The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The man’s name was Rob, and he was twenty-two years old. His full name was “Robert,” but nobody had called him that since he was a kid. He preferred to be called Rob— it made him feel grown up, and mature.

Not that Rob had many people in his life to call him by any name; the conversation of “please call me this, and not this,” basically never happened for Rob, because the prerequisite of that conversation was for there to be some number of people in one’s life; either old acquaintances who kept making the same mistakes, or new acquaintances who were trying to learn right names but struggling because the person whose name they were trying to learn was so new to them.

Rob did know a few people. He wasn’t an entire shut-in; it was just that there was no one he was really close to. He was more of a tangential member of the community; but he made contact with the outside world often enough to hear gossip.

He was always most interested in hearing gossip about a certain twenty-two year old resident of his town, named Taylor. Taylor had rarely ever done anything gossip worthy, but Rob worked his way around this by making subtle inquiries after her state of being. He never asked the same person twice— so he could avoid developing a reputation as someone interested in her— but he did glean bits and pieces of information about Taylor from various sources.

If the reverse had been true, and Taylor had tried to get news of him from carefully selected members of the community (and never the same person twice), there would have been, truly, nothing for her to find— nothing for her to learn. There was no news of Rob’s life which travelled past himself, because Rob didn’t have much of a life.

He was at the age where he should have been pursuing post-secondary education. Or at least, where most other people his same age were doing that— if he’d gone to university at eighteen after graduating high school, then right now he would be in his fourth year of a four-year degree, and due to graduate next spring. He would have had something to show for the past few years of his life— he’d have that achievement ahead of him, about to be achieved.

But Rob had not gone to university— so he was a bit alienated from the rest of his age-group, especially the members of said age-group which lived in his town.

Even after some of them graduated in the spring, he’d still be alienated. All throughout his twenties, more and more of the people who hadn’t gone to university yet would start their university careers now and then; people who’d taken a few years to figure out what they wanted— there were plenty of twenty-two year olds enrolling as first-year students even this year— and he still wasn’t one of them. He still felt separate.

Not all of the other adults his age were going to university, of course. And not all of them would— but Rob felt alienated even from those that weren’t attending a post-secondary institution— even felt alienated from those who had no plans to do so.

Many of them had found other post-secondary options, or would in the next few years— they’d choose trade schools, and technical colleges— that would be how they would move on with their lives, and move their lives forward.

But still, not everyone would do even that. Some people Rob’s age had simply started working after high school, or they’d taken part-time jobs they already had and turned them full time.

A lot of those jobs had been thankless, sure— retail work, fast-food work, nothing particularly prestigious. But even those people had something to show for the past three years; a lot of them had gotten regular raises so they were making more than they’d started out earning, and some of them had gotten onto managerial tracks— there’d been some career mobility for them. Some of them had transferred into better jobs, having gotten good references and skills from their work experience. They were also successfully meeting the challenge of adulthood; working decent jobs, earning, providing for themselves. All of Rob’s peer-group, except for him, seemed to be successful adults: the post-secondary students, thinking long-term to get higher paying jobs, the non-students, already immersed in their careers. Rob was the only one failing adult life.

Rob didn’t have a job. And Rob didn’t have a post-secondary education, nor were any plans forthcoming to attain one. Rob did have his own place to live in, by himself— but that was only because Rob’s parents were rich, and they owned a lot of property.

The most shameful thing was that his parents had basically given up on him— the house he lived in was modest, and nice— but there was no hiding the fact that Rob had been dumped there.

He often felt like a malfunctioning possession that had been put in storage— the house had originally been intended as yet another rental property for his parents, but when it had been clear that Rob wasn’t going to make anything of himself, those rental plans had been scrapped, and Rob had been offered the place to live in, rent-free, since the property had no mortgage and had been fully paid for. Besides that his parents gave him a small allowance to cover his basic expenses. Basically, they saw him as another problem to throw money at. That was it. They didn’t even really speak.

The thing that saved Rob’s sanity was inventing. He was constantly tinkering at his inventions— and budgeting his allowance to procure new parts for them. If he didn’t just outright steal the parts he needed, or scrounge them from scrap.

