The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

When I came back from my morning class I crashed, my body demanding the sleep it had been denied the night before. I slept in until almost one, but woke up still hard. No shower for me today, thanks. Once I was dressed, I rushed out the door before I could be waylaid by some Hottie looking to push her luck. I went to my afternoon class where I heard not a word my professor said, then the rec center, and finally hit the Penderdast food court. I took my meal to go, eating out on the loading dock behind the Higgins center building. It was as private as I could get without going into full retreat.

“Spencer…?”

“Hm? Oh, hi Ramona.”

“I’ve been meaning to call you. You and I, dear, need to talk.”

I should have retreated.

“Oh. Look, I can explain.”

“You do excel at that. Finish up, then come find me in my office. I need you to help me make sense of what’s going on up on Higgins 3.” She blew a stray wisp of hair away from her glasses. “Again.”

I chewed slowly.

A short while later, I brushed the crumbs off my shirt and shambled into Ramona’s office, glumly closing the door behind me. She was at her desk, looking as attractive as ever as she typed out an email I didn’t dare squint at. Was this finally where she was notifying Bob that I was fired? If so, I couldn’t have even said why except to agree that it was probably merited. Whatever I’d done, I’d done something.

“So. You seem like you have some kind of clue what happened. Talk to me.”

I nodded. Then, with apologies at regular intervals, I walked her through last night, from my conversation with Tori we’d already discussed to its culmination in the 4-hour program last night. I left Vickie and Savannah out of it, as well as the most lurid details of Marisa’s advice. The rest, though, spilled. Spilled until we were wading in the stuff.

“So… yeah. I don’t know who complained, but that’s what happened. It was only a prank,” I insisted, to her as well as to myself, “and I promise I’ll try to make sure it never happens again, but—”

Only then, Ramona was moving to the little sofa beside me. Her presence reminded me how little it was. I squirmed to make space, but she rested a hand on my shoulder. “Hey. Spencer?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for any of—”

“HEY.” Yikes. I forgot she could do that authoritative voice. “Listen to me. Spencer, I asked you in here today because this morning, I’ve received half a dozen emails from your residents asking for new shower heads. All the same model. All I wanted to know was if you knew anything about this or if your governor was launching her own remodeling campaign.”

“Tori? Oh my god, I’m—”

“HEY.” I fell silent. “Spencer, what happened last night… Are you all right?”

I blinked. “What? Am I…? Of course I am. I mean, am I fired?”

“Fired? Why on earth would I fire you? Is there something you haven’t told me?” Ramona put her hand to her mouth anxiously.

“You know. Because they were all… jealous. Of Marisa. And the flirting. The shirts. You were right about those. And, um, the questions. Anal. And the rest.”

She cocked her head a bit over “anal,” but moved past it quickly.

“Spencer, dear… I don’t know why you think I would be upset with you over your girls’ inability to…” She shook her head. “Last night wasn’t your fault. You know that, right? If anybody did wrong, you were the victim, not the perpetrator.”

“I… what? No, see, I brought in Marisa, and we… they…”

She put her finger to my lips. Then, to my surprise, my boss planted a small kiss on my forehead. I was even more surprised that I wasn’t bothered by it. It was sweet, and tender, and if my nostrils didn’t deceive me, a little bit minty.

When she spoke, her Eastern European accent came through stronger than usual, which I had learned in these past months happened when she was speaking unfiltered. “What do you think I would say if Carmen came in here and told me that last night at a program, a bunch of male residents had asked her a thousand questions about her turn-ons? If they grilled her ex-partner about her sexual histories? If, even after it was made clear the advances were unwelcome, the young men continued to proposition her for sex?”

“I think you’d be on the warpath,” I said, adding quickly, “but that’s not how it was. They were just teasing, that’s all.”

“Did you think it was funny?”

