The Magic Collar
Copyright© 2025 by JohnManTD
Chapter 3
Mind Control Sex Story: Chapter 3 - What happens when a couple find a magic collar that allows you to control anything you want about the person wearing it... their desires, their actions, even their body.
Caution: This Mind Control Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Mind Control NonConsensual Heterosexual Fiction Magic Slut Wife MaleDom Big Breasts Body Modification Size Transformation
The weight of the black leather collar felt alien against Matt’s newly slender neck. A moment ago, he was Matt, a man. Now, staring down at his own body, he was ... not. The world had tilted, reality itself rewriting its most fundamental rules around him. His familiar jeans and t-shirt hung on him like borrowed sacks, ridiculously loose over a frame that was undeniably, impossibly female. Small, sensitive breasts, undeniably his yet entirely new, pushed softly against the fabric of his shirt. His skin felt different, smoother, almost velvety where coarse body hair used to be. His hips had a subtle, unfamiliar curve. And between his legs ... the absence of what had always been there, replaced by an entirely new, deeply disconcerting configuration, sent waves of phantom sensation and profound shock through his system. He was, in every physical particular, a woman.
Fran, still resplendent in her Fifi-esque blonde bombshell form – the massive D-cups, the tiny waist, the bubble butt all stubbornly persisting even after she’d removed the collar from herself – just stared. Her sapphire-blue eyes, normally Fran’s warm brown, were wide with a mixture of awe, disbelief, and a dawning, predatory excitement. The power had shifted, and the air in the small living room crackled with it.
“Holy ... shit, Matt,” Fran finally breathed, her voice still holding a touch of Fifi’s higher pitch, though the personality overlay had been rescinded. She circled him slowly, her gaze intense, analytical, and undeniably charged with the ‘male gaze’ attraction he’d commanded in her. “It actually worked. Completely. You’re a ... she.”
Matt – or Matty, as a new, bewildered part of his brain supplied – tried to speak, to articulate the hurricane of confusion, shock, and a bizarre, unwelcome flicker of ... curiosity? But no words came. His mind, still fundamentally male, struggled to bridge the cognitive dissonance with the irrefutable sensory input from his new female body.
“What’s it like?” Fran asked, her voice softer now, genuinely curious, her head tilted. She took a step closer, her eyes fixed on his. She didn’t seem to realize the inherent power in her question, the way her intent could now, with the collar on him, translate into compulsion. “Tell me, Matty. Tell me everything. What does it feel like?”
The moment the words left her lips, a dam broke within Matty. The bewilderment, the inability to articulate, vanished, replaced by an overwhelming, irresistible urge to explain, to describe, to share every intimate, alien sensation thrumming through his new form. He hadn’t consciously registered her words as a command, but the collar had. Matt was compelled to explain it all to Fran.
“It’s ... overwhelming,” Matty heard himself say, a little confused why he was talking but unable to stop, the sultry female voice that had been imposed on him earlier now feeling strangely, disturbingly appropriate. It vibrated in a chest that felt lighter, more delicate. “My skin ... it’s so soft. Everywhere. Like silk. And there’s no ... no friction from body hair. Just smoothness. It feels ... incredibly sensitive. The air on my arms, the fabric of the shirt ... it’s all amplified.” His voice was breathy, each word a discovery.
Fran listened, captivated, her eyes wide, her lips slightly parted. Her ‘male gaze’ filter was clearly processing Matty’s description through a lens of intense erotic fascination. She leaned forward slightly, her own magnificent Fifi breasts jutting proudly, her attention absolute.
Matty’s hands came up, almost involuntarily, to his new chest. “And these...” He touched the small, soft mounds that were now his breasts. A jolt, a mixture of shock and an undeniably pleasurable tingle, shot through him. “They’re ... not heavy, not like yours became, but they’re there. A definite presence. They move with me. I can feel them against my shirt, a constant, soft pressure, a subtle jiggle when I shift. And my nipples...” His voice hitched, a small gasp escaping his new lips. “They’re so ... aware. They’re already hard, just from the friction of the fabric, from ... thinking about them. It’s like tiny little pleasure points I never knew existed, constantly on alert. If something brushes them, even lightly...” He shivered visibly, the sensation too vivid, too real, his small breasts visibly tightening further under the thin cotton of his shirt. He could almost feel Fran’s gaze burning into them.
