Forced Mind Control
By Andrew J. Mellon
Part 1: Fall From Grace
This is dedicated to the muse of the erotic mind control literature, Jamie Buske.
Bethany Kean was savoring the feel of her leather chair. She had finally made it. It had only taken her five years to make vice president, but she had worked like a dog over those five years: 80 hour weeks, no social life, none, not even a drink with an agreeable looking guy, no time for family, not even time to attend her father’s funeral. Social life and family, those matters were ancillary to her success. Now all that work was paying off—big time. She was making the six figures, she had authority, she had power. Life was finally good.
Bethany’s grandiose revelry suddenly snapped by the intrusion of a harsh panting sound, emanating from just beyond her office door. Each breath was almost timed rhythmically as if someone were engaged in exercise. She furrowed her brow: what the hell was that? She got up to investigate.
Swinging open the door Bethany found her new secretary, Jane, bent over her desk, grasping the side so hard her knuckles were white; her head was bent back displaying the contorted expression of ecstasy molded on her face. Its source was a thin man, dressed in black, his hands clenching the secretary’s ass, exposed by her hiked up skirt, while he steadily thrusted his stiff cock into her.
“Jesus…Mr. Devlin” Jane cried out in a voice honeyed with passion “So big…so full…yes…fuck me harder…harder!!! Soo GOOOOD”
“Just what the hell is going on!?” Bethany shouted angrily at the fornicators.
“Wait your turn.” The man growled back without even looking up from his work.
Bethany was about to fall upon the couple with clenched fists, but her anger flowed out of her as did her interest in the amorous activity taking place. Without thinking, she turned around, closed the door and returned to her beloved seat. She reassumed her thoughts as if they had not been interrupted. Yes, she had worked hard to get where she was now. Life was good.
Just as Bethany was about to get to business, Jane came in, her face flushed, gasping as if she had just finished running a race, her clothes disheveled from her recent ordeal.
“Mr. Devlin is ready to see you now.”
Bethany frowned. She was not ready to see Mr. Devlin; she didn’t even know who he was. Just as she was about to protest, the man in black entered. He zipped up his fly and then imperiously waved the secretary out, smacking her butt as she passed him for the door. Jane giggled, threw Mr. Devlin a beaming smile and left. Bethany glared at Devlin as he plopped down in the seat across from her.
“Comfortable?” She sneered.
“Yeah, not bad.” He said absently as he lifted his legs and crossed his heels on her desk. “Nice digs.”
“I worked pretty hard to get here, Mr…Devlin is it?” Bethany punctuated his name with a questioning tone, not so much because she didn’t know his name, but because she wanted to know why she should be talking to him at all.”
“Ain’t what I hear.”
“And what do you hear?”
“You sleep around with the right people.”
Bethany balled her hands into fists; her face instantly turning red.
“Oh I don’t believe it myself.” Devlin said glancing around the room. “BA Northwestern.” He said as he scanned a diploma and then another. “MBA, Wharton. Both magna cum laude. You’re a real go getter.”
“Who told you…I slept around?” She said her voice rough with a snarl, showing she was just barely restraining her anger.
“My employer is a competitor of yours. She actually does sleep around, which is why she figured you must have done so to get the promotion she coveted for herself.”
“Tell me who…is your employer!” Bethany demanded
Devlin ignored her, “Do you know what a bimbo is?”
Bethany was not going to let the man to change the subject, she tried to reiterate her demand. Instead she found herself saying in an instructive voice, “A bimbo is a woman who isn’t that bright…who dresses in skimpy or tasteless clothing, who sleeps around…a lot.” Bethany was stunned at what she was saying as the words literally popped out of her mouth. That wasn’t what she meant to say at all.
“Yeah, well my employer wants you taken care of. Since she thinks you are a bimbo why not let fact imitate fiction? You are a bimbo.”
“I am a bimbo.” Bethany said vacantly, her mind a bit scattered. She reassembled her thoughts and screamed at the man, “Get out! Like, get out now!”
Bethany’s anger was tinged with fear; she was afraid. This man, if he could make her say things, maybe make her do things. Despite this rising sense of alarm, she found herself checking him out, looking him over, he was kind of wiry, not her taste, but she was starting to feel all warm, tingly, her loins were beginning to fire with longing. She brushed a hand through her light brown hair and sighed, undoing the collar of her blouse.
“It is, like, sooo hot in here.” She said aloud, her voice in a higher pitch.
Devlin looked thoughtful for a moment. “And to make things interesting, you can make bimbos.” He told her Bethany began wrapping a lock of hair around a finger childishly, eyeing Devlin even more intently. She tried to shake herself out of this mood she found herself in.
“I can make bimbos.” Bethany blurted out in a monotine. “Like…what’s happening to me?” Jesus, so fucking horny…” She said aloud.
Devlin smiled as if he knew what was going on, he circled the desk, coming up behind Bethany, placing his fingers on her shoulders and blowing in her ear. She jumped up at the touch, then relaxed, her breathing becoming deeper. The vision of Devlin fucking her secretary danced within her; she wanted him to do that to her, she wanted him to press her down on her desk, pull town the trousers of her suit, her panties, and thrust into her, she wanted to feel stiff his rod going in and out. She leaned her head back upon his shoulder, closing her eyes as she wallowed in these thoughts.
