The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I considered myself a very blessed woman. My husband worked very diligently at his law firm so that I didn’t have to work, and our daughter, Grace, had just managed to get a full ride to basically any college of her choice. Sure, it meant we were going to see each other less, but up until then, my entire life had been dedicated to raising my daughter and volunteering with local event groups. My days were usually filled with putting together charity walks for moms, hosting neighborhood bingo nights, and baking countless batches of cookies for the local PTA.

We lived in a big, beautiful, brown three-story house with a wraparound porch and a manicured lawn. Inside, it always smelled like vanilla candles and fresh laundry. Framed family portraits lined the grand entryway, showing years of happy vacations, school plays, and holiday dinners. It was the quintessential picture-perfect family home, a sanctuary of comfort and domestic bliss that we had built from scratch.

Honestly, if you had met me twenty years ago, you probably would’ve told me, “Katrina! You’re a mom? Which one of the ten guys you slept with last week could be the dad?” That would be if you could even recognize me. Yes, I was a completely different person back then, but when I met my husband, I realized that as nice as it had been to party, to have sex with strangers, or even to do some light drugs, though I would never tell my daughter that, it was a lot nicer to just watch a movie with the love of my life, read a book, or make a home-cooked meal.

There was really only one problem in my life back then. After eighteen years as a full-time mom, Grace had finally gone off to college, and Lord knew my husband wasn’t going to retire anytime soon. He spent late nights at the firm, leaving me alone in that massive, quiet house with nothing but time. At first, I dedicated that time to cleaning, cooking, and even going to the gym to try and firm up my aging body. I looked at myself objectively in the bathroom mirror. At thirty-eight, I still had a soft, natural beauty. I possessed modest, natural C-cup breasts that had gotten a little smaller and deflated post-pregnancy, a small but cute ass, and a fair complexion. Tucked away on my lower back was a small tattoo of a Yin-Yang sign. It was practically the only symbol left that let people know about my previous life as a wild party girl. I laughed quietly, looking at it in the glass.

Eventually, I came to a decision. I had given birth so young that I never even gave the possibility of going to college a chance. Now here I was, a short ten-minute drive away from our local community college, so there was really nothing to stop me. I spent the rest of the day online, g up for random classes. By the time the next sunrise rolled around, I was getting ready for school for the first time since I turned eighteen. I put on a pair of old, modest Levi’s that I usually reserve for gardening, a conservative yellow blouse we got on our last trip to Italy, and I went digging around Grace’s empty closet for one of her old backpacks. I tied my brunette hair up into a sensible ponytail, took one last look at our cozy, quiet kitchen, and made my way to Anatomy class.

The community college campus was a sprawling, slightly run-down concrete maze of mid-century buildings, a stark contrast to the warmth of my home. It hummed with the chaotic energy of youth, skateboards clacking on pavement, loud music bleeding from headphones, and students huddled in tight groups laughing.

I didn’t know what I was really expecting when I walked into the science building. Perhaps I expected most everyone else to also be a mom looking for something to do, but to my surprise, it seemed most of the class was just over eighteen. Over half were these athletic, muscular young boys who were probably hoping they would get some sort of sports scholarship but wound up here instead.

The classroom was sorted out into twelve different lab tables with gleaming black ceramic tops, accompanied by eight stools surrounding each one for the purpose of experiments. Because most of the tables were taken, I ended up sitting with a group of these young men who kept giggling to each other and scrolling through TikTok. I just took my journal out, unscrewed my pen, and crossed my hands neatly over each other onto the desk. Just because other people weren’t going to take their education seriously didn’t mean I wasn’t going to. Although, I figured, I guess part of the reason I did come back to college was to kind of make up for lost time, so maybe it wouldn’t be the biggest harm to at least try to start a conversation and be friendly.

“Hi boys, sorry you have an old mom at your table. I’m Katrina.” As I finished speaking, I brushed my brunette ponytail back behind my shoulder, giving them a warm, maternal smile.

