasive, overbearing personality pushed everyone else in his life away, I didn’t see it as a reason to abandon the only person in this world willing to stick by me.

I shouldn’t have left him alone. The time I spent away in the military certainly wasn’t worth it. And sitting there, spacing out through the priest’s speech, I couldn’t help but break down into tears as the mistakes I’ve made and the regrets that have piled up over time had caused my mind to collapse in on itself in that moment.

I couldn’t move; I couldn’t breathe; I couldn’t feel anything but anguish and sorrow. Leaning over with my elbows dug into my knees and sobbing head in hands, all I wanted at that moment was to be with my asshole of a dad who never said ‘thank you’, ‘you’re welcome’, or ‘I love you’, just because he was a proud, overly-sensitive douchebag that was afraid to let anyone get close to him. I just wanted one more moment of arguing with him because of something stupid that either of us said or did; one more moment of us laughing about something that’s happening on one of his old, dated television shows; just one more moment of something that had to do with us spending time together.

But it wasn’t going to happen, not ever again.

My dad was dead, and it wouldn’t be long before his body was put into the ground next to a woman who’d left us both behind, long ago.

The priest eventually finished his speech, and requested a brief moment of silence. By then, my tears had run dry once more for the day. I would have loved to say a prayer for my father during that time, but I was too exhausted, too shattered; I hadn’t had a good night’s sleep for quite some time.

A small semblance of peace came when a thought had crossed my mind, though. This place, the church, and the large graveyard surrounding it, was without a single sound to be heard. It felt as if the world itself had halted entirely to respect my father’s passing.

And then, my favorite part of that awful day happened. If I’m being honest, that awkward, disruptive moment may have been the greatest thing that ever happened to me. When some bumbling, young girl burst through the tall, double-doors of the church’s main hall and strolled in as if she were the center of its absent patrons’ worship.

I was stunned, in complete disbelief, at first. The jarring sound of those old, rickety doors creaking open accompanied by the brisk air that came in from the outside, winter winds; the hasty clicking of heels against a worn, marble surface; the absolute beauty that filled my vision once I found enough strength through curiosity to straighten my body and turn my head.

There she was, in all of her splendor.

The love of my life.

When I opened my eyes, the first emotion that I felt was confusion, but it quickly dissolved into mild fear once the beautiful, wide-eyed face looming over my own spoke.

“Bumbling…” Izzy said with a smile, her perfect teeth ground together out of what I assumed to be either frustration or embarrassment.

I’d rather that have been a question, whatever she was talking about.

“W-was I talking in my sleep again?” I asked, turning my head over to nuzzle her bare, bubbly thighs as I feigned still being half-asleep. I let out a genuine yawn as I tried to defend my unconscious thoughts with my next words; although, if I’d used that word in particular to describe someone, there was only one “sweet” girl that I could’ve been mumbling about. “I was probably having a dream about Miss Roth. She’s always been a clumsy—”

It’s too bad that sweet, bumbling girl could see through one of my white-lies like a window wide open, because if not, then maybe I wouldn’t have been cut off by her abruptly standing up and having me fall onto the floor with an-

“—Oof!”

“Hrph!” Izzy huffed, turning away from the couch and walking off towards the kitchen. “Insolence!”

I was still pretty sleepy, so I didn’t feel like getting up from off the floor just then. Instead, I just turned over onto my stomach and stretched my arms outwards, one had reached under the couch while the other was below my glass coffee table. Every muscle in my body felt relaxed and rejuvenated, as if I’d just had a full, restful eight-hours of sleep.

For some reason, when Izzy let me use her soft lap as a pillow, the world and its problems just seemed to melt away. I’ve had a couple of girlfriends in the past that would let me do the same with theirs, but none of them had actually been as comfortable, taken the act as naturally as Izzy did. She would just plop herself down on one end of her couch with that devilishly beautiful smile of hers and pat her thighs, knowing full-well how I loved to spend my evening after a long day’s work.

Izzy would settle down, have me lay on my side facing the TV, and delicately trace her finger back and forth along the lining of my ear… Each time, I’d doze right off, and sleep better than I had in so, so many years, even if it was just for an hour or two. She wouldn’t ever get up, and would only adjust the positioning of her legs if she felt that I was the one who was uncomfortable.

She was amazing, when she wanted to be.

“I swear. Here I am, gracing you with my royal presence, and you dare to see me as bumbling!” Izzy said from the small space of a kitchen that was attached to his apartment’s living room. Her voice was unkind, but he could sense that she was also flustered by her unsettled tone, and was likely fed-faced from where she stood outside of his view. “Why do I insist on putting up with you, when all you do is humiliate me?”

… She was also a bit of a narcissist at times, I have to admit.

