The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Chapter One — No Questions Asked

I’ve really made a mess of my first year of college. After a little bit of a wild party at the end of the first week I ended up falling off a yacht into the river and got a nasty cold (and ruined a perfectly good phone) which led to a fever and, long story short, ended up putting me out of service for two whole weeks. I’ve been struggling to catch up ever since.

My name is Alexandra Aurora Svalloughs-Kochs, though you’ll probably know me as that ‘Alex Swallows Cocks’ people joke about—if only for my name and not for the fact that -everyone- knows about my impromptu trip into the drink. And I need a job. This year’s a bust but that doesn’t stop the bills from piling up.

So I checked with the student board at my campus last Friday and in the middle of Monday morning class I received an email that I’d been ‘priority pre-selected’ for an ‘exciting opportunity’... though it’s not clear what the opportunity is. It’s described as a ‘confidential study group’ that’ll pay not only my tuition but also give me some extra money on the side as a bonus—though they warn of being extremely picky in who they take in. Even still, I’m urged to contact them ‘without delay’.

It’s fishy as hell. In my mind I can see all kinds of red flag and hear every kind of danger siren...

But it seems promising, at least. I can’t flunk out and get sent back home, back to my step-dad Oswald. He’s a jerk, and a pervert. If I have to spend much more time with him it’s gonna come to blows. I already found him going through my clothes and drawers more than once when he thought I was out of the house.

I’m too clumsy for most jobs, and if I go do something mentally challenging I’ll be too tired to study outside of hours...

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

I call the number from the email right after lunch and this rather bored-sounding guy picks up. “Yeah, what?”

“I’m, um,” I start, “uh, I wanna ask about, uh... the study group.”

Without pause he asks me “You sound shy. Are you shy?” He’s quite blunt.

“Um... A little.”

“Are you cute?” he then asks, again without missing a beat. It’s kind of rude to ask such things, like they matter!

It catches me off guard.

I’m short, and I get mistaken for younger than my actual age. Some people would call that ‘cute’. I’m teeny and tiny, slender... except for my wide hips, and round butt. And I’m nowhere near being flat chested.

Finally, I just answer “Uh... I guess.”

“Do you know the Butler-Noble building?” It sounds like he just started eating something, and if I didn’t need the money I’d hang up right now. “Big science building on the far end of campus?”

“I don’t,” I admit, “but I’m sure I can find it on the map.”

“What’s your name again?”

“Alex.”

“Okay, Alice. We’re in the Butler-Noble building, there’s two basements. We’re in basement two, the lower one, room minus two oh five. Come in tomorrow at a quarter to seven before class for your interview.”

I hate getting up early, but I guess if they really deliver on all they promise, that’s fine.

“Okay. And, it’s Alex.”

“Yeah, okay.” he seems to shrug. I can’t see him over the phone, obviously, but that sounds like a shrug. “Oh, right. Are you still a virgin?”

Again his questions catch me off guard.

“Uh... Um...” I start, blushing madly.

“Sounds like you are.”

“Y-Yeah.” I admit.

“Okay.” I can hear him type something up on a keyboard. “Wear something casual, comfortable, something you don’t mind if it gets dirty or damaged. And don’t put on any make-up, come as you are.”

“Um, okay.”

“And don’t have breakfast. Not even a glass of water.”

“Can I just ask what we’ll be doing there?”

“No.” he says plainly. “I mean, you can ask, obviously, but I’m not going to tell you. You’ll understand tomorrow.”

I don’t really know how to reply to that.

“Hey,” he starts, “you sound familiar. Aren’t you that ‘Alex Swallows Cocks’ girl? The one that fell off that party boat into the river on the first week?”

I groan “Yes, that’s me.” I hate that everyone knows me. It’ so humiliating! I just don’t do well around handsome guys, especially the one I met then.

His name’s Chett and he’s such a dream... and if it wasn’t for my humiliating fall into the water he probably wouldn’t even know I exist.

I turned around and there he was and he smiled and he said hi and I panicked and took three big steps back and flipped myself over a railing and... well, you can guess the rest.

