The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Darling,” DeeDee said one afternoon, “you haven’t, like, ever tried to used the Chair to like, manipulate me—have you?” She was perched on one of the leather-topped benches in the laboratory.

“What are talking about?” said the man lying on the floor. “You’ve been on the Chair many times. More than anyone else, probably.” He was half invisible beneath a futuristic, black leather chair mounted on a pedestal. Electronic devices of various kinds were attached to it. A fleet of wires from the circuitry fed into an enormous black cable, which snaked across the floor to a bank of computers along one wall.

“Well, yes, I know that, but . . . you haven’t like, strayed from the protocols, have you? Or done something clever with the settings when I was hooked up? You haven’t done anything . . . unorthodox, like that, have you? Even once?”

The man on the floor looked up at her. “What’s eating at you, Babe?”

DeeDee put down the fashion magazine she had been reading. “Well, I don’t know, but . . . well, it’s like . . . something doesn’t feel right.”

The man on the floor sat up. He had a screwdriver in one hand. He closed a panel on one of the devices attached to the chair. “What doesn’t feel right, baby?” he asked.

“Well, like, that’s the whole thing. I don’t know what’s wrong . . . I just know, it doesn’t feel quite right. I mean, this is, like, my laboratory, right? So shouldn’t I be, you know, doing something?”

The man on the floor grinned up at her. “You can do something right now. Turn on the second phase amplifier, won’t you?”

DeeDee reached over to one of several complicated instruments on the bench beside her. She flipped a couple of switches and typed some commmands on a keyboard. “Alpha at one-sixy?” she asked. Her fingernails were bright red, with a band of gold around the edge.

“Make it a few notches higher.”

She looked dubious. “Two-twenty?”

“Make it two-forty.” He fiddled with a voltmeter in his hands. He adjusted something on the chair. “Ah, there we go,” he said after a few moments. “That should fix that annoying feedback.”

“We were getting feedback?”

“Of course. Don’t you remember? You asked me to adjust the phase harmonics to a higher frequency.”

“I did?”

The man began packing up his tools. He laughed gently. “Baby, you are so forgetful.”

DeeDee frowned prettily. “But, but, raising the frequency on the phase harmonics . . . couldn’t that be harmful? Like, it could induce a trance, or even . . . .” She paused thoughtfully. “Travis, are you sure you haven’t been fooling around with the Chair?”

Travis got to his feet. He set his tools on the bench. He turned to face the shapely blonde. “Baby,” he said patiently, “even if I did want to fiddle with the Chair, you know I couldn’t do anything without your help. Nobody knows more about the Chair than you do. Hey, you built it, remember? You single-handedly invented Behavioural Impulse Modification by Brainwave Optimization. This is your brainchild.” He gestured toward the black B.I.M.B.O. Chair that dominated the centre of the room.

“Oh, don’t like, play all modest, Travis,” DeeDee replied. She slid gracefully off the bench, landing easily on her four-inch heels. “You are a very talented technician. I think you know a lot more about the Chair than you let on.” She smoothed her blue satin miniskirt with one hand.

Travis’s eyes lingered on DeeDee’s nylon-encased thighs. “Baby, this is silly. All we’ve been able to do with the chair so far is repress cravings for sweets and help people stop smoking. Besides, we kept records of all your sessions. I couldn’t do anything funny without you knowing about it.”

“Well, yes, I suppose . . . but, like, I don’t know . . . there’s these things . . .” She began to pace thoughtfully, hands clasped in front of her. Rings sparkled on her fingers.

“What kind of things?” He openly admired her well-curved legs, shaped attractively by her high-heeled pumps.

“Uhm, well, like, the other day, I was looking for something in my closet, like, and you know what I found?”

“Something hot and sexy, I’m sure.”

“I found pants.”

“Pants?”

“Pants.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Well, like, come on Travis, you know I never wear pants. Leastwise not like these! They were like, brown! And like, ultra-borrrrring. What were they doing in my closet!”

“Did you throw them away?”

“Of course!”

“Then there’s no problem is there?”

“Well, no I suppose not, but still, I got to thinking—”

She was interrupted by a gentle rap on the door.

Travis looked at his watch. “Oh, that will be Becky with the mail. Come in!”

The door opened. The woman standing there had long blonde hair like DeeDee’s but her figure was fuller. She was wearing a simple, hound’s-tooth dress that hugged her voluptuous curves lovingly, right down to the thigh-revealing hemline. She had some letters in one hand.

“Hi Becky,” DeeDee said.

“Good morning Dr. Lovesmore,” the blonde replied. “Oh, hiiiiiii, Travis,” she said in an entirely different tone of voice. She stepped into the room. She seemed suspended a few inches above the floor by the chunky platforms on her high-heeled black boots.

