The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Say No Moo

At first, our summer athletic retreat seemed like a golden opportunity. All of the university’s sports programs were getting two months of directed conditioning and training at no cost to the students. Everything was being paid for by the school and sponsors. All we had to do was show up and take advantage of the advice from experts to elevate our games to the next level.

The first evidence that the deal was too good to be true was obvious from day one. Rather than having individual rooms, or even suites, the sleeping arrangements were barracks-style lodges with ten bunk-beds each. On the upside, the mattresses at least weren’t cheap vinyl-covered springs like at the school, but some kind of thick foam pallets that were surprisingly comfortable. The bathrooms for each lodge were communal as well, but we athletes were pretty used to seeing each other naked in the showers anyway, so that didn’t feel as unsettling as sleeping with nineteen other women in the same room.

The second weirdness that had us feeling uneasy was the uniform situation. We were provided with workout clothes that looked pretty slutty, to be perfectly honest. Or at least, they did on some of us. They were relatively brief unitards made out of a stretchy, shiny material in the school’s colors, and supposedly they were ‘one size fits all’ garments intended to be the only thing worn. In practice, while they did have enough elasticity to get the job done, so to speak, they were almost translucent on the taller and bustier women like me. If the light hit them just right you could see nipples and bushes pretty clearly (or the absence of same). Most of us decided to wear panties and sports bras underneath, despite the lines they caused and the lack of on-site laundry facilities for our personal belongings (which, in retrospect, should have been another clue).

It wasn’t until the end of the first week that I started getting a feeling that things were much stranger than I’d suspected, despite being one of the ladies doing the most griping about our situation. For context, I had a pretty healthy libido, and sometimes I’d find myself sexually aroused after, or because of, a good workout. It’s not like it turned me into a horny slut or anything, I’d just find my senses heightened and my appreciation for a good-looking guy would be more intense than usual. If the opportunity presented itself, I’d just be more inclined to make a booty call, or take care of myself in the shower.

Well, after five days of intense workouts, I was starting to feel like a horny slut must feel. There was no privacy in which to indulge my steadily-building carnal appetites, and no male company to call upon (they were at a different facility, miles away). My arousal waxed and waned somewhat, so it’s not like I was constantly leaking through my too-thin unitard or anything. Nevertheless, I was very irritated to realize that I was getting so sexually frustrated I was checking out my teammates, and the ladies from the other teams. It was pretty minor to start with, just staring too long at a turgid nipple or a cameltoe, but it was disturbing to me, especially when I realized that some of the less-than-straight girls were downright leering at me in return.

In the second week, the coaches started showing us training videos that demonstrated exercise techniques we’d be practicing, as well as meditative tools for increasing focus and concentration. They didn’t have very high production values (surprising, right?), and most of us would space out waiting for them to end. I one very vividly, though, because the guru or whatever who was supposed to be teaching us some kind of yoga meditation was doing a chant that sounded like a cow. I smiled vaguely, wondering if they’d played it backward, turning ‘OM’ into ‘MOO’ by accident. It was weird enough that I couldn’t resist looking around at the other ladies to see their reactions, but no one else seemed to have batted an eye. Everyone was just staring at the screen, glassy-eyed and even drooling in some cases. I was concerned, but eventually my attention returned to the video and I forgot about anything that seemed uncanny for a while.

By week three, my unabated lust was getting to be maddening. I was constantly aroused and there was never time to take care of it, not even on the toilet. It was blatantly obvious that I wasn’t the only one feeling that way, either. I don’t think there was a girl in our lodge whose nipples weren’t permanently stiff, and waking up each morning to the swampy smell of twenty wet pussies that had built up overnight had my thighs twisting together. The only tiny bit of relief was during our guided meditation. As stupid as I felt to be mooing like a cow while we did stretches and postures and whatever, it seemed to distract me from my need to cum. It didn’t help once the session was over, of course, and it left me with wet stains on the crotch of my unitard when my forgotten arousal came flooding back (pun intended).

The dam finally sprung a leak in the middle of the night the following weekend. We’d been bussed to the nearest town where we met up with our male cohorts. It wasn’t all free time, since most of us had laundry to do, not to mention shopping for sundries that the camp didn’t provide. I didn’t have a boyfriend, but there were a couple of guys on the men’s basketball team I’d hooked up with occasionally during the first two years of school, and I was almost desperate to find one of them, hoping to take him to a secluded corner where we could rut like animals. Somehow, though, every effort ended in failure and frustration. It seemed like each one of us had the same basic idea, and everywhere we went was either occupied already or we got interrupted before anything good could happen. The bus back to the lodge was filled with agitated, angry, desperately horny girls fidgeting in their seats, trying to ignore how the bumpy ride made our breasts bounce so alluringly.

