The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

After that first ’accidental experiment’, I started an “Effects” log, which I kept at home, and noted my observations from the first exposure. I was still terrified at the thought of having possibly introduced some unknown side effect to my accidental subject, but I’d follow up with her.

I wondered what degree of suggestion I could introduce while under the effect of the drug. Was there some boundary beyond which the subject’s mind would revolt and refuse, and if so then what psychological effect might that have on the subject?

If I introduced a suggestion that, for example, they run outside, jump on a bus, strip naked and sing the aria ’Che Gelida Manina’ from La Boheme, would they do it? That might be embarrassing, but they could always claim they had lost a bet and this was the result. But how about being ordered to walk into a store and punch the first clerk they met? Most people would be appalled at that idea, and their minds would object strenuously. Would the drug override that? Would it cause internal psychological conflicts that would remain after the drug wore off?

Those are the kinds of experiments that ethics committees love to make decisions on, and they’re always very conservative, for good reason. A government lab might not have the same qualms, but something like this ought to be kept away from governments anyway, if it was as effective as I thought.

So I worried about these things endlessly, while continuing to follow Clark’s tedious research assignments. I tweaked my formula on the weekends and after hours.

At some point, ten days or so after my date with Ellen, I got it into my head that I should follow up and see if I could detect any lingering effects in her from the exposure. She was pleasant and attractive, and easy to talk to, though I didn’t see us getting into a relationship. But if only to be able to say to my mother that I had gone out with someone twice, I called Ellen again and asked her to dinner.

She seemed happy to hear from me, and we agreed that we’d meet up for dinner on Wednesday downtown at Chez Jacques. I’d never eaten there, but it sounded impressive. Perhaps I’d get a chance to use my high school French. That should be good for a few laughs among the staff.

I didn’t think I wanted to use it, but decided to bring a small amount of the drug, just to have it. I had taken a small atomizer from the lab, a small cylinder just a couple of inches long, slightly larger than a butane lighter, with a plunger on the top. It fit unobtrusively into my side pocket.

She was already there when I arrived. I asked if I was late, but she said she’d misjudged how long it would take her to get here and just decided to have a glass of wine until I got there.

“I’m glad you could make it. You look nice. Do you always dress so well for work?”

She smiled and said, “No, I had just enough time to get home and change before I had to leave. Work attire is a little more casual.”

Her hair looked different and I remarked on it. She said she’d decided to have it cut, to try something new. It was shorter, not breaking over her ears, and I admired it.

“Thanks. I decided I was tired of the old cut, it never seemed to go where I wanted it to and it was starting to annoy me a bit.”

We continued to chat after we ordered, while I tried to think of a way to see what she remembered from that night, and also how to determine if there were personality or body changes as a result of the drug. I wasn’t hopeful on that last one.

When our salads arrived, I asked how she’d been doing since our last date, since she’d seemed a little disoriented when I took her home. She looked puzzled, and said, “I was disoriented? How do you mean?”

I explained about how she’d suddenly sat on the floor when she looked at the mice, then seemed unfocused when she stood up. She looked at me blankly.

“I don’t remember that at all. In fact, I didn’t recall the mice until you mentioned it just now. Wait, we went to your apartment?”

“Yeah, you were convinced I lived like a slob and had all my dirty socks stuffed under the couch, and wanted me to prove otherwise. I have to say you looked really disappointed when you found it was clean. Mostly.”

Now she was shaking her head. “Perhaps I was out of it after all, ’cause I don’t remember going there, or why I wanted to, or even the mice—until you mentioned them just now. I remember us taking a taxi back to my building and saying good night, but the rest of it’s a blank.”

“So, not even the itchy ear? You don’t remember that?”

Another blank look. “What about my ear? What do you mean?”

I explained about the hair that kept dropping on her ear and tickling it, while she continued to shake her head. “Nope. Whatever it was I was drinking that night, I’d better stop doing that.”

Of course, there was no itch-causing hair, just my suggestion of it, but she didn’t remember that, clearly.

This was interesting. As far as I could see, she seemed perfectly healthy and cheerful, much the same as I remembered her from the first time. But she had lost memory of all that had happened after inhaling the mist, for at least 15 minutes, till we got in the taxi. And even a bit before that time, as well, as she didn’t remember coming into the apartment or why she was there. Odd.

I wondered if the sudden urge for a different haircut was a result of the itchy hair suggestion. I couldn’t ask about it, because she wouldn’t know specifically why she wanted a new cut.

But there was something here to indicate that some portion of the suggestion remained, though there was no memory of it having been made. I shouldn’t try to extrapolate from one experimental subject, but interesting, nonetheless.