“This is my apartment.” I said with a weary sigh, stating what should’ve been the obvious as my strength returned to me ever so slowly, which gave me the ability to find my limbs and have them lift me from the carpet and back onto the couch. “If you don’t want to be here, you know where the door is, yOuR mAjEsTy.”

“I—...” Izzy began with a sharp chirp of a sound, but paused, then growled as she stormed back into the living room, standing over and looking down at me as I lay on my back with eyes still half-open.

Angry, happy, sad, ect. Whatever she was feeling, that soft, ghostly-pale face and those big, violet-colored eyes that always seemed to glitter like amethysts were the most beautiful features I’d ever seen. For some reason, they were all the more adorable when she was making that embarrassed, pouty face at me.

She’d also taken to wearing my shirts, too which I couldn’t help but enjoy seeing. They were just about her size being that she was admittedly four inches taller than me, but thanks to my regular exercise and work-out routines I normally wore a medium instead of a small. The plain, black T-shirt fit perfectly over her modest, slender torso, and complimented the pair of dark-grey pair of… also my sweatpants.

… I guess that was a compliment in its own right considering my toned butt almost filled them out as nicely as her bubbly rear did.

Still, beautiful or not, which my roommate certainly was, whenever her expression shifted into that of a confident, devilish one with a wide grin on it, one could say that same beauty became rather…

Haunting.

“But if I left, then you’d be all alone again.” She said, trying to make her bitter words sound sweet as her long, wavy, and silver-white hair hung down around her face, the wispy ends of her crown lightly brushing against my nose.

“There wouldn’t be anyone here to feed you,—”

“I cook.”

“—or clean up after you,—”

“I clean. You’re a mess.”

“—or keep your bed warm for you at night…” Izzy finished, having tried to hide her shame and fury at each of my interruptions by wincing, and not by physically attacking me anymore.

Well, at least she was getting better at controlling her temper on some level, I thought as I gazed up into unnaturally beautiful eyes with my own dull, brown orbs, remembering how she would throw well-aimed kicks and punches when I pointed out her shortcomings upon first moving in with me. It took maybe a full week for her to realize that I could react and reverse most of her strikes into any form of grapple, passively but firmly restraining her as she tried to continue her onslaught of aggression by flailing her limbs around.

Oddly enough, once Izzy had calmed down after those instances, things became heated in many other ways, to say the least.

“... I mean, if I asked Miss Roth nicely enough, I’m sure she’d- akt!” I choked when Izzy’s hands came crashing down against my throat, her expression still happily maniacal as I felt her thumbs press against and put a fair amount of pressure against my carotid arteries.

“I cannot wait to meet this MiSs RoTh character that you’re oh-so fond of mentioning.” Izzy moaned, her grip only growing stronger as the seconds passed, slowly lowering herself down onto her knees at the end of the couch and bringing her upside-down face just inches away from my own. “Tell me, when is it again that she will return from her trip overseas?”

Oh shit, I thought. When I calmly raised my arms, planning to grab at her own and pull at Izzy to make her do a front-flip onto the couch and myself, I was instantly stopped by the sight of her big, purple eyes doing that glowy, swimming thing that they did every-so-often. It was as if the texture of those violet plates slowly melted and began to swirl in a clockwise rotation around her pupils while they simultaneously and quickly illuminated like circular LED strips.

Izzy wasn’t able to do that unless I’d really struck a nerve and incited her rage, so that meant I was in it for the long-haul with this punishment. Each time this happened, I was unable to move, and found myself completely at her mercy. Most of the time I’d pass out shortly after, then find myself either right where I was on the couch or laying in my bed completely exhausted, usually with Izzy either curled up in my arms or my head in her lap.

Great, I thought, already blacking-out right there on the spot.

If I’d already caused this to happen once today, then either she was just being a bigger pain in the ass than usual, or she’d somehow found a way to control that strange ability of her’s.

“She should be back sometime today, if not early tomorrow.” I faintly heard someone whisper, but I was too out of it to care who it was, really. “I think you two would get along pretty well, honestly.”

“Honestly…” She said, then giggled. “It’s not like you have a choice when it comes to lying. Do you, Blake?”

“No.” The soft, strained voice said.

“That’s right, you’re always honest with me… Even if that means you’re a big, fat jerk sometimes, it seems.”

“You’re cute when you’re upset, and it’s funny when you try to fight me.”

“... You see? I should be saying that to you.” The strange girl whined.

Izzy loosened her grip instantly, almost as if she hadn’t realized what she was doing. I couldn’t tell, though. I felt her forehead press up against mine as blood quickly began circulating again throughout my oxygen-starved mind, then heard her let out a weary sigh.

This girl was, and is, a complete mystery to me, I thought, feeling her hands move up away from my neck to gently and delicately stroke my whiskery, lower face and chin.