He was an inventor, his state of arrested development not withstanding. Someday he’d invent something great, sell it for lots of money.

He loved his inventions, and believed in his career-to-come as an inventor; but on a daily basis, they did little to boost his mood. The truth was, most days, Rob was feeling very bitter. There was one frustration he just could not get over— one frustration he could not get past, and he was thinking of it all the time— in his final year of high school, and in that spring, he had asked Taylor to the prom, and she had rejected him.

It had been some three years since that rejection had happened, and it still smarted— it still burned and festered in him. The sticking point, the thing he just could not get past. And though here and there, there were moments in which he completely invested in his inventing work and lost himself in the process— those were only brief distractions, and then he was back to feeling bitter about Taylor’s rejection again.

It was why he always wanted to hear news of her, hear gossip centering around her as a subject. Why he always asked after her. She’d rejected him, and it had made him obsessed with her— he could not get over that it had happened, could not move on from it, or from her— he had been unable to have her, so now he had to settle for hearing snippets of commentary for her. That was all of her that he got— and he was so, so bitter about that, bitter every day.

It was a day like any other today, and Rob was waking up— he sat up in bed and thought of Taylor immediately, as was typical of her.

He thought back to her, how she had been at eighteen: with beautiful, voluminous, curly blonde hair that had hung to her shoulders— the face of a sweetheart, and a full, healthy body, well-muscled and well-toned; a body she’d known how to dress and show off.

Her personality had been something special about her, too.

At eighteen, she’d been a goody-goody— and a very religious person. In those days, Taylor and Rob had been friends— and despite the fact that she wore a cross around her neck and carried a bible with the rest of her schoolbooks— it had really seemed to Rob that she’d liked him. She’d talked about her faith, sure, but she’d talked about other things too— she would laugh with him, playfully bat at his arm or shove him. All the signs of attraction had been there.

So Rob had thought it was a sure thing she would say yes to him.

But on that fateful day, she’d told him she wouldn’t let herself do something she considered wrong. He’d pressed her, and she’d elaborated— if they went to prom she’d be tempted to kiss him, and dance with him— do things she should really save for her husband one day— she wouldn’t put herself in that kind of temptation.

And every day, Rob burned in bitterness.

It was some consolation that he was still following along with what was happening her life— that he knew what was going on with her. Through his carefully placed questions to varying and never repeated sources, he had a clear image of what her life entailed. So clear that he was fairly sure he could predict her schedule by the day— and all this without ever actually seeing her or physically following her anywhere. It had been a skill of accumulating information intel.

To the outside observer, Taylor was also failing to meet the challenge of adult life— though Rob was fairly certain she never would have thought of it that way. She had not taken a typical post-secondary path anymore than Rob had. She had not gone to any kind of post-secondary institution: not a university, not a college, not a trade school. And she also had not gotten a job: no retail position or fast-food position— no thankless position like that that eventually led to the managerial track or to a job offer in a better field for better pay. Taylor still lived at home with her parents— and she didn’t have many hobbies. The only thing Taylor did was go to church— and outside of attending church services, she attended also church functions and church social activities. She was dating chastely— she never kissed any of her boyfriends. It seemed that she was aiming to find a good and upstanding husband to play stay-at-home wife for.

Rob knew this was what Taylor was doing— it made him focus harder on what he was doing. Sometimes he went through phases in his inventing where he had no central project, and he was just picking at things that he had worked on in the past. Things that didn’t quite work, or that had otherwise disappointed him and failed their own potential.

He wasn’t in any kind of phase like this now. He had a central project. A device he’d worked very hard on. Taylor was dating her good upstanding man and getting serious about him— and Rob was finalizing his device. He was down to the last few issues with it and was sorting through them at an impressive rate of speed. That was where all his focus was— and any time he surfaced, went out into the community, either to acquire invention-parts or the necessities of life, he heard of Taylor and her growing serious— through the careful posing of under-the-radar questions, and it further motivated him. It made him work harder. Then he’d go home and work with renewed determination— he had to get through the last few issues, he had to make his device perfect, had to make sure it was in its final form— had to make sure it would stay like that— that it was equipped to do everything he expected of it.