“Jesus…getting so wet…oh please… Fuck…fuck me…I sooo need it….” She said breathily as he touched her. Devlin slapped her behind and laughed.
“Normally I would oblige, but I just shot my wad. I’m sure you’ll find a way to get release.” With that, Devlin walked out, shutting the door behind him. “Jesus…like what has that shit done to me?” Bethany moaned. “Got to concentrate…got to think about something else.”
Bethany was terrified. She was supposed to be the one in control; the one in command. That was what she had worked for. She had to get that control back; work would be her salvation, it always had been before, she had to get to work. She quickly sat down began reading a report, that would get her mind off what her body was feeling.
“Syntech Corporation had a net income of $233 million for the year ended December, 31 2002…”
A vision of Devlin fucking her over the desk intruded upon her. She tried reading again, mouthing the words. “Syntech Corporation had a net income of $233 million for…”
There it was, the vision again. She had to take matters into her own hands. She undid her trousers and reached a hand down to her wet crotch, aching for the touch. She found the nub of her clit and began to rub it. She dreamed she was feeling Devlin behind her pressing into her as she desired, her screaming in ecstasy. She felt the warm orgasmal surge rush within her, rise, she gritted her teeth and bleated a gasp as she held the feeling and then shook as it took her. She signed and lay back into her chair. Mmmm…that was good.
She tried to rouse herself.
“Shit, bitch come on, get to fucking work!” She told herself. “You’re not getting paid to fuck yourself.” Bethany paused. She didn’t use that language. Not even in private. She again attempted to hurl herself into the report and clear her mind.
“Syntech Corp…or…ation had… a net in…come….” She was stumbling over the words even as she tried to focus upon them.
“Fuck! This shit is, like, so boorrring.” She said petulantly, her voice just a pitch higher, tossing the report in the trash.
Bethany stood up, grabbed her purse, and stomped out of her office. What was wrong with her; that man, he hadn’t touched her, hadn’t drugged her, hadn’t done anything physically to her that she could tell. Maybe she just needed a cup of coffee.
As Bethany walked down the hallway, she noticed an intern in the copy room. She paused. What was her name? Emily? She was getting her degree at Columbia. She always wore tight fitting clothes to show that thin waist, those pert breasts, oh those nice little tits. The way her shiny back hair fell about her shoulders was so tantalizing.
“Come on, get a grip on yourself, Beth!” She told herself urgently, but now she couldn’t stop staring at the young intern. She stepped into the copy groom, closing the door behind her and locking it. Emily turned to see Bethany and smiled, her almond-shaped eyes smiling with youthful exuberance. Their sparkle only intensified the hunger Bethany was feeling for this young Asian woman.
“Emily…” Bethany said in a low voice even as her mind was shouting for her not to go any further.
“Yes, Miss Kean?” Emily said cheerfully.
“I have a job for you.”
“Anything you want, Miss Kean.”
Bethany closed in on Emily, taking the top button of her blouse in her fingers, “This…um..like…job has, like, a physical requirement.”
“Miss Kean!” Emily shouted incredulously as the button was undone; she was stupefied, shocked, unsure of what to do, shaking her head, she raised her hands to push Bethany away as the lustful woman hurriedly undid the next button and pressed her wet lips against the intern’s exposed cleavage.
“I’m a bimbo, you’re a bimbo.” Bethany cooed.
Emily’s eyes went blank for a moment. “I am a bimbo.” She repeated dully.
Emily shook her head. Instead of shoving Bethany aside, she sighed and inhaled deeply, resting her hands on Bethany’s shoulders and squeezing them while the other woman clumsily undid her bra, revealing her heaving, spherical, symmetrical tits, her tan nipples hardened like nails as Bethany’s mouth fell about them, her lips squeezing and sucking them.
“Oh…Miss Kean…Miss Kean…like…do me…do meeeee!!!!’
Emily shrieked in a high-pitched childish voice. Bethany pushed Emily onto to the glass surface of the exposed copier, the intern shoving down her skirt and panties while the executive threw down her own pants and underwear down. Bethany crawled up so that she could lean over Emily’s now exposed moistened cunt, beckoning her by its glistening surface, while she pressed her own down on the young Asian’s woman’s face. The two locked together, tonguing each other’s pussy fiercely, slathering cunt lips with spit, savoring each other juices, invading their hungry vaginas, their voices moaning or engaged in primal grunting as they assaulted one another, grasping each other’s asses as they thrusted their sultry mouths and sucked, finally streaming as they came and filled each other with more of their cunts’ honeyed offerings. After holding each other tight and panting, the two broke away and slid off the copier, returning to their clothes.
“Like, you know, you are one way hot bitch, Miss Kean.” Emily said as she flipped her hair, her voice was still a bit higher than it had been
“Fuck, honey, you’re, like, yeah, not bad yourself. Later, girlfriend!”