“You’re such an asshole.” She whimpered.

I couldn’t have given a proper reason if someone had asked me why the next words came out of my mouth were what they were, hell, I didn’t even really understand it myself. But ever since I’ve laid eyes on her in that church, I only knew that one thing was for certain, and that what I was about to say was not a lie. I understood overall why I felt the way I did, I simply just didn’t have the correct words to describe exactly what about her was so magical at the time (aside from her abnormally-colored hair and eyes, of course), but my short summary of it was the absolute truth.

“I love you.” I horsley stated, then cleared my throat and smiled as my senses slowly returned, realizing then that I was the one responding to her questions while getting choked out. “Isabelle.”

“Er—...” She chirped, waiting for a few moments before shooting her head up to bring her face above mine once more, her eyes wide and… tearing up?

This was a new one, I thought with a confused, sleepy blink.

“You—... I-I didn’t make you say that.” She quickly said, almost apologetically, for some reason. “You didn’t have to say that.”

“I wanted to.” I chuckled, then said it again. “I love you.”

She rapidly blinked several times in response to that, and I both watched and felt the swirling motions of her eyes come to a stop, as if I was somehow waking up from some sort of intense, lucid daydream when her iris’ patterns stopped and regained solidity.

… This hasn’t happened before. Ever. I’d never once been awake long enough during that type of situation with Izzy and had come out of it conscious, and the feeling was oddly jarring for a second or two.

Izzy’s expression was one of sudden panic when she realized I wasn’t under that witchy spell of her’s anymore, and my own face attained a wide, eager smile.

“You’re getting sloppy.” I said, then snapped my arms above my head to grab at the sides of her lower torso while bringing my hips and knees up to gently clamp down below her rising head as it tried to back up and evade my motions. With my hands, I pulled and pushed her body up and over me while using my legs to ensure her head was kept in place over mine but with just enough force to let it roll forward with her body. Once her body was upside down and positioned straight up in the air; in once swift, coordinated movement, I released her head and dropped my hips, then lifted my back from the couch a bit to rotate my grip from her waist and placed one palm on her upper back to guide her body onto mine as the other pulled at and slammed her butt right down into my lap.

She cried out as she spun in the air, and then let out an adorable “oof” when the back of her lithe body impacted onto the front of mine. Without hesitation, I securely wrapped my legs around her own slender stems and locked my arms around her squishy, pert chest to suspend her’s. Izzy paused for a moment as she realized what had just happened to her, but I could virtually see the steam coming out of her ears from where they were hidden under her long and unkempt hair, just as her face blushed brightly with a noticeable, familiar redness.

“Let go of me, you oaf!” She shouted, struggling against my toned limbs to no avail in the slightest. “You can’t just say stuff like that and then do this!”

“You probably could’ve stopped me if you were quick enough, but it looks like I accidentally found a way to finally break that stupid spell of yours.” I growled, doing my best to not constrict her body too tightly. “But, I do love you, Izzy. I really do.”

She froze up again just like before, and I couldn’t help but relax my hold over her and bust out into a fit laughter from underneath her.

Instantly sitting upright in my lap while facing away from me, I could only imagine what kind of embarrassed, humiliated, pissed-off face she could be-

“Oh.” I mumbled aloud as she turned her head, tears streaming down her cheeks with her mouth twisted into a heart-breaking frown. “S-sorry?” I asked, raising my hands in defense. “I mean, not really, but—”

“You’re not mad?” Izzy managed to ask as she held back and swallowed a sob, bringing up her arms to cross them over her chest and tightly clutch onto her shoulders.

I hesitated. It took me a moment to figure out what she meant, and I think I understood where she was coming from. I wasn’t mad, no, but you can bet that I certainly had questions.

“That you’ve been, what, hypnotizing me?” I said, then cleared my throat and propped myself up onto my elbows, doing my best to remain calm and collected as the realization of what she was able to do to me slowly sunk in. I watched Izzy’s eyes closely for any sign of unusual activity. “Depends… Why do you do it?”

“I… I don’t know, I just can’t help myself. It’s like an itch I have to scratch, I suppose.” She said, turning away. “I don’t make you do anything bad, or put ideas in your head… Often.” Izzy mumbled that last part, but it didn’t escape my ears. “I just like it when you’re all sleepy and sweet to me like that.”

Once she finished speaking, Izzy began to gently rock and grind her hips against my crotch, which caused an immediate reaction from a confined and uninvited guest in my dark jeans. Damn it. Women themselves just had a natural magic about them, especially ones as cute as Izzy.