“I mean, it was kind of embarrassing, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“Yeah, well, in the words of one of my mentors: too much haha, pretty soon boohoo. Spencer, this behavior is unacceptable. All this time, I’ve worried about how having a man in charge of a group of young women might negatively impact them. Now I see that I should have been worried about how it might hurt you.”

“Really, it’s—”

“It’s not OK. It is absolutely not. It is toxic, hostile behavior, and I simply will not abandon my favorite staffer to the whims of a group of women who seem to have no boundaries at all for how they treat their RA.”

I sniffled once, then twice. I didn’t cry. Almost, but there were too many feelings swirling around to settle long enough on any one of them. Ramona pulled me in and held me, rubbing my back and letting it happen. Maybe I was just moved by her concern. Maybe I needed someone to not want anything from me. Maybe I was, after weeks of resisting teasing and flirting, simply tired.

“So what are you—what are we going to do about it?” I asked. She still hadn’t released me. I was all right with that.

“I’ve half a mind to drag every last one of them down to my office and run them through the campus judicial system for sexual harassment,” she said hawkishly. “But it would take months to hear so many, and besides, it’s obviously not how you want to handle it.”

“Yeah. I’m not mad or anything. I’m just… I… Mm…”

There were those divine fingernails of hers, once again empathetically trailing up and down my back. It was a bit familiar, coming from a boss, but she had motherly instincts, and I didn’t mind. Ramona, at least, wasn’t going to mess with my head about her intentions.

She continued, “If I thought I could round them all up and talk some decency into the lot of them, I would, but honestly, I’d rather have it in writing anyway. So I’ll sit down this afternoon and draft an email addressing their behaviors. Hopefully that will be that. I’ll try to look for an excuse to stop by the third floor now and then in the next week or two and make my presence, and my displeasure, felt.”

“That sounds… good.”

“It sounds kinder than they deserve by far, but it will have to do. I’m here to take care of you, Spencer. You’re my guy. The only guy I’ve got.”

When I was in second grade, I got in a fight on the playground after school. Mark Bryant had cut in front of the line for the slide, and I told him he wasn’t allowed to do that. A great battle ensued in which two seven-year-olds shoved each other a bit, and ultimately, I missed in one such shove and wound up throwing myself on my face in the mulch. I got some cuts—scratches, really—on my face, and Mark either felt so bad for me, or was so worried he’d get in trouble over it, that he helped me up and let me go down the slide ahead of him. All involved parties departed recess satisfied with their contributions to civic culture.

My mother, however, was horrified when she saw the scratches. She called the school and went ballistic on them. The next day, our principal came to our class and read Mark the riot act in front of god and everyone. Whatever consequences they gave him, they were enough to forestall retaliation, but the rest of the class shunned me as a snitch for at least a week, which as a second-grader may as well have been a year. My recesses became solitaire tetherball matches, punctuated at intervals by someone hurling invective or pebbles in my direction.

Ramona’s email left my mother in the dust.

Residents of Higgins 3,

Recently, your Resident Assistant put together a floor program regarding safety and education on sexuality in the university environment, which I am told was attended by almost all residents. During that program, numerous members of your community used that well-intentioned program to thrust unwanted sexual attention on the sole male member of that community. It is my responsibility to inform you that these behaviors may constitute sexual harassment, in violation of the Lakeview University campus residential code and state law. You have previously been informed, but let me reiterate: staff members are prohibited from engaging in sexual relationships with residents, so to force yourself upon him in this fashion is rude at best, cruel at worst.

It may be that the intention was to tease, or to pull a “funny” prank. Rest assured that these are not defenses for those behaviors. Harassment, be it of a staff member or a resident, is not acceptable, and I will not permit it. Further infractions will result in sanctions and/or criminal charges.

I realize your living situation is an unorthodox one and that you may not have intended to cause any harm. You women have a golden opportunity to learn about intersex cohabitation this year, and I hope you reflect on this incident and come away from it considering how you might intervene to prevent someone from being harassed, how you can support and comfort victims of harassment, and how you can adjust your own behaviors to prevent further such incidents.

