The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

While Dave, Jenny, Vicky and Rob had been at the swingers club, Aoife and Gina had taken Sean, Aoife’s boyfriend, out on the town. He’d accepted the story about pipes bursting at her flat readily enough, and of course was very much of the opinion that friends have to help out friends in times of need; Aoife was quite certain that the fact that Gina was smoking hot didn’t play a part.

So they’d gone out for dinner. All the way through the meal, Sean had felt like there was a strange energy between the three of them. Positive, friendly, absolutely; indeed, given that he’d never met Gina before, almost incongruously close; but there also seemed to be an odd tension between the girls, almost an excitement. Aoife’s eyes took on the mischievous look they sometimes had in the week leading up to his birthday. And if it hadn’t been for the fact that his girlfriend was sitting next to her, he would have been sure that Gina was flirting with him. Certainly there was lots of eye contact, across the table, always accompanied with smiles; the conversation seemed to steer itself around to sex, or love, or attractiveness of various people, surprisingly often. No opportunity for innuendo went unfulfilled. And Gina seemed to find lots of opportunities to touch him, or bump into him, or brush against him, whether grabbing his arm while talking, or squeezing past his chair in the restaurant. Always completely innocently; but each time he felt something.

It didn’t help, Sean had thought, that he had been really horny all week. Not so much during the daytimes, when he was at work, but from the minute Aoife had been released from her quarantine over the weekend, more or less every minute they had spent together had involved some kind of sexual contact. She’d blown him while he was having his breakfast this morning. It was unbelieveable. In fact, this evening represented the longest they’d spent together with their clothes on since the weekend, and he’d been, at he least, mildly aroused for most of it.

And now as he sat opposite Gina, she was turning a sugar cube over in her fingers, whilst telling him—ostensibly complaining—about the noises her housemate made during sex. The sugar cube was coincidentally at just such a height that when she suddenly dropped it in her coffee, he found himself gazing directly at her cleavage. He looked up, awkwardly: she flashed a smile which seemed almost predatory, and licked her lips. He looked away to Aoife; she just smiled at him. He really hoped that was her leg stroking his under the table.

This dragged on for another ten minutes or so while she drank her coffee. The worst part was that Sean was becoming more and more turned on. He shifted in his seat a few times as his penis swelled inside his pants. On several occasions he found himself sinking into her eyes. Each time, when she finished speaking and looked away, he remembered himself with a jolt.

Gina finished the coffee, and excused herself.

“Well,” said Aoife, “Do you like her?”

“Erm,” Sean stumbled. “Yeah, she seems nice.” She seemed more than nice. She was… compelling. She was somehow gleaming. “She seems sweet enough.” He couldn’t quite place it—it was more than sweet; there was a knowingness to her, as well.

“She’s certainly sweet,” said his girlfriend. “You don’t mind that she’s going to be staying with us, do you?”

Whether it was the beers he’d drunk with the meal, or the company, Sean felt intoxicated. He shrugged. “Not in the least. Happy to help your friend. She doesn’t seem like she’ll cause a problem.”

“I don’t know how long it’ll last…”

“She can stay for as long as you want,” he said.

Gina reappeared. She said, “I’ve paid the bill. My treat, to say thanks. Shall we go dancing?”

Aoife jumped with excitement. “Oh now there’s a thought. How about it Sean? You don’t have work tomorrow, do you?”

“As it happens, I don’t.” He shrugged again. “ Yeah, why not?”

Aoife stood up. Sean was intensely aware of the pillar in his trousers. He took his time putting his coat on and getting up, in the hope that the girls would miss his erection; inevitably, though, he saw Gina’s eyes flick down. When they came back up, they were sparkling.

She didn’t say anything though; instead, she linked arms with Aoife and, giggling, they swept out of the restaurant.

The street was fairly busy, and as they wove between passers-by, Sean couldn’t help but notice several of the men they passed checking out the two girls. They were both hot: two blondes, in tight dresses. Gina’s arse was fantastic, he couldn’t help but acknowledge. With a degree of pride, though, he noted that Aoife’s breasts were better: large, round and juicy, straining against the fabric of her dress, bouncing as she strode. Which she did surprisingly swiftly: she didn’t often wear heels, in fact Sean didn’t recognise the strappy skyscrapers upon which she was skipping down the road.

By the time they reached the bar the girls had apparently chosen, Sean had caught them up, and as the bouncers waved the girls in he slipped through alongside them.

The bar was dark, illuminated with occasional flashes of neon. A grinding bass beat flooded the space. They made their way through the crowd to the bar.

“My round,” said Gina. “What are you having?”

Sean and Aoife named their drinks, and Gina turned towards the bar. As she did, Aoife grabbed Sean and kissed him passionately.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” she said. “Oh God I’m so horny!”

“Me too,” said Sean.

Aoife’s hand found his cock. “Apparently so.” She grinned evilly. “What about this evening has been turning you on?”

Sean didn’t know how to respond.

“Is it Gina?