Later that night, I was awoken by noises coming from the bunk above me. It took me a moment to realize what was going on, and I gasped with disbelief when I realized the volleyball player up there was masturbating noisily. I wasn’t sure if she was doing it in her sleep or was awake but past the point of caring. The most awkward part was that she was doing our meditative chant while she fingered herself. She moaned like a cow, mooing over and over again, accompanied by wet splashing sounds from her sex. She climaxed with a bellow which probably woke up the entire building and possibly others. I could hear some stirring from other beds, but no one said anything or got up. My own hand was resting on my crotch, desperately trying to do more than squeeze my mound a little, but my restraint (or inhibitions) won out, and I ed into an uneasy sleep.

No one said anything about the midnight serenade as we peeled ourselves out of sticky panties for a morning shower. Some of the ladies might not have known exactly which one of us had done the deed in the darkness, but the satisfied expression on one girl’s face made it obvious whose frustration had come to an end; she was positively glowing as she soaped up her breasts and whistled like a carefree tramp. Not only was I desperately horny, I was seething with envy. I couldn’t help but notice that our washing was starting to resemble masturbation, or at least performative foreplay, and none of us was being shy about iring the other naked women in the room.

When my bunkmate started jilling herself again that night, my resolve finally broke, as did the dam, metaphorically speaking. My fingers sought out my sex after only a few moos from above, and soon I was lowing right along with the rest of the girls as we pleasured ourselves. It took a surprising amount of effort to get myself off, considering how long I’d been feeling on edge, but when I finally managed it my orgasm was the most intense I’d ever experienced. Even the fact that I was bellowing like a cow while liquid sprayed out around my fingers didn’t phase me in the slightest, at least until my euphoria had subsided, but by then I was too sleepy to do anything about it.

The lodge smelled like a whorehouse in the morning (or so I imagined). No one bothered denying what had happened, even though almost every one of us was blushing bright red as we exchanged embarrassed glances with one another. I left my soiled panties on my bed and stripped off my nightshirt and bra in the middle of the room, no longer concerned about appearing modest. Many others followed my lead, walking to the showers naked, resigned to the fact that an intimate barrier had been broken down, possibly for good.

If any of us had thought our orgasms would have long-term benefits, we were soon proven wrong. The workouts in the fourth week were even more intense and challenging, and consequently, they left us more turned on than ever. A quaking, mooing climax in bed at night was wonderful, especially after so long going without, but it only seemed to whet the appetite for more. By the middle of the week we were openly fingering ourselves in the shower, and the girls who liked girls were doing quite a bit more to each other. Panties and bras were scorned and forgotten, and I thinking there was something odd in the fact that none of the coaches seemed to take notice of our lack of undergarments.

Week five is when I started getting alarmed, albeit in a very subdued fashion. I had been vaguely aware that some of the other ladies seemed to have heavier breasts than before. At first I was just amused and slightly aroused by their increased jiggle, and it’s not like a boob is the same size all the time, so it didn’t seem particularly suspicious. After a while, though, it became obvious that my own breasts had gotten larger despite my increased exercise, and it wasn’t because I was on my period. That made me realize that I’d inexplicably missed a visit from Auntie Flo that should have happened sometime around week two, which led to the further shock that I’d stopped taking my birth control at some indeterminate point during the camp. I got so flustered that I fainted; my concerns, while not exactly forgotten, had ceased to seem urgent when I regained consciousness a short while later.

A few other girls had fainting spells, and I ed out at least twice more before the coaches noticed and sent us to the medical center for a check-up. The nurses did several tests and said we had nothing to worry about, just that we needed to eat more at meal times. That didn’t sit quite right with me, since I figured eating more would just make my tits bigger if anything, but I subsided and agreed to do as they said. I didn’t obey the spirit of the command, though, and tried to discreetly ‘spill’ as much of my extra portions as I could.

I had my first lesbian experience toward the end of the week. I was masturbating in the showers and watching some of the other ladies pleasure each other when a girl from the swim team sidled up and kissed me. I barely knew her but found myself returning the kiss instinctively. She was a slender thing but almost as tall as I was, although she had quite a bit more up top than when we’d arrived. Feeling our wet breasts mashing together was exquisite. One of my hands explored her new endowments while the other sought her damp core, and she eagerly returned the favor. I still had enough presence of mind to realize that I was behaving very much out of character, but her lips tasted divine and her fingers in my depths were somehow more exciting than any cock I’d ever had. We mooed and made out, attracting voyeurs of our own, as she drove me to my newest ‘strongest climax ever’. I didn’t have another shower without fucking at least one of the other girls.