His hands drifted lower, over his now-cinched waist, the unfamiliar flare of his hips. “My whole center of gravity feels different. Lighter. More ... fluid, somehow. When I walk, there’s a different roll, a sway that comes from these hips. They feel wider, even though these clothes are huge. There’s a sway when I shift my weight that wasn’t there before, a kind of ... gentle rocking motion that feels intrinsically female.”
He paused, his face flushing a deep crimson, his gaze dropping to the floor. The most profound change, the most difficult to articulate, was yet to come. But Fran’s unintentional command was relentless, pulling the words from him.
“And ... and between my legs...” Matty’s voice dropped to a near whisper, the female tone thick with a confusing mixture of shame, fascination, and reluctant arousal. “It’s ... hollow. Empty where there used to be ... fullness, weight. But it’s not just emptiness. It’s ... a presence of absence that’s also a new presence. It feels ... softer. More vulnerable. Incredibly vulnerable.” He shifted his stance unconsciously, his new thighs brushing together, and a sharp, electric shock seemed to run up his spine. “Oh! That ... just my legs touching ... it’s ... wow. There are folds of skin, delicate ... and so, so sensitive. When my thighs brush together, the sensation is ... electric. Almost unbearable. There’s a constant, low thrumming ache there, a sort of ... readiness? A deep, internal warmth that feels ... receptive. Open. Like a secret place that’s suddenly ... beckoning.” He swallowed hard, his eyes flicking up to meet Fran’s, seeing the undisguised, almost predatory interest in her gaze. “It feels ... like I’m built to be touched there. Like that’s its entire purpose. And the thought of it ... fuck, the thought of someone actually touching me there, now ... it makes my stomach clench and my core just ... ache.” He pressed his thighs together tightly, a small whimper escaping him, the sensation overwhelming.
The vivid, uninhibited confession hung in the air. Matty felt exposed, vulnerable, his innermost sensations laid bare by the collar’s compulsion. Fran, on the other hand, looked utterly transfixed, her breathing slightly shallower. The detailed, firsthand account of female sensation, delivered by someone who had, until moments ago, been male, was clearly igniting her commanded ‘male gaze’ appreciation in a way that was both profound and deeply unsettling for Matty to witness. Her eyes had a glazed, heated look, and she was unconsciously running her tongue over her plump lips.
Eventually, the intensity of the compelled confession faded, leaving Matty feeling raw and strangely ... lighter. The initial shock was slowly giving way to a bewildered acceptance, and beneath that, a burgeoning, undeniable curiosity. This body ... it was a completely new landscape. Dangerous, alien, but also ... fascinating. After the initial horror, after the forced verbal exploration, a part of him, the adaptable, thrill-seeking part that had enjoyed the power of the collar himself, was starting to think ... maybe this wasn’t entirely a nightmare. Maybe, just maybe, this was ... pretty fucking awesome. In a terrifying, reality-bending sort of way.
“Okay,” Fran finally said, her voice a little husky. She shook her head slightly, as if clearing it. “Wow. That was ... intensely informative.” She gave Matty a long, appraising look. “You know ... you’re actually kind of cute as a girl.”
Matty raised an eyebrow, the gesture feeling strangely natural on his new, more delicate face. “Cute? Fran, I feel like a science experiment gone weird.” But there was a smile playing on his lips, a hint of intrigue dancing in his eyes.
“Well, this science experiment needs to be seen properly,” Fran declared, a playful, authoritative glint in her eyes. “Strip. Let’s get a proper look at the new you. And while you’re at it,” she added, her gaze sweeping over her own still-bombshell form, “I’m boiling in this. I’ll join you.”
