The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

How did I get myself into this situation? I volunteered. How was I to know it would turn out like this. If only I hadn’t signed that damn waiver. Are you thoroughly confused yet? Maybe I should start at the beginning. My name is Mackenzie Rhodes, but my friends call me Mack.

They don’t experiment on college students much anymore. Too many rules and regs to deal with. But it turns out that in this particular situation, college volunteers were just what they needed. They posted signs all over campus asking people to sign up. The signs went like this:

Need Money?

Want to Be More Popular With the Ladies?

Males 18-30

Sign Up for Pharmaceutical Study to

Increase Your Pheromone Production!

Bain Center (Nursing Wing) room 219

$1000 dollars for qualified participants

1 Week of Treatment, followed by observation via journal

Be Prepared to Tell of Any Allergies

Or Medical Conditions

Of course, who wouldn’t leap at the chance to earn $1000 in only one week? There was quite a line. I almost gave up, but I was really hurting for that thousand dollars. And the clause about being more popular with the ladies intrigued me. After all, guys like me have a hard time finding dates. In fact, I was already seeing a therapist to deal with my chronic loneliness. The scientists in charge of this little project asked weird questions; dating history, if any, sexual experience, if any, sexual orientation (they insisted that it was essential to the experiment, stating that homosexuals had violent reactions to the drug), etc. So out of the several hundred applicants, I was among the twelve that were chosen. The waiver we had to sign was particularly long, not to mention nitpicky in detail. Maybe I should have spent more time reading it.

The main part of the experiment involved one week of isolation, save for the doctor. Of course they used the double-blind method. I noticed results the first night. Wet dreams kept waking me up. If I’d known I’d go through six pairs of underwear that first night, I would have packed more.

On day 3, I noticed something odd as I woke up and slipped my pants on—or rather, tried to. Not only did the cuffs of my pants ride halfway up to my knees (I had grown a whole FOOT the last three days), but they no longer fastened properly. It seemed as if a noticeable portion of the mass in my gut had been redirected to my cock and balls. My genitals were now as big as any I’d seen before. The doctor made a notation on his clipboard and offered me a pair of stretch pants to wear. The study would pay for any changes required by the treatment in addition to the $1000 reward for signing up, as was promised somewhere in the text of the waiver.

On day 7, a female nurse came with my new wardrobe (enough clothes to last me four weeks, if necessary, including special-occasion apparel for the celebration afterward). Until then, the room had been well-ventilated, but the fans cut off as she walked in the room. Her attitude changed as she put down my clothes. Her breathing became more shallow. Her face flushed. She looked at me, and I caught her scent. She was very much aroused. As was I. I couldn’t get her clothes off fast enough. She went to her knees before my enlarged penis, drooling in anticipation. I forced her head forward, and she took my cockhead in her mouth. Her lips stretched as they tried to encircle my cock. It felt wonderful. Oh, man, did it feel wonderful! I pushed myself further into her mouth, going down her throat. The sensations were completely new to me, and I quickly fired a huge load of come down her throat. It was then that I noticed she couldn’t breathe. My huge cock was cutting off her air. I pulled out, and she gasped. She looked up at me, hunger in her eyes. I understood. I felt the same hunger. I threw her wonderful, naked form to the bed and pressed myself against her. She moaned as I entered her. She was tight, but eager, and very wet. She passed out after four screaming orgasms. I stayed with her till she awakened.

“What did you do to me?” she asked weakly. “I want you to take me again. Again and again, never stopping, never slowing...Mmmmm, fuck me...please, fuck me...” How could I refuse a request like that? I obliged her over and over again, and as she lay spent after almost four hours of lovemaking, the look in her eyes stated beyond a shadow of a doubt that she knew that that cock that swayed so invitingly before her eyes now ruled her life as nothing and no one ever had. I ran my fingers through her lovely, dark hair and gazed into her dark eyes. Somehow I knew that she was now my sexual slave, willing to do, say and think anything to be fucked and used like a sex toy. A living blowup doll.

“If you can stand leaving her alone for a little while, it’s about time for the celebration to begin.” said the doctor. As I was to find out, our group was not the first to be tested. They had run several experiments, trying to determine what kinds of people would respond best to the treatment. The current experiments were part of a fine-tuning process. It was easy to tell who had been the control group and who the experimental. The control group sat together, glancing at the taller, more muscular experimental group, staying as far from everybody else as possible. Food was, of course, provided by one of the local businesses—Sam’s Restaurant, I believe. I noticed a marked increase in aggression in the experimental group—myself included. Before, I had been the nerdy type (really smart, but uncomfortable around women), not to mention the type into whom kindness and nonviolence was pounded practically from birth. And yet I nearly bit another guy’s head off for reaching for the same chicken leg I did. Two others in my group got into a fight over the last of the ribs. While they were fighting, I snuck in and took the ribs and slinked off to my own little corner. My tray was heaping with meat and beans and a very large helping of mashed potatoes. When another from the group came up behind me and I found myself fighting to defend my “territory,” I noticed that I was bigger than the others. I was taller by about six inches, and while my muscles didn’t take up any more space than the others, they were more compact, like coiled springs.

