The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“I did it,” Dr. Peter Gibbons whispered, unbelieving. Slowly, realization set in, and he laughed as he loudly repeated, “I did it!”

Before Dr. Gibbons, behind eight inches of airtight glass, a combination of chemicals bubbled pink. It had been a creation four years in the making, back when someone in the upper echelons of the army had reviewed the US’s artillery of germ warfare, while finding several specimens that could level a hemisphere, was able to locate only three that didn’t kill everybody. An expert in creating artificial pathogens, Dr. Gibbons had been hired by the United States military to concoct a virus that could incapacitate a populace without killing them. It would probably make the US look better during the negotiations in the aftermath.

And so Peter Gibbons had worked long and hard, and finally found what he’d been searching for. As he stared at the effects the virus exhibited upon the guinea pigs behind the glass, he took off his gloves and reached over to the intercom. “Jenny,” he said to his secretary, “call General Matthers. I’ve had a breakthrough.”

“Yes, Dr. Gibbons.”

The General stared at Dr. Gibbons, then at the hamsters, then back at Dr. Gibbons. “You woke me at two in the morning to show me that you can make hamsters fuck?”

“They’re guinea pigs, General.”

“I don’t care if they’re fucking walruses, Gibbons. I don’t even care if they’re FUCKING fucking walruses! I want to know why they’re interrupting my sleep!”

“General, this is it! This is the pathogen I’ve been working on! This virus, which I have titled E. Rotic, hehe, simultaneously raises dopamine, testosterone, and hormone levels, while also targeting the higher functions of the cerebrum! I estimate that a single administration could leave a city the size of Miami infected within days. It reproduces every eleven seconds, and it should take the average human being six to seven days for their immune system to throw this off.”

“Translation?”

“Drop this on any city and for a week you’ll get a mass of mindless fuckbots.”

Matthers’ eyes narrowed. “Gibbons, we paid you for something that incapacitates the populace. Not for a love potion.”

“This DOES incapacitate a populace,” Gibbons argued. “You weren’t specific.”

“Don’t be a wiseass, Gibbons,” the General declared. “We want something to freeze our enemies, or knock them out. Destroy this and get on that. Christ, I can’t believe we’ve been paying you for four years to do this!” With that, General Matthers marched away.

Peter Gibbons sighed, and went back home. Four years of his life spent on this, and for nothing. He couldn’t even sell it, because the military owned it. Even if he could alter it enough to work, the virus was still too unstable and unreliable and untested to be used as any sort of love potion, as the General had suggested.

Jennifer Wilcox, Gibbons’ secretary, did not know that. All that she knew was that she had the keys to the lab of the worlds only proven aphrodisiac. As she slipped into the office later that night, she justified to herself that the doctor probably wouldn’t miss a few teaspoons of the stuff.

At home, Jenny considered the best way to use the E. Rotic virus. She considered all the unattainable men she’d desired. Jenny Wilcox was, after all, not much of a looker. She was quite plain, and quite choosy, and the two aspects combined had left her with little in the way of relationships.

Finally, she settled on Dave Nelson, for four reasons. One: Dave was a freelance journalist, so no one would miss him for a week or two. Two: he lived right next door, so he was close. Three: he had the body of Jean Claude, the accent of Antonio Bendaras, and a remarkable resemblance to Tom Cruise; in other words, hot as hot could be. Four: he was FLAMBOYANTLY homosexual, so she could test the potency of the stuff.

Jenny got to work, baking a cake for Dave. As she made the icing she added a small teaspoon of the pink liquid virus to the recipe. Then, unconsciously, she licked some off one of her fingers.

Immediately, Jennifer recognized her mistake, and spat the stuff out quickly before she swallowed any. Then she raced to the bathroom, gargled with Listerine, and drank several glasses of water. Then she forced herself to calm down, and assessed her situation. She felt normal. Nothing like the guinea pigs she’d seen in Dr. Gibbons’ lab. Her apoplectic heartbeat and breathing slowed back to normal. She’d come close to disaster, but, it seemed, just close. Disaster averted!

Almost! Just as she’d calmed herself, she smelled something burning. She ran back to the kitchen to find that, while she’d been gargling, the cake had turned into charcoal. And to make matters worse, she didn’t have enough flour or eggs to make a second cake. Cursing, she grabbed some shoes and headed to the store.

Jennifer didn’t realize it, but she had indeed been affected by the virus. Even now it coursed through her system, affecting her in subtle ways. She did not even realize that there was anything wrong, in part because of the higher dopamine levels from the virus, making her less aware of aberrations in her behavior, and in part because she assumed that if the virus had affected her she would end up like the guinea pigs, fucking until exhaustion and then fucking some more.

The thing, though, about guinea pigs is this: they are experimented on because their physiological responses are the same as humans ninety-nine times out of a hundred. This was simply one of the other one in a hundred.