Sean tried to say something in objection, but his cock belied the denial. She continued, “She is hot. If I wasn’t so totally straight…”

The deliberate irony spoke straight to Sean’s crotch: they both know that Aoife wasn’t totally straight. Not that she had ever acted on it, that Sean knew of, but she frequently told him that she found other women attractive, and was he intrigued how far that interest would extend.

Sean, for his part, had admitted to being turned on by the idea of seeing her with another woman—and of course, of being with two women.

His normal reply, when Aoife joked about a particular woman being sexy, was never said with any expectation of it coming to be in reality. They always laughed after the words passed his lips, and then usually changed the subject.

Tonight, when he said it, there was a lot more to it. The words came directly from his groin: “Maybe we could share her.”

Aoife didn’t usually respond by kissing him harder, still caressing his cock, and by saying “Maybe we could.” But tonight, that’s what she did.

With impeccable timing, Gina returned, clutching two glasses and a bottle, in a triangle. “Here you go!” she shouted over the music.

The couple broke their embrace, and took the drinks. Sean’s head was spinning. He didn’t know what to make of what his girlfriend had just said, but the subject changed, so fortunately for him he didn’t have to respond.

The conversation moved on, the need for talking lessened by the loud music. They were standing on the edge of the crowd at the bar, where it bled into dancefloor, They drank and chatted and when they finished their drinks Sean went to the bar.

It took him a while to get served, and when he returned, the girls were surrounded by guys. Their eyes roamed across Gina and Aoife’s bodies as they gyrated around each other. As he observed the bubble of lust that surrounded them, he felt simultaneously proud and jealous; he barged past the last row of guys, grabbed his girlfriend, drew her body to him, and planted his lips on hers.

When he came up for air, it seemed as if the world slowed down. His act had attracted attention, but then almost tangibly the focus of the room slid away from him and Aoife, and onto Gina. A cluster of hungry guys around her simultaneously concluded that this meant she was single; she felt this happen, and took what seemed like the only action open to her: she wrapped her arm around Aoife’s waist, pulled the Irish girl into her, and kissed her hard on the mouth.

Time slowed to a trickle as Sean’s girlfriend first returned the kiss, then pulled back, looked between him and her friend, and mouthed, “Go on, then.”

Gina moved in on him, slipped her other arm around his back, snaked it up his neck, pulled his head down and kissed him.

Sean felt something explode in the room as Gina ground against him, and Aoife dived in, and pushed her way past to kiss his face. Two hands roamed around his crotch. One held the small of his back, and a fourth hand dug its nails into the back of his neck. Two bodies pressed against his, four breasts mashed themselves into his chest, and two mouths fought for his.

And maybe ten or fifteen people around them watched, open-mouthed, in awe. Every single one of them was aroused by the sight; every guy wanted to be Sean. Every girl wondered what he had that had earned this.

He sunk into the moment, and then, without any decision being verbally acknowledged, all three of them were moving towards the exit. He must have ditched the drinks somewhere en route, because he wasn’t holding them by the time he got outside. Aoife had found a cab, and they piled in. As the car moved off, the journey descended into a mess of mouths and hands and flesh. His cock was released, and immediately swallowed by a mouth—Gina’s, since he had Aoife’s bare tits in his face. And then it was the other way round—Gina’s were somewhat smaller, but still fleshy enough to envelop his vision. Her skin was paler than Aoife’s; she had small, perky nipples.

The taxi ride seem to pass mercifully quickly, and then they were back in the house. The two girls were all over each other, tearing each others’ clothes off. Gina threw Aoife onto the sofa, kissed her on the mouth, and then moved down her body. The Irish girl beckoned Sean across, took his cock out, and enveloped it with her mouth.

As his cock slipped between her lips, Sean felt a shudder pass through his girlfriend. He couldn’t tell whether it was triggered by him or by Gina’s activities between her legs, but in either case it energised her, and she ground against both partners, bucking her hips against Gina’s face and driving Sean deeper into her throat.

He was so aroused he could hardly restrain himself, and almost involuntarily he thrust against her, ramming his cock into her mouth. She wrapped her hands around his ass and pulled him to her, pushing her lips further down his shaft, until they reached the base of his cock, and then holding him there, even as she choked and gagged. She looked up, and as their eyes met, Sean felt the come explode from his balls and jet into her throat; instantly Aoife pulled back; a string of come fired across her face. He reached for his cock, to milk the last of it out, but she grabbed his wrists and held them away.

“Oh no,” she said, “You’re not done yet.”

His cock strained, desperate to release the rest of its payload. Teasingly, she licked the underside of his shaft. His cock leapt, and she was rewarded with a gob of jizz which formed at the tip. She licked it off, and swallowed, performatively, grinned, and blew on him. Sean’s penis twitched. Aoife pulled him down so that he was sitting on the sofa next to her. She froze, leaving him cruelly suspended right at the start of an orgasm, and kept him there until his cock became ever so slightly less hard.

“Don’t worry. We’ll let you come. Soon.”

She looked down at Gina. “Come on. Climb aboard. We all know you’ve been wanting to all night.”

Gina gave a little yelp of joy. “It’s true,” she told Sean. “I have.”

