The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The experiment with rats

fd, mm, ma, mf, hm

Harriet wasn’t quite sure what got into her that afternoon at the flat. It wasn’t like her.

It was a Sunday, true, and she was bored. She and her flatmate, Stephen had cleaned, shopped and laundered and there was nothing else until Monday morning when they both would turn up to the lab for another day’s work. They had fallen into a routine. Neither of them had known each other before they took the job, but they rubbed along fairly well.

Normally on a Sunday evening, she’d have sat down, as Stephen was doing and read an essay in a journal, or caught up with friends on Facebook. But the idea just popped into her head, fully formed. Odd, really. Strange. And she realised it was the right thing to do.

Opening her laptop, cross legged on her bed, she navigated to Pornhub and searched the category, ‘Gay.’

And that in itself was strange.

A postdoctoral scientist, who had devoted her life to academia, she had never really had any interest in pornography until that moment. At 29, she had had affairs along the way; men were attracted to her. As a behaviourist biologist she understood why. Physiologically, she was lucky. She was slender, with decent breasts, dark hair and a pretty face that meant she sometimes found it hard to be taken seriously. Men liked her type. She had never really had to try very hard to find boyfriends, though to be honest, she had never been that bothered with them. She preferred clever men to handsome ones and expected a partner to share the same values. Her ambition was focused on science, not on breeding.

But she was not innocent. She knew that sex existed. And here she was navigating a notorious porn site for the first time in her life.

Looking for gay men having sex.

She told herself she was doing so with the same kind of scientific detachment she usually reserved for observation videos of rats. She had no interest in gay men herself. And she wasn’t gay either. It was all to do with the idea which had come to her out of the blue just a couple of minutes earlier. It had just appeared out of nowhere. And she knew it was a great idea.

When the page loaded, she decided to sample a few movies first, clicking on the links; she was not exactly sure what she was looking for. Fortunately the neat-two bedroom flat in a nice area that the lab had rented for them had excellent wi-fi. In ‘Virgin Ass’, a young man proffered his anus to an older man. She watched with fascination as he lubricated the puckered darkness first with a finger then carefully inserted his own penis into it. It must hurt the other man so much, she thought, yet within a few seconds the young man seemed to be enjoying it.

Interesting, she thought. Unsettling. Arousing, too. This was new to her, the idea that other people’s unfettered lust should be arousing. The camera closed in and filmed the penis sliding out and in, balls swinging against the younger man’s hairless bottom.

It fascinated her. She had never observed sex this closely before. The slipperiness of it. The sense of being overtaken by biology and pleasure. The shape of the penis, penetrating that taboo place.

But she wasn’t sure this was the right one. It seemed… too brutal. She clicked another. ’Hand job’ widened her eyes still further. Two men sat next to each other on a gym bench, white towels around their shoulders, grasping their fists around each others’ cocks, pumping them slowly, groaning out loud. The volume was loud and she hadn’t bothered turning it down.

‘What are you doing in there?’ called Stephen, from the living room outside.

‘Surprise,’ she said. ‘Wait a minute.’

It would be a surprise, she supposed.

She watched, utterly entranced. She had led a sheltered life. She knew this kind of thing existed on the internet. Sometimes she had chanced on the odd pornographic image, but it had never interested her. That detachment she had felt a minute earlier crumbled. Something about the way the man’s hand circled the other man’s cock amazed her, excited her. It was as if something new had switched on in her head. Click! What would that feel like in her hand, she wondered? That big, warm, veiny, pulsing chunk of manhood.

She circled her own fist and moved it up and down as she watched.

And when the first jets of sperm started to bubble out of the top of the prick she gasped out loud. One men started to come, and within seconds, both men were orgasming now, spurting over each others’ bodies.

‘Harriet?’ said Stephen. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Yes,’ she said, breathing hard. ‘I think so.’

Women came in a silent judder, or with a moan; men came so forcefully, expelling ropes of pearly liquid. Of course she’d known that. Men had even spurted inside her, though always within prophylactics. But something had changed inside her, now. There was something magnificent about the sight of the men spraying thick white globs of liquid onto bare skin, because they couldn’t hold it back. They reached a point where their bodies had taken over their minds and they could do noting but spurt out that amazing liquid.

This was the video, she thought, eyes wide. It was perfect. She composed herself, took a breath and stood, still clutching the laptop.

