The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I couldn’t help smiling whenever I thought of Dr. Meghan O’Connor, Assistant Director of the Wildfire Labs, waking up to find herself neatly laid out on the carpeted floor of her office. Her clothes would be a bit mussed up its true (I did the best I could, but never quite got the hang of those pantyhose), and she would find her underpants were damp, maybe sticking a little to her crotch. But aside from that, she would be quite intact, although puzzled and probably a little scared, wondering what in the world what had happened to her! Of course, she wouldn’t remember the fun and games we had together.

After lacing Dr. O’Connor’s water with a generous dose of our latest wonder drug, A-10, I spent the next week keyed up, worried she might figure out she had been drugged, and even worse…trace it back to me! Of course, I would not be a likely suspect. After all, she might have got it by accident; some sort of contamination. And even if she thought the drugging had been deliberate, it was much more than likely she’d suspect one of the chemists, or a lab tech, than a lowly computer guy. Of course, in time she might figure out that she had been drugged. But it’s not too likely she would have thought of A-10. There were half a dozen things they were working on in that lab that might send someone on a happy trip into never-never land.

Still, much as I wanted to keep a low profile for the next few weeks, I couldn’t help myself from hanging around her lab, trying to catch a glimpse of her whenever I could. I would see her going about her business, ordering around the peons who had the bad luck to work for her, so brisk and coolly efficient in that white lab coat of hers, and immediately the powerful image of what she looked like stark naked would flash through my mind! For once you’ve seen a woman without her clothes, every time you see her after that, the picture of how she looks naked is bound to come back to you.

After a few days, I began to relax. It looked as though “Legs” O’Connor had decided to go on with her life, and to act as though nothing unusual had happened. There was not a whisper about the fun we had, (or at least I had had) in her office that night. No security report was filed; not even a mention in the always overactive rumor mill. Dr. O’Connor’s little adventure hadn’t caused a ripple, and the normal routine at the Wildfire Labs continued along its merry way.

But while things went on as normal, I couldn’t get her out of my mind: Dr. Meghan O’Connor, just standing there before me, not moving a muscle, staring blankly into space, while I carefully removed her clothes, piece by piece, then happily and freely enjoyed the wonderful sight, the smell, and the feel of that delectable naked body of hers.

The very thought of it gave me an instant, aching erection, so that I had to run to the men’s room, lock myself in a stall, and jack off right then and there. And that night in bed, I would have to repeat my solo performance, conjuring up each delicious moment, remembering the soft floppy feel of her silky little titties, the way the taut mounds of that tight-cheeked butt rebounded under the snap of the whippy ruler, the way her eyes fluttered down, features softening in blissful ecstasy as I fingered her, and the instinctive pelvic thrusts her body made as she strained towards orgasm.

I couldn’t get her out of my mind. It became an obsession with me! I wanted so badly to have her in my hands once again, to possess her one more time, if only for a few minutes. But I knew that was crazy, besides being downright dangerous. I had gotten away with it once. Trying for a repeat performance was just too risky. Much as I wanted it, I would have never taken the chance on my own. It was the arrogant bitch herself who forced my hand.

The latest blowup started over a software conversion I was doing. The damn thing wasn’t working right from the start, and I was spending hours on the phone with the vendor’s tech support people trying to get the active data to migrate to our new archive program.

I was working day and night, but nothing worked. Every time we did a test, we got garbage, and worse, it was Dr. O’Connor’s data that was really screwed up; of course, I was the one getting blamed. She had some kind of report she was trying to put together for Washington and as the deadline approached she became more and more agitated, shrieking and screaming at me. She was constantly showing up at my cubicle; riding my ass with her unreasonable demands, insisting I drop everything and do whatever she wanted.

Then there was the staff meeting where she totally lost it; yelled at me, chewed me out in front of everybody, and threatened to have me canned for my “incompetence.” It was so embarrassing that Dr. Frederick had to step in to calm her down. That did it. I left the conference room seething mad!