Sean felt dazed, and sat there passively on the sofa as the slim blonde girl rose to her feet, then straddled him, her knees either side of his hips. She tenderly held his cock between trembling fingertips, and slowly lowered her body until her wet lips brushed against the tip. She guided it inside her, paused for a second, and then dropped her bodyweight onto him, driving him all the way in in one movement. She convulsed on his cock, immediately collapsing into orgasm. As she recovered, and started to grind, her mouth started to move, and after a few moments he was able to make out the words: she was mumbling, “Oh God!”, over and over again.

She became more and more emphatic, until she was slamming her crotch into his and yelling the words, her wild eyes locked on his. She came enormously, dragging Sean with her into another massive orgasm, one which simultaneously fired all his muscles then left them spent. His come flooded her pussy, and they both collapsed. She lay, panting, with her face buried in his neck and her cunt clamping on his cock.

From somewhere, Sean summoned the ability to speak. “Wow,” he said. “That was spectacular.”

Aoife laughed, and Gina slipped sideways off him, and rolled onto the couch. The Irish girl said, “And we’re not done yet. Not by a long chalk.”

Dave, Rob and Vicky were sat round the table having breakfast when Jenny made it into the kitchen.

“Ah,” said the lecturer. “The Kraken wakes.”

“Morning,” Jenny managed.

Vicky sprang from her chair, ran over to her friend, and hugged her. “Good morning! How are you?”

“Just coming to.”

“Tea?”

“I think so.”

“You were incredible last night,” Vicky said, as she filled the kettle. “How was it?”

Jenny dropped into a chair. “Oh my God,” she said, shaking her head. “Brilliant. I think I… went into another place.”

Dave laughed. “I think you did.”

“So… what happened?”

“That was fantastic. That’s what happened,” Vicky told her.

She made and ate some breakfast, as the others recounted the story of last night. Vicky had had a series of small gangbangs, throughout the night; there had been a few other women pulling trains, and both Rob and Dave had joined in, but as the evening had unfolded, Jenny had become the centre of most of the activity in the club. Every guy there had fucked her, several times. After a certain point, Vicky had wound up in the same room; along with a couple of other ladies, she had serviced the crowd in there, keeping them satisfied while they waited.

Dave had remained in the room with Jenny for most of the night, only leaving when Rob, or Chris, the host, were there to keep an eye on things. He had found, as Rob had, that every woman he stuck his cock into came more or less immediately, and then kept coming. Indeed, several of them had wanted more of him than the situation allowed; quite a few people had exchanged email addresses with him at the end, and when he’d logged on this morning, he already had a few invitations. His enormous cock seemed to be both an attraction and a challenge, and although none of the women he’d met in the club had been able to take it all, they’d all enjoyed trying.

Rob had also given out his contacts to a few people, and many of the guys had wanted to meet the two girls again. Vicky had gone as far as to tell the two soldiers to pass her and Jenny’s contacts around their colleagues.

“I really got off on the idea that these guys had been out there, risking their lives, thousands of miles from any welcoming pussy, and that I had the opportunity to show them my support in the most fundamental way possible,” she explained, laughing. “Something about the public spiritedness of it turned me on.”

“Fucking for Britain,” Jenny said.

“Yeah… I just lay back and thought of England.”

“So did you get any emails yet?” Jenny asked her.

“Yup. There are about ten guys right now that I could email and get to come over and fuck me. And it isn’t even lunchtime yet. Rob got a few emails too. I bet you’ve got loads.”

“Wow. Well, that ought to make things simpler.”

“Yep!”

“So,” Jenny said, turning to Rob, “Did you ever use any of the swinging websites?”

“Yeah, we did. It was kind of crazy. We put up an advert, saying that we had set each other challenges, and the first challenge was just a number we had to reach by the end of the month. It went nuts. Within the first day, we’d received over a hundred replies for the ad for my ex. I mean I think that it’s just because of the balance of guys to girls; there are lots of guys on there, and very few girls looking to meet single guys. And of them, almost none are young and hot. Well,” he added, with an apologetic glance at his girlfriend. “She was—still is, I guess—quite good looking.”

“Wow,” Jenny repeated. “So what happened?”

Rob told them about the story: in the end, they’d only met a couple of guys, partly because that was all they wanted to meet, and partly because a large proportion of the responses had led to dead ends; it seemed that a lot of people signed up to those sites for the fantasy, and when it looked like becoming a reality, they backed out. “But the guys we did meet were great. And there is something totally hot about knowing that you’re going to meet someone you’ve never met before, for the specific purpose of fucking them. There is an unending supply of penis out there, and it’s just a case of picking through the bullshitters to get to it.”

“I’m totally making a profile,” said Jenny.

“Maybe we could make one together,” said Vicky.

“Two incredibly sexy girls offering to fuck anyone who replied… I think you’d break the internet.”

They laughed. Rob said to Dave, “What you said before about people coming straight away. Chris said something interesting last night. He that it seemed as though the atmosphere was supercharged; he said that he’d performed more times than he was usually able to, and the same seemed to be true of everyone else in the club. He thought it was just because of how hot you both were, but I wonder… I mean from what Tim told us went on at the student tower, it seems as though although we’re not contaminating people, there is something that affects them, nevertheless.”