Stephen was sitting on the settee with a can of coke. He had a copy of Scientific American on his lap.

‘Put the magazine down and watch this,’ she said.

‘What is it?’

She put the laptop on his lap, sad down beside him and pressed play.

‘Oh my god. Harriet? What are you doing?’

‘Just watch,’ she said.

‘It’s porn. It’s gay porn.’

‘Yes. Watch it.’

‘Why? You’re showing me porn. It’s…’

‘Just watch it.’

‘… Disgusting.’

He went to push the screen away form him, but she held it there firmly so that he could see everything that was going on. And just as the idea had come to her out of the blue and she had known that it was a good one, he seemed to change right then before her eyes. It was as if something had been switched on inside him, too. Click.

‘Watch what they’re doing.’ For some reason, he did as exactly he was told and began to look at the film. It was six minutes long. Again they listened as the two men began to groan, moving their fists up and down each others pricks.

‘What…? I don’t understand, Harriet. What’s got into you?’

’Ssh. Don’t talk.’

And then it happened, like she had somehow known it would. Beneath his jeans, she watched Stephen’s penis start to engorge and she smiled. She had caused that to happen, she thought, pleased with herself.

The men were jerking faster now, mouths hanging wide, eyes rolling.

‘You should take your trousers off,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘You heard. Take your trousers off.’

‘What?’ Again.

‘Just do it.’ Where had this sudden new assertiveness come from? She had no idea, but it didn’t seem important to wonder at this point.

‘Harriet, this is… absurd,’ he said, but his eyes were locked on the screen.

‘You have an erection. It must be uncomfortable. Take off your trousers,’ she reasoned.

‘Why are you doing this?’ There was an anxiety in his voice; fear, even.

‘You like it,’ she said. What would have seemed impossible a week ago seemed like an incontrovertible truth, now. ‘You like watching men’s pricks.’

‘No I don’t. I’m not gay.’ He shook his head slowly.

‘Yes you are,’ she said.

‘I’m not,’ he said, sounding confused now. ‘I have a girlfriend.’

It was true. He had a pretty young girlfriend called Susan who had come to stay for a couple of nights when they had first moved into the flat. She lived in the North somewhere and studied Politics and Economics. Though they had tried to be discreet, Harriet had heard them having sex when she visited. Right now, that scenario seemed increasingly ridiculous. He was sitting here, clearly deeply aroused by the vision of two men masturbating each other.

‘Take them off,’ she said again.

‘This is… What’s got into you? Please, Harriet. I don’t understand.’

’Ssh, Stephen. Just watch,’ she said. Through his protests he had not once looked away from the screen. The men were orgasming now again, spattering all over each other, pumping magnificently. Stephen’s mouth was open, he was breathing harder.

She reached over his lap and pressed ‘Replay’. The two men’s bodies were fresh, unsullied again and the routine was starting all over.

‘You are enjoying it, aren’t you? I knew you would.’

‘Did you?’ he said, less certainly now.

‘Yes.’

‘I’m enjoying it?’ he asked.

‘You’re loving it. It makes you hard.’

‘Yes. I suppose it does.’

‘Watching men have sex makes you hard.’

‘Mm.’

‘Good boy,’ she said. Undoing the top button of his jeans, she said, ’Lift,’ and, as if he were just a child being undressed by his mother, he raised himself up off the couch and let her jerk his trousers a little way down to his thighs. ’Come on, now you do the rest. Take them off.’

She picked up the laptop so he could still watch it as he pulled his trousers down the rest of the way. Which he did as the two men’s fists squeezed each other, gathering pace again.

‘Come on. And your underpants,’ she said.

This time there was no argument. He tugged the underwear past his erect penis and they fell on top of his lowered trousers.

His prick stuck out straight and hard. Harriet stared at it for a second, still holding the laptop. She had only ever fumbled under sheets or in the dark with men’s penises. She had never looked this directly at one. Why had she not done it before? It was so awesome; literally awesome. Inspiring awe.

‘Down,’ she said, and he flopped back down onto the couch, not resisting.

Placing the laptop on his bare knees, she kneeled down in front of him and tugged the trousers off until he was naked from the waist down. The men were groaning loudly again; Stephen’s mouth was wide open, practically drooling.

