The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

My name is Berenice, because I think my parents are the kind of people who enjoy the idea of children being bullied. When I was young, most people nicknamed me ‘Berry,’ which was frustrating because it sounded more like a boy’s name. But, it was still better than the alternative, so I leaned into it, decorating everything I owned with strawberries. When I got older, and turned out to be plentifully endowed, my nicknamed changed to ‘Very Nice,’ although no one could say it to my face, for various reasons. I even started coloring my hair to a strawberry blonde around that time, trying to hold on to being Berry, but it didn’t help.

Unwilling to confront a future where I’d be expected to be on display for people’s lust or jealousy, I studied science, imagining being able to hide myself under a lab coat. It didn’t quite work out that way, but I discovered an aptitude for biochemistry, so I slid right into an internship at a pharmaceutical company after college. That’s where I accidentally caused the end of civilization as we know it, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

We were working on anti-anxiety medication at the time, and we were years from human trials. We were testing on rodents, and the compound we’d developed was never supposed to be transmissible; Hell, what kind of imitation neurotransmitter is? No one knew it at the time, but our population of lab rats had become carriers of the latest pandemic bug circulating around. None of them showed any symptoms, they were just hosts, which I hope makes our oversight understandable. I still don’t understand how the virus came to incorporate it, but in the mutated variant the rats spread back to us, an infection resulted in the creation of vast numbers of molecules based on the compound I’d developed. By the time your fever ended, your brain chemistry had been rearranged in a way that wasn’t always immediately obvious.

“Ugh, I still feel like crap,” I told my boyfriend as I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I looked pale and puffy, I thought, and my roots were starting to show again, since I hadn’t felt up to doing my hair while we were sick.

“Well, call in again,” suggested Byron, who had gotten infected a couple of days after I did, presumably catching it from me, but had recovered much more quickly. He was sweet enough when healthy, but not a very good nurse, and we had been arguing a lot more than normal the last couple of weeks. Or not exactly arguing, I guess, so much as being petty and rude to each other.

“I kinda want to, but I’ve missed so much time already,” I whined, trying to make myself look less like a zombie with some concealer.

Coming into the bathroom to briefly check his own reflection, Byron kissed the top of my head and gave me a brief hug. “Well, do whatever you gotta do, babe. I’m runnin’ late; gotta run. Hope you feel better!” I pouted in the mirror, watching as he left as quickly as he’d arrived, thinking I deserved at least a little more pampering than that, considering I was still feeling under the weather.

Sighing, I did the best I could to freshen up and drove off to the corporate campus that housed the lab I worked at, plus all the accountants and lawyers and whatever else they needed, although they were all in a different building, across a small park from where I was. Looking back, I maybe should have realized that people on the streets seemed a lot more affectionate and provocatively dressed than normal, but at the time it was easy enough to pass off as a combination of warm, pleasant weather and a rebound from pandemic restrictions on being out in public.

The pair of other people in my lab greeted me enthusiastically when I walked in the door. Most of us didn’t really spend time together socially, aside from corporate events, where we tended to form a small flock for self-defense against interaction with the non-science types. All that aside, we were pretty friendly with one another, and we’d all gotten sick at more or less the same time, although I was the longest in recovering.

The company didn’t require any particular dress code from us, other than wearing proper PPE when handling chemicals or animals or whatnot. For the most part, we were all pretty casual dressers outside of the actual laboratory side of the lab, where white coats were de rigueur. That being said, I was surprised at just how relaxed Mitch and Gloria seemed to be about their ensembles.

Neither of my coworkers had ever struck me as particularly loose nor prudish, but I was starting to lean toward the former as I reassessed them based on what they were wearing. Gloria had on a thin dress and no bra, judging by her prominent pokies, which seemed very inadequate in the climate-controlled office (by which I mean, always too fucking cold). Mitchell was even more absurdly attired, wearing a tank-top and board shorts, which did not conceal the fact that he was erect.