“ I’m Josh,” the kind looking man next to me said. He seemed to be about the same age as my daughter, but he had long dreads and developing facial hair which made him looks slightly older.

“Tyrese,” the guy at the end of our table said. “What’s up? “He said checking me out.

I guess somethings never change. No matter how long I’m away from school, guys are always gonna be perverts that take their first chance to look at a girl. My daughter Grace was more well endowed than me so she had grown as accustomed to it as I have, and we’ve had many conversations about the best way to deal with it. Though I always encourage you to confront it and step up for herself, I’m already old and married so I just decided to ignore it and said, “Hi, Tyrese.”

The rest of them didn’t even seem to care as they stayed on their phones, texting away.“Do you guys go to community college often?”

“I’m just here to get some grades into the system while I wait for a transfer,” Tyrese said.

Josh just pointed at him in agreement. “I don’t got no false illusions though. We ain’t got no chance, but I figure if I’m gonna fail, I might as well fail, educated, you feel me?”

“ That’s a very good, if a little sad, idea,” I said ,”I know this is very soon, but my husband works for a big business, so when you guys graduate, and if you need internships, don’t be afraid to reach out to me.” He wouldn’t like that I volunteered him, but he’ll get over it.

“ Thank you ma’am,” he said.

“No, I’m just happy to help.” Before I could fully settle into the class, I added “ just make sure you guys treat women with respect OK? That’s all I ask. Respect goes a long way and not enough women are respected in this world. Do you understand?”

They gave each other a glance they’ve probably given each other 1 million times before Tyrese said, “ Thanks for your help Mrs. Katrina. “

That’s when the professor entered the room. He seemed to be about sixty years old, with two sets of glasses, one on top of his balding head and one resting around his neck. Outfit-wise, he was as typical as you could get, wearing a brown plaid suit jacket with leather elbow pads accompanied by a pair of wrinkled khakis. It was exactly the college experience I always imagined.

“Good morning everyone!” He spoke with a British accent, which sounded slightly fake. “I’m your professor, Dr. Harper. I know most of you don’t give a bugger about anatomy, so I always like to start the year off with an interesting treat.” He put down a heavy aluminum suitcase onto the main demonstration table and slowly undoes the latches one by one. There seemed to be about five just from the metallic clicking sound of it. When he opened it up, a strange, eerie green light shined up across his face. “Recently, I traveled abroad for a big anatomy conference in Birmingham, England. Well, over there, they talked—”

To be honest, this was the part where I ed why I hadn’t gone to college in the first place. He went on and on about this conference and all of the weird scientific he had learned, and I really didn’t pay attention again until he pulled the glowing object from inside the briefcase. Instantly, a sharp, chemical ammonia smell filled the air as the rock shined like a bright glow stick despite the fluorescent brightness of the classroom.

“This, ladies and gentlemen, is one of the most unique specimens in the world, and supposedly, when the human anatomy interacts with it, it does something strange and unforeseen. So, I will now it around using these tongs.” He pulled out a pair of nearby metal tongs and used them to grab the rock out of his gloved hands. “Just be very careful.”

The rock went through each table, drawing gasps and whispers, till eventually it reached ours. But as my athletic classmates eagerly went to it past me, Josh fumbled the tongs, and the glowing rock dropped directly into my lap.

The moment it touched me, a massive jolt went through my body. It was as if I had just seen lightning strike inches from me, a sudden shockwave of heat radiating straight to my core. The boy quickly picked it up with the tongs, still laughing nervously, and said, “My bad, bro.”

I didn’t really know how to respond as I helped steady the tongs for him. This was kind of supposed to be the college experience, right? Boys messing around in class. A little problem in the science lab. “It’s no problem,” I said, my voice sounding a bit breathier than usual. “It was actually kind of funny.” And strangely, I really did find it funny. A warm, bubbling sensation started to spread through my chest.

The professor quickly rushed over and grabbed the tongs. “Oh my gosh. I am so sorry, madam. It didn’t touch your skin, did it?”