How could it begin to be true what he had said; that he wasn’t gay? Yes, weeks ago she had caught him looking covertly at her breasts her breakfast, when she was still dressed in her pyjamas. Men did that. She had certainly never thought of him as gay until just recently, but now here he was looking at two men masturbating each other, totally rapt. If she took off her pullover and removed her bra, he probably wouldn’t even notice right now.

Her idea had been an excellent one. Grinning she stood watching him, prick stiff in front of him, eyes fixed. She had done all this, she realised. He had been sitting on the couch reading, perfectly normally, and now he was barely in control of himself. And most of all, it was thrilling the way he had just caved in to her. She had had no idea she enjoyed power over other people, but it had been so exciting watching his will dwindle as his penis had hardened just because she had told him to do this.

‘Which one do you like better?’ she asked. ‘The one on the left, with the muscles, or the blond one on the right?’

He thought about it for a second, then said, ‘Left.’

Earlier today, they had just been two colleagues, sharing a flat and working together in the animal lab on a behaviourist experiment, sifting through hours and hours of video to make observations about rats.

‘Watch him then. Imagine him doing this to you.’

Now they were entering new, fantastical territory today together. But she couldn’t think too hard about how this had happened or why. It didn’t seem even slightly important. If Stephen’s mind was clouded with lust, hers was little better. There was something else she wanted to do now.

She sat down beside him on the couch and put her hands around his penis. It felt so good to touch a man’s prick. He looked startled for a second but as she started to move her fist, gently at first, he gave up thinking completely.

‘Good boy,’ she said. ‘Watch the men. You like them, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’

And she rubbed him up and down, up and down until he spurted, just like the men on the screen. It had only taken a few short seconds, but it gave her such a feeling of power to make him orgasm like that. The air was suddenly full of the aroma of semen. It was like baking a cake; the smell of what you were doing filled the room, satisfyingly. Only this was better than cake.

The video ended. Stephen sat looking confused on the sofa, cum on his thighs and shirt. She unpeeled her hand from his softening prick and wiped it clean on his shirt-tail.

Embarrassed, he leaned down to put his trousers back on.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Leave them. We’ll do it again in a minute, OK?’

‘What?’

‘I’ll do it again to you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

‘Would I?’

‘Definitely. Find another video and tell me when you’re ready, OK?’

‘What sort of video?’

‘You like hand jobs,’ she said. ‘Man-on-man.’

Half-naked, he blinked slowly, then set to work to find one.

It was Dr Jonassohn who had told Harriet that Stephen was gay.

‘No he isn’t. He has a girlfriend,’ she had answered.

It was the previous Friday and they had been in his office doing the weekly one-on-one debrief. Jonassohn was sat behind his desk, looking down at her through his rimless spectacles. She was exhausted. She and Stephen had spent all day logging the rat videos as they had done every day for weeks. They sat in booths, with little screens in front of them and with headphones on, watching the videos taken from the rat nests, logging certain behaviours like eating, fighting, having sex. By the end of the day, her head felt like scrambled eggs.

‘I think you’ll find he’s gay.’

She must have still looked sceptical. He hadn’t heard the noises she had when Susan had visited. The attempt to keep it quiet as he grunted and she moaned.

‘Trust me. I know these things,’ he said. And then—click—it was obvious that he must be right.

She did trust him, she realised. So it was probably true, she thought.

‘Wow. I never knew.’

’Not until I told you. But you know now, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘He’s gay. I had never spotted that in all this time. I suppose because he was trying so hard to be straight. He’s a homosexual. I’m OK with that. Do you think he’ll want to bring boyfriends round to the flat?’

‘Give him time,’ said Dr Jonassohn. ‘He probably needs a little encouraging. You’re in charge. You can help him with that.’

‘I can help him with that, I suppose.’

‘Yes. Help him be who he needs to be.’

‘Help be who he needs to be,’ she repeated.

She didn’t used to trust Dr Jonassohn. When she was first hired as an assistant she thought the whole thing was dubious. The experiment was on using pheromones and repeated external stimuli to create extreme behaviour change in rats. That kind of mechanical behaviourism went out with the ark. It was ridiculous. The experiments might be able to chose some short term changes in behaviour, but nothing permanent. She wondered why on earth anyone would still be funding this kind of thing. But these days, a job was a job and the money was surprisingly good. With all the cuts, her move up the academic ladder had been stalled. She could do it for a few months and then move on.