“For instance, and while I am beautiful, I made you think that I’m the most gorgeous woman that you’ve ever laid eyes on…”

I let out a groan as she pressed her soft, round ass against my tight bulge. What she said was half true; there was no one in the world that could compare to her looks, but that didn’t have anything to do with… No, whether it was a weird, hypnotic suggestion or not, there was no way in the world I wouldn’t have already thought that beforehand.

Right?

“And I really do appreciate you letting me stay with you rent-free, although you can’t deny the certain… perks that come along with it.” Izzy said, sliding backward onto my bare stomach so that she could undo my pants. She was both correct in the second half of her statement and an expert at fishing out my cock from any pair of bottoms I wore, being that she practiced this act more than once a day, every day on me since the day after she moved in.

… While I can see myself being initially uncomfortable with a situation like she was hinting towards, it’s not like I ultimately would’ve kicked Izzy out after I learned about what kind of a nympho that the silver-haired catgirl really was deep down.

“Hey, just so long as I’m the only one getting these perks, you can stay as long as you like.” I said, then managed a chuckle. “I don’t think you really understand what can classify as a rent payment. I know how crude this sounds, but hey, cash, grass, or ass. I’ll take all forms of payment.”

I let out a sigh as I felt the fresh air engulf my rock-solid erection, then looked up just as soon as Izzy craned her neck further back around this time, her glowing, purple eyes caught the center of my attention without fail and I could feel my entire body relax from under her. If my elbows weren’t propped up behind me the way they were, I likely would’ve fallen back and have had the spell broken again, but nope. I was caught in her trap once more.

“Shit.” I managed, my expression falling blank as my head wobbled and swayed, still looking directly into her eyes.

“And it only really happens when I’m horny, for some reason.” Izzy said, managing a light smile and giggle following her words. “But don’t worry… If you promise not to get mad that this is how I like to do things, then I promise I’ll make you stop forgetting about all the times I that do use it.”

Both of her hands firmly wrapped around my wildly twitching cock, and despite the fact I wasn’t able to see the sight directly, I knew she was subconsciously trying to make the tips of her index finger and thumb touch one another judging by the specific pressure applied by those parts of her hands. The way she was enamoured, fascinated by his large dick was a both a huge turn on, as well as a relief on my end of things. The only couple of girls that I’d dated in the past that weren’t afraid of his size were, well, to be polite: “Larger women.”

“But you have to promise me… And I won’t make you do that, either. That’s up to you.” Izzy said whimsically as she released his dejected dick and spun around on his tight abdomen to face him completely, her attitude having completely changed from a vulnerable, crying mess back to her usual, sadistic self, though the dried stream of tears on her make-up-free face were still somewhat noticeable.

“... I have one condition.” I said after a moment of thought, unable to look away from the swirling, violet-colored eyes that had my basic motor controls pacified and forced me into a state of open suggestibility. While I was aware of what she could do, what I had expected she could do to me all along, I wasn’t afraid. In fact, if I could’ve felt anything aside from an odd mixture of comfort and sexual frustration in that moment, it would’ve been excitement, and then panic. “And, I don’t want you to get offended by it.”

And for once, supposedly the first time, I really wished that I wasn’t as honest as I was apparently forced to be when under her spell.

“Really?” Izzy’s smile didn’t fall, but she furrowed her brow at my response. I just hoped she didn’t feel the need to assault me when I wasn’t in any position to fight back. That, I was actually afraid of more than anything else, I realized. “I’m almost afraid to ask.” She said.

She didn’t have to, thanks to my big mouth and eager, subconscious desires.

“Could you use your power to make me believe that you’ve got bigger tits?” My mouth said, even though my mind begged it not to. “Nothing against what you’ve got to work with already, it’s just—”

SMACK!

… Aaand here comes the blacking-out part, I thought, just before everything went, well, black.

“Stupid.” I spat, my teeth grit and hands furiously pumping away at Blake’s big, delicious cock.

“Bastard.” How dare he suggest I do such a thing! I mean, I may have used my abilities in the past on myself once or twice in the mirror for experimentation purposes in the past, but for him…

“Idiot.” The nerve of this boy, I thought to myself, which was only one of many bitter thoughts that were swirling around in my head as I brought up a thumb and swirled it around the tip of his cockhead while my other hand went down to fondle his tight, swollen, and readily twitching balls, hunched down between his open legs in front of him as he lay sleeping on the couch.

“Jerk.” I said lastly, before pulling my hand away and diving down onto the first few inches of his cock, making sure his throbbing tool was as far back in my mouth as it would allow just as he began to unconsciously unload the pent-up seed stored up in his sack from the few hours I’d spent edging him that day, which instantly had a reaction and gave the entirety of my nervous system a quick jolt. Blake wasn’t aware of it, but I was just as good at putting his dick back into his pants as I was getting it out, and once he’d originally referred to me as, “The love of his life,” of all things, during his most recent retelling of our father’s funeral, I knew that my surprised reaction had broken the hypnotic trance I’d put him under and had only moments to act.