You are students of Lakeview, ladies. It is my hope that going forward, you will do better, and show Spencer the respect, support, and consideration that he deserves. I know that he cares deeply about his community, collectively and as individuals. That is a special thing, and it may be worth considering how you own that privilege.

—Ramona Tinsley

I read it twice. Then I fled the building.

I was still walking around campus, ignoring all the buzzing from my phone until I finally shut it off altogether. I even spent a little while in the chapel. They’d just renovated it last year, and I had to say, it looked great. Soothing. A fine place to ask forgiveness, and to contemplate one’s mortality. The sky was starting to darken by the time I conceded that I may as well face the music. Mercifully, for once everybody’s doors were closed as I made my way back to my room.

Someone knocked on my door before my shoes were off. It was Tori, with Katrina and Dana on either side. Governor, vice governor and treasurer. Representatives of the people, come to voice their displeasure.

“Do you have a minute, Spencer?” Tori asked.

“Of course. I assume this is about the, you know, letter. Email. Thing.”

The girls nodded, letting themselves in quietly. Katrina spoke first, saying, “That’s right. First off, I want to apologize.”

“Apologize?” I blinked. I’d expected them to be here to make sure I understood how pissed off everybody was at being chewed out over a prank. Why would they be apologizing?

Katrina nodded, eyes downcast. “Yes. I’m so sorry. I may not have been the one who wrote ‘whip it out,’ but I was letting myself get sucked into it all as much as anyone.”

“I’m sorry too,” said Dana. “I was raised better than that.”

Tori chimed in as well. “I’m sorry to have made you uncomfortable.”

Hmm. Maybe these three were contrite, if contrition were even merited, but no doubt I’d be hearing it from the rest for weeks or months to come. I waved away their sorries. “Water under the bridge. But there’s a second off coming, I take it?”

“Can you come with us?”

“Is the pillory set up in the trash room?”

“Please,” Dana said simply.

I arched a brow, but there was no reason not to. Not sure what to expect, but sure I wouldn’t like it, I followed behind the local government around the corner, past the bathroom, and down to the lounge.

The entire floor was there.

Katrina and Dana each took one hand and nudged, then finally had to tug me from the hall into the lounge.

“Um… hi?”

Before I knew what was happening, I was surrounded. For a moment, I tensed. The specter of Mark Bryant, come for its vengeance at last.

Except instead, I found myself in the middle of a thirty-three-way hug.

A chorus of apologies issues from my Hotties. Some of them were in tears, even. It all went on for minutes, minutes of a mob of young women swarming me, pressing themselves against me, squeezing me, asking my forgiveness. When the ones holding were ready to let go, they were promptly replaced by a fresh body, fresh apologies. Some of them even kissed me on the cheek, and once or twice on the neck, but it was all such a blur I couldn’t even have said who.

Maybe I needed to reread Ramona’s email. Or shit, go downstairs and tell Vickie she’d been absolutely right.

The hugathon went on for some time. There was no sound save for the apologies and the sniffles. I didn’t know what to make of it all. It was absurd. The farthest thing from necessary. There was no way to tell them that the reason I’d been so upset wasn’t because of how invested they’d seemed to be in my sex life, but how frustrating it was not to be able to do a damn thing about it.

I don’t think that my feelings crystallized until that moment.

Finally, someone gently pulled Charlie off of me, and the hugging ended. I was in the middle of the lounge now, the Hotties spread out in rings around me. Tori stood at my side.

“That’s more like it, ladies. I know some of us felt we were unfairly called out, but I’m proud of you all for having the guts to come down here and help make things right. Now—”

I held up a hand, and Tori permitted me to speak. “I’m sorry, but… I’m not really sure why, um, or maybe what I did to, you know… I’m sorry, but this is a lot to take in. I expected to come home and find you guys—”

“Girls,” corrected Lex.