I blushed as I returned their greetings, feeling unusually warm considering that the thermostat was as Arctic as ever. Call me shallow, but I was mostly attracted to men much taller than my own slightly-less-than-average height, and preferred them with a certain level of athletic fitness, despite my own physique being pretty soft (especially after my convalescence). But for some reason, Mitchell’s exceptionally average body was doing it for me all of a sudden.

Gloria, on the other hand, was exactly the kind of girl I sometimes fantasized about. I’d never done more than a little bit of making out with other women, mostly to attract male attention, but I knew I had a type, and she was it. Tall and thin with a graceful neck, Gloria always made me think of ballerinas, although she wasn’t anywhere near as skinny as real ones were. She was actually pretty close to average build, too, if I’m being honest, but it worked for me. Of course, we’d never even flirted, and it’s not like I spent any serious amount of time thinking about her in that light. It’s just, if I was to get drunk and fool around with any woman I knew, she’d be at the top of the list. And at that particular moment, I was strongly considering taking up drinking.

“I’m so glad to see you’re feeling better!” Gloria said, standing up and giving me a hug. I was suddenly intensely aware of the feeling of her hard nipples, probably because they were jabbing me in the face. I sputtered unintelligibly for a moment or two, until she released me and stepped back, smiling coquettishly. Just as I was managing to croak out some actual words, Mitch loomed in to give me a hug as well. His boner poked me in the belly, and it seemed to startle a flock of butterflies I hadn’t realized were living in there.

“Good to have you back, Bee!” said Mitch, casually running his hand down my back and giving my ass a pinch, which left me flustered and unaccountably aroused. I couldn’t bring myself to reprimand him, or even call attention to his inappropriate caress, so I decided to ignore it for the time being.

We exchanged a little more small talk and news, and I scrupulously avoided inquiring about their choice of clothes, or lack thereof. We settled into getting some work done, though, and my mind gradually stopped lingering on the peeks I was getting of their turgid bits, or the memory of them pressing into me. I even joined in with the dressing down a bit, since I was feeling almost feverish again with my embarrassment and arousal, and took off the heavy sweater that did what it could to conceal my endowments.

“So, what are you guys doing for lunch?” I asked several hours later. We’d share a meal together maybe once a week, often with some of the people in the other biolabs attached to our department. I was kind of looking forward to going out to a restaurant somewhere, having grown sick of the soup and crackers I’d been subsisting on while recovering. I was therefore a little disappointed at Gloria’s reply.

“Oh, we were just planning to make out with what we have here,” she said, giving me an inexplicable grin. I gave her a confused look in return, I’m sure, but shrugged and reached for my purse and sweater, intending to head out in search of a decent sandwich. Then she grabbed my tits and kissed me, making my head spin, possibly literally.

I didn’t know then why I let it happen. Or more precisely, I suppose, I didn’t know why I let it persist. But for some reason, the various ideas I came up with that told me it was inappropriate didn’t gain any traction.

We’re not lesbians, I thought. Eh, you might be, my brain replied.

We’re coworkers, I reminded my head. Sounds convenient, it shrugged.

We’re both dating someone else, I told my gray matter sternly. The sound of a raspberry echoed in my cranium.

While I was having a futile argument with my own imagination, Gloria had worked her hands under my shirt and bra and was groping my breasts quite aggressively. After a moment, I realized she wasn’t the only one. Mitchell was standing behind me and cupping my boobs while he ground his erection against my ass. My own hands had taken it upon themselves to return the favor, squeezing Gloria’s rather glorious globes, which one of us had apparently exposed to the open air.

Mitchell was trying to get my pants and panties down, and to my surprise, I willingly helped him do so. Gloria sat down in her chair again and hiked up the lower part of her dress, making it more of a belt than a garment, and exposed her sex to us. None of my idle fantasies of her had ever progressed to such a point, and I was mesmerized by the sight of her privates.