“Like what?” asked Vicky. “Pheromones?”

“Well, maybe. I guess we’ll have to keep an eye on it, see what happens. But that would be… quite something, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh, shit,” said Sarah. “You told him all that?”

“Well, yes,” Tim bumbled. “I mean, I thought you wanted me to. I mean he’s already inside the project, isn’t he?”

“Well, yeah, but… I think we need to be more careful. You’ve basically told him how to make his own emitter. And there’s something about that guy I don’t trust… we’re trying to keep a lid on this, but now, he can just go off and do whatever he wants to.”

Shit, she thought. Of all the people to drop that information into the lap of, Andrew was the last one she’d have chosen. She had known Tim would do something like this. As she’d said to Dave, the guy was nice, and clever, but also careless, and, it seemed, naïve.

Once he grasped what he’d done, Tim was all apologies. Irritated, she concluded the phone call and paced around her office. Shit. So, what to do now?

She called Andrew. He didn’t answer; she cancelled the call and redialled, and on the fourth ring he picked up.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” said Sarah. “How are you?”

“I’m good.”

“I was just talking to Tim; he says you went to see him, yesterday.”

“Yeah. I thought it would be interesting to find out more about the emitter. It would be good to know if we could reduce the contamination window.”

She had to admit to herself, it would. “So did you get anywhere?”

“Well, it’s kind of hard to know, without having a machine to test it with, but I reckon if we dial down the power, we might still be able create the activation, but it might wear off quicker. I think there’s potential there.”

“Yes. As I understand it though, there’s also potential for failing to achieve activation.”

“Well, now that we have the meters, we can test for that.”

“Yes, but the only way to do that would be to use someone who hadn’t been activated yet. We can’t go around infecting new people. For a start, it’s unethical; secondly, we need to keep this within bounds. We can’t run the risk of it breaking out.”

“No, but we can test ourselves; we can see, at least, how long it remains contagious after the activation.”

Sarah sighed inwardly. She could see where this was going, and she didn’t like it. She was going to have to take Andrew into the lab herself, so that she could keep an eye on him. And this meant… she shuddered. This meant she’d end up fucking him. Ugh.

She was starting to crave the emitter, though. She wanted Dave, or—and she had never felt lesbian urges before, so this was definitely an effect—Jenny; but she had also felt the need to be reactivated. The incredible buzz she’d felt the first few days was wearing off, by the middle of the Thursday. She thought back to the first night, the Sunday; she didn’t want to go there again, the torment of arousal and denial, frustration.

“Yes,” she said, struggling to keep her tone neutral, to hide the note of resignation. “Let’s do it tomorrow. I’ll meet you in the late morning. 11ish?”

“Sure.” Was that a hint of smugness? She shuddered again.

By the time Josh managed to escape from the three girls who had decided to capture him, after two nights and a day, he was shattered, walking bandy-legged, and hardly sure what had happened. The excuse he used, that he had some work to do, was true enough, but really, he just needed a rest. They let him leave on the promise that he’d go out with them again next week—although he suspected going out would entail a lot of staying in. The most surprising thing about the whole scenario was that the little cute blonde, Amy, had suggested a date, just the two of them. In the context of the more-than-a-day they’d all spent fucking, both her shyness and the sweet, romantic nature of the idea seemed incongruous. But of course he was pleased: she was lovely. Their personalities had shone through all the fucking: assertive Becky with her mischievous badness, Lucy who was more serious, and Amy, who had always seemed to be paying attention to what everyone else needed. She was… really nice. He came away feeling warm, excited, dazed, and a little in love. And of course who wouldn’t want a hot girlfriend who insisted on sharing with her hot friends?

He did his errands, and by the time he got home, his housemates were all in. They had demanded an account—literally, blow by blow—and after they’d had it, they seemed to be in awe.

“I just can’t get over it,” James, the one he disliked the least, had said; “All of them. All night and all day. In the butt and everything. Unbelieveable.” Indeed, if he hadn’t seen the initial… seduction wasn’t the right word; collection, or even abduction seemed more appropriate… he would have thought Josh had been making it up. It wasn’t in his nature to brag, and the story had needed to be wrung from him, but still, that sort of stuff just didn’t happen. “But why?” James had asked. “Why you? I mean, you’re hardly studmuffin material.”

“And yet,” Josh had replied, allowing himself a little gloat, “They couldn’t get enough. Every time I fucked them, it only seemed to turn them on more.”

“It must have been a bet,” one of the other lads had said. “Or an act of charity.”

“Whatever it was,” James countered, “He’s just spent a whole day fucking three incredibly hot birds.”

Josh just smiled. He hadn’t mentioned that, even when he was leaving, they had insisted he take their phone numbers, and told him he could come back to their house whenever he liked, and fuck anyone who was home. A life-changing day: he was, now, certainly no longer a virgin. He’s got a date lined up with a lovely girl (and, he supposed, a potential afterparty with her housemates). And any uncertainty he’d had about whether he could please a lady had evaporated in the onslaught of evidence to the contrary.