Emily tried to return to her copying task only to stare stupidly at the machine. “Like how does this crappy thing work!?” She muttered to herself, pressing some buttons haphazardly. “Aw shit…”
She kicked the machine gave it a curse, flipped her hair again and finally stomped out, leaving her unfinished work behind.
“Damn, so fucking hard to think.” Emily muttered to herself. “Need another fuck. Baaaad!” Then something occurred to her. The mailroom guys…specially that latin guy…all those tanned muscles…oh yeah, he’ll do a body good!”
Smiling, Emily skipped away, consumed with the vision of becoming a human pretzel with the three men that worked in the mailroom.
Meanwhile Bethany was on the elevator heading down. She suddenly gasped as if what she had just done had suddenly dawned upon her: she had forced herself on another woman and raped her…no it wasn’t rape because Emily wasn’t exactly unwilling. Somehow, Bethany had made Emily act like she herself was acting: sex starved and ditzy, like a bimb…. No! She had to see a doctor, a psy…puh-sy…a shrink and fast.
Bethany ran onto the street and headed toward the subway, focusing on each step she was taking, anything to keep her mind from wandering. But then she looked up and there was a man, somewhat handsome, giving her a look in passing. She smiled slyly, pondering what he might look like naked, how well endowed he might be. She forced herself back to focusing on her steps, but there she was, looking at another man, catching his attention, winking at him, making him blush. She smiled even more broadly. It was like she had a power, a secret power to turn men…and women… on. She undid the top buttons to her shirt and spread it wide, to show the slopes of her cleavage. She started to walk with hips swaying, her shoulders joining their movement with an exaggerated countermotion, as if she were a runway model or…a street walker. There were more looks, from men and women, approving and disapproving, whistles, cat calls, all for her, and she drank them all in like fine wine.
“FUCK!” Bethany screamed in her mind. She hailed a cab and scrambled into it.
“Like…2211 Broadway! Way fast!” She barked.
The cab tore off through the New York streets; its haphazard stops and starts combined with near collisions thankfully took Bethany’s mind off her current troubles. When it finally stopped, she pulled out her purse. Her jaw fell open as she found a black hole staring back at her; she hadn’t had a chance to get to the bank machine today.
The cabbie coughed impatiently, looking at her through the rear view mirror. Bethany grew nervous; she frantically thought of a solution.
“I haven’t any money.”
The cabbie growled.
There were a thousand things Bethany could do: she could have him drive her to a bank machine, she could give him her license while she went up to get her emergency cash or she could just run for it. These options vaguely occurred to her but she could not grasp any of them until the most unusual sprang forth and she seized it.
“But I can give you one hell of a tip.” She found herself saying, pulling open her blouse.
The cabbie’s head turned around violently as if he couldn’t believe what the mirror was showing. Bethany undid her bra to show she was serious.
Visibly excited, the cabbie drove into an alley for a bit more privacy.
He joined the executive in the back seat, finding she had undone her pants and panties. He lowered his jeans and showed his arousal. He was quick, rocking on her, shoving his prick into her over and over again. Bethany let him have his way, even though his beer gut was nearly crushing her; the air she managed to inhale was poisoned by the smell of nicotine and bad aftershave. Strangely, she was aroused by his anamalistic grunting, the feeling making her cunt juice the necessary lubrication so the experience was not so painful. She sighed with each thrust, giggling when he finally came.
Finished, the cabbie, leaned back and yanked up his pants.
“Here’s my card. Any time you want a ride, call me.” He chortled.
“You so funny!” Bethany tittered as made herself somewhat presentable and exited.
She strode into her co-op building, swaggering like a whore on parade, but then she got control of herself once more and fled to her apartment. She bolted the door and sank down to the floor. What the hell was happening to her she demanded once again. No answer returned to her ardent plea; the room was silent except for her own heavy breathing.
One thing for sure, no matter what, she needed a bath. She threw off her clothes, started the water going in the tub and sat down waiting for it to fill. Suddenly she had a craving. It was weird, she wanted something she had only tried once or twice before. She vacated the bathroom for just a moment, picking up some cigarettes in a drawer; some of the mementos from her sister’s visit a couple years ago. Bethany had let her have free rein of the place while she was in town; Bethany herself was out working and hardly even saw her cib. If it wasn’t for some clothes and these cigarettes, she might not even have remembered that she had even been there.
Bethany returned to the bathroom, lit a cigarette and sank into the tub. She took a drag like an old pro, holding the smoke in her lungs for quite a while before releasing it. She continued this over and over; it together with the warm water relaxing her. Maybe she could get through this; maybe all she had been through today was a nervous breakdown.
Dunking the cigarette in the water, she got out of the tub and ran the towel over the beads of water slipping down her body. When she caught her own refection in a full-length mirror, she suddenly paused. She stared at herself as she would a painting with an allegorical mystery to untangle. She brushed her light brown hair back with her hand, looking over her heart shaped face, chiseled with lines left by the dawn of middle age and too many late nights at the office. She was pretty good looking; she hit the treadmill when she could and lifted light weights: her long limbs were fairly well toned. Her chest was pretty good: she was in the classic size and that always suited her just fine, starting to droop though. Maybe some enlargement there would be good. They can do wonderful things with those sillico…those implant thingies
Bethany slapped herself. “Stop it! Just stop it!”