“Sorry, you girls pissed off because you thought I was complaining about you or whatever. I didn’t. I was just taken aback by everything last night, and my boss noticed, and…”

I trailed off, and Tori took back over. “Spencer, I think I speak for everyone when I say we’re glad to be with you. We don’t know how we all wound up here, or how you wound up our RA, but…” She panned the crowd. “The man doesn’t get why we’re here tonight, Hotties. Would anybody like to speak up and say why?”

I swiveled in place, waiting for someone to speak up, to make sense of how I was suddenly surrounded by all this support and kindness when I’d my heart told me I should be receiving anything but. When they kept quiet, I was actually relieved. These young women, girls, my girls, were far too enamored of me for their own good, and doubly so for my own good. I didn’t know how Tori and the rest had cajoled them into—

“That psycho tried to kill me,” said Leigh suddenly. “She might have done it. You know, you don’t really know what to do when you’re, you know, naked. Like, your body says cover up, hide, ick, but someone’s pulling your hair, hitting you, so you can’t. I couldn’t do anything. But Spencer, you came out, even though it meant letting everybody see… yeah. But you didn’t care. You protected me.”

I thought she was done, but then she went right on. “Then when I went to thank you, to ask you if you wanted to hook up or whatever, you… said no. Like, no guy has ever said no to me before. Not about anything, really, but especially not about that. I was embarrassed, but looking back, I thought, here’s this guy who legit only looked out for me because… he wanted to. Not because of my tits, not so he could get a quick lay. Just to… help.”

Angel patted her roommate’s back as she fell silent, head lowering. Should I respond? But then Danielle was talking. “It was the roommate agreement. Remember those?” A few chuckles, a few nods. Already those felt like the ancient past. She looked at Dana as she went on. “When we first moved in together, I thought I was gonna straight-up murder my roommate. Every single night on the phone with her mom, for like hours. Always the same stuff—classes, staying safe, what sorority are you rushing, are you meeting any boys. Over and over. I was about ready to lose it—and then here comes our guy, and he convinced me to open up, take a risk and be honest, and… we fixed it. Like, we worked it out, moved past it. Thanks to that stupid piece of paper I made a new best friend.”

Dana beamed, eyes watering, and the two rushed together for a quick hug. They were still at it when Kendall took over, Georgia at her side. They talked about their party that got busted, and how scared they were about getting in trouble, and how I kept it cool and put things in perspective. “And then we were still kinda drunk, kinda, you know, and he let us follow him back to his room and crash with him for the night. Didn’t even touch us, even though he could have. You were more worried about making us feel OK than about what we’d done.”

The Hotties began settling to the floor to show they didn’t have anywhere else to be, leaving only myself, Tori, and the speaker standing. I liked to think I could take a compliment, but one after another after another like this… I didn’t know what to make of it.

Peyton and Sydney commended me for making them feel comfortable being gay after they took a risk by sharing it. Lex thanked me for helping her and Jo work out their Tits Out/Timeout arrangement—and, to my chagrin, for helping her decide to get breast enhancement surgery. There was no tactful way in this company to tell her they looked great already, so I blushed and let Jacqui thank me for being good about enforcing quiet hours so she got enough sleep for her 6 AM volleyball practices. Charlie, for standing in for her big brother and taking on his hugging responsibilities when she really needed a squeeze. Kyu-Ri for taking time to work with google translate so I could help her find all her classes, as well as taking her to the Asian culture center where she’d made good friends with some other Korean students. Ellie talked about how she’d always been kind of a wallflower, but I had made sure not to forget about her and checked in to make sure she was doing OK. Jordyn, for my support for her “hot-ass t’s,” which for a moment I mistook for hot-ass tits on account of being surrounded by so many. Terri for helping her with her tiktok stuff, and not being judgy about her aspirations to be a “pro e-thot.” Whatever that was.