Any time he flagged in energy or felt tired— he only thought of Taylor getting serious. It energized him.

He’d spent so much time like this recently— rushing to get this project to its final end-state. And now, this day, here he was— he felt like he was truly finished. He was finished, and he had finished not one moment too soon. He knew Taylor was getting serious with her beau she was dating so chastely— he’d been tracking that for weeks. But the gossip had taken a turn in the past few days. People weren’t only talking about the fact that Taylor and this guy were dating. Now they were saying that it seemed like Taylor wanted to marry him— and it seemed like he wanted to marry her, too. There was even some talk that he was planning to go ring shopping for her soon— and if he actually bought her a ring, a proposal couldn’t be far behind at all. That relationship was getting serious, and Rob couldn’t help but feel that if Taylor and her guy got married, it would be too late.

So, lucky that he’d just finished his device. Lucky it was ready— and that so far the gossip was only that Taylor was going to be proposed to— not that she already had been.

He surveyed his device— perfect, and it would suit his timing well enough. And everything had worked out perfectly, lined up just the way he needed it, and just in time for him. There was enough time, still, to prevent any marriage of Taylor’s from going forwards.

He had his device ready— now all he needed was Taylor’s presence. He still knew her phone number— she was a pretty constant person, and hadn’t changed it over the course of the past few years. With the device ready, he finally felt able to break the long silence that had been between them.

He took out his own phone, and dialed her number.

She answered on the third ring, but evidently, didn’t recognize the number he’d called her from. He had changed his number in the past few years.

“Who is this?” Taylor asked— and her voice was as sweet as he remembered.

“It’s Rob, Taylor. Listen— before you hang up—” He said it to pre-empt her, but she didn’t seem in any rush to do as he feared.

“I wanted to say something to you after all this time,” he went on, since it was clear she was allowing him to talk, and actually listening.

“Go on,” she said.

“I’m sorry I asked you to the prom,” he lied. “I knew how important your beliefs were to you— and how special our friendship was. I never should have put you in that position, and I ruined our whole friendship as a result.”

She’d had an icy front to begin with, but he thought he could hear it melting over the phonecall line.

“It’s alright, Rob,” Taylor said. “I could have handled things better, too. I’ve missed having you as my friend these last few years. I’ve been waiting for you to call and say something like this to me all this time.”

“So we’re friends again?” Rob asked. Taylor was so sweet he never for one second should have imagined this as a hard goal to achieve.

“Of course, Rob,” Taylor said.

“Then did you want to spend some time together as friends?” He asked. The hope in his voice wasn’t even fake. “You could come over and we could watch some television together. Maybe play a game or two later.”

“That sounds really nice, Rob. Would it work to do it tonight?”

Rob smiled to himself. “It’ll work perfectly.”

“I’ll come over at about six, then, okay?”

“See you then,” Taylor, and the call was over.

The amount of trust she was willing to bestow on people— that made things so much easier for him. She hadn’t suspected anything untoward— not at any point in the conversation.

He put his phone away, and busied himself. He had to be ready for later.

Taylor was an honest and reliable person— she was there at six o’clock, as she had promised. After a hug of greeting, Rob showed Taylor inside, and led her to his device.

He’d set it up in the living-room, and hung it on the wall across from his couch. Of course, when he indicated it to her, to Taylor, it only looked like she was looking at a tv-screen. Rob had specifically designed it to resemble one. It nearly duplicated a more typical flatscreen television. It looked like it was expensive, just that expanse of black on the wall.

Of course, once it was turned on, it didn’t work like a tv at all.

“Why don’t you sit down on the couch, Taylor?” Rob invited her to do. “Once you’re sitting comfortably, I’ll turn the screen on, and then I’ll join you.”

So far Taylor seemed completely unsuspicious. She sat herself down on the couch, and Rob pressed the button on the side to activate the device.