“Oh, good. Then you really are cute.” he says. “We get a lot of time wasters here.”

Again, I’m at a loss for words. But I try to get something out at least, so I don’t end the conversation on something embarrassing.

“Anything I can do to improve my odds?”

“Uh, yeah. Tight shirt, lots of cleavage, no bra. And agree with everything they ask of you, even the weird stuff.”

Oh Gosh, it’s just getting worse! What are they up to down there?

“Um, are you serious?”

“Very serious.” he insists. “But I’ve seen you, and if you’re no stick in the mud you’ll probably get in. Just be cool and do whatever they ask of you. Even the weird stuff -especially the weird stuff- and you’ll be golden.”

“Right. I’ll try that.” I say, if only to say anything and get this conversation over and done with. “And, what’s it pay again?”

Now it just sounds like he’s reciting a studied line. “Upon completion you’ll be reimbursed two grand per full month of service, or four hundred bucks per week, depending on circumstances, and gifted three years worth of tuition to be used at this campus or our sister campus out East.”

That seems good.“Quarter to seven, Butler-Noble, minus two oh five. No make up, lots of cleavage, no bra. Agree to everything.”

“You got it. See ya.” he says and hangs up.

I don’t know what to think of any of this. But there’s a lot of money in it for me, basically a scholarship with extra cash, so I’m more than willing to at least show up to this weird interview and see what happens.

The rest of the day, the questions pile up, and I start to think up of all kinds of bizarre answers to them.

I mean, why did he ask if I was cute? Would that even matter? And what does it matter that I’m still a virgin? Was he just fucking with me?

But when I look up the building on the campus map, not only is it super secluded from the rest of campus—literally in the middle of a private section in the middle of a forest that’s off-limits to almost all students (not to mention regular people)—it’s also marked as ‘experimental research studies’, so I bet my wildest guess won’t even match what the truth might be.

I can’t even focus at all during miss Hanabusa’s class. Except, like most of the boys who can’t focus during her class, I’m not staring at her large breasts and drooling onto my desk—I’m staring out the window, towards the forest that hides the Butler-Noble building.

The place is not only hidden in a forest, but the forest itself is locked off by a tall fence with barbed wire on top, and the only two ways in or out are staffed by armed guards. No wonder I didn’t know it, it’s not on most campus maps and it’s impossible to get in without a security badge.

I ask some people I know around campus about that building, and rumor has it that it’s used to conduct secret experiments for the military, headed by the brightest minds of our generation.

Since I’m too nervous about the interview I skip out on trying to study at the library and just head to my dorm room.

When I get to my door, I run into my friend Tabitha who stays down the hall. She’s heard rumors of girls on campus being moved from regular dorms to private facilities in the high security zone. The way she tells it, there’s just over a hundred girls staying there permanently, even over the weekends and holidays. Nobody knows what’s going on for sure, though.

I can’t really put that call out of my head until my stomach rumbles after sundown and I’m reminded I haven’t had anything to eat since lunch. So I get a microwave dinner out of my little fridge and heat it up.

Even with television and a hot meal to distract me, my thoughts keep drifting towards the call, and the interview. To be honest, I’m creeped out. But I do need the money.

Then I get a call from a blocked number. I stare at it for a moment before deciding to answer. What’s one more weird thing today?

“H-Hello?”

“Hey, Alex?” a guy asks. He sounds familiar.

“Yes?” I reply. “Who is this?”

“I’m from the study. I’m at the entrance to your dorm, I have something you’ll need. Can you come out real quick?”

I go white for a moment, then move to the window and open it up—letting all the heat out of my little dorm room—and leaning outside. There is, in fact, someone loitering just outside the entrance, talking on his phone.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, okay. Yeah, I’ll be right there.” I say, slightly panicking. I’m already in my pajamas, but I figure I’ll just throw on a bathrobe and cover up.

I bump into several other girls making out in the corridor on my way out, but I’m too enveloped in my thoughts and nerves to worry about them.

Say no to drugs, kids. Even the fun ones.

And someone’s playing flute music really loudly. How loud do you have to play flute music to hear it through walls?