From the looks of things, she probably shaved most of the time, but her hair had grown back somewhat since her last landscaping, possibly thanks to her own bout with the virus. I found it very cute and appealing, especially when I reached out and rubbed my fingers against the stubble, giggling at the bristly, ticklish feeling. Gloria smiled and tittered, too.

Without bothering to ask permission or even announce our intentions, Mitchell started fucking me from behind while I bent down and tasted pussy for the first time. Well, I suppose technically it was the second pussy, since I’d tasted myself a few times, usually on my boyfriend’s lips when we were being kinky, or on his dick when we were being really kinky. Or what I used to think of as being really kinky, back in the old days.

I think I did a pretty good job for a novice, at least judging by Gloria’s actions. She was moaning and squirming, occasionally thrashing, and leaking copious lubrication in response to my efforts. I know now that the aftermath of the infection was partly responsible; among other inhibitions, it suppresses the need some people feel to deny their pleasure, leading to very unrestrained expressions of passion. Caveats aside, I made her cum hard and felt pretty damn accomplished. Mitch pumped a load into my twat while I was licking Gloria clean, and I damn near squirted it right back out when I finally rubbed my clitty hard enough to push me over. It still seemed kind of weird and inappropriate, but it was damn enjoyable.

“Have a seat and let me return the favor!” Gloria suggested a few minutes later, after we’d caught our breath. I’d been leaning back against Mitchell, allowing him to fondle my tits some more, and kind of daydreaming while I felt his cum dribble out of me. In for a penny, in for a pounding, I thought to myself, shrugging and tossing my ass down in my chair, splaying my legs in a way that would have seemed very lewd that morning.

I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised, but Gloria was a significantly better rug muncher than Byron, or any guy I’d been with. It made me wonder if she actually was a lesbian, but then I got kind of distracted sucking Mitchell’s dick for a while. I was approaching the point of sensory overload, so it was kind of a relief when he took his erection and stuffed it inside the other girl’s pussy, making me reevaluate Gloria’s orientation yet again. I didn’t squirt again, at least not forcefully, but I definitely gave her something to swallow when she got me off.

It seemed a little surreal to get back to business after lunch, but aside from the lingering smell of our sex, the rest of the work day was pretty normal. Gloria and Mitch got dressed, to the extent that they had been. I tried to tell myself I’d regret it later, but the idea of putting my bra back on was just unappealing, and my brain was quite unimpressed by warnings of back pain and sore, bouncing boobies. I did put my panties back on, but by my afternoon break they were soaked through from my leaking, so I tossed them in the trash with a shrug and went the rest of my shift commando.

While we were closing out our work for the day, the three of us discussed our evening plans. Mitchell said that he and his roommate had arranged to fuck each other’s asses, but that ‘Kev’ had a rather above average penis and he needed to pick up lube on the way home. He showed us a dick pic of his roommate, who did appear to have a pretty generous package, one that intimidated me and made me glad I wasn’t invited. Gloria was planning to go bar crawling and fuck whoever she found that seemed cool. She invited me to join her, and I was tempted, but I didn’t want to overdo it so soon after fighting off my infection.

On the drive home, I did start noticing how the people on the street were acting differently, but it was mostly in the context of admiring the ones I found attractive, or the pairs or groups, and contemplating the logistics of pulling over and inviting some or all of them to get off with me. I was kind of tired and freshly fucked, though, so I demurred. I did stop at a drive-thru on the way home to pick up dinner, and when the cashier giggled and flashed her tits at me, I couldn’t help but return the gesture, giving mine a good wiggle and bounce so she’d properly appreciate their size and natural wobbliness.

I was looking forward to getting home, having dinner and a bath, and giving Byron a good fuck. I was still trying to decide on the best sequencing of my evening plans when I opened the door to our apartment and got yet another shock.