By Thursday morning, Dan was half out of his mind. While he studied for his PhD full-time, his girlfriend, Charlotte, had a nine-to-five job, and when she went to work on Wednesday, albeit after a morning fuck, he was left at home, with a massive erection.

He didn’t want to cheat on her, because he loved her. He hadn’t called up any of the people who had enjoyed that epic weekend on campus. Although he’d fucked all of the women, at some point or other, it felt as though that was a separate time, and somehow it didn’t count. He hadn’t chosen to be in that situation, and he hadn’t really felt in control of his own actions during it, so he wasn’t responsible for how it played out. Whereas if he went out now and fucked one of them, or even worse found someone new, that would be a more deliberate betrayal.

So he resisted, as hard as he could. Of course, porn didn’t count. He spent the whole of Wednesday watching it, but very little that he saw came anywhere near the weekend he’d just spent. All it seemed to do was ramp up his arousal for when Charlotte got home.

He tried as hard as he could to be normal, once she came in. He let her talk about her day—which had been generally good: she’d been in a really good mood all day for one reason or another. Dan felt pretty sure the it might have had something to do with the stream of enormous orgasms she had experienced between getting home on Tuesday and going in to work on Wednesday.

Anyway, she moved on from her day to her boss who annoyed her, and her friend who was seeing a new guy. He let it wash over him; all he really wanted to do was throw her down and fuck her, everywhere, until they both exploded. To distract himself he’d cooked dinner.

As they ate, the conversation became flirtatious. Double entendres littered the conversation, interspersed with compliments. They touched on the activities of last night. They both had positive feelings about it, although she was mildly confused.

Not confused enough to offer up any resistance when he moved in on her after dinner. Dan had the sensation that he needed to make it last tonight if he was going to get through tomorrow. He also wanted to remind himself how much he loved her, and wanted her sexually. She was petite, with dark hair, nice breasts and a beautiful face. So he loved her in detail that night, kissing every part of her, stroking every inch, massaging every muscle. He touched her for a good hour or so before he let her anywhere near his cock, licking and worshipping her to orgasm after orgasm. And then he fucked her until she passed out in ecstasy.

And as she lay curled up against him, he was still hard, still unsatisfied. He lay awake for a long time that night, eventually drifting into a fitful sleep.

They awoke late. There was no time for sex; Charlotte threw on her clothes and ran out of the house, leaving Dan with a steaming erection.

So this was how, on Thursday morning, he found himself looking up escorts on the internet. Initially just for masturbation fodder, but of course, the idea wormed its way in. After all, he told himself, hookers weren’t the same as real life. It would be purely scratching an itch, entirely a physical thing that didn’t impinge on his love for Charlotte. Even so, he knew, as he reached for the phone, that he was crossing a line.

“Do you think they’ll be able to use the treatment on him?”

Aoife’s heart sank. Over the last couple of days she’d grown to really like Chris, the guy they had brought into the lab, ostensibly to test whether the experimental treatment they’d said they were working on could help his heart condition, but really, to check whether or not they were passing it on to him. His relentless enthusiasm and kindness heightened the distress that arose from the subterfuge. The idea that this beautiful man—she had come to think of him as such—was living under a condition which could kill him at any moment, and yet was still so positive about life made the element of deceit painful. The fact that they were in essence using him, toying with what must be his deepest hope, hurt her. She had been dreading this question.

“Do you think it would work?” The look of pleading in his fiancée’s eyes was intense. Jane was a beautiful, slim blonde girl, and Aoife had grown to like her very much too. The readings from the meter had all been coming back negative; Aoife was sure Chris, and indeed Jane hadn’t been contaminated. She’d noticed a degree of—well, interest, almost, signs that he found her attractive, but nothing that went as far as flirting. It was clear that he loved his fiancée, so as much as she’d wanted to, Aoife had avoided flirting with him. She’d been going back to continue taking the readings partly to maintain the cover story, and partly just because she like them both, and cared about them. She sighed.

“I don’t know. We haven’t tried it on anything as severe as Chris’ condition. It might.”

“We’ve talked about it. Of course, given the situation, we’d be happy to take any chance we have to find out.”

Aoife sighed again. “It has side-effects. Pretty serious ones.”

“Like what?”

She badly wanted to tell her; she hated lying to them. Oh, what the hell. “It increases your sex drive.”

Jane laughed. “Really? Well that wouldn’t be a problem.”

“No, I mean a lot. It’s almost uncontrollable. It might make him cheat on you.”

“Gosh. Well, I’m sure he wouldn’t.”

“No, I mean, like a lot. It is extremely hard to resist.”

“You sound like you know.”

Aoife sighed once more. “Yeah. I… I’ve been infected.”

“Infected?”

“Yes. It might make you cheat on him, too.”

“Wow.”

“And it seems to make you more attractive to other people, too.”

“So that’s why—” Jane stopped herself, and blushed.