Taylor looked at the screen— expecting to see some cable channel come on— or maybe a homescreen full of apps— but that wasn’t what happened. She wondered if something was wrong with the tv— she hoped Rob hadn’t just bought it recently, only to find now it didn’t work. Or maybe that would be better! There’d still be a chance for him to return it under warranty, maybe.

Clearly something was wrong with it— it sat black, showing no image, and then it suddenly flashed white— the entire screen at once— such a sharp, biting white Taylor thought it was burning her retinas. Then it sat black— flashed white— it seemed like a two or three second cycle, black to white, black to white, like constant flash photographs being taken by flash cameras, burning, burning her eyes but she couldn’t seem to close them or blink and shield them— the tv flashed white and— it played a soundtrack— a low, sounding tone that was continuous.

Taylor’s mind was inundated with the sound of that tone. That constant, continuing tone that didn’t quite sound musical— didn’t quite sound like a pitch, and yet was impossible to stop listening to.

And her eyes were inundated with the flashes of white coming from the screen— white to black to white to black; and the tone the only constant. The sporadic nature of the flashes made her latch on to the sound she could always expect to find on— that reliable tone.

She felt disoriented. She’d come over here… to watch television… with Rob who was her friend again. A straightforward plan. But something… had gone wrong. The plan had… fallen through. She was watching a screen, but there was something wrong with… what was happening… She kept trying to pinpoint what it was that was so off about her circumstances.

Every time she tried it, though, she heard the tone again and it captured her focus. And every time she tried it, she saw the flashing— it captured her focus.

She was watching a screen, wasn’t that good enough? Close enough to what she’d intended? Why couldn’t she shake the feeling that things had gone wrong? The feeling that something else was supposed to be happening now, but it wasn’t. If only… that… other thing… could have been happening, that was what was supposed to be happening— even if she couldn’t say exactly what that missing thing was.

The flashing caught her attention. The tone did, too.

Rob watched Taylor as she looked up at his device. Her eyes were wide as they took in the flashes of white— he almost thought he could see those flashes reflecting back in her irises. And as she sat there watching, he thought she had never looked more beautiful. Her plush-looking lips just parted, as if she had been caught in deep thought— she had been caught by deep thoughts, but she didn’t know what they were yet, consciously.

He could have moved over to the couch and sat beside her. He had designed the device so he was immune to it— he had been precise in his science. He could sit next to her and stare at the screen for hours, and it would do nothing to him.

The appeal of moving close to her, then would be— closeness to her. He could hold her— as she sat there looking so beautiful, he wanted her so much. So painfully much. But he wouldn’t move over there. This was the best vantage-point to view her from— to see what was happening to her. And he had a very specific plan. He was only going to expose her for an extremely specific period of time— and not one second longer. And that would be the only exposure she would get today. So he wanted to be nearby, and ready to shut the device off at the second Taylor completed her allotted exposure time. He would stand exactly where he was.

Taylor was still watching the screen. She felt, somehow, like she was learning so much. Normally, this was how she felt in her bible study group. Or her church’s book club— like her mind was being expanded and so many new ideas and so much learning was coming into it. But she couldn’t tell what the ideas were, now— or where they were coming from, how they were coming to her.

It was a nice feeling though. Like her mind was being stretched to make room for new things, all the new things it was holding, now. Her eyes focused on the white flashing, again. It made her feel… so comforted. She didn’t have to worry about anything now. Didn’t have to think about anything, either. Everything was going to fall into place for her. Everything was going to be taken care of— all decisions made on her behalf— and all those ways in which she needed to change— she’d be helped to change in them.

The tone that kept playing was comforting, too. The flashes were inconsistent— sometimes they were there, and sometimes they weren’t. It was like being happy sometimes, and sometimes sad other times, never knowing when one feeling would resolve into the other and ruin everything that had happened before. So she was unsettled by the flashing. But she could count on the tone. It was always going to be there. She could trust it.

Listening to it made her feel more than comforted, though.

It made her feel… like she wanted to relax. Because of her faith, she was always so worried about doing the right thing, so worried about preventing all possible mistakes. And she was preoccupied with high-minded ideals and principle. Listening to the tone made her feel like she could just sink into the couch and enjoy herself. For once, she could be thinking about what felt good. For once, she could be thinking about what was fun. And it was fun, just to sit here. Sit here and listen and watch.