It hadn’t really touched my bare skin. It landed on my jeans, and maybe I brushed it slightly with my bare fingers to help the handsome, muscular boy next to me guide it back onto the tongs. But it was just a teeny-winky little touch, so it couldn’t be that big of a deal. I looked up at the professor, a sudden wave of uncharacteristic defiance washing over me. “No, it didn’t touch me.”

Despite what I said, I did start to feel incredibly weird for the rest of the class. My jeans suddenly felt really tight and itchy, and so did my conservative yellow blouse. All of my clothes, honestly, felt restrictive and suffocating, and the itch was pretty bad. It got so intense that I couldn’t focus on anything Dr. Harper was talking about at the chalkboard.

The last thing I heard as the bell rang was the Tyrese talking about some big, wild party happening tonight at a remote campsite near the lake by my house. Of course, they wouldn’t want me there. I’m just an old bitch. An old bitch with small tits. What do I know about how to party? I practically felt them taunting me while I left the room and headed straight for my car.

I had more classes scheduled, but I was just so damn itchy. I normally didn’t curse this much, but I was having trouble understanding why. I used to curse this much before I met my husband. The boring guy who just works all the time, and look what he turned me into.

I looked down at my conservative outfit- disgusting. Grace dresses sexy sometimes. She wears short skirts and tight tops. She has bigger tits than me too. I bet all the boys look at her. I bet she gets all the cock she wants.

What was I thinking? Why was I acting like this? I ended up speeding the rest of the way home, weaving in and out of traffic in a way I hadn’t since I was eighteen. I even flicked the bird at a mom in her minivan who was going the speed limit. In my defense, if you’re going to be in the left lane, don’t be a fucking turtle on the road.

When I finally made it home, I took deep breaths. In and out. I texted my daughter: “Hey, sweetie. Could you send mommy a picture of your outfit today? I just miss my girl. (I’m jealous of your big titties)” I burst into the house. I couldn’t help myself, the clothes were so itchy, so I just ripped them off my body right at the front door. I fell against the staircase and grabbed my tits, letting my hand wander all the way down to my pussy, and I felt it soaked, and fuck, my clit was so sensitive.

Only by the time I finished coming did I notice that I had left the front door wide open. This was so unlike me, but I just couldn’t help myself. The energy inside me was mutating, turning my skin hot and filling my mind with a desperate, reckless hunger. I made my way up the stairs, still completely naked, and went to my husband’s and my bedroom. I looked through all the familiar clothes and pictures of ours, but it all started to feel sooooo lame. The framed memories of our anniversaries, the neat rows of cardigans, the long, dull history of being a proper wife, it all felt like a cage. My heart hammered with a feral rhythm, urging me to destroy the suburban facade I had spent decades maintaining.

I took a couple of steps out of our room until I found myself inside our daughter’s room. She had been such a good girl all through high school. She never partied, she had waited until she was sixteen to start dating, and as far as I knew, she had never done any hard drugs. I was proud of her then, but all I could think of right now was that I couldn’t believe she didn’t have slutty clothes for her mom to wear.

I made my way over to the mirror and started applying some of her makeup. I put on a deep lipstick, heavy eyeliner, and by the end of it, it was undeniable that I looked hot as fuck. I looked like a whore. But even though I could recognize that, I knew I wanted it. I wanted guys to look at me and think that I might be the easiest girl at the party.

Despite all of that, I kept repeating the same mantra: I’m a family woman. I’m a family woman. I’m a family woman. I kept repeating that to myself even as I went into my daughter’s closet and looked for her outfits from her freshman year of high school, back when she hadn’t yet developed and was going through her Goth phase. I found an old rock concert shirt from Green Day, and I cut off the bottom to make it a crop top, and then I cut off the sleeves. I put on an old pair of Daisy Dukes. I made sure it showed off my small MILF ass.

