The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Monica tottered down the stairs. She wasn’t about to risk the elevator. Not with the apartment cut off and Monica didn’t want to end up stuck in a broken elevator for three days while someone figured out how to get a repair crew up.

And she was tottering because of her boobs. It was almost like back in the day when they’d first come in, and she’d been almost pulled over by the weight on her chest. Now they were even bigger and once again, the heavy orbs were forcing her to throw her shoulders back and try to counterbalance them as she jiggled down the stairs.

I should thank whatever made my ass grow, or I’d land right on my face.

Monica licked her lips at the thought of some guy following her down, looking at her hips and jiggly ass.

Some guy who would take me… Bend me over and fill me up and not care if I wasn’t on the pill…

She shook her head, trying to banish the thought, but it just wouldn’t go away. Someone strong, someone powerful.

Monica looked down and blinked.

There were wisps of the mist down there.

How the hell did it get into the building? Did someone leave a door open?

Monica licked her lips. There was something about the mists. A heavy, heady odor. Even the little bit just seemed to fill her nose and mouth and just caress her body.

Her nipples were pressing into the thin fabric of her top and the way it was just rubbing against her nipples…

Fuck, I’m wet—no, wetter. She’d been wet since she had woken up, just putting out the scent of a woman in heat.

Monica blinked at that thought. Heat wasn’t what she’d thought about when she was horny. You know, horny, wanting sex, but…

Being in heat…

There was something animalistic about the idea. Not going out and getting a meal or a nice movie… just running into a room, or getting into the back of the car, desperately pulling your clothes off because you needed that cock more than anything else.

Being bred.

Monica bit her lip, then kept going, down into the curling, twisting mist, moving almost like it was a living thing.

The air was warmer, and there was a sense of…

She shook her head and kept going.

God, I’m fucking hot.

Finally, she got down to the ground floor and pushed the door open.

The fuck? The place was deserted. And the doors to the outside were open, letting the mist pour in.

Monica blinked, checked the little diner. There were some plates there, food still on them.

Nobody else. Nothing else, and the sounds from the city, far down the slope of the hill, were muffled like they were in another universe.

She turned and walked out to the front. Here, things were even more muffled, and the mist was everywhere. She couldn’t see where it came from. She was…

She blinked. There was a woman, walking through the mist, naked. The woman she’d seen. Her tits were bigger than Monica’s, bigger than a woman should be able to carry, especially with the way they bounced.

Her hips and ass, the mist teasingly concealing and then revealing them, were just…

“Hey!” Monica called.

The woman looked back at her. She smiled back at Monica, then put a finger to her full lips, and, still swaying, walked off behind the building, her form vanishing into the mist.

Monica ran after her, the damp dirt squelching under her feet. She blinked once, looking down. There were footprints in the dirt and… a woman’s sandal lying there, like someone had kicked it off?

Monica bit her lip. Her feet did feel confined. She looked down and, in a sudden fit of revulsion, kicked her shoes off. Her feet felt cool in the dirt and grass. But then she was going around the corner, wondering where the woman had gone.

But she was just… gone.

Then Monica heard the sound. Someone grunting, their voice low, male, animalistic.

She walked forward, helpless to turn around.

Maybe it’s the woman…

But….

It wasn’t. She saw, in the mist, the indistinct form of a man… Standing, jerking off… one hand on his cock and Monica couldn’t help but gasp.

No man she’d ever fucked had a cock like that.

She’d never imagined any man could have a cock like that.

I need to go… Right. She needed to go back to her room and forget this, and the next morning she’d just wake up and find out it was a dream.

Right. I’ll go.

Monica nodded.

And then walked right to where the man was.

Monica felt her pussy just start to drip as she got closer to him. The mist was alternately concealing and revealing him, but he wasn’t wearing anything. She saw a little gray in his hair, his black hair, and his body looked a little…

Bulky.

Older. He was older than she was. Monica came staggering out of the mist and saw him, one hand was on his cock, and was stroking it, slowly.