She was starting to feel a bit of a buzzing in her body… as if her body, as one unit, was choosing to hum to itself. She’d never tried alcohol— but was this what people felt like after they’d had one drink? It was nice, nice to be looser, not so tightly in control of herself— not so worried about being good. She hoped she could keep watching the flashes, and keep hearing the tone.

Then, the screen switched off. The tone she’d come to rely on stopped playing.

Taylor looked around the room, a bit blearily. Oh, that was right. Rob was there, next to the tv. This was his house.

Normally, Taylor would have felt more shy— she’d been out of touch with him for some years. She didn’t fully understand why, but she felt completely comfortable. Like she could talk to him with no awkwardness at all— talk to anyone with no awkwardness at all.

But Rob didn’t start up conversation with her. A bit unusually for her, her mind was giving her lots of conversation topics to put to use, but there were so many it was taking her a minute to sort through them.

And then Rob was sitting on the couch next to her. He leaned forward and gave her a peck on the lips.

She started. She had never been kissed before— it wasn’t supposed to happen until her wedding day. But there was no sense of panic. That’d been… fun. When Rob leaned in again, clearly for another kiss, she found herself letting him.

Their kisses quickly became more than pecks— they went deeper into each other’s mouths, and when Rob slid one hand between her thighs and placed the other on her breast, again there was no panic, no desire for him to stop. It was just… fun… so Taylor went along with it. Simply enjoying herself— and finding that to be a pleasant experience.

After some more of this fun, Rob finally pulled back.

“This has been a good time, right? You’ve enjoyed it? Making out with me?”

Taylor felt herself flush with happiness. She nodded eagerly.

“Want to have some more fun?”

Again Taylor nodded— then was surprised when Rob helped her to her feet, and led her out of his home.

He had a pretty nice car, but it didn’t look like any car-brand she’d ever seen. Once they were inside, Rob drove them across town, and parked outside of a bar. Taylor had never been to a bar before, either, but she’d meant what she’d said about having more fun. It felt like an easy transition to go inside with Rob, and sit at the bar itself. Felt easy too, to laugh with him and talk; and try the different shots of alcohol he kept buying her so she could “sample a variety,” as he said.

It made the night go by quickly, because it was entertaining.

Some hours later, Taylor was feeling very tipsy, and she was leaning on Rob in the street. Rob leaned in close to Taylor’s ear.

“You know what else would be fun, Taylor?”

“Whaaaa?” Taylor laughed back at him.

“If you got a tattoo.”

Something she had never even considered before today— but when she thought about it, it just made her laugh more. She nodded through her laughter.

There was a tattoo-parlor just down the street, so they walked. Taylor’s head was spinning a bit, but when they gave her a laminated sheet of images to choose from, she was still able to indicate wanting the nice, pink heart, and indicate that she wanted it under her ear at the start of her neck.

It hurt, but it was a small heart, and Rob let her squeeze his hand all the way through getting it.

Back outside, Rob called them a cab, and then cryptically told Taylor that his own car would “get home by itself.”

Once they had gotten back to Rob’s home, Rob didn’t so much as say goodnight to Taylor. Instead, he went into his room, and closed the door in such a way that made it clear she was not welcome to go in after him.

Taylor sat down on the couch. She could sleep here if necessary, but she wasn’t particularly tired. She thought of how fun it had been to watch Rob’s tv earlier. She sat down on the couch and turned it on.

She watched it. She listed to the tone it played. The more she watched it the more she felt her eyes were opening wider to take in what it was showing her even more. She kept watching— the hours of the night streaked by— Taylor held in the cocoon of the tv’s display, feeling she was being swaddled in white.

On impulse, at probably about six or seven in the morning, Taylor stood, walked to the tv, and turned it off. She felt very sober, like the tv had somehow dried the alcohol out of her.

She walked to Rob’s door, and knocked on it.

“Yeah?” Came Rob’s groggy groan.