I really wanted my tits to show off as much as possible, so I didn’t even put on a bra. If I reached just right, or stretched my hands up to dance, everyone could see everything. The biggest problem was that my tits just weren’t big enough. I wanted big fake bimbo tits. I would still be a good mother. I’d still be a good wife, I would just dress a little sexier. There was nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong with putting on a little show. I was sure the guys from class tonight would love to see the older, responsible mother from their class show up to their party, maybe even bring them alcohol, bring them some of my husband’s cigars, suck their dick a little. Nothing harmful. Just things an old mom would do. I bet Tyrese would like it most of all. He couldn’t it it then because I was a bit more frigid, but I bet he would’ve loved to take his cock out and have me pleasure it for him. Maybe I could even ride it for a little bit.

I looked at myself in the mirror, and I definitely looked hotter than I had when I came in, but I was missing something crucial. The dark brunette hair felt too safe, too maternal. It wasn’t long before I found myself driving to the local commercial strip, bying my usual upscale salon. It closed early anyway, so I went to a cheap, neon-lit walk-in place that charged only about $30 for a complete recolor. I had been a brunette for so long, but, like they say, blondes have more fun. The transformation was dramatic and instantly made me look way younger. As the harsh chemical bleach cooked my scalp, I watched my old identity wash down the drain. The stylist blew it out, and the bright, platinum blonde hair with cheap, flashy highlights landed past my shoulders in thick, wild waves. I squeezed my tits as I blew a kissy face to the mirror, completely intoxicated by the trashy, youthful stranger staring back at me.

At some point, my husband called me and texted me, but he was getting annoying, so I just blocked him. I felt a little bad, but my desire for transformation was consuming me.

Leaving the salon, I stepped onto the gravel lot, the cool evening air hitting my exposed midriff. Right next door sat a dingy tattoo and piercing parlor called ‘Ink & Iron.’ The storefront was plastered with neon signs of skulls and dragons, bleeding a heavy bassline from the heavy metal music playing inside. The transition from the chemical-smelling salon to this dark, musky den of rebellion felt completely natural. The itching under my skin was demanding more graduation, more permanent markers of the slut I was becoming. I pushed open the heavy glass door, the chime alerting the heavily tattooed man behind the counter.

I walked right up to the counter, leaning my chest forward so my unbraid shirt gaped open. “I need a change,” I purred, looking at the display cases filled with silver bars and rings. “Something that says I’m not the woman I was this morning.”

The man behind the counter, a rugged guy with a silver hoop in his lip, looked me up and down, his eyes lingering on my bare waist. “Well, sweetheart, you came to the right place. We can do a flash piece, or we can talk piercings. What’s your pleasure?”

“I want a rose,” I told him, pointing aggressively to my bare shoulder. “Right here where everyone can see it. And I don’t want to leave until I’ve got some new metal in me, too.”

He grinned, tapping the glass counter. “A rose on a hot blonde. Classic. I can get you turned around in thirty minutes if you’ve got the cash. For the piercings, you want ears, or are we going somewhere more private?”

“Let’s start with the ears,” I laughed, a loud, unhinged sound. “And then we’ll see how brave I’m feeling once you’ve got the needle out.”

I signed the waiver using a fake name, completely unbothered, and followed him into the back room. The scent of green soap and rubbing alcohol filled my nose as I hopped onto the leather table. I laid back, exposing my skin. The needle stung beautifully as he inked a dark, vivid rose onto my shoulder. Strangely, as the needle punctured my skin, the ink seemed to take with a faint, almost imperceptible green shimmer, healing at an impossible speed. After he finished the tattoo and punched a set of hoops into my earlobes, I looked at him with hooded eyes. Before I could leave, I decided I might as well get my nipples pierced too while I was there. What’s the point of wearing no bra if you’re not gonna have nipples decorated to show off through the fabric?

The guy who did my piercings stopped to smoke a cigarette as he tallied up my total on the . I watched the smoke curl around his face and asked him if I could take a puff. He held it up to my lips, and I slowly wrapped my mouth fully around it, making sure to lick the paper at the base before taking a big drag of smoke straight into my lungs. It felt good and intoxicating, hitting my bloodstream like liquid fire.