“Hey there Becky,” Travis replied. “Nice dress.”

She bit her lower lip coquettishly. “You like it?” She ran her free hand down one side, emphasizing the cling of the stretch fabric. “I just threw it on this morning.”

“Very flattering,” Travis said. His eyes were deliberately following the line of her hand.

Becky took a slow step forward. “Travis,” she said softly, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh. What have you been thinking?”

“Well, you and Dr. Lovesmore are still doing research on the Chair, right?”

“Of course.”

“So, you still need volunteers to help test it?” She took another step toward him.

“Yes, from time to time. Would you like to volunteer again?”

“Oh could I?” Eagerness shone in her voice. “I’m a great subject, you said so yourself. I’m very interested in Dr. Lovesmore’s research. I’d like to help. In any way I can.” She was sidling toward him as she spoke. Now she was standing very close, looking into his eyes. In her extravagent platform boots she was only a few inches shorter than him.

Travis encircled her waist loosely with both arms. “Thanks, Becky,” he said, “but we’re not really set up for—”

She kissed him, suddenly, impulsively. “Please, honey,” she whispered, when their lips separated. “Let me do one session. Just one. I’ll be a good subject. Please?”

She continued to nuzzle and kiss. She murmured and pleaded persuasively. Travis’s arms drew her in tighter.

“I believe you have some mail for me, Becky,” DeeDee said drily.

The secretary stretched out one hand without looking at her. “There’s a big book or something for you in the mail room,” she said, still without looking away from the man embracing her. DeeDee took the sheaf of envelopes and began to leaf through them.

“We could have a treatment right now, couldn’t we?” she heard Becky whisper. Travis had one hand on her bum, now. The fabric slid up a little, flashing a stocking-top.

“DeeDee, baby,” Travis said, looking away from the greedy woman in his arms. “I think I’ll give Becky a quick run on the Chair. It will give us a chance to test those new settings.” Becky squealed and wiggled in delight.

DeeDee put down the flyer for exotic underthings she was paging through. “Oh. OK, then. Should I—”

“No need for you to do anything. It’s all set up. Why don’t you take a break. Come back in about 20 minutes.”

Becky whispered something in his ear. She was rubbing her leg against his. “Make it half an hour,” Travis amended.

“Uhm, right. OK.” DeeDee frowned for a moment. She turned, about to say something, but Travis and Becky were oblivious. She picked up her purse and stepped out into the hallway. She closed the door behind her.

The hallway was wide and brightly lit. There were big windows along the inside wall, looking out over an enclosed courtyard. The Myers Institute was an independent research organization, founded by the fortune of its namesake. Though small, it was well respected and turned out top-grade research in neuroscience. DeeDee’s laboratory was but one of a long row along the outside wall of the corridor.

Now she had half an hour to kill. She wasn’t sure she should be leaving all the time when subjects were in the Chair. Travis did know the procedure. Maybe she had time to hit the gym for a quick workout.

The rhythmic click of high heels sounded from down the corridor. DeeDee looked up to see a young technician walking toward her. She had a tray of surgical instruments in her hands. “Hi Dr. Lovesmore!” she greeted her, smiling.

“Morning Skya,” DeeDee replied. She regarded the other woman fondly. Skya was in her early twenties, and quite pretty. She was wearing a spotless white lab coat and white pumps. The abbreviated coat was belted tightly around her waist. Short as it was, it was longer than whatever she was wearing underneath. Silvery nylons glistened on her well-curved legs.

“So, what’s going on this morning?” she wanted to know.

“Oh, nothing much. Travis’s running a session on the Chair.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, cool. The Chair is a real breakthrough, isn’t it. I’ve heard that it can cure, like, everything!”

“Well, I don’t know about that. It mostly helps people do things like lose weight. We’re still testing it.”

“Yeah, but still. I bet you’ll be famous. Are you still looking for volunteers? Because I’d be like, happy to help. Really. It’s no trouble.”

“I’m not sure. Travis has the schedule . . .”

“Oh, sign me on, OK. If you ever need another subject, or if, like, somebody cancels, or well, anything. I’m here to help, OK?”

“Certainly. I’ll keep you in mind. I promise.”

“Great!”

Privately, DeeDee was uncertain about the wisdom of using Institute staff as subjects for the Chair. It didn’t seem appropriate. There were procedures for selecting volunteers for testing. DeeDee knew them as well as anyone. They should have posted signs in the city. They should have selected a random sample. There was no precedent for using co-workers.

Yet somehow Travis had persuaded her to test the Chair on her colleagues at the Institute. “It will save money,” he said. “We won’t have to pay anyone. It will be much easier to maintain confidentiality too, until you’re ready to publish. There’s plenty of test subjects here, and the Institute is a pretty good cross-section of society.”