“Thanks for letting me stay over here,” she told him. “But I have some things I need to get done today. I have to go.”

There was a non-committal noise of further grogginess. Taylor left.

She did have things to do. On that, she picked up the hobby of going to get herself inked. The lewder, the better— graphic scenes of explicit sex, written phrases of filth. It took her a few months, but she eventually got her entire body covered in tattoos like this— everything except her face. She also had herself pierced— multiplied places in her ears, through her nipples, along the lips of her labia, and through her clit.

She came to her next project then: she wanted a job as a pornstar. With such a beautifully decorated body, she really did have an obligation to show off.

She eventually found a modestly side independent pornography studio— and after making it clear how desperate she was, they agreed to give her her own special series of porn movies to star in. She got to work filming with them.

The first video in the series had Taylor working with two male partners. The entire time, one of the cameras was aiming at her face— from the angle it was titled, there was no way it was showing anything lower than her chin.

The other cameras were focusing on the two men starring with her. Both of them were jerking themselves quickly in their hands— Taylor was down on her knees, both of them standing in front of her. They jerked a little faster, and then the two of them were shooting her in the face with their spunk— all of it directly onto her face, nowhere else. She had her eyes closed, and her mouth open. It felt like a baptism, to be bathed in ejaculate like this.

When they were finally done, she opened her eyes— and noticed the camera was panning down. Now they were showing the entirety of her naked body— the rest of which was bare, and not covered up by anything.

When the cameras finished rolling, they brought her a towel to wipe her face off with.

The second movie they filmed, there was already some feedback from the first movie in the series they had put out.

“It was well-received,” the director commented to the crew. “They really liked seeing Taylor take it on the face. She seems so chaste at first— just like a wholesome, beautiful next-door neighbor. And then her face just gets covered— and then the camera pans down and shows all her filthy tattoos and piercings. It really surprised the audience— Taylor seeming so virtuous and wholesome when looking at her face, and then turning out to be an extreme, depraved slut when the rest of her body is shown. It was a good twist, and a good gimmick. From the neck down, Taylor, you really do come across as a whore.”

Taylor flushed as if she’d been given the sweetest compliment. “Thank you!”

“So we’ll stick with that gimmick for now,” the director concluded.

The second video went much like the first, but Taylor didn’t mind. She loved the feeling of having her face blasted with cum. The second it hit her, it seemed to open things in her mind, send them cascading.

The third video, they made sure that Taylor was penetrated first. They had her on her back, on the floor, and her partner for the video straddled her first before sticking his cock deep into her pussy.

Taylor let out a gasp that was completely genuine. This was the first time she had ever had vaginal intercourse— this was the first she’d ever had physical sex— her virginity going in this moment— and it hurt, but it felt so good. It felt the way it felt to be blasted in the face. It unlocked something in her mind, and sent things cascading out from it. There had been something buried in her— she wasn’t sure what had put it in there. But the pleasure, the fucking brought it out— and once it was out, all she knew was how much she wanted to keep getting fucked— she wanted to get fucked more.

For the fourth video, she requested partners with even bigger dicks, and requested that she be penetrated in two holes at once.

She’d thought it was a religious experience to be penetrated just in her pussy— but getting taken in the ass while her pussy was being fucked was somehow even better. As in all her videos, no one finished inside her— they pulled out and spent it on her face instead— but it was good riding while both those cocks were in her. For her fourth video, she requested a third cock for her mouth. That experience was even more divine. Her pussy being stretched out, her ass being stretched out, another cock stuffed down her throat. All of her holes were so greedy— they wanted penetration, deeper, harder, better— and the more she got fucked, the more that buried things within her seemed to be unearthed. And when they came up she was only more voracious for fucking. Her lust seemed like a bottomless pit— and even taking three cocks at once, or, as in her sixth video, taking three cocks and then working two more with her hands— it just wasn’t enough. How could it ever be enough, when every fucking was so perfect?

Yet, that perfection only revealed new experiences to her that she could and should be having.

As the filming of the seventh video was starting, Taylor considered what she had to look forward to. There were five men standing around her— she’d have to service all five of them. They were basically repeating that again, since that particular video had been so popular.

