The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Dr. Heather Slick stopped by police headquarters after delivering her paper on necrophilia at a conference of sex experts. Slick noted to herself that while forums on sexually-transmitted diseases had been half-empty, her report on making love to dead people had packed the place.

Although she didn’t think about it, the fact the director of the university’s sexual deviancy department was a 5-foot-10 blonde former international model, probably lured a scientist or two to her speech as well.

Slick had come by to check on the status of the three men who had been found sexually exhausted at Jack’s Pink Palace the day before. As a consultant to the police, her contact was Deputy Commissioner Buff Keeny, a tall, fair-skinned, man in his mid-30s with a mustache who Slick considered harmless if a bit old-fashioned.

“Well, what’s up with our oversexed trio,” said Slick, dressed in a conservative blue pantsuit, much to Keeny’s secret disappointment.

“They’re stable, if a big muddled in the mind still,” said Keeny.

“Any arrests? is there a hearing I should be ready to testify at.”

“No, no one is getting arrested. Apparently it was entirely consensual between those three and the girls from the club, as far as we can tell. Can’t lock someone up for having too much sex.”

“I guess, but there is something not right about this,” said Slick. “For someone to risk their life for sex, it might not be criminal but it isn’t normal. Did any of the men notice anything strange.”

“Not really,” said Keeny, who was pleased to note that Heather was not wearing a bra. “The girls had been doing it with themselves for hours and then when they came began doing it with them.

“The owner said he never realized his girls has such big clit’s before but the only thing he thought odd was that several of his employees he thought were real straight arrows, they hated gay women hitting on them, but here they were tuna fishing.”

“Women discovering they might like sex with another women is hardly news,” said Slick. “When I was a model, I knew daughters of ministers who would be doing each other.”

“Really? got any film of that,” said Keeny as Slick gave him her a frosty look.

“How are the women?” said Slick.

“They’re fine, actually they are back to work already, didn’t miss a day,” said Keeny. “The owner’s had it though, he said someone wanted to turn his place into a lesbian hangout and after this he is accepting the offer. I guess the new owner won’t have to change staff now, huh?”

“Whatever,” she said, although was sort of glad, for research purposes, to have a lesbian strip club now in town. “Anything else up?”

“Well, we had two teenage lesbians screwing each other in the bathroom this morning,” he said. “I wish we had surveillance cameras there. Anyhow, they were reported missing by their parents. They were worried while these two obviously went away to do some secret carpet licking.”

“You told the parents that?” said Heather.

“Nah, didn’t have the heart, told them it was an obviously failed kidnapping and we’d look into it. They want to tell their parents their lesbos that’s on them I figure. Right? you’re the sex expert.”

“Yes Buff, you are quite the sensitive male.”

“Anyhow, how was your conference?” asked Keeny

“Fine, Martha was there,” said Slick.

“Really, old Martha Stewart, huh, was she there as a participant or an exhibit,?” said Keeny with a laugh.

Dr. Martha Satyriasis had been the director of Heather’s department until two year before.

Keeny had thought her a wacko, and he wasn’t the only one, and called her Martha Stewart because he said her motto was “Sex, it’s a good thing”.

Her main thesis was that man spent far less time copulating than any other animal on the planet and there would be less war and violence if everyone had more sex.

Keeny had selected Heather, then deputy director, to be the police’s sex consultant, enraging Satyriasis at the obvious slap in the face.

When Martha had been discovered having an affair with a 17-year-old female intern, Satyriasis was a nice looking brunette but she was pushing 40, the university had quietly let her go.

Since then, Satyriasis had become rich as a best-selling book writer as her “more sex, less war” philosophy did make a good read even if most experts thought it was bunk, the public ate up her work.

“She makes more money then you’ll ever see, now goodbye commissioner,” said Heather as she walked out of his office.

Brittany discovered it was tough to scoop up ice cream with one hand but she had little choice. She had two fingers plunged into her slit underneath her uniform and if she didn’t keep masturbating she knew she would go insane.

Brittany and her equally beautiful fellow cheerleader Debbie had shown up at school that morning with no memory of where they had been all weekend.

While their respective parents worried all Brittany and Debbie could think of the whole day was how their snatch burned to be satisfied. Their new enlarged clits, which they failed to mention to the police out of embarrassment, were driving them into an almost constant sexual frenzy

After the police bathroom incident, Debbie and Brittany had been undaunted and gone on to make love in the principal’s bathroom and in the cheerleaders’ locker during the school day. At the end of cheerleader practice, Debbie and Brittany once again were mad with desire.

They had thought everyone else had left the locker room when they stripped and began playing with each others breasts but Ms. Wallace, the cheerleader coach, had spotted them.

She was fat and around 50 but the two girls were so turned on at that point they grabbed her, stripped her, and boffed her right there, with Debbie licking her pussy while Brittany attacked her from behind.

Unknown to the pair, the next day Brittany and Debbie would be announced as the cheerleader squad’s new co-captains for the following year by Ms. Wallace, who intended to have many “planning sessions” with them in preparation beforehand.

At this point, Brittany could have cared less about being captain, she needed sex and she needed it bad. Debbie was working down the mall at the candy store. She would come when the mall closed but that was hours away and there was no way Brittany would last that long without someone, anyone, giving her a good screwing.

As she continued to work her fingers up and down to relieve the strain somewhat, Brittany knew she looked like hell. She really knew it when a women entered the store, which was empty at the time, munching on some chocolate-covered pretzels.