Dinner turned out to be pretty good, as French restaurants go, and I had fortunately not had to inflict my high school French on them. Ellen was a good conversationalist, so we chatted amiably without trying to impress each other. We had some dessert, but only after both the waiter and I tried to convince her to indulge in a torte.

“I’ll regret that dessert tomorrow, and I blame you,” she said as I waited for the credit card receipt.

“You know you won’t. You’ll probably be on the phone here tomorrow asking if you can get a couple of tortes to go.” She smiled, because she knew I was right.

We found a taxi, easy enough since it was a mid-week evening, and got to her building pretty quickly.

“So, listen,” she said, “I have to be up for work tomorrow early—and I assume you do, too—but you want a quick coffee?”

I thought for a moment, then said, “Sure, as long as I can get home at a reasonable hour. Why not?”

I paid the taxi and we took the elevator up to her small apartment. She apologized for the clutter—there wasn’t any, she was just saying it so I’d notice that there wasn’t any—took off her coat, and put a kettle on the stove.

The kitchenette had room for a small fridge, a tiny stove, and a really small table with two chairs. It would be an effort for two people to co-exist in this apartment. But I sat at the table, and we talked about her work and mine.

It was freeze-dried coffee she was preparing, but I’ve had worse, and she found some crackers and cheese to put on the table. While the water boiled, I thought about what had happened to her. The data were suggestive, but open to interpretation.

I needed something more concrete to work with. She was pleasant, but I didn’t think we were destined for each other in the long run, so if I messed things up and she wound up hating me and badmouthing me to my friend and his girlfriend who had introduced us, I could live with that. I fingered the atomizer in my jacket pocket.

She poured the water into the cups, put the kettle back on the stove and sat down. “Do you take milk or sugar?”

“Just a little sugar, thanks. Do you mind if I use your bathroom first?”

“Sure, Just down the hall on your right.” As I stood up and squirmed past her in the narrow kitchenette, I slipped the atomizer out of my pocket and gave it one pump from behind her shoulder as I said, “Excuse me. Be right back.”

I held my breath until I got into the bathroom, where I actually did need to pee. I washed my hands and returned to the kitchen.

She was still sitting there, looking blankly out the window, arms resting in her lap.

“You okay, Ellen? How do you feel?”

“I feel fine, thanks. Just pleasantly full.”

In for a penny, in for a pound, here goes.

“I feel that way, too, quite pleasant and relaxed after a nice evening with an attractive person. You look like you’re feeling really comfortable, a little sensual, in fact. Is that how you’re feeling?”

She looked at me and smiled. “Why, yes, I am.” She was still sounding a little distant and detached.

“Describe it to me, Ellen. What do you feel like?”

“Relaxed, liking the person I’m with, maybe a little tingly.”

“Yes, that sounds right. Like you’re with a friend, feeling safe and trusting, like you could tell them anything. Something like that, Ellen?”

Still a little distant sounding, she nodded and said, “Yes, like that.”

“In fact, you trust me implicitly, like you could tell me anything. If I were to ask you, for example, to tell me about your first sexual experiences, you’d feel completely safe and comfortable in doing so, wouldn’t you, Ellen?”

“I think so, yes.”

“It would feel a little dangerous and exciting, too, but that would be okay because you know you’re safe, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you tell me now, while we have coffee. What was your first experience?”

“I was fourteen, at Jenny’s birthday party and there was music and dancing down in her parents’ rec room, and Bobby Calista was dancing with me and got me to go in the garage with him. I liked Bobby and I thought he wanted to make out, but he really wanted to do it, and I wasn’t ready, but he got his hands under my dress and it felt really good and he got me to cum with his fingers.”

“You liked that?”

“Oh, yeah, I liked it, but I wouldn’t say it because he wanted to fuck me and I wasn’t ready. So he made me suck his dick until he came in my mouth. That was nice.”

“That sounds sexy. It’s a little arousing, in fact. Does it turn you on to remember that?”

“Yes. It always does.”

“I’m guessing you did more of that later. What was the first time you actually got fucked?”

Her coffee was getting cold because she was so focused on her memories.

“It was about six months after that, and it wasn’t Bobby, because he’d started going with Kathy Reilly, who was a bit of a slut and liked getting it wherever she could. I’d been going out with Dave Kenton, who was sixteen and had his own car. It was always something of a gamble whether it would get him there and home again, but it was his.

“He took me to the movies and spent half the picture with his tongue down my throat, and we drove up to the plateau overlooking the city, with his left hand on the wheel and the right under my skirt. By the time we got there and parked, I was about ready for anything. I wasn’t on birth control, but he had a condom and he got me in the back seat and before I knew it he was pounding his dick into me. I got off, I think, before he blew his load. It didn’t last that long, but for the first time it wasn’t bad.”