By the time I make my way out the elevator and step into the big hallway at the front, I can’t get the idea of slowly eating a banana out of my head. Or sucking on a popsicle for an hour. I just wanna do something with my mouth, anything, and I don’t know why.

Ugh, this stupid flute music... it’s getting to me. Maybe I should go check on Tabitha and... cuddle.

I shake my head to try and clear my mind as I walk up front.

“Hello?” I ask, peeking my head out the door.

“Here.” he says, plainly. It’s the jerk from the telephone, holding out a lanyard with a security badge on it. “You’ll need it to get onto the grounds tomorrow. Don’t forget it.”

“Thanks.” I say, taking the badge.

He’s tall and broad shouldered, with a nice set of muscles on him. Such masculine, handsome features... I was going to give him an earful for being rude on the phone, but I always get so shy around handsome guys. Especially tall ones and muscular ones.

“Yeah, you are cute.” he grins.

I snap out of my thought. “Uh? Oh, um, what?”

“I said you’re cute.” he repeats. “You gotta be cute for this, uh, ‘study group’.”

I break out in a deep blush. “Th-Thanks.” I let out, and shrink in place smiling. I really can’t say much else.

“If you don’t get picked, I wanna take you out on a date.”

I bite my lip before replying “I dunno. I got... stuff... to do.”

“That’s cool.” he shrugs, and turns around immediately.

He leaves without much of anything, and I stand there looking at him walk away in the cold breeze, holding a security badge that reads ‘visitor’.

I get so shy around hunky guys.

Ugh, I’m all stressed out because of that weird interview. I should go to bed.

So that’s what I do. I set my alarm to get up at six, so I have enough time to shower and get across campus.

Even though I’m loaded with questions, I’m so exhausted from my stressful day that I sink into a deep sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

I always let stressful things go to my head, cloud up my mind. I can’t seem to enjoy anything for the rest of the day if I get worked up even a little bit.

Regardless, it’s a good, deep slumber, with a vivid dream of good times.

Still, six comes too soon, and I groan as I get up.

Lucky for me I put a sticky note on my fridge to keep me from finishing that bottle of Yondervale Milk I’d been saving, because I’m not supposed to eat or drink anything before going on the interview. Maybe it’s a medical trial? That’d explain why they’re so picky.

Wouldn’t explain why I’d have to be cute.

Then again, stranger things go on around campus. Rumor has it that you can only get a Landon Hamilton scholarship if you’re an attractive young woman, that’s also a massive, massive slut. According to some who’ve been awarded it, a blowjob was part of the application process. Perhaps it’s best not to worry about it—or even ask questions.

I jump into the shower and -yeaouch! Right! The boiler doesn’t turn on for another half an hour...

After my (thankfully brief) ice cold shower I try do decide what to do with those long white-blonde locks of mine. I could wear my hair down, or put it up. It’s long, very long, right down to my butt, and there’s a lot of natural volume, and even a slight curl. And my bangs are basically a necessity, because it’s so wild and rowdy—without them I wouldn’t be able to look straight ahead, just down at my feet.

I leave it down. I look adorable that way, and they wanted at least cute.

I always feel like a living porcelain doll when I get out of the shower—especially when I doll up. But today, no make-up. That saves me some time.

Ugh, no breakfast. I’m starving.

Instead, my stomach is growling as I’m in front of the mirror, trying to pick something to wear. My chest tends to stretch out the fabric of all my shirts, so the only thing I can wear braless without showing the world my nipples yet still displaying cleavage is a tight black V-neck shirt I stole off a girl who spread lies about me in high school. I wiggle it down my chest, but can’t pull it any lower than just above my navel, not when my breasts are pushing out so much. Even without a bra for support, they’re riding high on my chest, resisting gravity as they curve naturally downwards. The slightest movement shows just how unsupported they are though, jiggling around like two family-sized plates of jello.

Watching them shake, looking at the faint outline of my hard nipples, I decide to go with just one more extra bit of naughtiness, a black thong I’ve not worn more than three times before. The tiny floss string wedges itself up my full buttocks and the rest of the fabric barely covers anything, but I love the way it feels rubbing against me as I walk. And the way it lets the skin of my plush buns rub up against each other, it makes me feel... confident.