Now, he was back under again, and I could get the meal I’d be so carefully preparing for myself without him spoiling my enjoyment with his own.

“I love you, Isabelle.” I gasped and around his member as his words echoed through my clouded mind, continuing to force myself down and it further into my greedy throat, inch after inch after inch, biting down hard on the base where his cock and crotch met just as my body was set ablaze with euphoric pleasure. My entire nervous system lit up like a christmas tree when his thick, creamy seed really began to let loose within me, and I seemed to be salivating just as much as my intimates were visibly soaking the crotch of my, er, technically Blake’s, thick bottoms. Twitching and trembling in absolute, raw ecstasy, I just continued to suck, slurp, and gag away at the short man’s thick, lower-cock with vigor, but found myself unable to ultimately move from where my teeth had chomped into him.

By the time his massive load was slowing to a stop, my own, lengthy orgasm was on the decline, and my head was winding down like a spinning top that was losing momentum. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been laying there with Blake’s fat cock down my throat, but the urge to breathe was arising within the panic center of my mind, I figured as I pulled my mouth away and let out a plop when his cockhead escaped my lips. It didn’t register to my mind at first, but the action itself felt odd, as if it took a slight bit of effort to actually remove myself from his sweet-tasting flesh.

Still half-erect and drooling what was left of his spent sack, I glanced up in my haze at where I may have left a mark. Unmistakably, there were two puncture marks where my canines had been forced into his crotch, something that’s never happened before during one of our one-sided sessions. Thankfully there wasn’t any sign of blood or torn skin (or cum, which I was more than proud of), so surely the marks would be long gone by the time he might realize they were there, I hoped, not really wanting to have to explain that one away.

I collapsed back onto the arm of the couch opposite the one that Blake’s head was laying against, then let out a sigh and smiled at the sight of my hunky, sexy half-brother and his big, stupid dick as it finally and completely delated, but still retained an intimidating bigness about it, emphasized by the young man’s short stature. Then, I glanced down to the modest mounds within the shirt of his that I’d borrowed, suddenly feeling a bit disappointed with myself for getting so offended by his earlier condition. It made sense, really; if I had a larger bust, then I wouldn’t have to worry about not being able to truly satisfy him in every way possible, once he was ready to learn the truth about who he was, and about how he and I share the same blood.

… Perhaps I may have acted a bit too hastily in rejecting his proposal, I thought to myself with a slight frown.

A sudden and quick rasp of knocks at the door caused my heart to skip a beat and my thoughts to sober up back into the present situation, realizing that both Blake and I looked quite disheveled.

Without a second thought, I flopped his gorgeous, saliva-soaked dick back into his pants and zipped them up, then quickly rolled off of the couch and jogged over towards a mirror handing over on one of the living room walls to straighten up my hair.

Once that was done, I looked my reflection dead in the eyes and took a deep breath. I closed them for a moment, then reopened them to find that the glittering purple of their iris had changed into a dull, black-brown color. Good, I thought, whoever this visitor was could believe her silvery hair was due to hair dye, I’d always found it hard to explain away the natural violet of my eyes without sounding like one of those oddballs who wear colored contacts.

Thankfully, if I suppressed what little power I actually had to the most minute of flows through my system, my eyes would revert to something similar to what Blake’s looked like. Oddly enough, I hadn’t known I could do that until the prospect of him being powerless came to mind. After that, it was simply a matter of light experimentation and diligent discipline. It was a shame that discipline wasn’t my strong suit, or else I’d be able to keep this disguise up for more than a few minutes. The only people that ever stopped by to see black at a late time like this were his friends Dominic and Justin, and those two morons were easy enough to shoo-off with enough persistence.

In a few moments, I was standing there at the door giving my appearance one final check, then swallowed as I collected what was left of myself and opened up the door.

I instantly realized that I maybe should’ve looked through the peep-hole first, because the six-foot-tall, giant of a woman that was awaiting to greet me sent a wave of terror through the whole of my being.

This beautiful, strawberry-blonde-headed bombshell was wearing a simple, green, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of brown, khaki pants, each of them tightly hugging her curves while simultaneously displaying the full, roundness of her breasts and the wide, ample junk she was carrying in her envy-inducing truck. I was paralysed by how soft and feminie every single one of her features were despite how tall the woman was, and the warm, friendly smile under a pair of large, round glasses was just as unnerving as how she gazed straight forward and right over my head, as if she couldn’t—... Oh, I thought, struck by an odd rush of sympathy as I spotted the thin, white walking stick in her hand.