That last claim was patently untrue. Still, DeeDee let him persuade her. Travis could be so authoritative when he was convinced of something. DeeDee usually found it easiest to go along with whatever he suggested. It didn’t help that he had broached the subject immediately after DeeDee herself had just finished a session in the Chair. At that moment she was too scattered to argue about anything.

Euphoria was a major side-effect of the Chair. Particular settings seemed to directly stimulate the pleasure centre of the brain. The effect was very powerful. It was also completely unexpected. DeeDee had been doing advanced psychological research long enough to know that the human brain was complex and tightly cross-wired. One never knew what stimulating one part would do to some other part.

Still, nobody had anticipated that particular attribute of the Chair. A session in the Chair was rather like being given a healthy dose of nitrous oxide, the so-called laughing gas. Users always climbed down from the Chair grinning foolishly and giggling like children. It affected some people more than others, of course, but everybody was susceptible.

So DeeDee, feeling like she had downed half a bottle of happy pills after a particularly effective session in the Chair, had scrawled her name across some authorization form that permitted Travis to officially begin recruiting volunteers for further work on the Chair. She hadn’t bothered to read it. At the time, she had been thinking how nice it would be slip off to the loo and give herself a little hand play. A few minutes later she had decided she was wrong—it didn’t feel nice, it felt terrific.

DeeDee was a serious woman ordinarily. She was a little embarrassed about the way the Chair made her feel. She been in the Chair several times since then, as she and Travis worked on perfecting its capabilities. She no longer fingered herself afterward. These days she carried a vibrator in her purse.

A lot of data were needed to understand the Chair’s potential. Travis was tireless in his drive to recruit volunteers. Eventually he persuaded nearly everyone in the institute, right up to the Director, to lend a hand. Everyone knew that Dr. Lovesmore was on to something big. They were glad to help out. After a session in the Chair, everyone was eager to volunteer again, too. Why not? It was fun!

DeeDee was a little troubled by these things, as she watched young Skya recede down the hallway. After months of further research, she still didn’t know why the Chair was so pleasurable, or which settings induced the reaction. There didn’t seem to be any easy way to tell. Properly harnessed, this side effect could prove very useful. It could be used to reward and re-inforce particular brainwave patterns. There was a real risk of creating confusion though, or even addiction. The brain was not set up to be poked with wires and electrical currents.

To make matters worse, the crucial notes on the matter, from when DeeDee and Travis had begun to make real progress, had gone missing. A lot of work had to be done over again. Frustrating! Fortunately, she had Travis there to help.

DeeDee stopped by a window and admired her reflection for a moment. She fussed with her hair. She was wearing it long and straight, falling around her face attractively. She toyed with the undone buttons on her white blouse. The new Wonderbra helped a lot. Still, she wished she were a little fuller on top. DeeDee almost never wore trousers, and she kept her skirts nice and short. The minis showed off her best feature and drew attention away from her chest. She envied Murial Wells-Tacked, the director’s assistant, who could wear tight sweaters and short skirts, and frequently did.

When she was certain her make-up was perfect, DeeDee continued down the hall. She found herself passing by Dr. McCallum’s office. He was an older man, an established expert in several fields of psychology, who had acted as a mentor for DeeDee when she first arrived at the Institute. DeeDee always felt she could talk to him about problems, be they technical or personal.

The door was open. Dr. McCallum was sitting at his desk, stroking his white beard and staring off into space. He seemed lost in thought. DeeDee had discussed the problems with the Chair with Dr. McCallum before. She wondered if he might give her some advice on this pleasure-centre business.

She stepped into his cluttered office. She was about to say something when movement caught her eye. She looked down. Now she could see what the distinguished scientist was thinking about. Deborah Fling, his research associate from Cambridge, was on her knees in front of his chair. She had his cock in her mouth. She was blowing him with practiced ease, sliding her red lips almost lazily up and down his shaft. Oh, he has a nice one! DeeDee decided, watching the woman work his wang.

Dr. Fling was nude from the waist up. DeeDee admired her nicely shaped titties. She was a little bigger than DeeDee, especially with her nipples standing up like that. She was still wearing her glasses. They kept sliding down her nose. Her wedding ring sparkled as she jacked his rod with one hand. Dr. McCallum grunted contentedly.

Deborah Fling let him slide out for a moment. She tongued his glans. “Come on, love-puppy, gimme ’nother load,” she whispered up at him. He grunted again as her lips descended.

DeeDee back quietly out of the office. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to talk about research.

She looked at her watch. Maybe she had time to use the gymnasium. The Institute provided a number of amenities, not least of which was a small gym in the basement. It was heavily used. DeeDee turned decisively on her high heels and headed toward the lift.