Monica licked her lips, looking at the thick shaft, heavy balls swaying. A salt and pepper beard and gray streaked hair caught her attention, along with the slablike muscles. Someone strong, older…

He growled and suddenly his cock twitched, and a tide of semen spilled onto the grass.

For a moment, Monica bit her lip in disappointment. That was a waste, but…

He’s not getting soft.

His cock is still hard…

How the fuck did a guy do that? None of her dates had been able to stay hard like that…

Then he turned around to look at her, and Monica stared at him, unable to look away from his blue eyes. She licked her lips, looking down, staring at his cock.

“Who are you?” he said, his voice a low growl.

“M-monica. Sir.” Where did the sir come from? But it felt to right to call him sir, to acknowledge his looming body, his maleness.

“Do you know what happened?”

“N-no?”

“Last night, I was a little chubby. A nice guy. Now, look at me.” He gestured. “I feel strong. This place…”

“It changed me…”

“It made you what I want,” he said, looking at her body. “Get those clothes off.”

I shouldn’t—I should… But he was a man and there was something about his voice. Monica ed the noise as she’d headed out, a woman eagerly submitting, accepting her…

Please.

With that, she reached down and pulled her shirt up and over her top, throwing it to the side, gasping as the cool air, caressed her thick, stiff, nipples. She cupped her jugs, moaning at the way they felt as the warm masses of tit-flesh spilled over her small hands. Then she dropped them and undid her bottoms, pulling them off, the feeling as the cool air hit her wet pussy, her clit throbbing with pleasure.

“I came here because I needed a cheap place to stay,” he growled. “But now I know why I’m here. Because I will have a woman. You.”

What is… Monica licked her lips. It didn’t matter. She felt… perfect, looking up at the big man. What had the rest of her life given her? Casual dates, looking for a place to stay, going to college to get a job that would keep her busy until she was too old to enjoy free time?

“This place… the dreams… I know what my place is. Get on your hands and knees.”

Monica fell to her hands and knees and crawled up to him and she shuddered in delight as the mist-dampened grass touched her tits, brushing her like a hundred tiny little fingers. She grunted and crawled in front of the older man, crawled like his slut, his pet and she was only thinking about how it would feel when he touched her. The mist was heavier now, and she couldn’t see the apartment, or the city, but she could hear moans and whimpers, gasps of eager submission from women, and growls of domination from the men who were taking them, making them theirs.

Monica stopped in front of the man, her man, and raised her ass, spreading her legs, exposing herself to him…

She’d never done this. Never been so submissive, but it felt so perfect to be taken by this beefy man, a bull male, getting ready to…

“Breed!” She gasped out as he gripped her by her hips and thrust into her. His cock just spread her and Monica arched her back and squealed out in delight. There was something primal about being taken like this. No “getting to know him” no thoughts beyond the need to serve her man, to be his… to be filled by him. One big hand gripped her by her hair, and pulled her back, Monica squealing in delight, as her big fat jugs bounced around. She was being taken like his slut, like some kind of animal and she loved it. It was… It was what she was made for. What she’d been shaped into. How his hands had let go of her hair, his male grunts the only sound he made, as his hands curved around to cup her jugs, to squeeze and tease them.

“Yes…” Monica said, her voice high and thready. “Harder! Please!” She didn’t know his name, she didn’t need to know his name.

His cock thrust into her, and she gloried in it, every other thought vanishing under the tide of need. It could have been hours… or minutes… She didn’t know, she didn’t care.

And then she felt him swell within her, and his roar sounded at the same time her scream rose into her air, an orgasm like she’d never dreamed of rolling through her body. She was dying and melting and going to heaven and every thought, everything the old Monica had thought was important was blasted out of her brain by the sheer, incredible pleasure. Monica fell to the ground, her arms giving out under her, babbling nonsense phrases, as he kept thrusting into her. Then she was fading into blissful oblivion, wondering if he would tell her his name, or just keep fucking her…

She hoped he just kept fucking her.

And then, with a last blast of pleasure, her mind faded out into a comfortable pink sleep.