Her lips parted and it looked as though she was about to say something, but there was a slight twitch of her nose just before that; her smile dissolved into a frown, then into a scowl while her empty gaze slowly lowered to face me.

… Who on Earth was this woman?

“Who might you be, Miss? And where can I find my tenant?”

Tenant? Wait, that must mean this absolute beast was…

“M-Miss Roth?” I asked, cocking my head to the side as my eyes became slightly wider.

I couldn’t quite place it, but there was an odd, musky odor that flowed into the room after a moment, and something about it made my baby-smooth skin perk up with gooseflesh and caused my heart to thunder within my chest.

“Oh, lovely. It appears that we have the same name, Miss Roth.” She said, her expression unchanging and tone less kind than the last she spoke. The tan-skinned, blind woman who appeared to be in her early thirties raised her cane in a flash, striking my sensitive pussy with a quick and precise rap. I let out a squeak of pain and jumped back, placing my hand on the open door in preparation to slam in on her. However, her reflexes were suspiciously amazing for someone who apparently couldn’t see, I hopelessly thought to myself when her cane stuck me again, sending a flare of pain throughout my fingers. “However, I wouldn’t go so far as to be so shameless as yourself, answering the door of another’s home while I reaked of sweat and sex. Pitiful.” Miss Roth spat in her shrewd, English accent, then did so literally on the hallway’s dark blue carpeting.

Quickly recoiling and recovering from her second attack, I stepped back once again, just until her words sunk in. My undamaged hand slowly reached down to feel that there was indeed a visible wet-spot in the crotch of my bottoms, right where the sting of her first strike had landed. This woman may not be able to see, but that nose of hers was just as sharp as her accent, it seemed, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel like my own mother just barged in on me having a shag with my brother.

Humiliated, ashamed, and on the defensive, in other words.

“I’ll only ask you one more time, young lady…” Miss Roth began, taking a few steps into the apartment. “Who are you, and how do you know my darling tenant?”

“Darl—?” I was about to say, but when she raised the came I realized I was better off coming clear to an extent, or else this crazy, jealous woman was going to treat me like my eldest sister treated her favorite boy-toys when they acted up. “Eherm. I’m Izzy, and moved in with Blake after his father died, and he’s asleep on the couch over there, and don’t you dare hit me ag—”

“Oh, so you’re this Isabelle woman that he’s told me so much about. Why didn’t you just say so? Aha!” Miss Roth said, her expression and demeanor flipping in an instant from hostile to friendly. “Call me old fashioned, but I still like to send letters, and Blake and I write each other back-and-forth all the time when he’s up at work. Being a mail-man has such fun perks, wouldn’t you agree?”

I was just as speechless as I was confused. Not by her words, though, he had told me several times that he likes to write people on his down-time at the post office, but by the fact she instantly turned away without awaiting a response and walked over to where Blake was laying on the couch. It was clear she knew the layout of his small living room, not needing her walking-stick to inform her of the coffee-table and recliner she had to pass around in order to reach him, and it was also clear that this woman was likely one of the main factors behind Blake’s suggestion for him to perceive my breasts to be larger, because the cantaloupes sloshing around in Miss Roth’s thin top and bra were both captivating and enticing, even to me.

Don’t get me wrong, if Miss Roth hadn’t made the insane impression that she just had, I’d be trying to get those glasses off of her striking face to see if I was able to use my abilities on someone who was blind.

The things I’d make her do would pale in comparison to the tame acts I’ve performed on Blake thus far, and he would certainly share in all of the degrading, perverted things that the two of us could make her do. One of Blake’s subconscious fetishes involved girls in thin, skin-tight attire that gave them the aesthetics of being a cow-girl, I’d learned during one of our lap-pillow sessions on the couch, and this tall, large-breasted amazon would be an amazing fit for such a scenario. False horns in that mess of a golden crown, a few printed sleeves for her athletic, tanned limbs, maybe even a hooped nose-ring in the center of her slender, freckled face with a pair of nipple-piercings to match.

Perhaps if the time came, we could find a way to get her pregnant and have her start producing milk, just to really complete the picture...

Although, that thought was stuffed away for future conspiring. Right then, I was more concerned with the fact that Miss Roth had taken it upon herself to lift up Blake’s upper body and slip right under him to lay his head in her lap. Y’know, just like I, and I alone, am allowed to do.

Miss Roth’s smile grew wider, not bothering to turn away from Blake as she allowed his unconscious form to roll over onto his side to get more comfortable, tucking an arm under her smooth, bubbly thighs while he nuzzled at their topside.

… Just like he would do to mine.

The moment she began to trace her finger along the lining of his ear, something inside of me snapped. I hadn’t realized exactly how much and how quickly anger and jealousy had built up within me at the sight of them sharing a moment that was sacred between my unassuming brother and I, but my next actions likely should’ve been thought out before acted on. I quickly stormed over towards the pair with a growl, my eyes lighting up with a bright violet color as my hand shot out to snatch Miss Roth’s pair of glasses from her face.