A thrill, part fear, part excitement, shot through Matty. Strip? In front of Fran? As a woman? The collar didn’t even need to compel that (although it still did), his own curiosity, mixed with a strange desire to see Fran’s reaction, was enough. He fumbled with the hem of his loose t-shirt, his new, smaller hands feeling clumsy. He pulled it over his head, revealing his small, firm breasts, the nipples still pebbled and prominent. The air felt cool against his newly sensitive skin. Then came the jeans, which pooled around his ankles with a sigh of denim. laslty, he reached up to his neck and took the collar off. Interesting, teh strip command including the collar. Even though the wearer can’t take it off themselves needing the person who controls them to take it off, it seems a strip command from that person counts as asking them to remove the collar. Matty notes that in his head, glad to be free from the control despite still being a woman. He stood there naked, feeling incredibly exposed yet also ... strangely liberated. His skin tingled all over.
Fran, meanwhile, was shedding her own Fifi clothes with practiced ease, her movements imbued with a newfound confidence that came from her transformed body and her current position of power. Soon, she stood naked too, a vision of exaggerated blonde perfection – the cascade of golden hair, the enormous, gravity-defying breasts, the impossibly small waist flaring out to that perfect bubble butt.
They stood side-by-side, a bizarre tableau of magical transformation. Matty, new in his female form, skin smooth and pale, breasts small but perfectly formed, a neat triangle of darker hair at the apex of his new thighs. And Fran, an amplified, hyper-sexualized goddess, all golden tan, impossible curves, and overwhelming sexual presence.
Matty couldn’t help but stare at Fran. “Jesus, Fran,” he breathed, his female voice filled with genuine awe. “Looking at you like this ... with these eyes...” He gestured to his own face. “It’s ... a lot. You’re unreal. Every curve, every line ... it’s like my brain is hardwired to find you perfect.”
Fran grinned, preening slightly, clearly enjoying the admiration. “Told you this body was something else.” She then turned her appraising gaze back to Matty. “You’re not bad yourself, Matty. For a rookie.” She walked around him slowly, her ‘male gaze’ scrutinizing every detail. “Good lines. Nice symmetry. The skin looks so soft ... very touchable.” Her eyes lingered on his small breasts, then traveled down to the dark thatch between his legs. “Definitely ... potential there.” She paused, then her eyes fixed on his chest again. “But...”
“But what?” Matty asked, feeling a blush creep up his neck. His nipples seemed to tingle under her focused gaze.
Fran stopped in front of him, her eyes fixed on his chest. “Well,” she said, tapping a finger against her plump lips thoughtfully. “If I’m going by my current preferences...” She winked, referencing her altered attraction. “And if we’re comparing notes...” She gestured from her own magnificent bosom to Matty’s modest A-cups. “Yours are a little ... underwhelming, sweetie. No offense. Cute, for sure. Very perky. But if you’re going to be a girl, why not be a stacked girl?” A wicked, sexy idea, born from her altered perception and the thrill of control, lit up her face. She reached out, gently taking the collar that Matty was still holding and with a decisive click, fastened it back around Matty’s neck again. The cool leather felt stark against his heated skin.
“Fran, what are you—?” Matty started, his voice a nervous squeak, but the leather was already snug.
Fran’s eyes gleamed. “Time for an upgrade, Matty. Grow bigger tits. Let’s see some real curves on you.”
The familiar tingling started almost immediately in Matty’s chest, but this time, it was his chest. His breasts. He gasped as a warm, aching pressure began to build, radiating outwards from his nipples. He looked down in stunned fascination as his small A-cups began to swell, pushing against the air, rising, rounding. The sensation was incredibly intense, a mixture of stretching discomfort and a strange, deep-seated pleasure.
“Oh, wow,” Fran breathed, her eyes glued to the transformation, her expression one of intense, almost scientific fascination mixed with undeniable arousal. She stepped closer, her own massive breasts almost brushing against his as she peered down. “It’s happening ... faster than it did on me, I think! Look at them go!”