I almost killed that poor guy. The only thing that stopped me was the fact that my conscience was finally able to pierce the red fog of territorial rage. Two doctors came along to drag my vanquished foe away. Finally the project leader appeared and made his speech, telling us what I’ve already told you, plus more I’ll tell you about now.

“During the course of the experiments, we’ve found that loneliness and sexual frustration cause the brain to release chemicals into the bloodstream which can indeed cause health problems later on. However, when given the treatments that half of you were given, these chemicals catalyze the treatment to new heights of performance. In short, the more lonely and pathetic someone is before the treatment, the greater the adaptation afterwards.” Well, that explained it. I had adapted so much better than the others because I happened to be the biggest loser on campus.

I don’t know if the nurses were specially chosen for this purpose, but I found out that Sandra, my new pet nurse, was quite secure, financially, and she was more than willing to share. Indeed, she had, until recently, been the proud owner of about six percent of Microsoft, and had sold it due to a bad dream—just before prices started to plummet. So I had no fear of going broke any time soon. Of course, I did have a little trouble separating myself from her so I could go to school. I usually ended up fucking her until she passed out, then quickly redressing and heading out the door before she woke up. During my first week living with her, I learned not to eat long, stiff things like cucumbers, as these tended to end up serving as replacement cocks while she went through withdrawal in my absence.

As I made my way to class on my first day, post experiment, I got this odd feeling that I was being followed. I glanced behind me and, sure enough, there were about twelve horny young ladies shadowing my every move, too focused on me to even notice that they had rivals. I somehow managed to diplomatically persuade nine of them that they needed to go to class, but that still left the three most persistent. The first was a little blonde with straight hair and big, beautiful blue eyes. I could swear I had seen mosquitoes bigger than her. But maybe that’s just traumatic childhood memories of that one business trip with my Dad to the swamp talking. But still, you get the picture. The girl was tiny, and she had a baby face that made her look quite young indeed. Add to that the Hello Kitty T-shirt and a miniskirt with a pair of lips on the derriere, and I honestly wasn’t sure she was legal. But she somehow managed to get my fly open and shaft herself on my perpetual erection (though she didn’t bother to remove or even move the panties beforehand, so she ended up with a rather large hole in her panties). To my surprise, she wasn’t a virgin, and I would later find out she was twenty-one. I fell back on my ass while she tried desperately to get me deeper into her. She managed to get me worked up, and I started to ram into her. She only had a single orgasm, but it was powerful enough to knock her out as I fountained into her. The second was a long-haired brunette with impressive breast implants. She removed her panties and wrapped herself around me. She managed to stay awake long enough after I had filled her with my come to tell me she never wanted me to leave her. I managed to hold off the third one, a busty young black cheerleader with skin like the finest milk chocolate and eyes like the pit in which the phoenix slept, long enough to compose myself and collect the two unconscious damsels, carrying one in each arm. She followed me all the way to class, as I sat the sleepers just outside the door, making sure to arrange the little blonde’s skirt so that her ruined panties didn’t show. I managed to get my remaining lover-aspirant to tell me that her name was Amity. I took a seat at the back of the class, and Amity sat in my lap. She arranged her skirt so it covered everything, and discretely undid my fly once more. She moved her panties to the side and opened her legs a little bit to permit me egress. She slid easily onto my shaft and put her arms around me and began to kiss me passionately. To the casual observer, we appeared to be simply making out with a vengeance. Only those who looked closely would know what was really going on. Even when she came, Amity merely clenched up and kissed a little more passionately, while also running her nails down my back. The instructor asked if we were quite finished, and as Amity drifted off to blissful sleep after I lost count of how many orgasms she had, I told him “I guess so.”

The others had awakened by the time class was over, and as I carried Amity out, they began to hover around me again. I left them unconscious in my car after our second between-classes session, and was late to my next class. Nobody minded too much because it was a sculpture class composed of myself and ten girls (I had signed up for it to get my 12 class-hour requirement). The instructor was an ex-model and beauty queen who had been forced to resign after some particularly steamy nude pics surfaced. I knew because I had at least one copy of all those pics. I was lucky to get out of there alive.

When I got home, Sandra was rather dismayed at having to share my attentions. With fifteen mouths to feed, it was clear I was going to have to liquidate some of Sandra’s assets, so in return for two hours of exclusive attention, she dumped the stocks and options, though I let her keep the bonds and investment properties, which I used to order enough groceries online to feed the sixteen of us for a month.

The next day, in addition to picking up five new acquisitions, including a Hispanic meter maid and a French foreign exchange student, I ran afoul of some of my rivals. Apparently I was the only one from the experimental group who had classes on Mondays and Wednesdays. I ran into the first one when one of the girls in his harem wrapped herself around me. I had just released a copious amount of sperm into her when he slugged me in the chin. Before I knew it, I was in a full-blown battle over harem-possession. I caught myself about to deliver a deathblow and managed to stop myself. I could get into deep trouble for killing someone. Unfortunately, I caught sight of him pulling a gun, and lost it.