Before I’d realized it, something told me that I now understood how Blake felt each time I had knocked him out in the past few weeks.

The last thing I heard was Miss Roth giggle before a swift upper-cut caused everything to go dark, and then she uttered a statement that was alarming for me to register during that very brief moment, on many levels.

“It appears that you and your mother are one in the same, pussycat.”

I woke up differently than I had been recently, for once.

Sure, I was in someone’s lap and having my hair stroked, but the cushioning between the side of my face and arm was much more full and juicy than Izzy’s soft, slender pair of thighs.

“Blake dear, you should’ve just told me that this was how you preferred to sleep, to begin with.” Miss Roth’s voice said from above. “And there I was, finding out about this little fact while across the world, and at the same time, being informed of a certain someone that you’ve allowed to stay here with you, without my consent.”

I was too terrified to respond in that instant, and I definitely wasn’t about to get up from her lap in fear of getting restrained and pushed back down into it. Miss Roth was the closest thing that I had left to a family member now, taking the place of an overbearing, dominatrix of an aunt that had too big a crush on her nephew. It was nice to have her in my life, but there was always a fine line to tread when dealing with her very sensitive nature.

“But what’s done is done, I suppose.” Miss Roth sighed, continuing to gently run her fingers across and through my short, black hair without pause. “She’d been here long enough, and if you’re still alive and well by this point, then I don’t see much harm in it all…”

“... Thanks for worrying about me, Miss Roth.” I said, her words and the lack of continued, passive hostility growing in her tone suggested I might not be getting sent to the hospital tonight. Small victories, I thought to myself as I tried my utmost to relax.

After an innocent-sounding giggle from above, I saw and felt the soft, jiggly mass of her breasts press down onto the side of my face as she leaned down over me. As enjoyable as sensation was, part of me felt a bit of panic return. Miss Roth hadn’t ever been this forward with me before, I thought; any sort of flirtatious or suggestive act or words she may have said in the past were always covered up by either a mix of light teasing and/or “constructive criticism.”

“I will always worry and care for you, Blake.” She said, then moaned, something I’d never heard her do in an erotic fashion; intentionally and seductively. My cock, which always seemed to be both spent and pent up lately, for some reason, quickly reacted to the sounds she began to make over me as she pulled away and sat up straight. “In any way that you desire…”

My head snapped up towards hers, looking into the eyes of a gorgeous face that was mostly obscured by the mountainous breasts hidden beneath her shirt. The way her shimmering, silver-grey iris’ sparkled and twinkled without any direct light source affecting them was as amazing as ever, and didn’t have the same, suffocating pacification that came along with Izzy’s swirling, violet orbs. Speaking of which, Izzy hadn’t wiped my memory, I realized.

This was the first time I was consciously aware that she’d been hypnotizing me.

Maybe I’d made some progress with her, whoever Izzy truly was behind that aggressively sexy facade she put on to mask whatever her real intentions were by coming to live with me. Either that, or maybe Izzy bumped into Miss Roth before she had the chance to, and was her usual, bratty self around the very proper and proud woman that his landlord was. Then, I suddenly wondered where Izzy was, but didn’t dare look away from Miss Roth’s gaze, which had just become somewhat… annoyed.

“Alas…” She said, then tightly grabbed at my face and pushed it back onto its side to face away from her. “It’s too bad that you were just thinking about this new girlfriend of yours, and while looking up into my eyes, at that. You wound me, Blake.” Miss Roth growled, wounding me by digging her long, sharp nails into where her fingers gripped at my head. “It seems that we just need to wait until you’ve matured a bit more, before I can commit to anything beyond that of a landlord-tenant relationship.”

With a shove, Miss Roth pushed my head, and by proxy, my body off of her lap and couch, causing me to slump against the ground harder than I’d have preferred, face-down.

… Still, this whole situation was better than having either of us evicted from the apartment, I thought as I lay there like trapped prey that had surrendered to its capture.

Miss Roth stood up and grabbed her thin, walking cane from the coffee table, then carefully stepped over me with a giggle.

“I just came over to say my hello’s and let you two love-birds know that I have returned. Tomorrow, I will return around lunch-time to receive your rent check. Can I assume that Miss Isabelle will be here to make the exchange for you?” She asked, already opening the front door to make a quick exit.

I sighed, then lifted myself up and looked over to the blind, busty amazon that was able to see without seeing, and who was gazing directly at me with a weak, almost forced smile.

“I’m sure she will be, Miss Roth… I’m sorry in advance, by the way, Izzy can be handful somet—”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Miss Roth stated with an unkind tone to her sharp, proper way of speaking, cutting me off with that and the slam of my door.