She looked up chastened, her cheek red from where the blow fell.
“And I should get my hair colored blonde….”
She slapped herself again.
Bethany’s body began to tingle in response; her form began to shake, vibrate, as if in rebellion from her treatment of it, shaking as if the epicenter of an earthquake was inside of her. She tried to protest, but could form now words, only a groan edged by the shaking she was enduring.
“Ngggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh!” She cried.
Something else was happening; her vision in the mirror was changing. Those lines on her face were smoothing over, returning her countenance to an earlier time, several years in the past. But other parts of her body were changing in different ways. Impossibly, her waist was cinching of its own accord, giving her wider hips. More obvious though were her breasts, swelling, expanding, taking on mass as if they were being inflated. She gripped them as if to contain them from growing but they did not stop, she was one size bigger, two sizes, three.
Finally, the shaking stopped; Bethany gasped at the final visage in the mirror. She looked like an adolescent male’s fantasy of a woman. She looked as she might have had in just before she turned 20 with arching eyebrows, twinkling eyes, a fresh cat-like face, with a lip raised in a slight sneer, devoid of the experience of her real age. Her tits were massive, large full globes with wide nipples. Even despite their girth, they were strangely pert, defying the temptation to sag, they jiggled slightly when she moved them; showing their size was natural. And now she had hips she could really wag.
Bethany’s mouth was hanging open at the change; she wanted to scream, but this body, its mind had other ideas. Her hands were still about her gargantuan boobs; she squeezed them; the feeling was such she leaned her head back and sighed loudly. Who could resist these tits she wondered, she would be the envy of every woman and the desire of every man. She squeezed the nipples and massaged the flesh; the tingling merged with that building in her crotch. Her thighs clenched together as she thought about someone else taking these in their mouth or hands. Sinking to her knees another hand sank to her begging cunt, her desirous clit, giving them the touch that her tits had heretofore solely enjoyed.
She enjoyed her new body for hours; bringing herself into wracking, shuddering power throes of orgasm, the joy making her scream with ecstasy. After each surge, she repeated the process, over and over and over until exhaustion took her and lay down on the cold bathroom tile and fell asleep.
Part 2: High Society
By Andrew J. Mellon
Bethany Keane pressed the elevator button for the garage. She didn’t have a car; she was going there because didn’t want to go through the lobby; she didn’t want to be seen in her current condition. What would people think? She was a brilliant up-and-coming executive for a major multinational corporation; but now, after a visit by a mysterious stranger named Devlin, she had the body of a porn star. Her boobs were so big she had to cast her eyes far skyward to get them out of her view.
“Like, Pam Anderson’s tits are like so a-cups compared to mine.” She suddenly giggled aloud in a high childlike voice.
Bethany checked herself. Her mind had changed with her body too. She had the mind of…a porn star? She didn’t know any porn stars. (Some of them were probably pretty shrewd.) She still had her old Ivy League mind, but it was a mind operating in a fog. She could only concentrate on small things, very small things. It was too hard to think about complicated subjects, her brain almost repelled them like magnetic poles with a similar charge. Worse, she couldn’t control herself, she couldn’t control her body, her body’s desire to satisfy its sensual needs took over. It was a hungry body, hungry for fucking, by partners or by herself.
Bethany would have much rather stayed in her apartment than let the world’s temptations beckon to her body, but eventually, she would have to venture out, if only to see a doctor about what was happening to her; if she was going to be in public she needed some clothes, at least a decent blouse that could handle her titanic boobs.
All Bethany had in her apartment that could possibly fit her was a Bon Jovi t-shirt she had bought at a concert back in college. She gotten it in an extra large to use as a make shift nighty. Now, it fit only too tightly across her chest, her tits fighting for freedom against the fabric, the nubs of her nipples prominently visible. This together with some jeans seemed appropriate to get her outside until she could get something more seemly.
Looking up at the elevator numbers, she counted them off as they lit up.
She twisted a lock of hair around her finger.
Counting, though, was soooooo boooooring, and Bethany looked down for just a moment catching her reflection in the doorway. Her brown hair was teased into large tendrils. She had to get the color changed; brown, uuuuuugly, she wanted to be a blonde, bright blonde, so blonde it was blinding. Why? Because blondes have more fun, silly.
“Goddamit!” Bethany cursed returning to the numbers.
The elevator slowed at floor 7. Bethany cringed.
Someone was going to get on, she turned around to face the corner, giving the entrant her back.
The doors opened, and the someone got on.
“Is that you Beth?” Said a melodious aristocratic voice.
“Shit!” Carolyn Chandler, super socialite, fabulously rich from three favorable divorce settlements, and president of the co-op board. Her long oval face with aristocratic nose, always turned up, held two sparkling eyes the color of deep azure. She wore white dresses, perhaps in imitation of Tom Wolfe, with whom she was on intimate terms as she was eager to point out to anyone within earshot.