At first she had been appalled to find that she and her colleague Stephen would be doing such simple tasks each day. She had a masters, for god’s sake. From Cambridge. All they had been hired to do, day in day out, was watch the recordings of the rats. The fuzzy video stream gave her headaches. How on earth could you get a grant for this stuff? And Jonassohn’s experiment was clearly a failure. It was supposed to be blindfold. As a researcher she wasn’t supposed to be aware of what data exactly she was collecting, but she was smart enough to realise that none of the rats behaviour had changed at all in the six weeks she and Stephen had been working here. Eat, fight, have sex. That continued in much the same way, week after week. How could any of this even work? It was a waste of resources.

But the flat was nice and she got along well enough with Stephen. And as the weeks went past she had begun to like Dr Jonassohn too, which was weird, because at the start she had thought him a little creepy and controlling. Like wasn’t really the word. Despite the failure of his experiment, she had begun to admire him. He seemed to have such great opinions and insights. About what, she wasn’t sure, now she thought of it. But he seemed to know everything about her. He was such a commanding presence.

‘You too have deep something inside you that you want to let out, Harriet.’

‘Do I?’

‘Oh yes.’

‘What is it?’

He smiled. ‘You’ll know it when it happens.’

‘Oh.’

And yes, she trusted him. He had become almost like a father figure to her. When she’d asked him for career advice, he’d chided her. Why spent all your time looking for the next thing? This is where you want to be, isn’t it, Harriet?

And it was. He was 100% right about that. And if Dr Jonassohn said Stephen was gay, then he was gay. He was always right about things like that.

On Monday on the bus to work, she had sat beside Stephen.

She noticed the way he looked at the two men, both in their twenties, who got in the bus and sat down facing them. See? Jonassohn had been right.

When the two men were talking, she leaned over to Stephen and whispered, ‘Which one would you like to fuck you?’

He looked back at her, startled.

‘I’m not…’

‘Yes you are. You are gay. Go on. Say. Which one would you like to fuck you,’ she said, quietly.

Stephen looked from one to the other, then leaned back and whispered, ‘I guess the one with the beard.’

’That’s your type.’

‘Yes. He’s my type.’

Harried nodded, satisfied. ‘What are you going to tell Susan?’

Stephen looked suddenly sad. ‘I don’t know.’

‘You better tell her you’re gay, hadn’t you?’

He nodded. ‘I suppose I better had.’

Dr Jonassohn welcomed them to the lab, beaming with happiness. ‘Hello children? Did you have a good weekend?’

‘Wonderful,’ said Harriet, smiling.

Stephen looked less sure of himself.

Jonassohn clapped his hands. ‘Come on. To work, to work.’ And he led them towards their booths and, as soon as they were plugged in and had their headphones on, started streaming the videos.

That night she found more gay porn for Stephen.

He watched it on the couch again in just a t-shirt, with Harriet diligently pumping his cock.

‘Slut,’ she said.

‘Uh,’ was all Stephen said.

‘Cock slut.’

Though she still experienced elation each time she felt his penis begin to twitch, seeing the white dribble onto his thighs, she realised that it wasn’t quite what either of them wanted. He wanted a man to be ordering him around, to be clutching his prick, to be making him orgasm like this. And she wanted to it to be her that was making the man orgasm, her body, her hands, not the vision of the men on the screen.

Stephen was aroused not by her but by the men who were sucking each other’s cocks in the video she had found.

‘Cock lover,’ she crooned.

He grunted.

Though all this was really great, it wasn’t quite as satisfactory as it should be, she thought, as she cupped his balls in her left hand, letting her little finger slide towards his anus as she pumped him with her right. She was getting good at this though, she thought, and he came for the third time that evening just as she pushed her finger into his asshole.

The couch was soggy with his emissions. ‘You’ll need to clean that up,’ she said, wiping her hand dry on his jacket. The flat smelt of sperm. She quite liked it though. She had made this happen.

‘Stephen is gay,’ she told Dr Jonassohn, on Thursday morning, before going to her booth.

‘I told you. And what are you, Harriet?’She blinked. ‘Oh, I’m not gay.’

He laughed. ‘Oh no. You’re definitely not gay. But I’m not sure you understand what you are. Do you remember what you wrote on your orientation form when you joined the lab?’

At their first Friday one-on-one briefings, Dr Jonassohn had presented Harriet and Stephen with a personality test. It was a pretty weird form and some of the questions had been, frankly, offensive, but by the end of that first week they had both been exhausted, so they had completed it.