For starters, the virus reacted far more quickly in humans than Dr. Gibbons would have expected. Perhaps because humans have more advanced brains than guinea pigs, giving the E. Rotic a veritable smorgasbord.

And it did not immediately turn people into quote-unquote “mindless fuckbots.” It just stimulated the sex drive. In guinea pigs, that meant sex. With humans, that meant absently fingering oneself as she drove to the grocery store, as Jenny did now.

Last but not least, the E. Rotic almost immediately met up with a lingering trace of Jennifer’s flu from two weeks ago, and the two found a chemical combination quite nice for both. In other words, within one hour of application, the E. Rotic had mutated, becoming air-born and ten times as vehement. To distinguish the new virus from the old, let’s simply call it E. Rogenous.

Jenny found herself eyeing the cute cashier at the register as she entered the grocery store. She also noticed that her blouse had somehow come unbuttoned down to the cleavage, though she paid it little mind.

Jenny wandered through the grocery store. Her normal neighborhood market had been closed this late, or early depending on one’s perspective, forcing her to come to this supermarket four miles away. Her thinking was foggy, and she had trouble remembering why she had come. Had she been in full possession of her senses, she would have probably identified the virus at work, but of course she was not in full possession of her senses.

She found herself walking down the fruit aisle, staring at the bananas. She circled the store, but found herself lured back there, staring at their marvelous form.

A female store clerk came to her. “Excuse me, ma’am? May I help you?”

“Uh...” Jenny concentrated, all the while exhaling E. Rogenous into the store with every heavy breath, “I need...eggs and flour! Eggs and flour...”

Jenny faded off. She noticed how sexy this clerk was. Jenny had never been attracted to a woman before, but this one did something to her.

“Sure,” the girl smiled. Jenny’s heart pounded at that luminous smile. “Flour’s on aisle four; eggs are in the dairy department.” She pointed, and her breasts bounced perkily.

Jenny licked her lips, and heavily muttered, “Thank you.” She forced herself to move on, and pick up her purchases.

The clerk would get off in an hour, just as the mutated E. Rogenous began to seriously affect her. Feeling restless, she would go to a movie, but get so loud and so turned on that she would be pulled out near the end when she jumped the man sitting next to her. The entire theatre of moviegoers would leave a few minutes later, all exposed to the virus, off on their own agendas.

On the way out she also interacted with the cashier she’d spied earlier, a man buying a newspaper, and a derelict begging outside. The cashier had just gotten on his shift, and would expose the virus to dozens more people, not only by interacting with them, for he would leave four hours later getting caught having sex with a customer in the freezer, but when he unpacked the new shipment of fruit. The man with the newspaper, in half an hour, would go to catch a flight, exposing the airport and through that most of the world to the virus. His plane would crash as the entire passenger and crew compliment went down, so to speak. The homeless man, ironically, would do the most to expose the city itself, for that evening he peed in the town’s water supply.

Jenny, unaware of the chaos she had wrought, got back in her car. She noticed that at some point she’d also grabbed and bought some bananas and a thick German sausage.

The virus began attacking the higher parts of the brain, responsible for reason and thought. They also kept upping the hormone levels and sex drive. Jenny wasn’t a mindless fuckbot yet, but she was well down the path.

On the way home, Jenny had to pull over. The vibrations from her old car were deliciously tickling her cunt. She’d never been turned on by it before, and to be fair it wasn’t so powerful now, but it was more than enough to make her writhe and moan and nearly run off the road twice.

As she looked around, she noticed that she’d stopped only a few feet away from a Triple-X shop. Normally, Jennifer would never imagine even wondering what was sold in there. Now, though, she stumbled over herself trying to get in.

The store was empty except for a bored, fat, balding man working the cash register, and two kids with fake IDs questing to become men. To Jennifer’s eyes, her perceptions massaged by disease and a horniness that would floor Caligula, all three were Brad Pitt in black leather.

Still, Jenny retained enough power over her own mind to resist her inexplicable desire. Instead, she rushed up to the clerk. “Do you have a dildo here?” she asked desperately.

The man lackadaisically pointed to his left, his eyes not leaving the Playboy he read. Jenny bought the largest, thickest, fastest in stock. She was on her way out, her dildo already unwrapped, as her fingers absently stroked by her crotch. Instantly, Jennifer found herself floored, lost in exaggerated pleasure of the E. Rogenous, which had been boosting her sensitivity. If Jenny had rubbed her entire body with Viacream, she might have approached the sensual power that erupted from that single brush.

An interesting effect of the E. Rotic that Dr. Gibbons had built into it, incidentally, was that it multiplied more fruitfully when its host experienced orgasm. Gibbons had intended it so even after the host finally succumbed to the effects of the virus, they would still be able to infect others. He just hadn’t intended for it to be air-born.