Today I’m finally putting that winter track suit to good use. It’s comfy and warm, and from the look of my window it’s freezing cold outside. Thick, comfy socks, and those big sneakers I never wear. I’m not that athletic, thankfully I’ve not really had a need to look after my physique. Being slender runs in the family on both sides.

With the zipper up, I actually look like I got up early to go for a run. I put the lanyard on and stuff the badge into the top so it doesn’t stand out, and I head out of the dorms. Since they switched to keypads I’ve no need for a key, and I’ve literally got nothing on me but the clothes I’m wearing.

Wow, it’s so cold! How is it this cold in October?

I rub my hands together and breathe into them, trying to keep warm as I shuffle over in basically an outdoors pajama for people who like running.

Maybe I should run?

No way. I’m uncomfortable as is with it being so cold, I’m not going to run braless. I’m not that kind of girl.

Ugh, it’s so far. I should have rented a bike. It’s a good fifteen minutes to get to the security station, but it feels much longer in this cold. At least it’s a heated little building.

When I get inside, I unzip to pull the badge out of my jacket, and the first thing the guard does is stare at my chest through the bulletproof window.

“I’m, uh, I’m here for an interview.” I start, showing the badge. “I’m Alex Aurora Svalloughs-Kochs. I assume I’m on a list here?”

The guard eyes me up. “Ain’t you that girlie that fell in the river?”

I roll my eyes and sigh dejectedly. “Yes.” I let out in monotone.

He grins down at me. “You’re awful cute.”

That makes me blush. “Aww, thanks.”

He buzzes me into a small airlock-like room with white opaque windows, and two red rings on the only wall of four without a door in it.

I become a little lightheaded the second I step in. Are my nerves getting to me?

It feels weird in there. Like that feeling you get in a school stairwell at night, like something’s wrong. Something strange is going on, setting off your sixth sense. But there was nothing, not as far as I could see, except a weird camera mounted on the ceiling giving off this faint humming and ticking noise.

Humming like an old, broken speaker. Whummmmmm...

Ticking like a clockwork heartbeat. Tick-tock... Tick-tock...

It’s shining a sharp, extremely bright white-blue light at me. I can’t look at it for more than a second—it’s already giving a bit of a headache.

The door forward and the door back are locked remotely. Then the door to his office area opens.

He joins me in there and says “Put your jacket on the coat hook, take off your shoes, and put your hands in the rings. I have to search you.”

“But I didn’t bring anything.” I try.

“That may be so. But I have to search everyone.”

I do as I’m told, and he’s already patting up the jacket while I’m untying my shoes. He stuffs his hands inside and checks them closely before turning to me.

He’s got big, strong hands. Even though I’m wearing such a tight top, he’s very thorough as he gropes me to make sure I’m not hiding anything in my underboob.

At least his hands are warm.

I get a guilty little hot flash out of him rubbing his hand between my legs, and over my ass, then rubbing down each thigh down to the ankle. I start breathing hard, my eyes cross, and my toes curl a little.

I’m blushing, biting my lip. I almost ask him to check me over again, even more thoroughly. Heck, I’m ready to beg for it.

Oh, Gosh, he’s even going through my hair. I can’t resist when people play with my hair...

I squeak out a flirty moan, and he notices. Of course he notices, you can hear a pin drop in this room.

Suddenly, his large hands are back on waist, sliding up and under my top, onto my plush breasts. Feeling, kneading, enjoying.

I rub my big round butt back against his lap, and I moan again when I feel his massive bulge press between my buns. I even peel my pants down so my ass rubs directly against that throbbing package.

If he pulls his dick out I’m putting it inside me—oh Gosh, what’s happening to me? I ache for this stranger’s fat cock to punish my insides for hours!

Instead, he smacks my ass, gives it a firm grope and chuckles. “Get dressed, little girl. They’re waiting for you. Basement two, room five.”