“Now I’m getting a little hot, Ellen, but thanks for trusting me. What was the wildest sex thing you’ve ever done?”

I noticed that her left hand was under the table and seemed to be moving, slowly but rhythmically. I couldn’t see what she was doing, but I could guess.

“Umm, probably in college. I was at an off-campus party. It had been going on for awhile so everyone was pretty drunk, including me. Lots of music and shouting, people in the corners groping each other. Me and this guy started making out and I was getting sorta hot and bothered, ’cause he had his hand between my legs while he was sucking my tongue.

“Before I knew it I was on my knees with his cock in my mouth and all these people standing around. I was halfway passed out, but so wrapped up in what I was doing that I wasn’t aware that somebody else had unbuttoned my pants and had pulled them down. Before I knew it I had someone else’s prick in me from behind while I still had the first guy’s dick in my mouth.

“I was aware, in a kind of distant way, of all this cheering, then the guy behind me blew his load all over my ass, and a minute later the first guy jerked off on my face. I lay there on the floor for a while until one of my girlfriends got me up and dressed, and took me back to my dorm. I still haven’t decided if that was rape or consensual sex. After that, I was always a little more careful about drinking too much.”

“Is that a painful memory? I’m sorry about you having to retell it.”

“I haven’t made up my mind yet. Not really something I’m proud of, but not quite painful, either. I don’t mind telling you. There’s still a bit of an arousing component to it.”

About ten minutes had passed since I had sprayed her, and now I saw that her focus was less distant, that she was mostly engaging directly with me.

“Yes, actually more than a bit arousing,” I said. “In fact, I’m finding it a little difficult to sit here while you talk. Maybe this is the right time to say goodnight.”

She looked taken aback. “Oh, so soon? It seems like you just got here.”

“It’s been almost a half hour, Ellen, and we both have to work tomorrow.”

Her left hand, I could see, was still moving under the table. She straightened herself in her chair, and said, “I suppose so. But having talked about it, now I’m more worked up than I expected to be. Would you mind... Ah, fuck it, better to ask forgiveness than permission.”

She pushed her chair back and dropped to her knees in front of me, her hands grabbing at my belt, and the button and zipper following shortly thereafter. She had my pants down to my ankles almost before I knew it. I hadn’t suggested this to her, this was her own idea, maybe stimulated by the memories of previous experiences.

She had one hand on my dick, stroking it while she stared at it, and the other back under her dress. She gave it a few licks, then wrapped her lips around it and started bobbing up and down.

If I had been hard before, I was stiff now, feeling like I was right on the edge, gasping and encouraging her. “Goddamn, Ellen, that feels wonderful, oh, yeah. Suck my balls, please.”

She was looking up at me as she popped off my dick and sucked one of my testicles into her mouth. “Shit, yes, baby! Yes, use your tongue on it, like that.” She was still stroking my dick with her right hand while she sucked my balls.

“Feel pretty good, Sam?”

“Feels fucking spectacular. Suck my dick, please, I’m real close.”

And I was. Her tongue was dancing around my shaft as it slid in and out of her mouth, as I teetered on the precipice.

“Fuck, yes, Ellen. A little deeper, push a little deeper, please.”

She had gone down a good ways on my dick, but now she looked up at me as she opened her mouth and pushed the cock back into her throat. She looked me right in the eye as she closed her lips around the shaft and sucked as she worked her way up the shaft. I glanced down and her left hand looked like it was buried in her pussy, working hard.

I could feel myself approaching the edge, very close now. “A little faster, Ellen, almost there, oh, fuck, yeah.”

And there it was, shooting up from my balls, while I shouted “Yesss!” I grabbed the sides of her head and fucked her mouth, her tongue still dancing around my dick, while I moaned and felt my cum fill her mouth.

It finally got too sensitive, and I begged her to stop. She slowed down to almost nothing, then pulled off my dick and looked up at me. And smiled. She opened her lips slightly and I could see my cum pooling in her mouth, threatening to drip off her lips. Looking me right in the eye, she swallowed and smacked her lips.

“I’m not sure why I did that, just seemed like the right thing to do at the moment. But thanks for letting me. It was what I needed after all that dirty talk. And why was I talking dirty anyway? It just seemed like the kind of thing I could talk about with you, so I did.”

“It was very sexy to hear you talk about it. I’m glad that you trusted me enough to do it. And probably better that it ended the way it did, because it would have been a very uncomfortable trip home with that stiffy trying to break free in a taxi.”

“Well, that would have been awkward. Couldn’t have that, could we?”

“No, we couldn’t. Well, you solved that particular problem very expertly. Thank you. Now my only problem is getting down to the lobby while remaining vertical.”

“You’re a trained scientist. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Thanks for dinner, Sam, this was nice. Be in touch, okay?”