“Yes.” Aoife had noticed the same tiny, subconscious hints from the girl, too. Little glances, contact that lingered longer than it needed to. She had put it down to her own increased arousal, had told herself that she was seeing things that weren’t really there—she thought she’d caught her looking at her boobs once or twice, but then, they had become more eye-catching over the last week—but yes, it added up. She sidestepped that topic. “You two have not been infected. We are currently at the stage of testing when it transmits to third parties. That’s partly what drove us to invite Chris to the lab. We wanted to see if it would pass on. It hasn’t.”

Jane looked away. When she looked up, her eyes glistened and her voice shook as she said, “I just want him to be alive. I’d be willing to trade anything for that.”

Aoife said, gently, “We have no idea what the longer term effects might be. We don’t know what else it will do the body. We don’t know if it will work long-term. Given what we do know, about its infectiveness, the department is extremely unwilling to risk letting it break out into the community.”

“I can understand all of that. But if you decide to widen the base of test subjects, we would be willing.”

The Irish girl nodded. “I understand. If they do, you’ll be the first people we talk to. But you can’t tell anyone else what I’ve just told you. This has to be kept under wraps for now.”

Jane nodded. “OK. I won’t even mention this to Chris.”

“Thanks.”

The conversation dried up a little after that. Fortunately Chris arrived home not long after, so Aoife could do the tests on him. As she left, Jane hugged her. Again, Aoife felt an instinct to read something in her body language, and as they said goodbye, she felt that she could see a new flicker of hope in the other girl’s expression.

On Thursday afternoon, Jenny went to the hospital to have her cancer evaluated. Rob went with her, as chaperone: they had felt that unleashing both Jenny and Dave on a hospital full of innocents had the potential to prevent the tests from even taking place. As things turned out, they were both able to control themselves, although by the time they left, Jenny, in particular was gasping for a fuck. Rob obliged, in an alcove off the corridor on the way out, and again in an alleyway within the hospital grounds, but somehow it wasn’t enough.

The results from the tests, they were told, would take a couple of weeks to come through. Given the state she had been in the last time she saw her specialist, though, the hospital staff were astonished by how… healthy she seemed. Her consultant was struck by how attractive this woman was, and he was surprised that he hadn’t noticed this before: after all, he had been casually objectifying women for his whole adult life, and hot patients were both a rarity—given his specialism—and a pleasure. It was much nicer, for him at least, working with beautiful young women, than, well, anyone else.

The preliminary readings he saw whilst conducting the assessment made him question, even, whether this was the same person. She simply did not seem to be anywhere near as unwell as she ought to have, given her history. All his experience told him that the disease did not progress in this way. Indeed, it was not progressing at all, and seemed to have retreated sharply. As good as this apparently was for the patient, it did not accord with what a lifetime of work in the field told him should be happening.

He didn’t write anything on the file, though. Instead, he resolved to pay close attention to this case.

As she drove in to campus on Friday morning, Sarah was awash with emotion. On the one hand, she felt revulsion and read at the thought of what she felt she would inevitably do with Andrew; on the other, ever since she had made the arrangement, she had felt a sense of anticipation. The emitter: she knew that she wanted the emitter, she wanted to feel that burst of arousal, and the high that came with it. Definitely addictive, then. She’d noticed that she was feeling antsy the evening before—she’d been irritable, on edge. This feeling had grown throughout Thursday, and she had caught herself thinking of Andrew when she had been fucking her husband. Oh, Matt’s sexual performance had gone through the roof since he had been infected, but still, somehow, sex with him felt kind of… vanilla, compared to the wrongness of what she knew, knew that she would be doing the next day. That wrongness… something about the darkness, the filth of it, got her straight in the pussy.

She’d woken up early on the Wednesday. She’d fucked Matt, of course, but it hadn’t hit the spot. She’d had to stop herself leaving early—getting to the lab any earlier wouldn’t help, of course, because she couldn’t very well start without Andrew. So by the time she was in the car she was very much on edge. Every traffic light, every slow-moving car annoyed her. When she arrived at the campus, she was bristling with need.

Andrew was not waiting outside. Frowning, Sarah swiped herself in and marched up to the labs. He wasn’t there either. She checked her phone: still fifteen minutes early. Frustrated, she flung herself into a chair in front of a computer, and logged in.

It was only when she came to type in her email password that she realised she had one hand inside her jeans.

Oh Christ, she thought. Better get it out of the way. Just one.

She was recovering from her third orgasm when the door opened. Guiltily she snapped her hands out of her crotch; Andrew’s smirk told her that he’d seen, though.

“Good morning, Professor,” he said. “Are you having a good day so far?”

“Fine, thanks,” she said. Was she blushing? Shit, she thought.

Andrew seemed more… magnetic than before. Something about him spoke directly to her libido.

“Well,” he said. “Shall we get started?”

“Yes,” said Sarah. She stood, and started toward the door.

“Hang on,” said Andrew. “Don’t we need a tester?”

“Yes,” Sarah agreed. She paused for a breath, taking a moment to collect herself, and then set about gathering up a few things: an activation tester and then, on reflection, a second one; two notepads and pens, her bag and coat, cursing herself for the extent to which she had lost control of the situation. Even so, she was very aware of her pussy, throbbing with anticipation. She felt a bolt go through her as she turned back to Andrew and said, “OK. We’re ready.”