When I finally left the apartment, I was wearing only an old sundress and some strappy sandals. The fabric was thin, and without a bra my tits were pretty distracting, especially since my nips hadn’t gone soft since yesterday afternoon, except maybe while I was asleep. But the titty holster just felt so constricting and uncomfortable I couldn’t bear to subject myself to wearing it, nor even my tiniest panties.

I was paying more attention to the sights on my way to the lab, which served as a reminder that my more relaxed attitude towards clothing seemed to be something of a zeitgeist, to judge by the people I saw. I know some cities have relaxed attitudes toward public nudity, or at least topless women, but mine wasn’t one of them. Or at least it hadn’t been. There were plenty of nipples celebrating freedom that morning, and very few cops, or anyone else, seemed keen to oppress the merry teats.

Arriving at the gate, I ordinarily would flash the guard my ID, which was on a lanyard, but today I pulled the straps of my dress down instead of pulling the badge out, giving the security guard a nice long look at my most identifiable features, at least according to the menfolk. He smiled and waved me through with a happy, “Good morning, Ms. Teats!”

I think my subconscious mind had been trying to solve the puzzle of why I felt things were so mysterious lately, and an idea had finally percolated to my consciousness while I drove. My behavior, and the way a lot of other people were acting, was suspiciously similar to what my colleagues had reported about some of our test animals while I was convalescent. That was where my investigation would start.

We’d been expecting the rodents to be more mellow and less afraid of startling but harmless stimuli, at least if my formula was working as intended. Three of the four experimental groups did indeed seem to be responding as desired, but the fourth had additionally shown a marked increase in libido, as well as general affection toward their companions. Neither Hank nor Gloria had done any follow-up on that, but to be fair, it was a little bit above their paygrade.

It didn’t take me long to confirm that the rats were as horny as I was. They even responded with an almost uncomfortable level of affection to being handled, despite the fact that I was jabbing them with needles to draw blood. I won’t bore you with the lab work details, but by early afternoon I had confirmed that the rats had startlingly high levels of a compound that seemed very similar chemically to the one I had created, when in fact they should have had none of it anymore, or at most trace amounts. I’d also confirmed they had antibodies for the same virus I’d just recovered from, and that my own blood showed even higher levels of the unexpected molecule I’d discovered in them.

I was sitting at my workstation, idly masturbating while I pondered the implications of my discovery, when one of the security guards poked her head in the door and asked, “Everything all right, Mizz Tate?” I knew the lady’s surname was Davis, but couldn’t recall if I’d ever learned her first name. I thought it was Shondra, or maybe LaShondra.

“Just catching up on some work!” I said brightly, trying to avoid the need for addressing her by name. “I’ve been out sick for a while, so I fell behind a bit!”

“Yeah, I just got over a bug myself,” the woman commiserated, which made me suspect she might also be afflicted with the same general horniness I was. That, and the fact that she was smiling at the antics of my fingers rather than expressing shock or outrage.

“Would you be upset if I asked you to suck on my titties?” I inquired, pulling one of them out of my dress. Mizz Davis, or maybe Officer Davis, smiled even more widely as she entered the lab fully, unbuttoning her own work shirt as she did so.

“I’d be happy to, if you’ll return the favor!” she replied, exposing a heavy-duty bra that looked horrifying to me, but that she might well require for work, as her breasts were probably even bigger than mine, if only slightly. She was a heavy-set woman, and I guess I’d always thought she was fat, but as we disrobed I realized I had misjudged her.

Mizz Davis was stout and broad, no doubt about it, but her belly was only slightly rounded and her legs, while thick, did not appear the least bit flabby. Her chocolate brown skin was smooth and supple under my hands, and I reached behind her to grasp a truly gargantuan ass. It may have been a bit flabby, I suppose, but its relative softness was great for squeezing. We were about the same height, so it wasn’t too awkward for us to stand there, sucking on each other’s nipples while our hands explored.