I had had it with the temperamental Dr. O’Connor and all the other stuck up snobs at Wildfire labs. That night I began searching the net for tech jobs overseas, with the words to the song “Take This Job and Shove It!” running through my head. I would get out of there as soon as I could, but I would take one parting shot at the overbearing bitch, one she’d never forget. Dr. O’Connor had just earned herself another chemical cocktail.

I began by reading everything about A-10 I could get my hands on. The Agency had just finished some clinical trials on a few terrorists who had “volunteered,” and the results were very interesting. They had confirmed earlier results—subjects remembered nothing of the experience once they woke up! As I read those reports I began to formulate my plans about what I was going to do with the uppity pain-in-the-ass named Dr. Meghan O’Connor.

For a full week I did nothing but watch her, studying her every movement. I had to be sure that since our little incident, she had not altered her routine. I was pleased to see she still made regular visits to the water cooler she kept just outside of her office. She was such a workaholic that I knew it was just a matter of time till I caught her working late and all alone in lab. I waited for my chance, and then one evening when I was sure she had stayed after work, I tipped enough A-10 into the water cooler to do the job, and then …added just a bit more. Then I waited.

From the close-circuit monitor I watched as she came out to get a glass of water. Once she was back in her office, I waited a full 10 minutes more, then I silently crept down the hallway to her office door. Very carefully I cracked open the door, just enough so I could see her—sitting behind her desk, with her back to the door.

She faced a picture widow that opened onto the street, but her gaze was locked before her on the computer that sat on the small table under that window. I saw the glass of water beside her. It was half-full.

I whispered her name; no response. Feeling more confident, I cleared my throat and called her name out loud. Again, the figure in the lab coat sat perfectly still. I tiptoed closer and touched her on the shoulder. “Dr. O’Connor?” The woman never moved, just sat like a statue staring out at the computer screen before her.

I walked past her to the widow and drew the drapes, shutting our little world off from any curious passersby.

I was thrilled: it was working perfectly! Now I leaned down close to her to peer into her big blue eyes. I saw those eyes widen in alarm as she recognized me and realized the situation she was in! I gave her a great big smile. She could see me of course; was perfectly aware of everything that was happening to her, although she would not remember it when she woke up. I brought my lips to hers and lightly kissed her. No response. Still, I liked it. I did it again. Then, I leaned back to consider my prize. I had at least an hour. The plans I had should make for an hour of fun.

I had wondered: what if Dr. Meghan O’Connor, Assistant Director of the Wildfire Labs, were to wake up and find herself sitting in her first-floor office—topless, her perky little tits completely exposed so as to give passer-bys a cheap thrill as they strolled along the street just outside her widow? Of course, she would be aware that she was being stripped, but she wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about it: just sit there in growing apprehension as I removed her first lab coat, then her blouse, and then her bra, to leave the slender brown-haired girl sitting there, totally bare breasted, for all the world to see? I chuckled at the happy thought.

Just the thought of Meghan’s sexy tits being brought out to play gave me an instantly hardon. I just had to see those cute little boobs once again! Shaking with excitement, I grabbed the girl by the slim shoulders and eased her unresisting body forward in the chair. I worked the lab coat down and off her limp arms. Under it she had on a pale yellow blouse cut like a man’s shirt. My fingers were trembling as I undid each button down the front and pulled the blouse loose. Meghan’s modest breasts were snugly cupped, constricted into two neat little bulges by the coffee-colored bra she wore. Reaching behind her, I fumbled with the catch, and pulled off her brassiere, freeing those gently mounded titties to spill out and hang succulently before me.

My hand was drawn to her left breast to lovingly trace the sloping curve. She had such nice tits, and I was so eager to get my hands on them—ever since the first time I had so thoroughly enjoyed them many months ago. I placed both hands on her chest, and curved my palms so I could push the pliant globes up and around in a circular massage. I could feel her heat, her breasts burning into my palms, the nipples protruding out like two hard pebbles. I spent some time there, just feeling the girl up, enjoying the silky smooth texture of tittie-flesh, the playful way they flopped when I bounced them on my fingertips, the way her eyes shut and her brow creased when I squeezed them, gently, then harder, holding her in my cupped hands.