“Somethin’ in my eye.” Bethany called back as she awkwardly tried to conceal her chest from view.
Carolyn failed to notice Bethany, more concerned with the reflection of her appearance on the shiny silvery surface of the elevator doors.
When elevator picked up again, Carolyn was blathering on about some important party she had been to, chuckling at her own witticisms. At first, Bethany appreciated the woman’s self indulgence, she had hardly noticed her at all, not her clothes, nor any of her…er…more startling changes. But then Carolyn’s ongoing prattling, her consummate arrogance and self-indulgent masturbation of her ego, even though benign began to annoy her, in the way that a child gets annoyed when commanded to sit still and silent in a room full of stuffy adults. Normally, Bethany just tuned the affluent socialite out; now, her voice, what she was saying, was like proverbial finger nails screeching down a chalkboard.
Finally, the reached the lobby, Carolyn exited. Bethany breathed a sigh of relief. But just as she turned around, Carolyn stuck her purse between the closing doors.
“Bethany, there’s a co-op board meeting this Friday and you absolutely must…” Carolyn’s jaw dropped at the sight of Bethany.
Bethany grabbed her, bringing her into the elevator for the final descent to the garage.
“Carolyn, please, like, something is sooo wrong with me and I way need help. Just, like, don’t tell nobody about me being like this…puh-lease!” Bethany pleaded.
The other woman pushed away.
“Get your hands off me you…you slut! You bimbo!
“Please.” Bethany moaned. “Oh no, if Carolyn kept on going, she knew what was going to happen, not that!”
“We have standards in this building my dear girl. This look is not the sort of that we want to have here and if you want to attract the wrong sort of element I will bring it up with the board….
“Shut up!” Bethany cried, it was an appeal more than a demand.
“You may have a property interest here but there are means at our disposal that we will use to protect the integrity of this building and its residents…”
“Shut up!!! Please.” Bethany told her again; she was getting angry, angry like a child, she couldn’t stop it.
“There is absolutely no place here for anyone who wants to look like some bloody tart of the street. Some bimbo!”
“I’m a bimbo, I’m a bimbo!? YOU”RE A FUCKING BIMBO!” Bethany screamed back.
Carolyn fell back against the elevator door as if she had been punched in the stomach. Her look of surprise faded momentarily into a glazed expression.
“I’m a fucking bimbo.” She said in a flat voice.
Coming back to her senses, Bethany rushed to the woman.
“Carolyn..Cary…babe…girl…like…are you ok?”
Carolyn’s stunned expression returned as she gazed back at Bethany.
“Oh…my…gawd.” She blurted out in a high voice, her voice tangy with an accent common to North Jersey.
“Oh, no! Carolyn, I’m like soooo sorry.”
“I’m all tingly. Whadidya do to me?” Carolyn squealed, and then giggled. The aristocratic airs of her countenance were fading away, leaving a rather wide-eyed confused look.
Suddenly, there was a sound of ripping fabric; Carolyn’s chest was beginning to expand and enlarge; her tits flattened themselves against her clothes comically, but then the pressure was too great to withstand; a tear formed slowly at first, but in an instant elongated all the way down to her navel, leaving her mountainous bosom fully exposed.
Carolyn pushed herself up, letting her torn dress fall to the ground. She was almost totally naked, except for the garter belt holding up her white stockings. Like Bethany, the rest of her body had been altered. Carolyn had always been something of a beanpole, with slender hips and shoulders; a strict vegetarian, she was skinny, almost bony. Now her shoulders were broader; her waist narrower, her form fleshier; her figure was now a voluptuous hourglass. The fine lines of middle age had evaporated as if they had never been there; Carolyn physically looked as if she were in her early 20s.
She poked at her bosom, staring at them with a stunned expression.
Unlike Bethany’s other conquest, the intern Emily, Carolyn’s bull headed self-absorption was delaying the full grip of the bimboization that encompassing her body, mind and very being.
“Ya fuckin’ cunt, ya made me like youse!” Carolyn shrieked at Bethany.
Bethany frowned, her anger against Carolyn surged within her, beyond her control, her face formed a look of childlike malice.
Bethany grabbed Carolyn and spun her around so that she could see her reflection against the elevator door.
“Oh yeah, sweetheart, I made you like me!. Bethany hissed. “Take a good look bitch, this is the real you now! A body meant for one thing, to fuck and be fucked.”
“Nooooooooo.” Caroyln howled as revealed her own look of terror.
Bethany grabbed Carolyn’s full breasts and gently squeezed them, taking her nipples between her forefinger and thumbs and squeezing her thick nipples.
“Feel that, you horny little cunt! Like it don’t you? Makes your cunny juice drip doesn’t it! Your, like, mind is so gonna bend so that you way do what your body wants.”
“Please…oh…uhhh…please…mercy…ya gotta have mercy…on me” Carolyn cried as her body showed it was tantalized by Bethany’s aggressive fondling, her body squirming slightly as her was chest worked.