The next thing I knew I was rounding a corner followed by twenty recently-fucked former members of that rival’s harem, and I caught sight of several of the scientists from the project talking to the cops. I ducked into the bushes to listen to what they were saying. It was hard with all those young ladies trying to get my pants open. I only caught parts of what the doctors were saying.

“...concentric regions...aggressive behavior toward rivals...quite dangerous, even for animal control...kill each other before too long...” The cops apparently weren’t any happier with the full version than I was with the fragments. They said something to the effect of “you’d better find them before we do if you’re so concerned for their welfare.” Just then, another of my rivals caught my scent and leaped to the top of a car.

“Come on out!” he called. “I know you’re in there!” I managed to fight down my fighting instinct long enough for the assembled police to arrest him for destructive behavior. After all, he was jumping around, stomping on cars and stuff. Those blasted car alarms were really getting on my nerves when the officers left. My rival had been forced to leave his legion of lusty ladies behind, and far be it for me to leave such unfortunates as them all by themselves. I didn’t even pay attention to the watching scientists as I did my best to fuck the women’s pheromone-addled brains out. It was only when the wind shifted that I remembered their presence. I had enough presence of mind to fasten myself up before I turned toward them.

“You did this to me.” I said in the low voice given me by the increased testosterone levels in my body. “Give me one good reason not to break you over my knee right now.”

“Because you’re really not that kind of person.” one of them said. “Your conscience will never let you rest, will it, Mr. Rhodes? I’ll bet you even feel bad about subjecting all these promising young ladies to a future filled with nothing but sex and bearing children. I’ll bet most of them were quite intelligent before the pheromones got to them.”

“Damn, I hate when people like you are right.” I muttered. “What are you still doing here?”

“We have to continue gathering data, and you’ve all stopped taking the time out to email your journal entries.” another one of them said. “Too busy getting laid, I suppose. Next time we’ll just have them wear telemetry suits.”

“Next time?” I fairly roared. “If you’re not out of sight in three seconds, there won’t be enough of you left to gather your precious data from this time.” They took off like scared bunnies. I rounded up the small army of come-hungry sluts I had amassed and we left. I had decided that it wasn’t worth going through this until my six o’ clock class started. When I arrived back home, I realized I had yet another problem. By now I had almost a hundred women, who all had to fit into a three-bedroom, single-story house with all the standard things such as furniture, appliances and my computer and its peripherals. There was no way I was going to be able to get them all into the house at the same time, and the neighbors certainly weren’t going to appreciate an orgy on my lawn. I didn’t even know who half of these girls I had fucked were. How the hell was I supposed to keep them safe now that they were all my responsibility. Sandra came out to greet me. I broached the subject with her during one of the times when she and I were together. She didn’t know anything about keeping track of people, but she supposed she could cash in some of her investment properties to buy a place for us all to live. In a few days, we moved all our stuff into the building that the local Wal-Mart had vacated when it moved across town to become a Wal-Mart Supercenter. I transferred all my courses to correspondence and online courses. During one of the few lulls in activity, I began to muse to myself.

Is this all there is for me? I wondered. A lifetime of sex and violence? And what happens when some of these women and girls start getting pregnant? Amity’s already going for the saltines. At least they aren’t fighting among themselves. Then another idea struck me. The scientists that did this were still experimenting with their product—no, not the product. The selection process. As far as they’re concerned, the product is as perfect as it’s going to be. What they’re doing is trying to determine what factors affect the reaction to the product and how they react. Someone had to stop this. I went online and bought a web cam and a faster processor. Once those were installed, I started emailing various talk show hosts, trying to find someone to help me blow the whistle.

It’s been over a year now. My harem-sluts are all in the various stages of childbearing, or have young children at their breasts—and most of those are already pregnant again. For some reason, most of them are multiple pregnancies...they average about three or four at a time. I’m beginning to realize why only very strong animals like horses and elephant seals have large harems like this. I’m also beginning to realize why animals that father lots of children don’t stick around to care for them. A female cop came by to ask what was going on, and made the mistake of actually coming inside. Now she’s got a big belly just like the rest of them. Worse, my pheromone production has been going up, not down. Everyone I encounter wants to either fuck me or kill me, depending on whether they’re female or male. That’s why I came to you, and that’s why I’m coming to you over fiber optic cables instead of in person.

“In case you’ve just joined us, we’re discussing the ethics and Constitutionality, or lack thereof, of pharmaceutical testing on college students. You’ve just heard the story of Mackenzie Rhodes, whose life became a waking wet dream due to pheromone experiments. After these words from the National Order of Collegiate Lab Rats, we’ll hear about a young lady who because of a volunteer experiment, says she is overwhelmed by the amount of sensory data she receives every second of every day. See you then.”