The growth was steady, relentless. B-cups bloomed, soft and full, and were quickly surpassed. C-cups arrived, round and proud, jiggling slightly with Matty’s ragged breaths. The sensation was overwhelming – a tight, stretching ache, but not entirely unpleasant. There was a strange, deep satisfaction in feeling his body become more overtly, dramatically female. His nipples felt like they were on fire, exquisitely sensitive, swelling along with the surrounding flesh.
“Keep going,” Fran murmured, her voice husky, her gaze unwavering, her own nipples visibly hardening beneath her Fifi-form’s impressive bust. “Let’s see how far we can take this. Make them really pop.”
D-cups arrived, heavy and lush, straining the skin of his chest. They felt ... substantial now. Truly feminine. Matty reached up, his hands instinctively cupping the new, heavy weight. They were soft, warm, incredibly real, the skin smooth and tight. “Fran...” he panted, his voice a strained whisper, “this is ... intense. They feel so ... full.”
“I know,” she whispered, her eyes glinting. She reached out a tentative finger and poked one of his swelling breasts, sending a jolt of pure electricity through Matty. “But it’s incredible, isn’t it? Look at them! So responsive!”
The growth didn’t stop. E-cups. F-cups. Each increase brought a fresh wave of stretching, aching fullness. Matty’s back began to arch slightly to accommodate the burgeoning weight. The skin felt tight, almost painfully so, but the visual, the sheer impossibility of it, was mesmerizing. His nipples, already prominent, seemed to swell even larger, becoming dark, jutting aureolas that crowned the enormous, trembling globes. He could feel the blood pounding in them, the skin stretched to its absolute limit.
Fran was practically vibrating with excitement, her eyes glazed over with a mixture of power and vicarious sensation. “More,” she commanded, her voice a low, hungry growl, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “Bigger! Let’s make them truly epic! And make the growth feel good Matty!”
G-cups. H-cups. They were colossal now, impossibly huge on Matty’s still relatively slender frame. They felt like watermelons strapped to his chest, heavy and unwieldy, swaying precariously with his every breath. The skin was stretched to its absolute limit, shiny and taut, veins faintly visible beneath the surface. He could feel the pull on his shoulders, his back, the sheer, unyielding weight. He moaned, a low, helpless sound.
“Fran ... please...” Matty gasped, a mixture of pleasure, pain, and disbelief warring within him. His female voice cracked with the strain. “They’re ... they’re enormous! I can barely ... stand ... It hurts, Fran ... but it also feels ... strangely good...” He was panting, sweat beading on his brow, his new breasts heaving with each ragged breath.
But Fran, lost in the intoxicating power and the spectacle of the extreme transformation, was relentless. “Just a little more,” she urged, her voice trembling with excitement. “Let’s see ... just how big they can get! Push the limits!”
The growth surged again. J-cups. K-cups. They were monstrous, obscene, magnificent. They spilled over his arms when he tried to support them, their sheer weight pulling him forward. He had to brace himself against the wall to keep from toppling over, his legs trembling. And still, they grew. L-cups ... M-cups...
They were so large now that the lower slopes of the massive orbs were beginning to brush against his thighs when he stood, and if he leaned forward even slightly...
“Fran!” Matty cried out, a genuine note of panic finally cutting through the haze of sensation. “They’re ... they’re touching the floor! When I bend! Oh god, this is too much!”
And they were. When he stood as straight as he could, the very tips of the colossal, pendulous breasts, heavy beyond imagining, were indeed dusting the rug beneath his feet if he allowed himself to slump even slightly. The sheer, grotesque, and undeniably erotic spectacle of it finally seemed to snap Fran out of her power-drunk haze.
Her eyes widened in shock, seeing the true extent of the transformation. “Oh my god,” she whispered, her voice laced with awe and a hint of belated alarm. She rushed forward, her hands fluttering uselessly. “Okay, okay! Too much! Way too much!” She sounded almost breathless herself. “Stop growing! And ... and shrink! Shrink back down! But ... not too much. Keep them big. A nice, full ... F-cup! Yes, manageable, but still impressive F-cups! Perfect, perky F-cups!”
