The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Scott rolled over onto his side... then gasped, coming awake as he fell off the bed onto the floor. Groggy, he sat up, glancing around, confusion marring his face. Even without his glasses, he could see that he was NOT in his bedroom. For one thing, the right side of his bed from which he’d fallen usually sat against the wall. Reaching up for the night stand, he found a small sheet of paper. Huh. Strange. I can see a lot clearer than usual. The serum seems to be improving my eyes on top of everything else. Checking out his surroundings, he noticed that he was lying in a hotel room of some kind—the Marriot, it appeared, from the logo on the sheet of paper he held in his hands. Brushing aside the sleep and confusion, squinting enough to be able to see clearly, he read the note, written in a very familiar script:

Hey, Scotty!

Sorry to stick you with clean-up duty again, old pal, but things got a little but out of control last night. Not to worry, though, I took care of all the loose ends for you, so no need to worry. Now, there are a few things you need to know. Try not to panic or flip out, but, well, for starters... it’s Wednesday morning—

“We...Wednesday?!?” Scott exclaimed, dropping the letter, rushing over to the TV, turning it on. MSNBC blared to life on the screen, and sure enough, the date listed showed today was Wednesday, the 18th. The remote slipped out of his hands, and he sat down, hard, on the bed, staring at the screen in disbelief. “How? Wednesday? The eighteenth?!? How the hell could I have lost an entire week? I mean... it was Sunday, the eighth last I checked! I was just leaving the hospital where I’d dropped of samples of my blood to be tested... I’d taken a drink of Yoo-hoo...” Frowning, a sudden suspicion popping into his head, he retrieved the note, reading back to where he’d stopped.

—which you have likely discovered for yourself now that you’ve calmed down. Secondly, I have to admit to tricking you. I spiked your Yoo-hoo with the serum from the lab. Yes, I know, it was a dirty rotten trick to play on you, and you’re probably pissed—

“Pissed? You have no idea how pissed off I am!” Scott growled to himself. “I can’t believe you spiked my drink! For all you know, that serum might have been poisonous if taken by mouth! It was enough of a stretch just injecting it into my blood stream!” Angry, he picked up the note and continued reading.

—but if you weren’t so upset, you would accept the logic of doing so. One, we needed to test the effectiveness of it being taken orally; two, it is obviously not poisonous to your body’s organs else taking it intravenously would have affected you long before now; and three, considering the fact that knowing you as well as I know myself, I know you were thinking of holding off on more test trails, and refraining from taking the serum, until you could better isolate exactly what the effects were. And that would have meant keeping me bottled up as well, a prisoner inside your body and mind, unable to interact with the world. And while I can understand your concerns, you need to understand mine. Our body is now a time-share, Professor Scott, and if I’m paying rent here, I deserve equal use of the facilities.

You are probably very concerned about missing work the past week—

“Huh. I’m more concerned about the missing memories of the past ten days of my life,” Scott murmured softly, before continuing to read.

—but don’t worry, I squared things away with the ‘Dragon Lady’. As it’s not completely unheard of to have a visiting ‘guest Professor’ from out of town give a lecture or two, she actually jumped at the chance to have me take over your class for a couple of days. Seems she is a bit too preoccupied with her little ‘side venue’ at the moment to care very much about the goings on in your department.

Scott sighed softly. From the sound of things, his other half hadn’t done much, if anything, to his boss, Miranda Dixon, the one person that he actually would have done something to, had he been in Buddy’s shoes. Still, it was heartening to know that he still had a job at the University, and that Miss Dixon was running into problems with her special project even with all the research data he had turned over to her.

Oh, and just so you don’t think I shirked my other responsibilities, I went in to the hospital on Tuesday and got those blood samples you wanted, as well as persuading some of my other ‘friends’ affected by my charisma to volunteer blood samples as well. All the data and results are back at the apartment in the bedroom on the desk for your perusal. Hope it helps. Believe it or not, Scotty, we’re both in this together. I need to understand what is happening here as much as you do. I just don’t want to sit on the bench while you find the answers.

—Buddy.