She pretty much marched out of the room, and stormed down the hall towards the staircase. She could almost feel his grin as he followed her, and his—she shuddered—confidence.

They went down three floors, and she led him through the maze of corridors in the basement to the door of the room which held the emitter. Sarah noticed the moistness of her palm as she gripped the door handle. It was warm down here. She was mildly disgusted by the sense of gratification she felt at this warmth: it would be convenient for later, when she would be—ugh—naked. And the idea of being naked sent another jolt through her body: naked, and more, with him; with his cock, forcing itself inside her.

Her knees buckled slightly, but she covered it by turning the handle and entering the room. When she reached the machine, she turned to face Andrew.

“Well,” he said, “How shall we proceed?”

“Erm,” she stumbled. With a burst of shame, she realised that she hadn’t prepared the experiment at all. It felt like he was the Professor, now, and she was some silly undergrad who hadn’t done her homework. This wasn’t going to be any kind of scientific process: she had allowed, she now saw, her whole approach to this situation to be governed by her desire to experience the emitter. And yet, the constant throb of arousal had grown into a whining, pressing need, which made it impossible for her to think straight. “I guess…” Come on Sarah, she thought. Pull yourself together. “We are here to establish whether reduced power will still create a viable activation, and also whether reduced power will cause a reduced radius of effect.”

She paused, and looked at Andrew—for approval?

He nodded. She felt a wave of relief.

“So we need to know…?” he asked.

“We need to know whether we are currently activated, and anything we can about the strength or nature of our activation.”

He waited for a second, and then said, “Good.”

His approval sent a rush of adrenaline through her. She noticed that her hand had found its way to the trigger button of the emitter, and was stroking it restlessly.

“I think we need to use the testers now,” Andrew prompted.

Reluctantly, she let go of the trigger, passed him one of the testers, switched on the other one, and aimed it at herself. Even in her current state of confusion, she recognised the significance of her reading: she was registering both green and red. Apparently, the activation had faded over time. This, then, explained her sensation of need.

The attraction to Andrew, though… maybe that was coming from the fact that she knew he was the path to reactivation. His presence, and this “experiment”, were the justification for her getting her fix.

Andrew wrote down his result, then looked up at Sarah. “Write it down, then,” he told her.

Sarah remembered herself, and hurriedly noted down the score.

“What control have we got over the power?”

She looked down. The machine was switched on, humming gently. It did actually have a power dial. “It’s set in the middle. Straight up.”

“12 o’clock,” said Andrew. “Let’s work from the bottom up. Turn it all the way down.”

With a sense of regret, Sarah turned it down. It stopped at about 7 o’clock.

“Go on, then.” He leaned back against the door, on the opposite side of the room from the emitter.

She pressed the button. The machine’s hum grew to a whine. Then it made a crack, and… nothing. Sarah frowned, and shook her head.

Andrew used his meter on himself. “No change here. What about you?”

Sarah scanned herself. The numbers hadn’t moved. She wrote them down.

“OK,” said Andrew. “Next setting, then.”

She turned it to 8 o’clock. “OK. Ready?”

“He nodded.”

She pressed the button again. This time, she did feel something. Not the explosive surge of arousal she’d felt previously, but a hint of it: enough for her to be aware that something had happened. Impatiently, she scanned herself. The numbers had moved, but she was still reading as part-way between active and inactive. Even as she watched it, though, she could see the numbers falling.

Andrew asked, “Did you get anything?”

“A little,” she said. The reading had levelled off at its previous score. “But it’s already dropped back to where it was before.”

“Mine didn’t move at all. So I guess we know that proximity does have an effect. OK. Turn it up and do it again.”

She turned the dial to 9 o’clock. “Ready?”

“Go on.”

She hit it, and this time it really did do something. She felt the wave build in side her, sweep through her body and then, just as it was about to peak, instead, it just faded away. The disappointment this time so was visceral that she couldn’t prevent a grunt of frustration from escaping her. She buckled at the knees, and slumped against the box the emitter was sitting on.

“Quickly,” Andrew told her: “Scan yourself.”

She did, and the reader lit up with vibrant colour; still both red and green, but both colours more intense than before, albeit fading. She looked at the digital counter, and saw the numbers. She fumbled for her notepad, and quickly wrote down the headline numbers, to give an idea of the curve.

“Next one? She asked, hopefully.

“Well, if this is going to be a clean test, we need to wait for your numbers to go back to normal.”

She groaned. He was right. The fact that it was nowhere near a clean test to start with, given that she had already been activated, did not occur to her. She looked back down at her meter, and watched the numbers falling, excruciatingly slowly.

Andrew was standing further from the machine than she was. He had had smaller hits than she had from it. And yet he was perfectly calm, and in control. She was half out of her mind with need for the big hit, and had been on the way there since she got up this morning. Why—her brain fumbled for this—why was he not hungering for it the same as she was?

He interrupted her train of thought. “OK, you’ve stabilised.” He had his meter trained on her. “Do it.”