Bethany rubbed her own hardening tits against Carolyn’s back, deriving some mild pleasure herself, letting one hand glide down Carolyn’s body, her tummy and then her cunt, both jiggling at the touch.
“Oooooohhhh…nooooo….” Carolyn sighed, her strong personality fracturing under the intense pleasure her body was savoring, her final betrayer. Long spider web shaped cracks formed in her ego, like glass hit repeatedly by a bee bee gun, her intelligence, her will, beginning to break.
“That’s right you big titted skank, you are sooo gonna be a slut. Like way!”
Tears formed in Carolyn’s eyes as her body began to rhythmically writhe within Bethany’s grasp.
“Jeeesus…like…Jeeeesus! Don’t…please…don’t…do dis to me!!!” Carolyn wailed even as her body’s snake like dance intensified. She tried to fight the words that were bubbling up, the request, the plea that Bethany fuck her brains out, because that was what her body wanted, her nervous system, her pleasure centers were screaming for it; at the same time her mind was bending to that combined yearning pulsing through her.
Bethany nibbled on Carolyn’s neck for good effect, the succumbing woman swooned.
“That’s it bitch, you’re a slutty bimbo, my bimbo.”
“Oh Jeeeeesus..gawd…my gawd!!! Whaddaya doin’ to me…Yes! Yes!!! I am ya bimbo!” Carolyn gasped in sobs. She couldn’t believe what she was saying, she was Carolyn Chalmers…THE Carolyn Chalmers, but this woman was taking her, possessing her, and she didn’t have the will to resist. The realization made her sink a bit lower.
“Not good enough whore, I made you, I rule you, you obey me! Understand?” Bethany laughed as she worked Carolyn, letting the sighs of the helpless woman in her grasp tell her that she was reaching climax; to bring her back, Bethany gave her tits a painful pinch.
Carolyn wanted to tell Bethany to fuck off, but she couldn’t, those feelings, driving her wild, she was drowning in them; and her tormenter had the key, all she had to do was completely surrender.
“Yes!!! YES!!! YESS!!! Ya bimbo!!! Like totally!!!. Youse can command me and I will obey!!!” Carolyn screamed, and it was true, she would do all that Bethany would ask.
Bethany pushed Carolyn away; laughing triumphantly to herself, leaving the woman fall into a quivering mass on the floor, pawing at her crotch, attempting to satiate her desire to cum, gritting her teeth as her hands fell upon her clit, massaging it.
Carolyn came repeatedly, but as Bethany presence became removed in distance and time, her old self roused her from her orgy of self pleasure. Finally she managed to slide up against the wall, chuckling stupidly to herself.
“Weeee, will ya look at me, I am the best piece a ass in dis place.”
Her voice woke her up and she grew concerned. “I gots to get myself together. Shit…I am not dis way. I’m not!”
Carolyn tried to sort through her mind and see what was left to her from whatever hex Bethany had cast upon her. All her knowledge of culture, of high society, of the English language, from a life time of being borught up in the right places, by the right schools, was still there, but ever so hard to grasp. All that information was like a mirage in the desert; you could run to it but it would just fade away. What was left were the simple things: easy words, rudimentary concepts, but most of all physical desires. Carolyn pressed her palms against her head and shook it as if that would get her brain back into working order. She screamed; this was her own personal hell and then there seemed no way out of it.
The elevator started to move. Someone had beckoned it to come. Carolyn trembled: she was almost completely naked. Her body was grotesque to her and now someone was going to see her like this!
The elevator stopped and the doors opened; Jeffery Plunket, a mild mannered English professor got on, at first lost to his own thoughts, but after he raised his head to Carolyn in order to offer some gracious pleasantry his jaw dropped at the sight of her.
At first, Carolyn wanted to melt into the floor and disappear, but the man’s reaction triggered something in her; her stomach began to have an aching hunger, and it wasn’t for food, it was for Jeffery. She was enamored with him as suddenly as if she had been hit by cupid’s proverbial arrow and she wanted him now.
“Oh shit, what da fuck is happenin’ No, don’t make me do dis!” Carolyn pleaded to herself, but it was a fruitless effort. Her body and mind were making her a creature of impulse, not of thought.
Carolyn through her shoulders back and spread her arms against the elevator wall so Jeffery could get a complete view.
“Why Dr. Jeff ya at lost for words?”
Jeffery could respond only with a prolonged “ngggg” sound.
Whatever protests Carolyn might offered, she could not voice them, she could only act and watch as she strutted forward and cupped a hand over the professor’s crotch.
“Going up?” She giggled.
The bimbo grabbed his belt and pulled him in, throwing her arms around his shoulders and pressing her chest against his, her tongue assaulting his stuttering mouth.
Carolyn released him just a moment to ask, “Where ya wanna do it?”