Contemplating his doppelganger’s words, Scotty slid out of bed, and made his way to the bathroom. A quick shower and dressing and he was ready to check out. He tried very hard not to think about everything that Buddy had mentioned in that note, and tried even harder not to dwell on the things he hadn’t mentioned. Knowing his other side’s penchant for what he termed as ‘fun’, he shuddered to even think about what he might have accomplished with ten free days to run amok.

Instead, he focused his attention on contemplating the effects of the serum he had ingested on Sunday. Was the effect stronger for having swallowed it instead of injecting it into his bloodstream? It had certainly taken effect a lot faster; he had changed in less than a minute after draining the bottle dry, whereas it taken close to half an hour to change after an injection. Plus his eyesight had drastically improved, as well as his complexion. Was his natural state reconfiguring to adapt to the serum? Or... perhaps the effect was cumulative, speeding up as his body became used to the serum affecting his genetic structure, leading to a faster, smoother transition.

“Or perhaps it was because it was mixed with the Yoo-hoo,” he thought aloud, starting his shiny red rental car, backing out, and entering the highway. It irked him to no end, knowing he’d been tricked by, essentially, himself. Guess I’ll have to restock my supply to Yoo-hoo, he thought, more annoyed than anything else. Oh well. no use crying over spilt... er... chocolate drink. At least he got the data I needed. And since Wednesdays are my day off, I don’t have to go in to the office, I can devote all of my time reviewing the data.

“GODDAMMIT!” Nick Farnsworth growled, ripping the sheet of paper in his hands in half, tossing the pieces into the growing pile in front of the trash can. The thick green slime bubbling up from the beaker seemed to mock him even as the computer readout he’d ripped apart seemed to, and with a roar, he picked it up and threw it across the room to the far wall. Janet, one of his assistants, yelped, jumping back, barely avoiding being splashed with the viscous liquid, turning to glare at the research head only to shrink back at the look on his face.

“How the FUCK,” he hissed, walking back over to the whiteboard covered with chemical formulae, “is this so difficult? We have the goddamn formula right here on the board in front of us! We know what we’re making. We even have a tiny bit of the final product to compare it to. So... how the HELL can we not recreate one simple little complex hydrocarbon chain molecule?!?” he shouted, slapping he whiteboard with his open palm. The seven other scientists in the room simply stared at him silently, no one willing to voice the obvious: that creating hydrocarbon molecules was difficult at best, and synthesizing a specific, stable, and viable molecule was exceedingly difficult. After all, if creating a synthetic copy was so easy once you had the formula, the government would have created a cheaper alternative to gasoline and oil years ago.

Grumbling to himself, Nick stomped back into his office and slammed the door behind himself. Things hadn’t progressed nearly as easily as he’d hoped. The formula he was attempting to recreate was one he’d discovered previously by accident in his own independent research, and one that he had put to good use for a number of years. Truth be told, he couldn’t care less about Dean Dixon’s little ‘perfume project’. His formula would indeed grab the attention of anyone who inhaled it, causing a state of fascination, and increased suggestibility. Unfortunately, the supply of the drug he had was extremely limited, and had proved virtually impossible to recreate thus far. Even the samples he’d managed to correctly synthesize had proved unstable, breaking down to their original components after a few hours.

It’s just so frustrating, he thought to himself, grinding his teeth. I finally have all the money and resources I need to recreate my special little formula, and STILL it eludes me! I’ve even tried recreating the damned lab accident that created my original supply, and even THAT failed! He glanced down at the forest green notebook lying on the far side of his desk and scowled. Dammit... even when he’s not here, that bastard is STILL taunting me... fucking asshole. I was the big deal in this department until Pringle showed up, with his greasy skin, and coke bottle glasses... stereotypical nerd! And too damned smart for his own good. Resigned, he grabbed the notebook and began leafing through, glancing over the professor’s notes. Ah, fuck it... at this point, I’d even pick HIS brain for a few new ideas...