She entered the women’s changing room just as another scientist was leaving. “Oh, hi there DeeDee!” the woman said. “Sneaking out for a little stretch are we?”

The lithe blonde laughed. “Well, it looks like I’m not the only one, Celeste.”

Celeste laughed in turn. She was fortyish, and there were laugh lines around her eyes. DeeDee knew that she had died her hair to cover the grey. She was wearing a tight-fitting, red-and-yellow minidress and rather spectacular white pumps.

Celeste said, “Oh, I couldn’t waste another coffee break without getting some exercise. You know, I am still chasing those last five pounds.” She smoothed down her clingy dress for emphasis.

DeeDee waved a hand. “Stop it Celeste, you look fabulous and you know it.” She stepped over to her locker and opened the door. She never bothered to lock it.

“I feel fabulous!” Celeste concurred. “And DeeDee it’s all because of you.”

“Me!”

“Yes, you darling, you and that wonderful gizmo of yours, that Chair. I feel like a whole new woman.”

DeeDee was looking at her crowded locker, trying to decide which of her dozen workout sets to wear today. With the matching shoes for each one, there was barely room to put her clothes inside. “I think you’re exaggerating,” she said absently. “You have lost a little weight—”

“Thirty-eight pounds, darling! Thirty-eight pounds! I have never stuck with a diet this long in my life. It’s amazing. I’ve developed a whole new attitude. I can’t believe how much I had let myself slip, before you got me straightened out. You’re a miracle worker darling!”

DeeDee laughed again. “Hardly that. I’m glad you’re feeling so energized though. Has Warren noticed?” She began to unbutton her blouse.

“Has he noticed? Darling he’s fallen in love all over again. I mean, all I have to do is fix him his dinner in one of my little negligees and he’s all man, and all mine. Sometimes I don’t let him go to work in the morning till he’s done me twice.” She tittered behind her hand. “But you know what?” she continued in a conspiratory voice.

“What?” DeeDee replied. She stepped out of her skirt.

“He’s not the only one who’s “noticed,” if you know what I mean.”

That got DeeDee’s attention. “Celeste! Who? Come on, tell me.”

The older woman giggled like a schoogirl. She leaned close. “Fenton Clydesmore.”

“Dr. Clydesmore? In Pharma? But . . . how . . . when?”

Celeste stepped over to a padded bench and sat down. She draped one knee over the other elegantly. Her pumps had long spike heels of polished metal. “We were like, working together on a project. Neurological basis of drug reactions or something. Who cares. We spent a lot of time on it, and he was like always with his eyes all over my legs.

“So one day we’re working late. I was wearing this darling little skirt my daughter says she never wears any more. Sort of test-driving it. It matched my blue stilettos just right, I thought. Guess he thought so too, the way he was staring. Eventually, when we were both looking at some data on his computer, I told him I could see the monitor better if I sort of sat down . . . like, in his lap. Then one thing sort of led to another. And another. And another. Let me tell you darling, that man has stamina!”

“Celeste! You vamp!”

She giggled again. “Oh pshaw, we all know it builds muscle tone. I don’t even feel guilty about skipping gym when I get a work out from Clydy.”

DeeDee had decided on the sunset orange, two-piece outfit with sheer exercise tights. She stepped into a pair of shiny white athletic shoes with chunky three-inch heels. She sat on the bench beside Celeste and began replacing the yellow laces with orange ones. “What about Warren?” she enquired.

She smiled slyly. “He gets to fuck me when I get home,” she explained. She looked at her watch. “Oh, I’d better get back to work, darling. I was in the middle of . . . well, something important I think.” She got to her feet and tugged down her dress.

“See you later,” DeeDee said, tying her laces.

“Of course. And remember, if you ever need more volunteers for that wonderful machine of yours, come get me first!” Her extra-high heels clicked on the tiles as she catwalked toward the door.

DeeDee finished dressing by slipping on a sunset orange headband to hold back her hair and matching wristbands on both arms. Two other women entered the change room from the gym. They were both flushed, tired and happy after a vigorous work-out.

“Hi DeeDee,” said one.

“Morning Dr. Lovesmore,” cried the other. “Love your outfit!”

“Good morning. And like, thanks. It’s new.” DeeDee knew both women slightly. The tall blonde was a laboratory manager, something to do with diagnostics, and the pretty young thing was one of her lab techs. They were both dressed in gaily coloured spandex.

DeeDee paused by a mirror to inspect her own outfit. It was deliberately revealing. She was eager to show the world the success of her new work-out program. The frown on her face detracted from the image though. She couldn’t get this business with Travis and the peculiar settings on the Chair out of her mind. A good work-out would help. She grabbed a bottle of cold water from the refigerator and headed for the gym.