Jeffery was beet red. “Not at my apartment. The wife…the kids…”
Carolyn reached over to touch the elevator button for her floor and then pressed her body tightly against her lover’s, as if she wanted to join with him completely, their tongue’s twisting within their mouth lock. When the elevator reached its destination, Carolyn and Jeffery moved off, still glued together, only Carolyn’s hands were fussing with her partner’s belt and trousers. She expertly moved both of them into a dark utility closet and got the door closed behind hind them.
In the pitch darkness, Carolyn let herself be pushed against the back wall as a lustful Jeffery began to take the initiative, his trousers around his legs his cock kissed slavering cunt, his hands grasped her ass. She responded by using his hungry palms as a seat, propelling her legs around his waist, squeezing it with her thighs, throwing out her arms and pressing her palms tightly against the walls to hold herself up. He grunted as he pushed his starving dick into her and began the staccato thrusting, each bringing out a louder and louder sigh. Each gaping draft of air she took brought in the smell of their own passion juices mixed with that of chemical cleaners and bleach. Carolyn threw her head back and began to scream as each push into her brought her closer to rapture.
“Yes…YES!!!…YESSSSS!!!!!!” She called out
When he came, the jerk of his cock sent her over the edge and cause her cunt to spasm as the throes of passion embraced her body.
After Jeffery lowered Carolyn down, he fell back out of the closet into the hallway beyond, panting with exhaustion. Carolyn smirked at him as he hurriedly zipped himself back up and staggered away.
“Any time ya need a study break prof, I’m here for youse.” She called after him and then smugly strutted down the hallway to her apartment with a self-satisfied smile.
“Gonna be the hottest piece o’ ass in dis shitty building.” She told herself.
But as she approached her door, she began to feel self conscious about her plight again: was this all she was going to be, a horny whore that had to do any man she saw. No! She had got get hold of herself, somehow, what had been done could be undone, she just had to figure out a way to undo it.
Once at her apartment door, she sighed in relief and turned the knob. It resisted. Of course it would, it was locked and she had left her keys with her tattered clothes on the elevator, which was now long gone. She could go retrieve them, but not like this, when she was doing these strange demeaning things.
“Miss Chalmers, is that youse?” Said a masculine voice.
Carolyn jumped, turned and threw her back against her door.
“Oh shit, not again…please not again!” Carolyn pleaded to herself, to her traitorous body and mind.
She found the maintenance man, Otis, a rugged pock faced man, but with arms like tree limbs and a chest to match. Otis had always been a non-entity to Carolyn. To her he had the same status as the coop furnace or the air-conditioning system. He as just something that made the building work; he was beneath notice as a person, a plebe, a peasant! And she made little effort to conceal her contempt for his low station whenever coop business had forced them to speak with one another.
This meeting was different. Her eyes were peeling away his clothes, her mouth and cunt jointly salivating over the iron body that lay beneath; a body to be touched, for her own to savor and enjoy. Most importantly was the snake, that bulge in his jeans, it must be enormous; oh to feel it erect and in her.
“No…don’t think dat way, please don’t think dat way!” Carolyn protested. But those objections were a fading voice as if lost in strong breeze. The new Carolyn was taking over, mechanically, obviously, it was too strong to resist. Already she was throwing out her chest, shifting her thighs and fluttering her lashes.
“Otis, good to see youse. I got locked outta da ‘partment.”
Otis frowned. Unlike Carolyn, he actually was from North Jersey and thought the woman’s affected accent was intended to make fun of him. He pushed her aside and used a master key to open the door.
Carolyn got close enough Otis to make sure he got an up close and personal look at the deep chasm of her cleavage.
“How can I evuh tank youse?” She said coyly.
“Just doin’ my job.” Otis grunted and turned to leave.
Carolyn swept into his path.
“Are ya sure? I didn’t give ya ya Christmas bonus yet. I’ll give youse, like, somethin’ real special.”
“I’m sure.” Otis said gruffly, putting a hand on Carolyn’s shoulder to push her away.
The real Carolyn was relieved at Otis’ rebuffs to her obvious invitations, but there was something within her that was both puzzled and enraged, but not with anger, with desperation. She wanted him; she needed him. Now!
“My fuckin’ kitchen faucet is drippin’. Could youse look at it” Carolyn blurted out.
Otis grunted again, strode into the kitchen and stomped out.
“Don’t see nuthin’ wrong with ya faucet
Carolyn was growing more and more desperate; what was wrong with her, she had a body that would make a gay man go straight and here this lowly maintenance man was acting as if he wouldn’t give her the time of day let alone the mercy fuck she so badly needed. She blocked the door.
“You’re not leavin’!?” She cried.
“What da hell is wrong with you, woman!?” Otis snarlled.
“Fuck me! Please fuck me! Do whateveh ya want to me, just fuck me!” She nearly screamed at him.
What was left of Carolyn Chalmers ego was now beginning to break, the cracks left by Bethany were beginning to creak with strain. How low could she get: even in this form, she was begging a man she hardly gave the time of day to before she had been transformed to use her. And that rejections just fired her desire more and more. She had to have him or die trying.
“On ya knees.” He commanded.
She sank to a kneeling position, looking up at him plaintively. The real her could see what was coming but whatever protest she could muster was not match for her out of control desire. She would do anything he asked, without hesitation, as long as she would get his cock inside her..