“Hm.” I mumbled, slowly getting up onto my feet. That wasn’t how I thought things would go down when Miss Roth had returned, but I guess the outcome was better than expected, for the most part. I completely, undoubtedly pictured her and Izzy getting into a physical confrontation once the two of them finally… met.

Oh no.

I glanced towards the hallway before heading in that direction, and wasn’t surprised to find that my door was slightly cracked open. I swallowed, hoping that I wasn’t about to find Izzy bound and gagged from head-to-toe in rope and leather, all while letting out muffled screams for help because she was too stupid to play nice with a shrewd, hands-on buisnesswoman that once owned, managed, and operated a bondage-brothel in Germany for a decade all by herself, and having reached that status at the ripe, young age of twenty, at that. Izzy claimed to be royalty as a joke every-so-often, but that sort of attitude, serious or not, was one of Miss Roth’s biggest pet-peeves.

“Pleasedon’tletmehavealawsuitonmyhandspleasedon’tlet—... Oh, thank God. She just took a nap.” I sighed, watching and listening to Izzy’s unconscious self squirm and moan atop the king-sized bed that took up most of the room’s space, the outlines of her limbs in constant motion as they wiggled from underneath the thick, blue-grey, polyester quilt spread out across its surface.

“Izzy…” I said gently, then cleared my throat as I entered the room and clicked the door shut behind me, doing my best not to have her throw another tantrum by startling her out of a dream. “Are you awake?”

“Hm?” She moaned, then let out a long, meaningful yawn before slowly sitting up in the bed, exposing a sight that I’d have expected to only ever see in my own, wildest, teenage dreams. “Oh, yeah, I’m up.”

Once she was upright, the quilt fell down and off of her naked torso, which was much different from the last time I’d seen her, as was the rest of her lithe, nimble body, aside from her big, pretty eyes. Izzy reached up to stretch, the sleek coat of snow-white fur covering her arms, as well as every other inch of her skin, standing on-end for a moment as she did so, just as her four-foot-long, tube-like tail lazily flopped around behind her naked frame. The two, large, actual cat-ears that were poking out from her long and silver hair twitched several times, along with the few, black whiskers on her still human-shaped cheeks.

“Ahhh…” She sighed, then looked up at me with a sleepy, care-free smile, and I took the time to admire how the elegant coat of fur across her body didn’t touch her bright pink and rock-hard nipples. It didn’t take long for that smile to drop, just as she remembered whatever may have happened between her and Miss Roth, because he couldn’t imagine Izzy would’ve been talking about anyone else in her next statements. “Wh—... Where is that cheap-shotting bitch at?! Huh?!”

When Izzy slammed her fists down on the bed beside her extended legs and her tail wildly began to flick around behind her, she quickly looked down at her arms in shock, then up back up to me, who was, one could say, also shocked.

The anthropomorphic feline who had claimed to be a human woman named Isabelle looked up into my eyes, and I into hers from where she sat, both of us nervous and likely waiting for the other to say something first.

I guess she was more freaked out than I was. Not because of her transformation, mind you, but because of how quickly she lost the battle and said:

“Blake, I can explain...”

“Catgirl...” I said, at a loss for anything else to say, or ask. “You’re an honest-to-God, goddamn furry?”

Izzy’s eyebrow twitched at that last word. “Not—... Well, technically… Not all the time… Half? I don’t know. This is all your stupid landlord’s fault, though.”

“... How?” I asked, stunned that she could blame this on Miss Roth, of all people. “Is she some kind of secret cat-witch like you?”

“First of all, ouch.” She said, crossing her arms and turning away with her eyes closed, inflicting me with a twinge of guilt for my words, despite the weirdness of the whole situation. “Secondly… No. This Miss Roth is something else. Something worse...”

“Yeah, she’s Miss Roth, a dangerous psychopath that isn’t someone you should screw around with. I don’t see what that has to do with you being a furry, though.”

“Call me by that title one more time.” Izzy dared, turning back to face him with wide, hateful, but still beautiful eyes. “If you value your life, then you will never refer to me as a—”

“Sorry, but I don’t take orders from furries.” I challenged, doing my best not to openly laugh at the vicious expression that came across her face in response, although I couldn’t help but push out my chest and put my hands on my hips. “And especially not from domesticated catgirls like yourself.”

“... Domesticated?” Izzy growled through her perfectly white and razor-sharp teeth, just as her eyes began to glow and melt when she got worked up.

I’d thought this was all fun and games per usual, but this version of Izzy lifted her extended palms and flexed her fingers in a show of aggression, allowing her pointy, black claws to extend out from the tips of her digits.

“... I love you?”