Jennifer opened her eyes to see the two boys and the man over her. At first, they had only been concerned by her fall. As the E. Rogenous, already extremely virulent and with her orgasm more so, ravenously invaded their systems, they instantly entered into the mindless fuckbot portion of the plague. The first boy, a redhead with a thin body and a large cock, got to her first, essentially getting dibs on her cunt. Jenny cried out in pleasure, only to have it stifled as the store owner plunged his less than impressive penis into her open mouth. It was still more than enough for Jenny, who began sucking hungrily like a newborn at the teat, and as he came off quickly she greedily swallowed every drop, each single sperm titillating her beyond sanity. The last lad, a bespectacled boy with a blotchy complexion, found himself by default where he’d only dreamed: ramming a woman up the ass.

The powerful E. Rogenous made them all jism almost immediately, just as it made Jen come and come, but it also kept their member’s straight. In designing E. Rotic, Gibbons had granted man the greatest gift imaginable: multiple orgasms.

Still, even the best of men could last only so long, and these three were a far cry from the best of men. An hour later Jennifer stumbled out from the store, naked and sweaty and covered in semen. She should have felt sated, sore, something! Instead, she only felt hornier. She began to finger herself, and as another orgasm let loose, she again spread the E. Rogenous into the air. A moment later, she was raped by six perfect strangers, four men and two women.

All things considered, Jen really didn’t seem to mind.

The E. Rogenous kept spreading, and kept multiplying. On the plus side, folks were getting a lot more sex. On the down side, the more it spread the faster it mutated. And since each new strain was one more virus that the immune system had to develop an antibody to, it didn’t look like the virus would only last a week. In fact, with the speed it was spreading, already having found its way to a tenth of the town’s citizens in the space of a few hours and multiplying exponentially, it looked like the whole city was going to be playing the mindless fuckbot game for quite a while.

If anyone understood the implications, all things considered, no one really seemed to mind.

It wasn’t until eight the next morning that Dr. Gibbons awoke. All things considered, it was an extremely pleasant awakening, as his wife tickled his balls with her tongue. Seeing him awake, she moved upwards slightly, and began sucking his cock like the antidote was in there.

Helena Gibbons had been exposed to an off-shot of E. Rotic (though it may belabor the joke, we’ll call it E. Motive) and hour earlier as she’d brought in the newspaper (the virus placed there by the paperboy, and so on. Tracking a virus becomes a worldwide version of the Kevin Bacon game). E. Motive combined the mindless fuckbot symptoms with an interesting twist: monogamy. Her husband, who only aroused her after a few to many glasses of wine on her part, had become, in her eyes, an Adonis, a god, the man of all men.

It might have occurred to Peter Gibbons that his wife was exhibiting very unusual behavior, seeing as she had flatly refused to suck him off through the entirety of their marriage.

On the other hand, seeing as they had been married almost eight years and he was finally getting his dick sucked, he probably felt that the better part of valor lay in silence. He came once, but Helena kept sucking, and by the time he’d come again the E. Rotic virus had consumed the one man who might have ever stopped its lust-inducing rampage, transforming him into a mindless monogamous fuckbot.

All things considered, Gibbons really didn’t seem to mind.

Jenny regained coherent thought about eight days after first being exposed to E. Rotic, and then later E. Rogenous. Her entire body was sore, most especially her vagina, and she found that she could not stop walking bow-legged. Straining to think through what felt like the mother of all hangovers, she lowered herself down carefully, step by step, to the first floor, only to realize that her apartment didn’t have two floors! A mass of bodies littered the floor, and the entire place stank of sex. Shocked, Jenny grabbed her things, pulling her clothes on even as she hastily exited the demesnes. What had gone on?! Where was she?! What had happened last night?! (last two, three, five, eight nights!?).

On the way out a woman, who could have been sexy if she didn’t display signs of a week’s worth of exhaustion and human secretions, grabbed Jen’s bare leg. Jennifer frantically kicked her away, and the woman turned away and began fondling the nearest person.

Jen couldn’t understand anything. She hopped in her car and began driving, everywhere seeing signs of a city gone to madness. People fucked openly in the streets, indeed, seemed to do little else. She swerved not to hit a frolicking couple that raced into the street, and instead stopped mere inches from a well-built man on the sidewalk. She jumped out of the car, crying, “Are you all right?!”

Only when he looked up at her with sheer lust in his eyes did she begin to fathom the extent of her actions. She had indeed been infected, and infected the rest of the city! By now, uncontained, the virus might have spread throughout the entire world!

She saw the man stepping closer to her, and moved to take a step backwards.

Instead, she found herself stepping forwards. By the next step she had removed her makeshift clothes and stood naked before him. By the third step all worry disappeared, leaving only lust and desire. The pain in her cunt evaporated, replaced only with an unquenchable longing, as a mutant virus that she’d picked up from the woman who’d grabbed her leg took hold of her emotions and mind and body.

E. Rotic. E. Rogenous. E. Motive. A nigh infinite number of variations, for in so fast a virus, some strains multiplying every dozen or so seconds, mankind had no hope to resist.

On the whole, all things considered, mankind really didn’t seem to mind.