Undoing his pants, Otis slipped out his dick. It was so big, Carolyn’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. It wasn’t just snake, it was a python!
“Ya want it? Kiss it.” He commanded.
Carolyn found herself nodding, compliantly doing as he commanded, placing her lips on his cock gingerly at first, and then pressing them harder against its velvety surface. It began to lengthen under the stimulation, growing before her eyes; she was mesmerized, as if it were the hypnotizing dance of a cobra.
“Lick it!” He told her harshly.
Without hesitation, she drew her tongue up and down its increasing length. Otis murmured just a bit as she ministered to his manhood. His voice sent a pang of ecstasy through her; she was deriving pleasure from pleasing this man as he wanted, as he commanded. She realized in her stupid little mind that he had been leading her on, that he knew how to deal with women as she now was and she could do little but play to his tune.
This realization caused fractures of her ego began to whine even louder in her mind, fragments breaking off and disappearing into chaos. The formidable Carolyn Chalmers was giving her maintenance man a blow job at his command and she was loving it. Each time she hit a floor in this form, she fell threw it, finding a new low. With each fall came a perverse pleasure, like taking joy from some else’s pain: you know its wrong but the good feeling is oh so seductive.
“Suck it!” Otis barked.
And Carolyn immediately did, wrapping her lips around his stiffening penis, drawing it deep into her mouth, tasting its bouquet of mushrooms. Otis ran his hands through hair and gently rocked it back and forth so as to inform Carolyn of the rhythm he wanted. Carolyn took her cues, her lips curling into a grin as she heard him moan slightly, again parasitically taking delicious pleasure from his own. But it was more than that; it was his commands, his possession of her, try as her real self to deny it, Carolyn Chalmers was enjoying this domination, this subjugation of her. And Otis wasn’t done yet.
Otis pushed Carolyn away so that she fell on her back with a squeak. He kneeled down over her, unceremoniously turning her over with his powerful arms and lifting her to put her on her knees.
“Thats it. Stay like dat.” He ordered and she whimpered her assent. She shuddered as he stroked her wet pussy lips, testing the lubrication before he pressed his long shaft deep insider her.
Carolyn winced and sighed at the pain; strangely the feeling was enticing, the fullness of his penetration driving her wild. He started to rock into her; following his rhythm she did too: both pulling back and pressing together at the same time. He grunted when he drove in; she gasped. It was strange. This wasn’t the most pleasurable position for her; he was missing her pleasure zones, but those feelings were replaced by the intoxicating sensation of possession, under his control. It was nearly hypnotic how it took hold of her. She wanted to add to her enjoyment by going for clit, but her hand’s attempt to reach that nub was thwarted by his almost animalistic growl
Otis laughed as he watched this woman who had power over him serve as his fuck toy.
“Ya not such hot stuff now, are ya bitch?” He taunted
“Ya just some slut that wants to be fucked.” Tears welled up in Carolyn’s eyes. The last remnants of herself were finally being confronted with what she had become: a slut, a whore, a fucking bimbo, a woman whose one goal was to get laid. It was irrevocable now. Everything else was irrelevant to her but these feelings: fuck, be fuck, seduce, be used—these were her new missions replacing ambition, intelligence and culture. She was being made to give over everything she had striven for and was enjoying it.
“Come on, slut, tell me what youse is!”
“I can’t hear you!”
She craned back her head and gasped “A slut!!! Oh god, a fuckin’ slut!!!! A bimbo!!!!”
With that call, her ego finally shattered completely; like a pane of glass struck by a rock it collapsed in total abject surrender to her new personality. Carolyn Chandler was a slut, a total slut, a slave of her sensual desires.
Otis finally pressed home one last time, nearly forcing her onto her chest has he stretched his cock with in her and then gasped as he shot gobs of cum into her. Laughing he withdrew.
“You’re a good slut…a good bimbo youse is.” He taunted as he pulled up his trousers.
Caroyln spun around and crawled to Otis, throwing herself at his shoes. She was panicking, she wanted more! “Ya not going to leave me, are youse!? Please ya gotta stay and fuck me? I, like, so need fuckin’ bad!
“Gotta get to work. Luis has gotta take his break. I’ll send him up here to keep youse company. When he’s done, maybe Henry the doorman…or maybe those trash guys.”
Carolyn purred at the thought of taking all those men. That was what was important to her now: being the hottest piece of ass in the co-op. She was ready for all comers.
“I’ll be waitin’ hon.”
“I’m sure you will.” Otis said as he left.
Carolyn rushed to her vanity. If she was going to have company she had to get ready. She had some hot red lips stick and nail polish left over from a Halloween get up; she painted her lips and nails the bright red color, then put on clumps of mascara. Why was she doing this? Men liked make up; she liked men and wanted men to like her.
She winked at her colored face as a knock came at the door. She ran over to it, opening it slowly and batting her eyes coyly at the man beyond.
“I’m Cary.” She said in her high-pitched nasal accent. “Wanta take a ride?”