Her chest was heaving now, the breasts riding up and down with each ragged breath she took through her open mouth. I savored the feel of her pliable breasts: warm and damp, with a light sheen of perspiration. The nipples were emerging, from aureoles that were expanding, tightening. I pulled on them, rolled them between my fingers, worried those sensitive tips into full arousal.

Leaning forward, I took a wobbly globe into my mouth and let my tongue play over the hardened little nipple. I looked up at her as I sucked gently on that captive tit; saw her eyelids flutter. I knew I was working her up, her healthy young body responding instinctively, even though her mind might be screaming protests.

I licked up and down all over Meghan’s floppy titties and then, eager to get on with the show, left them dangling there with wet excited nipples,

“Hey Doc, are we having a good time, yet?” I smiled up at her, and found the eyes that were looking down at me were heavy-lidded. Her face was flushed; her brow sheened with sweat. She was breathing through slightly-parted lips. The woman was burning up with the heat of having her breasts exposed, then lovingly caressed by an appreciative male. By now, the oh so superior Dr. O’Connor was quite definitely turned on.

Now I continued with my plan by retrieving the short lab coat she always wore. Easing her inert body out from the back of the chair I managed to get the coat on her once again. It was like manipulating a rag doll, but I finally got her slack arms in the sleeves, and drew it up on her shoulders. Very carefully I arranged the opened front of the white jacket, pushing it back at the sides so as to allow open and complete access to that charming pair of sexy breasts to anyone who cared to look.

Playing with Meghan’s adorable tits had me wildly excited, and as I worked hurriedly to finish my arrangements, I was pretty hot myself, tingling all over, and sporting a raging hardon. The girl was watching me intently from behind her glasses, her blue eyes widening with growing disbelief, as I pushed her computer out of the way so as she sat in her chair she would be directly facing the large picture window. I was careful to arrange the furniture so that the view from outside would be unhindered, once the drapes were pulled back.

The stricken woman could only watch in frantic distress as the full impact of her situation began to sink in! She knew she was about to be exposed to the world, and there was not one blessed thing she could do about it! I was sure she was silently shrieking her protests at being exposed like this, but outraged as she was, she was about to find she would be suffering an even greater indignity at my hands.

I stepped close to her seated form, and smiled down at her, and as she looked up to watch me from under that even fringe of light brown bangs, I opened up my pants in front of her to release my painfully stiff cock.

Wild with excitement, I brought my naked penis next to her face and rubbed it over her cheek and lips, letting her get the feel of me, my throbbing cock, my hard masculine need. Then I took my super-ready cock in hand and, with only a few quick pulls, I was shooting off—spewing thick gobs of ropy cum right down on Dr Meghan O’Connor’s pretty face, on her brow, her cheeks, her lips, painting her still face with my cum.

As a final gesture, I made sure she was watching me as I slowly opened the drapes to the early evening traffic on El Segundo Boulevard. Then I left and closed the door, leaving the proud Dr. O’Connor to face her audience: the cars and the occasional and pedestrians strolling down the avenue. She would be painfully aware of her embarrassing situation of course. But soon she would fall asleep and forget the events in her office, and my part in her downfall. Unfortunately for her, when she finally came to, the painful reality would return with a bang as she found herself on public display, her tits hanging out, with sticky strands of drying male sperm decorating her humiliated face.

I think about that night in her office, as I watch the sun set from the balcony of my apartment overlooking a grove of rubber trees in my little part of Thailand. I often wonder about Dr. O’Connor. I couldn’t resist taking a picture of her posing in her chair just before I left her office that night—a memento of our quality time together. Maybe I’ll send it to her one of these days.