Even though he’d scoffed at the man, Nick had to admire his genius. We both used different starting points, but we both arrived at the same place here, around step thirteen. Huh. I wonder how he managed to stabilize a molecular chain that big without it breaking down on him... Flipping through a few paged, he frowned even deeper. What the devil did he do that for? I can’t think of a simple solitary reason for using argon gas in the procedure. Noble gases don’t react, and don’t mix with any of the components he’s listed here... Flipping forward, he shook his head, then paused, blinking, starring again at page eighty-seven. Wait. Hold on a second... that can’t be right. How did he go from there to here? He flipped back and forth between the two, then frowned, contemplating. Could he had used the inert gas as a stabilizer, back there in step seven, as something to keep the molecule from breaking down while he increased the temperature and pressure of his mixture down here in step thirty? That... shouldn’t work... flipping forward again, But somehow it did. Damn. I never would have even BEGUN to think of using that approach. Hmmm... I wonder if it could work with my own little problem. Tossing the notebook back onto his desk, he went back into the laboratory to give his experiment another try.

“Crap. Crap. Crap!” Scott grumbled, placing the file back down. The test results on himself, and the girls Buddy had affected were all conclusive. His formula worked even better than expected. As Buddy, his body produced various different varieties of pheromones, capable of attracting and captivating members of the opposite sex on a biological level. It was confirmed by the blood samples taken from Karen and Elizabeth; regardless of sexual preference or orientation, once exposed to a sufficient enough dose, ANY woman would find herself completely enraptured by his presence. Further, it seemed that any changes made to the women’s psyche during such an enraptured state tended to be permanent, lingering long after exposure had ceased.

All of which he had somewhat expected. The troubling news was the genetic alterations the serum had on him personally. In essence, the serum altered the very structure of his body’s hormonal system, supercharging it to be able to issue forth the various different pheromone clusters he’d created. Changes in hormone levels in turn caused the physical changes he’d undergone, in skin and hair, muscle tone, and even his vision, but also which altered his brain chemistry, causing a rather extreme shift in personality.

He’d briefly considered getting a second opinion, sending the test results and a sample of the formula to a colleague of his in the U.K. , a geneticist named Dr. Meredith, but considering the gravity of his findings, he decided to forego sending Merri any samples at all.

Looks like I was right on target with that Jekyll and Hyde analogy earlier, he thought grimly, wiping his glasses as a nervous reflex. Buddy is basically my dark side, my repressed emotional side, come to life... me, with all of my intellect but without my moral compass. Damn. Well... that settles it. I can’t continue with this research. It’s just too dangerous. Buddy could, conceivably, enslave the entire female population, one group at a time. And that’s him, just by himself. I shudder to think what could happen if he shared the serum with another male... or a female!

Shuddering slightly, he walked over to small sixteen inch freezer in his closet and opened it, removing the test tube rack containing the rest of his serum. He sighed deeply, holding up a vial, staring at it for a moment. Several months’ worth of work, years’ worth of research and study, and a lifelong dream of his to finally be popular, accepted, and looked on as something more than a scrawny little nerd. But it’s just not worth it, he told himself, walking over to the bathroom sink, grabbing a bottle of vinegar on the way. I can’t let this serum fall into the wrong hands... particularly my own. With only a moment’s hesitation, he emptied the five remaining vials into the sink, followed by a healthy dose of vinegar, then flushed the line with hot water for several minutes afterwards, just to be sure. Sighing, he leaned forward, resting his head gently against the bathroom mirror.

“Nice job there, sport. Saving the world and all that. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Scott jerked back, looking around in confusion. “Wh.. What? Who’s there? Who said that?”

“I did, Scotty, old pal.” the voice said again, causing Scott to look around wildly. “Look straight ahead, friend. In the mirror! See?”

Scott looked, then backed away, shaking his head in denial. “N... no. Not possible! You’re... not real! This can’t be real!” He reached out, touching the mirror with one hand, touching his own face with the other. He was still himself, his half-inch thick spectacles over mud brown eyes, visible beneath the mop of shaggy mousy brown hair, and the same greasy, pock-marked face. Yet, directly in front of him, in the mirror, his blonde-haired, grey-eyed, clear skinned alter-ego grinned back at him. “You’re not really there! This... this is a dream... a hallucination!”

Buddy’s reflected rolled it’s eyes. “Gee, Professor, I don’t know if I should be more insulted by the fact that you’re doubting my existence, or that you’re thinking you’ve gone crazy. Probably the latter, since I am you, and I happen to take offense at the insinuation of me being out of my mind.” He shrugged. “Still, since this is the first time we’ve actually ‘met’ this way, face to face, I suppose it’s okay that you’re a bit frazzled.”