Andi said nothing, but she held my eyes in hers and made sure I knew. Jean, however, chimed in to thank me for saving her roommate from being such an annoying clingy hermit—though she gave Andi a gentle nudge, which was met with a sheepish grin.

Casey stood up, and I braced myself for another round of “whip it 0ut,” but instead she surprised the hell out of me. “I’ve been dating the same guy since freshman year. Of high school, I mean. And… you guys, I… we…” Then she was crying. Ugly crying. Her friends hurried to her sides to hold her up. “I miss him so fucking much, but I’m way the fuck out here so I can’t kiss him or touch him or fuck him, and talking isn’t close to enough like I thought it would be and that’s just been such a part of me for so goddamn long, you guys.” She sniffled piteously. “I was ready to drop out and go back home, but he said I owed it to myself to stick it out, and that he got it if I needed someone, just for a while, right? And I felt so fucking hoey even thinking about it, but like, here’s our guy, little fuckin treatsa pizza, right, and he’s all I can’t even touch you girls even if you beg me to, and I’m like… yeah.”

She suddenly threw herself at me so suddenly it startled me, her arms wrapped around mine so I couldn’t even hug her back. Her words were murmured into my chest, where her tears quickly soaked through. “And so I got to get some of it out of my system, you know? Say the shit I wanted to say but not who I wanted to say it to, and he just took it, and let me bug the fuck out of him, and I’m sorry if I made you feel bad about it but I fucking love you, man!”

That culminated in another mass hug, this time centered on Casey. I barely understood the psychology behind it, but she didn’t need me to.

When we finally broke it off, I cut in. “You guys, this is… I don’t even know what to say. You’re amazing, all of you. I’ve always liked my job, but living here, with you all… It’s…”

“A wet dream come true?” said Sammi, to a chorus of giggles.

I shook my head. “I was going to say ‘it’s a pleasure,’ but thanks for making that sound sketchy. So just… thank you. All of you, really. I have no idea how Tori rounded you all up for this,” or how every single girl on Higgins 3 was free on a Friday afternoon for that matter, “but you’re officially released. You can go about your business.”

Tori held up a hand before I was even done speaking. “No, sorry, but they can’t. Or shouldn’t, I guess. While we’re all here, I thought this might be an excellent time to discuss some new behavioral expectations.”

“What, you mean, like, new rules? Don’t we already have enough?” whined Jordyn. I remembered how pissed she’d been during our second floor meeting to find out that just because the state legalized it, she still couldn’t smoke weed in the residence halls.

“Real talk. I think we all know last night didn’t start with last night. We’ve all on this floor been acting like we don’t have any men. Spencer has been pretty patient with it, all things considered. A saint’s restraint. We’ve heard the rumors, sure.” More than a few eyes went to Leigh. To Andi. To Casey, despite her fresh admission. “We all know, though, that that’s on us, not him.”

“Well—”

Tori wasn’t having it, though, which was just as well. “I think this is a good time to touch base with one another and see what, if any, behaviors we need to re-examine in light of our diverse community.” She looked to me with a sly grin. “How’d I do?”

“Perfectly said. But really—”

“So,” Tori said right over me yet again, “I’ll lead us in a discussion here and see if we can’t identify any problem behaviors with a do’s column for things that are within everybody’s comfort level, and a don’t’s column for things that aren’t. For instance—I’ll start—I’ve noticed a lot of you ladies have gotten pretty comfortable walking around in just a towel when you’re heading to the showers.”

As Tori walked over to the white board by the door and set up her columns, there were some indignant looks. “What are we supposed to do, wear a whole outfit? I don’t want my shit getting wet,” groused Jo.

“Towels are fine,” I assured her. “That’s what I do sometimes.”

Tori looked between the two of us, then turned to the board and wrote, wear towels to the shower under the Do column. “OK. While we’re talking about bathroom attire, I’ve seen more than a few heinies in nothing but underwear down there. I’ll bet some of you would feel pretty freaked if you were in Spencer’s flip flops and had to share a bathroom with a bunch of guys in nothing but their boxers.”