Dr Jonassohn was sitting at his desk, a pile of paper in front of him. He said, ‘I don’t think either of you were particularly accurate when you completed them. I think you both concealed facts about yourselves.’

Harriet was shocked. ‘I pride himself on my honesty, Dr Jonassohn. I assure you I tried to be as accurate as I could be.’

‘Of course. But you were probably tired when you completed the forms.’

‘Yes,’ said Harriet. ‘I suppose we were both tired.’ She remembered that week. At times she had felt almost physically ill, stuck in her booth, watching the grainy images of rats for hour after hour. It had left her feeling utterly drained. She had wondered if she would last a fortnight here.

He took some stapled sheets of paper from on top of the pile and turned it around so that Harriet could read it. It was Stephen’s form, she realised. She read a question at random. I am someone who can assert my own opinions when necessary. He had ticked, ‘Agree strongly.’ She raised her eyebrows. Really? she thought. He was a complete wimp. After he had sponged the sofa down she had told him to sniff it to see if it was really clean. He had done exactly what he had been told. It had been kind of cool, watching him kneel, naked on the carpet, sniffing where he had spilt his cum onto the velour.

‘Look at question 17,’ said Dr Jonassohn.

Harriet turned the page. My sexuality. Stephen had ticked, ’Heterosexual.’ She giggled. ‘Well, he didn’t know he was gay. He thought he was straight then. It wasn’t his fault.’

’So he answered the question wrongly.’

She frowned. ’Yes. But he didn’t know.’

‘That doesn’t matter. He was inaccurate.’

‘I suppose he was. He was wrong. He’s gay.’

‘In science it is important to be accurate.’

‘Yes. He was wrong. That’s not good.’

Jonassohn handed another pile of paper to her. It was the form she had completed. ‘Question 19,’ he said. How often do I think about sex? She had ticked the box that said, ‘Rarely.’

She blushed.

‘I think you made a mistake there as well, didn’t you?’

‘Did I?’ she asked nervously. But she knew she must have.

‘Yes. You think about sex a lot, don’t you?’

It didn’t occur to Harriet to ask how her boss knew this. She was embarrassed about the topic itself, but even more ashamed that she had been caught out like this.

‘Yes. I do.’ Over the last four days she had masturbated her flatmate repeatedly, two or three times a night, trawling through websites looking for scenes of gay sex. On Tuesday night, after she had made Stephen clean the couch, she had started looking for videos for herself too. The ones she decided she liked most were the ones where women had men’s penis’s in their hands, working them until they came, spraying cum over their breasts, asses or faces. Those ones were really hot. She had started masturbating a lot herself after her sessions with Stephen something she had never done before.

‘You think about sex a lot,’ he said again.

She was so humiliated. ‘Yes, I do.’

On Wednesday, instead of him using the sponge, she had made Stephen lick the mess he’d made up. She had watched him, penis swelling again as she humiliated him. Afterwards she had found this great video of a woman jerking a man’s penis off onto the ass of another woman.

‘You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?’

She nodded, mutely. She was thinking about what it would be like to hold Dr Jonassohn’s cock and to jerk it off. She couldn’t help but imagine it. She was sure he would have a beautiful penis, and that his ejaculate would smell so great when it gushed from the end of his penis.

She could feel herself getting wet.

‘Good. I’m glad you’ve been honest with me. And honest with yourself. Tell me now.’

‘I think of sex a lot,’ she said.

‘All the time,’ he said.

’Yes. All the time. I’m sorry I gave an unscientific answer.’

The idea of taking a man to that point, where the muscles clenched and the involuntary spasms started thrilled her. A man orgasming, because he liked her tits or ass, because of the way she worked his dick. It would be so… rewarding. Yes, that was the word, rewarding.

She wished she could drop down on her knees and crawl towards him, unzipping his trousers, pulling out his penis. But he probably didn’t even notice her being a woman at all.

‘Off you go then. Back to work.’

As she stood and walked to the door, she felt sure he could smell the arousal on her, or hear the squishing as she walked. She was such a pervert.

She wished she could have spent more time talking to Dr Jonassohn, instead of working on his failed experiment. Even if it was humiliating that he knew that she was so obsessed with sex, he was so insightful and so good to be with. It was such a shame that the results she and Stephen were gathering would disprove his theory.

She would have to think of something to do that would help him get through it. She was sure it would come to her.