Week six would have been humiliating if any of us had still possessed a real sense of modesty. I think the unitards had gotten progressively smaller, because they shouldn’t have had any trouble accommodating our new proportions. It’s not like we were cartoonishly enhanced, just a little curvier than before, especially in the bust. Be that as it may, most of us started having wardrobe malfunctions on Monday that only got worse. My tits burst out pretty early in the morning, and the crotch ripped open after lunch. Rather than replacing the garment, though, I just shrugged and carried on with my routines, letting my boobs jiggle and my crotch air out without concern. So did everyone else.

On Tuesday night, the camp announced that we’d shredded too many of their unitards, so we’d be spending the rest of the time naked. There were a few resigned or annoyed moos, but no one truly objected. We spent most of our time in the lodge not wearing anything anyway, and by now the coaches surely knew what we’d been hiding. I went back to licking my bunkmate’s pussy, completely unfazed by the injunction against clothes.

In week seven the camp introduced a new meditative exercise. It was an outdoor activity, so we had to put on a lot of sunscreen to avoid burns to our naked flesh. The application process was quite pleasant, and we mooed happily as the coaches rubbed it all over us. I noticed that they were carrying two different kinds of ointment, and none of them applied it to every part of us, but I shrugged the observation off as unimportant. We spent the next few hours crawling around in the grass on all fours, mooing our meditative chant and just enjoying the fresh air. We weren’t supposed to use our hands for anything except walking, but no one objected if we licked each other to lowing orgasms while we soaked up the sun.

Week eight was the last, and by then we’d basically moved out of the lodges and into a couple of fields, spending days and nights naked in nature. We crawled everywhere, ate and drank out of troughs, and mooed contemplatively at one another. We licked any cunt we fancied whenever we wanted to. My breasts were the size of my head, and although they sometimes pained me, I found it very arousing to feel them dangling and swaying beneath me. The reason for the different ointments had become clear, as they resulted in splotches of dark tanning where one substance had been rubbed, with paler skin tones elsewhere. I vaguely realized it made us look like cows, and mooed with satisfaction at my cleverness.

Our handlers told us that Wednesday was a special day. They cleaned us up quite thoroughly and gave us tasty treats that made me thirsty and horny. There were a lot of extra people with equipment set up around the perimeter of the field. I felt a mild curiosity about them, but not enough to distract me from licking a fellow cow’s cunt when one ed nearby. I liked the taste, but I felt dumb and don’t know if we finished.

A loud rumble made me stop looking at a bug on a flower. I saw bulls crawling down a ramp into our field. Some of the bulls I knew from before. Their hard cocks bounced around; they were excited to see us. I mooed and crawled to meet them. Other cows were doing the same.

I licked the face of a bull I knew; he licked me back and bellowed. I turned around, shaking my butt. He sniffed my cunt, then crawled on my back. His cock stabbed my thigh and my butt, then it was inside me. I mooed, happy, and mooed more when he fucked me. Other cows were mooing and fucking. Everything was great. When the bull came, so did I. I loved it. I hoped my udders would be full of milk for my calf. Other bulls mounted me and came, and so did I, each time. After that, I don’t know what happened.

I woke up back at school, but my head felt fuzzy. My roommate, another basketball player, stared at me blearily. Her hair was different than I ed. It seemed wrong, but everything in our dorm was like when we left. I tried to ask her what was going on, but she was just as confused as I was. We took some medicine for migraines and went to bed. I had dreams of a grassy field and hard cocks.

I almost convinced myself that the whole summer hadn’t happened. Everyone else who had been there certainly seemed to have forgotten it; or at least, they didn’t the things I could, and thought I was playing a prank talking about drugs and mind control and orgies. But my breasts were still larger than normal, although not huge like they had been at camp. Our skin was blotchy with faded tan patches, but they were faint and everyone else ignored the slight discolorations. My libido was easily double what it used to be, and my orgasms stronger than before. I tried confessing about my boosted sex drive to the other ladies, but no one wanted to listen to my conspiracy theories, even the gay ones who thought I was propositioning them.

It wasn’t just the lingering changes to my body that unnerved me, though. I was constantly staring at girls and undressing them in my mind, wondering what their nipples looked like and how their pussies would taste. I wanted to fuck half the men and women I saw, but I was too nervous to try seducing them, afraid I’d reveal too much and expose my secrets. I resorted to smelling my dirty panties just to get a whiff of pussy, and when that wasn’t enough, I’d sniff my roommate’s instead, jilling myself while I did it. I had to ball them up and shove them in my mouth to muffle my hidden shame, as I mooed like a horny, slutty cow each time I came.