“Gee, you look like hell,” said the woman

Brittany’s normally luxurious long blonde hair was soaked with sweat and matted to her body. Her face was twisted in anguish and her uniform top was pulled down a bit to get her heated-up body some air. Her large but sweat-soaked breasts were on display in a non-business like fashion.

“I know,” said Brittany with pure agony in her voice. “I—let’s just say I’m waiting for a friend and until she comes I’m not in good shape. I’ll try and help you Miss.”

The woman, she looked about 40 and was a well-dressed slender brunette, stopped munching on her pretzels and licked her lips.

“That’s OK, suddenly I’m not in the mood for Rocky Road,” she said. “...Look, I’m a lesbian and I’m currently unattached. I would be more than happy to go in the back and have sex with you. You look like you could use some and you’re a hottie.”

Four days earlier, Brittany the All-American cheerleader would have been disgusted at the thought of having sex with a woman, even more with a woman twice her age and she would never think of goofing off on the job.

“Thank you!!” said Brittany as she ran to put the Closed sign on the door.

There was a sofa bed in the office and Brittany quickly pulled it out. She and the women quickly shed their clothes.

Brittany was so sexed up she went straight to the woman’s sex and began lapping at her pussy. The woman began pinching and kneading Brittany’s breasts, taking great delight in the large mounds.

Brittany began rubbing the women’s ass, with great encouragement as the woman continued to pinch Brittany’s nipples and rub her breasts.

It took only a few minutes before Brittany came. Having been without sex for a few hours had pent up a lot of her sex juices and they poured out.

“Allow me” said the woman as she pushed Brittany down and began licking the cum that remained off her nether lips. She had lapped up every drop when her hips began bucking and she orgasmed.

“That was great,” said the heavily panting woman. “Uh, you still look horny. You want to do it some more?”

“Yes please,” said Brittany whose polite tone belied the fact her cumming had done little to douse the fire raging in her slit. She wanted to have A LOT more sex.

The pair went into a “69” with tongue’s eagerly licking each other. In addition, the woman slipped a couple fingers into Brittany’s loose ass crack and began working her anally as well, much to Brittany’s delight as she moaned her approval.

It did not take long for Brittany to squeal with another orgasm and the woman shortly followed.

In the next half-hour Brittany and the woman orgasmed two more times as cum and sweat was splashed all over them.

Her vagina briefly dry of juice, Brittany for the first time all day could gather her thoughts a bit and she softly began to cry.

“What’s wrong honey? Did I do something wrong,” asked the concerned woman.

“No,” whimpered Brittany, her large breasts now heaving up and down quickly with her crying, which secretly delighted the woman. “It’s just that I can’t live every day like this, having to have sex every hour or go crazy.

“I love Debbie, she’s my girlfriend, and I love sex but if I have to keep this up a few more days I’ll kill myself or I’ll be killed. You seem nice but you could have been a maniac and I’d still have sex with you, and I’d be dead now.”

“I never thought of that,” said the woman, with a note of true wonder in her voice. “You’re an exceptional young woman Brittany and Debbie is lucky to have you. Sex shouldn’t mean risking being hacked to pieces by some man.”

“You can help me, somehow?” asked Brittany with red-rimmed eyes, forgetting she was still naked.

“Let’s just say I know a magic phrase that helps people in your condition,” said the woman, who began putting on her clothes.

She handed Brittany a sealed envelope.

“Will you see Debbie soon?”

“In an hour.”

“When she comes, open this envelope and both of you say three times fast the words on the card inside and then destroy it. I think it will help.”

“Thanks—I didn’t get your name.”

“Martha, now I gotta go.”

When Debbie arrived Brittany could tell she had been as sexually suffering as her. Her beautiful red hair was frizzed from dried sweat and her lips tightly pursed in a grimace. She was out of her candy uniform and in her “have sex with Brittany” uniform. A tank top with no bra and jeans shorts.

In her excitement at seeing her lesbian lover, Brittany had briefly forgotten about the envelope and the pair began deeply French kissing and caressing each other breasts.

“Forget sleep Brit, just fuck me until the sun comes up,” panted Debbie

As they were about to shuck what little clothes they had on and get down to eating each other out, Brittany remembered and reached over for the envelope.

“Hey Deb, if we say three times fast what’s written in this envelope, a lady says we won’t be sex-crazed animals every minute. Do you want that?”

“I don’t mind having sex with you every minute, Brit., if I could figure out how to do it and like, go to school and have a life—but I don’t think there is. I guess you should open it.”

The wholesome teen homosexual lovers each slung an arm around each other’s shoulder and held tight as Brittany opened the envelope. They both said the three words 3 times fast. Instantly, the fire went out in each other’s pussy and their minds were functioning somewhat clearly for the first time in days.

“Wow,” said Debbie shaking her head. “I still love you Brit. but I don’t HAVE to love you right now.”

“Me too,” said Brittany. “To be honest, I’m tired and my boobs hurt from all the squeezing and pinching they’ve had lately. I wouldn’t mind going home.”

“Yeah, I got a ton of homework piled up. I won’t get into college if I don’t crack open some books, instead of your butt crack,” said Debbie with a slight giggle.

Debbie left and Brittany began cleaning up the shop. She grabbed the empty envelope and picked up the card and threw them in the garbage. No one else would see it.

On the card, scrawled were the freeing words: Slick’s a Dick.