But even though each of the men involved was very well-endowed, Taylor felt a sinking disappointment. None of it would make her feel stuffed enough— she wanted to feel as if her vagina were about to burst.

She shook her head. “This isn’t going to be enough.”

The director called a break and came over. “There’s a problem, Taylor?”

“None of these cocks are going to stuff me enough.” A flash of inspiration struck her— another cascade falling inside, something buried being further unearthed. “I want someone to fist me.”

They changed the plan— instead, again, they put Taylor on the ground— and only one man with her, sitting alongside her, with his hand between her legs, and the camera zoomed in.

One finger went in first— and then a second. After so much penetration, and with where her cravings had gotten to, it barely felt like anything. The third and fourth fingers went in— then Taylor finally gasped when she felt her pussy swallow around the man’s wrist. Then she screamed, as she felt him curling his fingers back into a fist— then he was, essentially, punching her inside, and her vagina was choking around him— so close as to be skintight.

In the next video, Taylor demanded to be fisted in her pussy and her ass at the same time. When both fists were in her, it really felt as if she might rupture— as if the wall between her pussy and ass might tear, because there was simply too much pressure— but it was the most satisfied she’d ever been in her life. And paradoxically it made her more cravenly desperate.

After that fists weren’t enough. Taylor started demanding dildos. But they to be ginormous, humongous dildos. They had to be a size bigger every shoot than the dildos she had last used. That was the only way to keep pace with her cravings. But all her videos did so well, these requests were accommodated.

Since that day that Rob had invited Taylor over, he had lost track of her. And it wasn’t for lack of effort— he’d been asking around, trying to feel out the gossip about her, in order to locate her. There was only so much the gossip could tell him.

She wasn’t going to church anymore— and wasn’t living with her parents, either. She’d broken up with the good godly man she’d been getting ready to marry— but all of it had happened quickly.

In brief interactions where she had not explained anything to anyone. After that, she’d just disappeared. So it was only the same few bits of gossip that were circulating about her. She moved out of her parents house. She broke up with that guy. She stopped going to church— no one knew anything more than that.

This was frustrating to Rob, because it had effectively ruined his plan. He’d scheduled out device-doses for Taylor to absorb at specific times. But now he couldn’t expose her anymore. She’d gotten only that one first dose, and nothing else. His plan was ruined, and he couldn’t even figure out where Taylor was now. He tried calling her last known phone number, but it seemed she must have changed phones or stopped using it, because when he called it now it only gave him an out of service message.

He had to resort to more old-fashioned ways of looking for her. But the weeks went by, and there was no trace of her. He was haunted by the conversation he’d had with her while he’d been half-asleep— the conversation in which she simply told him that she was going, and she had things to do. He didn’t know anything more than that.

A few months later, it finally occurred to Rob that he should go back to the tattoo-parlor he’d taken Taylor too that night they’d gone drinking. He hadn’t been able to expose Taylor to anymore doses of his device, that was true. But she had absorbed that first dose. She’d thought getting tattooed was fun. So he might as well check there.

When he arrived, he was shocked to find that Taylor actually was there. The feeling of shock grew as he considered her. She was naked in the center of the parlor— covered in filthy tattooed images and phrases— all over her body, except her face. And her body was pierced, now, too— that would have been slutty enough, but Taylor was surrounded by every tattoo artist from the parlor.

“I want to say thank you for giving me all of these,” Taylor was saying. “So fuck me. I’m begging you. One of you put your fist in my pussy, and another one of you put a fist in my ass. Then I can take someone in my mouth— and you can do whatever you want with the rest of my body.”

It was clear, from how flushed everyone was, that this was going to be the second round— they’d already gangbanged her once, probably with their cocks— and now she wanted something else.

What bizarre world had Rob stumbled into? Since when did Taylor participate in gangbangs, let alone beg men to go a second round with her?

And still, Rob couldn’t deny how excited it made him to see Taylor acting this way, like she was just a wanton fuckslut desperate to be penetrated as fully as possible. It was out of character, considering who she’d been before he’d ever exposed her to his device. It was out of character even for the slightly-changed woman she’d been after being exposed to one dose of device-influence.