I shook my head. “I see your point, but really, I’m not out to set a dress code like we’re back in high school. This is your home. If you’re comfortable, I’m comfortable.” What a contemptible lie. Denied time to process privately, I simply wasn’t ready to give up all of my eye candy without at least thinking it over. I might have a saint’s restraint, as Tori said, but I was still human.

Tori uncapped her marker almost the moment she’d recapped it, and wrote wear underwear to the bathroom in the Do’s.

“Next up, and I’m gonna go right ahead and slot this in the Don’t’s…”

ask him to “whip it out” etc., she wrote in her bubbly handwriting.

“I know you said your thing Casey, but so we’re all hundred percent clear.”

“As long as we can add ‘whipping it out’ to the Do’s.” Casey’s grin was ear to ear. Tori’s wasn’t, but it made for balance in our little universe.

Perhaps my inclination toward permissiveness had not been a great idea. Later that weekend, when Tori and the other floor government reps and I got together to formalize the list (at their insistence, not mine), we would have a long talk about whether Do and Don’t were the apt names for the columns. I was responding to it as if it were comfortable and uncomfortable. Framing the things I didn’t object to as Do’s sounded like they were requirements. Fine and Not Fine might have been better, but Tori insisted that the document had been ratified democratically and was therefore binding.

I had my reservations, but the final list spoke for itself.

DO

• wear towels to the shower
• wear underwear to the bathroom
• introduce him to your girlfriends (This one stemmed from a discussion of same sex guests; again, the final phrasing wouldn’t have been my choice, but I didn’t want to deprive them of all their freedom to tease.)
• be polite to his female guests (In regards to some regret over initial attitudes toward Marisa.)
• knock before entering his room (In memory of Quinn.)
• hugs! (Charlie.)
• attend floor programs if possible (Another unnecessary one, but the girls were still abuzz over the previous night’s presentation, and wanted this experience codified.)
• apologize if/when you cross the line → better yet, make it right! (Almost Marisa’s advice, funnily.)
• MOAR HUGZ (Someone, probably Charlie, added this after our meeting concluded, but Tori decided to leave it.)

DON’T

• ask him to “whip it out” etc.
• wear HH shirts outside of H3
• change with your door wide open (I wasn’t sure why “wide” was included, but it was included.)
• allow sexual noises to be heard in the hallway
• ask about his current/former sex life
• get him fired!!!!!!!! The discussion on this was in sort of a “snitches get stitches” perspective, not my fav, but I wasn’t about to object to a reminder for them to keep their occasional excesses under wraps.

Indeed, I left the meeting with an absolute certainty that occasional excesses would continue. Nay, must continue. These girls.

Sunday, Tori and Katrina went out to Home Depot and bought the new shower heads on the Higgins 3 dime. Emma, a sophomore majoring in engineering, volunteered to install them. Definitely the sort of thing that ought to merit a work order, but I didn’t have it in me to cast aspersions on her capabilities over something so pedestrian. Monday morning, I took my shower in the middle stall. It had been the closest one open. Those nozzles were an improvement, I had to hand it to them.

Soon, there was a Hottie in each of the adjacent stalls.

“Is that you, Spencer?” asked a soft female voice. In the din of three showers, I couldn’t be sure whose.

“Gooooood mornin’.”

In each stall, a slender hand reached up and removed the shower nozzle from its bracket. To my left, I heard the sound of a body thudding against the divider between us. To my right, a shallow gasp. They could be anyone. They were everyone. As the sound of rhythmic splashing and ragged whimpers filled the showers, I stopped caring. They wanted this. I wanted this. The three of us took care of our urges separately, together, in unison. I let them both towel off and depart before I exited my stall.

Charlie was waiting outside the shower area, her trim, adorable body wrapped in a fluffy pink towel. She smiled brightly, then came up and gave me a tight hug.