We kept switching back and forth on the cigarette, sharing the smoke in the dim light of the shop.

“That’s a nice new tattoo, baby,” he murmured, his eyes locking onto my chest.

“Thanks, baby,” I said as I blew the exhaled smoke right into his face. He inhaled it like an animal, leaning closer across the counter. “You know, I can give you a deal on all of these piercings and the ink. I already saw your nipples while I was working, so you might as well show me the whole deal. Let’s go into the back room again.”

I hesitated for a second, my mind briefly flashing to my family. “I don’t know,” I said, thinking about my daughter. What would she think if she saw her mom like this? No, I could not be that much of a slut. I couldn’t let a stranger completely handle me on a dirty shop table. “Let me just suck your dick, please. We just can’t fuck cause I’m not a cheater.”

He blinked, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, all right. You suck my dick and give me $200, and we’ll call it even for the shop time.”

I didn’t even think twice. I reached into my purse, took out my husband’s black Amex credit card, and slammed it onto the counter while I dropped straight to my knees on the linoleum floor.

By the time I left, he had charged me another $100 for his discretion, and I’m pretty sure his cum was still drying in my newly bleached hair. But I was a woman of my word, and I hadn’t let him actually fuck me, since I was still a good mom at the end of the day. A lot of time had ed, though, and the sun had completely set. It was just about time for me to get going to the college party by the lake.

On the way there, driving fast under the highway lights, I had plenty of time to think about what I’d done. Here I was, barely dressed in my daughter’s old cropped clothes, sporting bright blonde hair, a fresh tattoo that felt completely healed and throbbed with a faint green glow, and I had just sucked my tattoo artist’s big cock. I had rested it against my face, sucked on his balls, and carried on like a fucking whore. Was what I was doing okay?

At first, I thought, of course it isn’t. But then, when I really stopped to think about it, I realized I had been caring about the wrong things my entire life. I had been a good mother, but my youth had been stolen from me by domestic boredom. The only natural thing now was to make up for all that lost time as quickly as possible. I hadn’t gotten to fuck any other men in the last couple of decades, so now I had to fuck as many guys as possible, or at least suck as much cock as I could find. I had always wanted bigger titties like when I was pregnant, so I decided I should go get massive plastic ones. And to tell the world God’s honest truth, I had always wanted to know what it felt like to be a true party slut. The kind of girl who would make out with another girl just for a hit of coke.

I could go back to the bake sales one day. Hell, I could even still schedule the walks for the moms around the neighborhood. I began to think that my neighbors would even be proud of me if I ran into one of their handsome young sons, boys I had seen grow up around the block at one of these college parties. I could show them how proud of them i was. I wouldn’t tell their mommies about what they were up to at the lake, just as long as they promised to eat me out and make sure I stayed nice and high all night.

I smiled to myself, gripping the steering wheel. Just silly fantasies. I probably wouldn’t do any of those extreme things. I just wanted to focus on having fun

It didn’t take a whole lot of driving to find where they were having their party. Like I mentioned, it was right by our house so all they had to do was drive by the lake until I saw the unmistakable glow of a fire. I parked my car over where dozens of other cars were parked. I got out, fixed my hair and made my way over to the party. This was all just part of the college experience, I kept telling myself. I was just having fun. There was nothing wrong with this.

I reached under my shirt and pinched my nipples again to make sure that they were standing at full attention. I couldn’t believe the last time these boys saw me I was dressed in a pair of jeans and a yellow top, but now they could see the real me.

And as I stepped out of the shadows in the cover of the trees and found myself in an offshoot of the lake which had dried up, and left a concave bowl which seemed to be made for partying. As I laid eyes on the mass of college students who were dancing, making out, playing games, and drinking I felt like I was finally achieving the reason I had enrolled in community college in the first place,

There were plenty of other hot girls, but I would show them that I could demand attention. I deserve it. After all, I was just making up for lost time.