The relief was instantaneous. The agonizing pressure ceased. Then, a strange, deflating sensation, like giant water balloons slowly losing air, but without losing their perfect shape. The monstrous orbs began to recede, shrinking rapidly, though not as uncomfortably as they had grown. Within moments, they settled into a new, still very generous, but comparatively manageable F-cup size. They were still huge, round, and incredibly heavy, but they no longer threatened to pull him to the ground or brush against his knees.
Matty sagged against the wall, panting, his entire body trembling. He looked down at his chest. The F-cups were magnificent, perfectly shaped, straining the skin of his chest in a way that was both daunting and undeniably sexy. He tentatively reached up, cupping their heavy, soft weight. They felt ... incredible. Solid, real, overwhelmingly feminine. The skin was still tight, the nipples exquisitely sensitive, large and dark against the pale flesh.
“Wow,” he breathed, a shaky laugh escaping his new lips. He gave them a little jiggle, watching them sway with a satisfying heft. The sight, the sensation ... it was intoxicating. He started playing with them more boldly, kneading the soft flesh, tracing the outline of his large, dark nipples, a moan escaping him as fresh waves of pleasure washed through his new, highly sensitized body.
Fran watched him, her own breathing still a little ragged. Seeing Matty, now a big titty woman, exploring his new assets with a mixture of shock and dawning appreciation, reignited the heat in Fran’s eyes. Her ‘male gaze’ was in overdrive. “Damn, Matty,” she purred. “Even after that ... they look amazing on you. You wear them well.” The sight of Matty’s hands on her own newly enormous breasts was incredibly arousing to Fran.
A new idea struck Fran, bolder than the last. “Okay,” she said, her voice dropping into that commanding tone again. “You’re hot. But you could be hotter. Matty, increase your overall physical attractiveness by fifty percent. Right now.”
Matty felt a subtle, internal shift. A warmth spreading through him, a sense of ... realignment. He looked at his reflection in the darkened TV screen. His features seemed a little more defined, his skin clearer, his eyes brighter. His new F-cups seemed to sit even more perfectly on his frame. There was a subtle improvement, a heightened harmony to his appearance.
“Hmm,” Fran said, scrutinizing him, walking around him slowly, her eyes narrowed in concentration. “Better. Definitely better. But ... we can do more. Much more.” Her eyes gleamed with ambition, with the thrill of creation. “Matty, increase your attractiveness by five hundred percent.”
This time, the change was dramatic. It wasn’t just a subtle polish; it was a fundamental overhaul. Matty felt a powerful surge of energy course through him, reshaping him from the inside out. His F-cup breasts seemed to become even more perfectly sculpted, rounder, higher, their nipples an even more alluring shade. His waist nipped in further, creating an almost impossible hourglass figure as his hips and ass gained an even more exquisitely feminine curve without adding bulk, becoming perfectly proportioned to his new bust. His skin took on an ethereal glow, smooth and flawless as porcelain. His hair (still his original color, as that hadn’t been specified) gained a lustrous sheen, cascading around his shoulders. His facial features morphed, becoming breathtakingly beautiful – eyes larger and more luminous, their color shifting to a captivating shade of violet; lips fuller and more perfectly shaped, naturally stained a rosy pink; cheekbones more defined, his jawline an elegant sweep. He didn’t just look like a more attractive version of himself; he looked like a goddess. A walking, breathing masterpiece of feminine perfection, albeit one still processing the shock of it all.
Fran gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Oh. My. God,” she breathed, circling Matty slowly, her expression one of utter, dumbstruck awe. “Matty ... you’re ... you’re unbelievably beautiful. Like ... a dream. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” Her ‘male gaze’ was clearly short-circuiting with pleasure, her eyes practically devouring Matty’s new form.
Matty looked at his reflection again. The woman staring back was a stranger, an impossibly gorgeous stranger. And yet ... it was him. Her. The collar had turned him into a literal sex goddess. The power of it was terrifying, exhilarating. He felt an entirely new kind of confidence bloom within him, a certainty of his own irresistible allure.