The craving drove those thoughts from her head. She turned the dial up to 10, and pressed the button.

This time, it tore into her. She was almost hunched over the emitter, and she felt the effect of it rip into every nerve in her body at once. Arousal swept through her, dragging every part of her body towards climax. She felt as if she was being swept upwards through murky water, towards the surface. She crashed through it—but just for long enough to draw one breath, just long enough for her body to convulse in ecstasy, then collapse to the floor, still jerking as aftershocks coursed through her. Wide-eyed, she stared upwards: Andrew had crossed the room and stood, towering over her, between her and the machine. As she fell away from the orgasm she craved, his dark eyes bore into hers, his wide, black pupils drawing her in.

“Please,” she begged.

He reached down, grabbed her outstretched hand, and pulled her to her feet, holding her body trapped against his. “Please what?”

“Please—” She turned her head away in self-disgust. With his other hand he grabbed her cheek and pulled her face back around.

“Please what?” he repeated.

Her eyes locked with his. “Please let me come.”

He laughed. “All in good time.”

She whimpered, and was unable to prevent herself grinding her crotch against his thigh. “Why are—how are you… not…”

“Not what?”

“Not desperate for the emitter!” she shouted.

He leaned in, his face inches from hers. “Because,” he told her, “I’ve already had it today. And yesterday.”

Sarah sagged. Of course. The machine, she remembered, had already been switched on, idling, when they arrived. The door hadn’t been locked. And she’d felt his magnetism from the minute they’d met today.

“This whole ‘experiment’ has been a charade. I already knew what the results would be.” He paused, creating a space around his next words. “I’ve already run it. Properly,” he added, twisting the knife. “On clean subjects. Fresh subjects, who had not previously been affected.”

She recoiled in horror.

“I knew you would never agree to contaminate more subjects,” he said, “But it was really the only way we could test for real how this thing works. And besides, I was more than happy to build myself a harem.”

Appalled, she managed to muster the strength to ask, “Who?”

“The church of which I am a member carries out missionary work with street prostitutes.”

She sobbed, and collapsed into his shoulder. “Where are they?”

“Elsewhere,” he answered, and then continued, “So, I know exactly the effects that different strengths of dose have.” He spun her round, and pushed her against the emitter; turned the dial, and hit the trigger.

She felt a soft wash of energy roll through her, raising her level of arousal.

“That,” he said, “Was an eight.” He turned the dial again. “This—”

He hit the button, and, coming so soon off the back of the previous hit, the burst of energy crashed into her; she could feel her vagina resting directly on the machine, with only a couple of thin layers of clothing in between, and it hit that part of her first, stimulating her, hurling her upwards towards the orgasm she craved. For a second she hit it, shuddered, rocked, and then just as she was surging towards the big peak, dropped. She slumped, moaning and whimpering.

“—Was a nine.”

“Please, please,” she whined, squirming.

“Do you know what else I’ve discovered?” He yanked her upright, spun her round, and pushed her forwards, bending her over the machine. His hand knotted in her hair and he positioned her face directly over the trigger, the round plastic button below her forehead. “I’ve discovered that if I hit it a couple of times, quickly, at a high power, it… does something to the subject. Almost like imprinting. Whatever situation she is in, she will continue to need.”

His other hand had unbuttoned her jeans, and with one swift tug he pulled them and her panties back over her ass and away down her legs. He shoved a finger, then two fingers ups her soaking cunt, and then, when they were slippery with her juices, withdrew them, spat on them, and jammed them up her butthole. She yelped, and bucked; as her body doubled, he held her head over the button. He pulled his fingers out of her, and she felt the head of his cock pressing against her anus.

She moaned, “Nooooo…”

He reached down and turned the dial on the machine.

“No?” He paused, the tip of his cock just inside her.

She squirmed.

He leaned forwards, and whispered in her ear, “No?”

“Please…”

“Please what?”

She didn’t answer, but tried to grind back into him. Still gripping her hair at the roots and keeping her face down over the machine, he slapped his other hand onto her buttcheek, holding her off him.

“Tell me what you want,” he ordered. “Say it.”

She whimpered, and then, in a very small voice, said “Fuck me.”

He slammed his cock into her, and at the same moment, mashed her head down into the button. The emitter fired. He rammed his cock into her asshole again, and threw her face down onto the button again.

Sarah’s world exploded. Everything went white, and an orgasm more powerful and intense than any she had experienced before blasted through her body. Andrew fucked his cock into her ass again and again, hard and fast, and waves of energy burst though her, starting in her crying cunt, hitting her ass, brutalised by his cock, and then blasting across her abdomen and her legs, her arms and her brain.

He spoke to her again, punctuating every sentence with a thrust, the words penetrating directly into her mind: “You’re mine now. You will always want this. Even when you don’t realise it. I don’t even have to keep you. You’ll come back. You’ll submit to me. You don’t really submit to anyone else, do you? But you’ll submit to me.”

The words rolled over Sarah, and she lost track of what he was saying. She didn’t know where she was, or who she was: only the glorious sensations coursing through her were real. Sarah checked out, her body on autopilot.