Rob watched as the gangbang went on— thinking. His plan had fallen apart, and yet somehow Taylor had ended up exactly as he wanted her to be, even without further exposure to the device. He hadn’t dosed her that much, so…

But wait. What exactly had happened that night when she had stayed over? She had left before Rob woke up— but what might have happened before her departure? If she had watched the tv by herself, unsupervised… could that explain how she had ended up like this?

As Rob watched Taylor take a fist up her ass and pussy simultaneously, it seemed to him that this was the only possible explanation for all present facts.

Finally, the tattoo artists were done with Taylor, and she was left to scramble her way back into her scant and skimpy clothing.

No one had so far noticed Rob’s presence, but as Taylor was finishing getting dressed, he walked over to her.

“Taylor,” he said— and she looked up at him, skirt back on, and top pulled halfway down.

“Rob!” She exclaimed, brightly.

“I saw you taking what those men gave you.”

Taylor smiled knowingly. “Did it make you jealous?”

Rob shook his head. “It made me hard. Obviously you have a talent for submitting to sex. Are you doing anything to tap in to that talent?”

Taylor flashed Rob another smile. “I star in porn movies.”

Rob’s mind reeled, but with his heightened intelligence he could think quickly on the fly.

“It’s not something you have complete control over, right? You still have to answer to people from the studio, don’t you?”

Taylor looked thoughtful. She pulled her shirt the rest of the way on. “I never thought about that,” she said.

“I could design you a website,” Rob said. “You could have complete control over everything you made. You could even livestream on it. What are your thoughts about us doing this? You could come back and live with me, and we could run that website together. We’ll still arrange it so you get fucked by as many partners as possible. We’ll make sure that, for you, the fucking never stops. When we’re not filming videos, the stream could be going for so many hours in the day. All you getting all your holes fucked— for hours— what do you think?”

In the end, Taylor decided she liked Rob’s idea. She moved in with him, and using his technological expertise, he easily set up her website for her. She had quit at the porn studio she’d been working at before, shortly after Rob had made her website live. She found she was making a lot more money now that the funds didn’t have to be split between studio executives and crew— the money was mostly split between her and Rob equally, with a smaller chunk of it going to pay whoever was fucking her that day.

A few months had gone by now, since Taylor had started releasing through her own website, and she was finally starting to adjust to it, and to fully enjoy her work. Today, Rob had the camera set up to film a video— and the men she’d be filming with had all arrived too— so thickly hung it would be delicious to have them inside her— but she was almost more excited for what was going to happen after they left.

“I’m ready,” Rob called, manning the camera.

Two of the men approached her, and Taylor got up into kneeling— one man kneeled in front of her, and the other behind. Her breaths were stuttering as the first thick cock was pushed into her. As more of it came in, more lubrication poured out— and more arousal built up inside of her. It was hardly anything compared to some of the things she’d been penetrated with— her pussy was used to taking in much larger things. But she was particularly keyed up in this moment, so even though this man wasn’t practically tearing her as he went in, she still felt oversensitive to his entry, which had her breathing the way that she was. And it was just because her baseline was so abnormal that she was able to take him easily— any other woman, any other woman who wasn’t obsessed with stuffing huger and huger things inside of herself, would have been grunting in pain to take a man as big as this one.

Once he was in, she was even more sensitive, so taking the cock up her ass had her quivering and shaking and breathing in halting pants. For a while they fucked her— and finished by blasting her in the face. But finally, the video came to an end— the men left— and Rob turned on the tv.

He set the camera up in front of it, so it was looking at her as she looked up at the tv behind and above it. Rob had told her he’d changed the tv, so that just watching it would persuade her brain into making sleep brainwaves even while she was waking. She didn’t have to sleep anymore. She could stare at the tv, as the camera streamed live at all hours of the day on its automatic setting, She could unthinkingly stuff herself with huge dildos, masturbating over and over while watching.

She took the first huge one, eyes locked on white, and began to fuck herself as her brain slept awake.