We soon progressed to a sixty-nine on the floor of the lab, with me on the bottom, and I was admiring from up close how jiggly her bottom was as I spanked it, while I tongued her smoothly-shaven pussy and winking starfish by turns. I was starting to really enjoy going down on women, and lamented that I’d waited so many years to try it. Not that I had any intention of turning my back on cocks, of course, except in the very literal sense of inviting one or more to fuck me doggy-style.

Officer Davis’s radio or walkie-talkie thing suddenly went off, and a male voice asked, “Everything okay, Lawanda? I’m not seeing you on my screens.”

With a disappointed grunt, my new friend pulled away from licking my box and groped for her comm device. “Everything’s fine, Dave. I’m up on the fourth floor, eating out Mizz Tate,” she said.

“Mizz Tate?” asked the perplexed voice named Dave.

“Yeah, the strawberry blonde chick up on the fourth floor. Neurochemical lab?” Lawanda replied.

“Oh!” said the voice of Dave with sudden understanding. “The one with the big tits?”

“The very same,” Mizz Davis confirmed. “The carpet don’t match the drapes, though,” she snickered, sitting up a bit and turning around to wink at me. “But that don’t affect the flavor none.”

I pouted melodramatically, not that it was some huge secret that I colored my hair. Still, I typically shaved myself as smooth as Lawanda did for just the reason she remarked on, and it was mostly thanks to the virus that my bristly brown bush was trying to make a valiant comeback. I lubed a finger with her juices and shoved it up her ass in protest, making her yelp in the midst of inviting her coworkers to join us.

We had licked and fingered each other to a messy orgasm apiece by the time the other security guards arrived. One was tall and thin, and about the same color as Lawanda. The other was pale like me, a bit short for a guy, and a bit paunchy, and apparently Dave, as his voice announced, “We’re here!” unnecessarily when they entered.

Although I was in no state of mind to reject advances from either of the men, I gravitated toward the tall one as my first choice; I’d seen him around from time to time but never learned what he was called. His nameplate read ‘Jackson,’ though, and that was good enough for me. “Suck your cock for you, Officer?” I asked, batting my eyelashes and fondling my breasts. The eyelash thing was overkill, in a sense, given that he apparently wasn’t in the mood to notice my eyes.

His penis was as long and thin as the rest of his body, which seemed aesthetically appropriate to me. It had a stronger curvature than I was accustomed to, as well, all of which combined to make it a fascinating specimen for me. The taste of his skin, and later his precum, was pretty much the same as any other man I’d had in my mouth, though, which was almost a bit of a disappointment. Officer Jackson turned out to be surprisingly noisy when receiving a blowjob, grunting and moaning, exhaling heavily, and even whining occasionally. Dave, being serviced by Lawanda, seemed to think it was a big deal that she was sucking him. I wasn’t sure if it was a race thing, or some kind of power trip related to their relative ranks amongst the security personnel, but his verbal taunts of her were kind of harshing my sex buzz.

Fortunately, Officer Jackson’s very loud and voluminous orgasm distracted me from my momentary twinge of annoyance. But, after they’d cum, he and Dave started congratulating each other on ‘bagging’ us, and I became certain that it was a race thing for them, at least in part. I swallowed the load I’d been savoring, no longer enjoying it as much as I had a moment before, and a look of shared irritation passed between me and Lawanda. Fortunately, she had what I thought was an excellent solution.

“Well, if you two manly men think it’s such a big deal to have interracial sex, I wanna see you suck each other off before I let either one of you fuck me,” Lawanda said, scooting over to mash her big tits against my own.

“Likewise for me!” I chimed in, delighted to show sisterhood or solidarity or whatever. But I was a little distracted by some stray jism that had landed on her beautiful cheek, and I just had to lick it up. That led, naturally, to more kissing and fondling. The guys did their best to cajole us into presenting our pussies for them, but we remained steadfast. Resigned to defeat, Officers Dave and Jackson had no choice but to lay down side by side and swallow each other’s rods.