“Whoops! Towel almost fell off. Sorry, Spencer.”

“Don’t worry about it, Charlie. And hey, enjoy the new shower heads.”

She turned to them, studied them, unconsciously licked her lips. Meanwhile, I was doing the same, except with Sydney’s ass, where she was scratching the portion exposed by her panties with one hand while doing her makeup with the other.

I waited until Charlie’s shower was running, then went right back in. Cleaner to do it here than back in my room. It was to be my second of four showers that day, and I never wanted for neighbors.

The new nozzles were a hit.

“Aaaaand that’s the checklist.”

“Really? The whole thing?”

“Yep. ‘12: Overt masturbation,’ ‘41: routine/codified states of undress.’ Oh, and obviously those were the last ones, aside from number 1, obviously.”

“‘Acceptance.’ You’d think that would’ve been the first box, ya know? Never understand where we found a guy who fought so hard not to take advantage of two and a half dozen hot, horny, adoring college chicks.”

“Guess Bobby was right about him, huh. Still don’t know if Prime’s my hero, or the biggest idiot I’ve ever met. Well, not met met, but… you know what I mean.”

“Cyberstalked?”

“You are such a boomer. Nobody says cyberstalking any more.”

“I bet some of those Higgins kids would if any of them knew we’d been pointing thermal scanners at them night and day for the past month.”

“At least we didn’t go ahead with the cameras.”

“Kinda hard to publish your findings when they include secret footage of a bunch of teenagers’ dorm rooms.”

“Because aiming mics and thermal at them is so ethical?”

“Pff, ethics. We left that behind on day 0, man. I’m talking about legal. This state, if you can get the data from outside, doesn’t matter how you got it.”

“Yeah. I know. I work here too, remember? Not about to risk prison over this.”

“Yeah yeah. Gonna get a lot more interesting from here on out, though.”

“Do you think he even suspects?”

“Of course he does. Ever since he had that chat with 2629.”

“Yeah? I didn’t see anything about that in the logs. Do we need to juice her?”

“Protocol says no, but my curiosity about what she’ll do says go for it.”

“We don’t need another 5425 on our hands, man.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Good television makes for bad science, the director always says.”

“I do say that, don’t I.”

“Sir!”

“Sir.”

“Phase 1 finalized?”

“Ah, yeah. Here, let me bring up that checklist for you…”

“Fuck the checklist. Are we ready to move on our not? This wasn’t cheap. If this doesn’t pan out, it’s gonna ruin us.”

“So, do we go ahead? You’re authorizing—”

“You have to ask? Of course we fucking proceed. If we have to flood that dorm with porn stars and juice them cross-eyed until they’re triple-teaming him with blowjobs morning, noon and night, we proceed. Understand? There’s no going back.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll review protocols with the team, implement tonight and confirm when it’s underway.”

“Tonight? You’ll do it right this minute. I got you eggheads the roster you said we needed, but I can’t lengthen the school year for you. Midterms are coming up, dammit. I want to hear they’re begging for it by Thanksgiving break.”

“Right. But… Never mind. I’m on it.”

“But what? Speak your mind. I didn’t hire you because you’re an idiot. If you’ve got reservations, I want to know what they are.”

“Um, it’s just… you said you want them begging for it? They’re not far from there now, sir. He’s already… Well. Aren’t you worried he’ll break? I mean, if he… if they…”

“Yeah, if…?”

“If some whistleblower notifies the ethics committee, they’ll bury us, sir. It was already a near miss just filling Higgins 3 with the girls, much less keeping it from 6818.”

“How the hell do you remember all those—”

“Then I guess we better make sure anybody who finds out about it has too much in their hands and mouths to do anything with any whistles, shouldn’t we.”

“But… Can we really…? Erm. Sorry. Yes, sir. I’ll get Phase 2 going ASAP.”

“See to it you do. This kid is exhausting my goddamn patience.”