I’m so very disappointed he doesn’t just rail me hard against the wall, but that feeling doesn’t last long—just until I’ve left the little airlock.

I’m now in the high security zone, and I still have a little hike left to get to the Butler-Noble building.

Man, what came over me in there? All of a sudden I got all worked up... I would have let him do anything he wanted to me.

It seems the fresh air has cleared my mind. I gotta move, too, or I’ll be late!

It’s twenty to the hour when I arrive in the Butler-Noble building, and a little out of breath. I did run this last bit, holding my chest as to not subject them to inhuman amounts of bounce.

There’s a stern looking older woman sitting disinterestedly at a desk behind thick glass.

“Hello.” the receptionist says. “Who’re you?”

“Alex... Svalloughs-Kochs...” I say, trying to catch my breath. “Room... minus two... oh five.”

“Right. One moment.” she says, and types on her computer, then picks up a phone and speaks into it. “She’s here.”

I take a seat as I wait for them to collect me.

Then, the doors open, and a rather hefty orderly waves me in. “Alex? This way.”

I get up to follow him, but before he steps aside to let me through he takes the badge, and leaves it at the desk.

He guides me to a small elevator in this oddly designed building. It’s like a military hospital from the cold war or something, hiding behind a fresh coat of paint.

The orderly uses a key card to call the elevator and has me step inside, then uses the key card again to operate the elevator to move to the lowest basement.

I ride down by myself, questions and worries piling up in my head. What am I getting myself into? This is all so scary and exciting.

It even smells like a hospital in here. It’ll take a few minutes to get used to the scent.

And it’s huge! The corridor seems to stretch out much father in either direction than the building is wide above ground, and that’s saying something!

When I disembark the elevator a security guard spots me. “Where are you going?”

“I’m, uh, here for an interview. Room minus two oh five?”

He nods and points at a couple of chairs lined up in the hall across from the interview room. “Have a seat. Someone will come find you. No exploring, no talking.”

“R-Right!” I reply, feeling intimidated. Then I turn to head down the corridor but he stops me again.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asks.

I blink. “Um, sorry?”

“Polite girls smile and thank people when they’re helpful.”

“Oh!” I say in realization, then put up a little smile. “Sorry, sir. Thank you, sir!”

He grins and lets me go my merry way. “Move along, little girl.”

I take a seat right outside room minus two oh five and wait. I don’t have a watch, but judging from the clock over the reception desk, I should be right on time. Won’t be long now.

“Come along, 7.” I hear someone say, through one of the open doors further down. Then I see two young men walk out, followed by this angelic apparition.

My Gosh, she’s so breathtakingly beautiful! This full-figured blonde with the most amazing eyes and colossal, bouncy breasts is just walking down the corridor, fully nude, with a blank, vacant stare, following two serious looking fellas in lab coats; one of which is holding a tablet computer, the other a chain leash. Those luscious, feminine features are enough to make even a straight girl think twice about herself.

And goodness me, those breasts—they’re easily bigger than my head! From the jiggle and bounce I can tell right away that they’re real.

Watermelons to my grapefruits—even though mine are the large variety of grapefruit, they’re still nothing to these fantastic... Oh Gosh, why am I thinking of mouth-watering, delicious fruit all of a sudden? Is it because I skipped breakfast to be here?

I can’t tear my eyes from the naked girl... what is she doing here?

She’s wearing nothing but make-up and a leather collar with a ring on the front for a leash. What goes on around here? Ugh, maybe I should just run. But where would I go? Back to my step-dad? I doubt I can even get back into the elevator without a key card...

Every last detail about this girl is perfect. I have to wipe my mouth on my sleeve because I’m drooling. Mouthwatering fruit, indeed.

I lose sight of her as they march her into a room with a dentist chair and close the door, locking it. From the sound of it, there’s three locks on that door. I wonder what they do in there.

I wonder, does dean Michaelson even know what goes on here?

Then, another beauty, one with red hair as long as my own, opens the door. She’s in lab coat and is holding a clipboard.

“Alex?” she asks, to which I nod. “My name is doctor Francesca Leonard. I’m the trial lead.”