Both men got pretty fully into it before long, despite their half-hearted protests beforehand, and I couldn’t help teasing them a bit. “What a great story this will make when you’re sitting around watching your sports with the guys! I bet you’ll get them so hot and bothered none of you will be able to resist having a circle jerk!”

“Or a gay anal daisy chain!” supplied Lawanda, giggling and poking a finger into Officer Jackson’s back door. I followed her lead with Dave’s butt, and with our help, they were soon basting each other’s tonsils with even bigger loads than the ones they’d given us. We intended to let them have their way with our pussies, but it turned out they were down for the count, so we had to content ourselves with another sixty-nine. Wiped out though their cocks were, the boys at least were able to manage licking our bootie-holes for us to help.

After the security personnel had gotten cleaned up and gone back to work, I was sitting alone and naked at my desk, trying to decide on the proper course of action. While my findings were hardly proof that I was indirectly responsible for all the great sex people were having, the evidence seemed pretty compelling. I finally decided it was my duty as a scientist to make my discovery known, so I dashed off an email to the CDC and advised them of my credentials and my data. Then it was back home to see if Hank and/or Byron could give me a good, deep dicking, or if they’d worn each other out by butt-fucking one another all day.

And that’s how I destroyed civilization as we know it, more or less. By the time I managed to convince the authorities that I was not, in fact, a crazy conspiracy bitch, it was far too late. Honestly, it may well have been far too late even before I’d gone back to work. I can console myself that I did everything I could to help solve the problem as soon as I identified it, but I can’t help feeling a twinge of guilt at what I wrought.

That’s not to say that things are all bad, of course. Violent crime and aggression in general went way down after the latest variant had circulated through the population. And, as a feather in my professional cap, anxiety disorders virtually vanished, at least in the present population.

But, with people so much more inclined to act on their sexual desires, there were some bad behaviors that got a lot more common. The modified compound our bodies now produced didn’t make people lust after relatives, or minors, or what-have-you, though it did increase the likelihood that those people would try to act on their impulses. But after the initial spike of incidents, which served to identify the potential offenders for either therapy or incarceration, things largely subsided on that front.

The most lasting change, I believe, is in family structures. Not so much in the parent-and-child relationship, which has remained mostly intact, thankfully. But monogamy is almost dead, as is exclusive heterosexuality. Not everyone caught the bug, of course, but well over 90% of the population now produces what the media dubbed ‘The Polycule Molecule.’ It was aptly named, as most families now consist of roughly a dozen core adults, collectively raising their children, with the addition of several ‘floaters’ at any given time, who tend to drift between groups until they find one they want to settle in.

My own legacy is mixed. My role eventually got made public, and for a while people were calling me the Antichrist and a bunch of other nasty things, especially during the month or so where it looked like pedophiles were crawling out of the woodwork. But once people started to settle into their new normal, and lingering beliefs about the proper roles for men and women were discarded as incompatible with our compulsive sexual behaviors, a wave of gratitude was directed at me instead. There was talk for a while of nominating me for a Nobel Prize, but since my contributions to both neurochemistry and world peace were largely accidental, nothing ever came of that, at least so far.

So now I’m comfortably anonymous again, for the most part, and loving life with my husbands, wives, and assorted miscellaneous fuck-buddies. I have three children, by three different men, and yes, one of them is Byron’s, too. But the old saying that it takes a village to raise a child is perhaps truer than it has been for many years, and all the kids call nearly all of us some variation of ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad.’ I still work as a neurochemist, and my current project involves treating the things we still consider sex disorders, which is a much narrower field than it had been.

People are still highly likely to stare at my tits, enlarged even more post-pregnancy and often on display. But, if they call me or them ‘Very Nice’ as a joke, I still reserve the right to kick the offender in the groin. Even in this sex-crazed world I accidentally made, there are some things you just don’t say to a woman if you value your nuts.