Scott took a deep breath, and tried to steady his racing heartbeat. “Okay. So.... Buddy. What is this? How are you able to communicate with me this way? And... what do you want? If this is about me destroying the formula—”

“Oh, Scotty, relax, will you? You seem so tense. You should know by now that I’m not going to hurt you. Far from it! Hurting you would only be hurting myself, after all. And though I have acquainted myself with a number of different fetishes and kinks since being released, I find no appeal whatsoever in masochism. As for destroying the formula,” he shrugged again, “not the move I would have made, personally, but I can’t fault your logic. It is better off destroyed than falling into the wrong hands. I meant what I said about you possibly saving the world by that act. And anyway, it’s not as if I need it anymore...”

That got Scott’s attention. “Wait a second. What do you mean you don’t need the serum anymore?”

Buddy grinned, flashing his trademark smile. “Exactly what I said, Professor. I don’t need it now. The evidence was in the files you read through, though you were obviously so fixated on the details that you completely missed the big picture. The changes to your, er, our genetic structure are permanent. Repeated exposures to the serum only sped up the process, hurried it along, and served as a catalyst for the change, but after that first time, we’ve had the ability to switch places at will at any time. Just like a muscle atrophied from non-use, I merely needed to exercise it a bit.” He chuckled. “Think about it. It’s a simple chemical reaction, after all... similar to the way Bruce Banner would change into the Hulk whenever a surge of adrenaline flooded his blood stream.”

Scott scowled back at his reflection. “So... that makes you my Hulk... a dangerous, unstoppable, force of nature! Except, instead of destroying buildings and property, you destroy people’s lives and relationships... the way you destroyed Patty and her boyfriend’s relationship, or those football players... or the way you changed Elizabeth, turning her into a submissive pain slut. Not to mention what you did to all the others during those ten days I can’t remember!”

Buddy merely shook his head in mock disappointment. “Oh, really, Professor? So now you’re calling me a monster? Well, two things. First, the Hulk was not a monster. He wasn’t a bad guy at all. He was merely misunderstood, looked on and feared because of his power. All he wanted was to be left alone, but everyone always had to bring the fight to him.” He shrugged. “You can’t fault a guy for fighting back or defending himself. Which brings me to my second point. I didn’t destroy any of those girls’ lives. If the changes weren’t exactly... benign, they were in no way harmful. Even turning ‘Lezzie Lizzie’ into a pain slut only served to curtail her anger management issues into a more positive light... and it has vastly improved her and Karen’s sex life.”

“It was still wrong,” Scott insisted, crossing his arms. “It’s one thing to pay someone back for slighting you, or insulting you. It’s another to completely change their lives on a whim. And I can’t let you do that to anyone else. I REFUSE to give up control to you ever again!”

“Ah. Well, that’s too bad,” Buddy said, looking down for moment. “But... not completely unexpected. You see, Scotty,” he said, glancing back at his other self, “I know you very well. I can say, quite honestly, that I know you better than you know yourself. That gives me a bit of an advantage, though... one that I intend to use. Look at me, Scotty... look into my eyes.”

Scott blinked. “Huh? Y... your eyes? Wh... what do you mean?”

“My eyes, Scotty. My perfect clear grey eyes. Much clearer and sharper than yours... mine are grey... cold and grey and empty... so very empty... that a person could just fall into them... fall endlessly... effortlessly... aimlessly... floating in a sea of cool soft endless grey...”

“Endless.... grey?” Scott asked, feeling very floaty. Buddy was right; his eyes were so very grey... deep grey, that seemed to just draw you into it... kind of like a black hole, but without the gravity... pulling at you so gently that you didn’t even realize it until you were caught in its hold...

“Yes, Scott... that’s it... just keep focusing on the grey... ignoring everything else... ignoring how tired your own eyes are getting... ignoring how sleepy and tired and floaty you’re feeling... even ignoring the words I am speaking to you right now... focusing only on the grey... only on the grey... the grey...”

“The... grey...” Scott sighed softly, as the voice speaking those important words muted out, and the world around him faded to grey...