The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Ms. Americana in: The Rise of Bliss

I was reading Dark One’s livejournal and a reduction of IQ, or “bimbification” discussion came up. I had some theories but I thought it’d be better to show, not tell (after, you know, telling in the comments section). The best way to do that is to tell the story from Ms. Americana’s point of view. I thought it’d be fun to portray her as an intelligent, powerful, ruthless CEO (different from just saying she is one). Don’t worry, she falls. The sex starts on word #1,891 for those of you keeping score at home.

Both legal disclaimers are in effect, though they are law without me saying so: 1) No under 18s, pissing off your community, or trying these things in real life. 2) No stealing this story that I’ve rightfully stolen from Mr. X (Protagonist) and Chrystal Wynd (Setting in later chapters).

Chapter 1:

Powerful people don’t watch television. We use it to gain valuable information on our foes. That being said, I was glued to the 63″ flat screen as the announcer broke the story.

I knew the dance these puppets would do. Calming, Middle-Aged Man With News Hair passes to Vapid Peppy Asian With Associates Degree In Journalism, Vapid lets Man In Lab Coat Talk while sensationalist messages like “FDA to approve new orgasm drug?!” float on the screen to attract attention. There is no need to flip the channel; it’s the same dance on all of them.

“A medical breakthrough at the R&D labs at Blonde Concepts, Ltd. may have turned up a cure for sexual dysfunction. Karen Chang is in Chyrstal Heights with the story.”

“Thanks, Todd, I’m here with Dr. Ivan Yerkenov at Blonde Labs, the R&D arm of Blonde Concepts, Limited. Doctor, could you tell us about the new drug, RXL6-2?”

“Is medical breakthrough in sexual dysfunction.” He sounded like someone turned Chekov’s accent all the way to full. Every ‘a’ sounded like an ‘e,’ every ‘e’ sounded auto-tuned. “We infuse protein RXL6 with nano machine, makes it better at fixing…eee…sexual muscles.”

I’d seen enough. One press of a button had the TV off; a second and my secretary was on the line. “Call an emergency board meeting in 30 minutes.” She gave an obligatory objection about how impossible it is to do that in 30 minutes. The help really doesn’t understand how we high-powered people work. “Just call the meeting.”

Twenty-eight minutes later the entire board was gathered in my boardroom. Most of them were doddery old investors that stood only for the bottom line, but I’d managed to place a smattering of successful, young career women like myself on the board. The old-timers resisted at first but when they saw the bottom line they conceded. They had evolved beyond sexism and developed moneyism, which makes them slightly less disgusting human beings.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice ladies and gentlemen. Please be seated. I won’t waste time. Blonde Concepts is inches away from releasing a new orgasm drug and I want it blocked.” Now I have to take a minute to let them murmur in surprise. I know this dance too.

“With all due respect, Ms. Wade, what concern is this drug to Wade Corp?

What concern? What concern? I’m Misses Fucking Americana that’s my concern. It’s bad enough my super powers completely drain if I have an orgasm. And now any thug with a water gun can turn me into a helpless little cum slave? Even if the legal version can’t do that you better believe the illegal version will, and as a super heroine I’ll most likely be dealing with the illegal version. There is no way this drug is going to street. Not while my secret identity, Brenda Wade, is CEO of Wade Corp. Not while I draw breath on this Earth. Are they still talking?

“We tend to stay out of pharmaceuticals but the prudent move here is to invest in Blonde Concepts,” said the old man in the suit.

“25% should go to shorting the stock if the drug fails, just to hedge our bets,” added an older man in an older suit.

I stood up. “Wade Corp will do no investing in RXL6-2. For generations since my father, god rest his soul, started this corporation we have used our resources for the goodwill of the people. We have been a beacon. We have proven that you can make a difference in the world and still line your pockets to boot.”

There is something frustrating and amazing about a room full of multi-millionaires staring at you like lackwit open-mouthed bass. “Has the potential misuse of this drug occurred to NO ONE?”

They shifted uncomfortably in their seats. “Ms. Wade, the potential misuse of a product is not a reason to block its entry to market. If we were a pharmaceutical company maybe…” said a man ruining an Armani suit with a hideous tie.

Beth-Ann Macentyre stood up. Finally, a voice of reason. “Ms. Wade, I think our argument needs to provide an incentive to shareholders to win the board’s support.” I knew she was a sharp one. She will go far. I had to come up with some contrived nonsense that sounded like people would win lots of money.

“I agree, Ms. Macentyre. OK.” I paused for dramatic effect but really to flesh out the idea a bit more. No one really knows the difference. “Suppose we acquire BCL as a hostile takeover. The company is completely under our management, we have all of their talent, intellectual property, assets, buildings, and resources. What do we do with them?”

The sharks were biting now.

I did not like what I saw on television the next day. The dance was familiar, but the dancer was getting too damn personal.

“Brenda Wade hates women. That is the only logical reason why Wade Corp. would jump into the pharmaceutical industry so violently and without warning. Blonde Concepts has made beauty products available to people from all walks of life by keeping them affordable. BRENDA WADE was born rich. BRENDA WADE never has to worry about the price of good hair or good skin. BRENDA WADE never has body image problems because of…well, look at pictures of her on the Internet. BRENDA WADE is just afraid of what will happen when regular, working-class women want to look and feel that good all the time. Thanks to BRENDA WADE’s corporate greed and personal pettiness—“

How dare he! After all I’ve done for women’s rights! Risking and donating millions from the board room, risking my very life in the streets! I wasn’t wearing my mask, costume, or the belt that gives me my power but I could always wear rage. I had on the face of righteous vengeance all criminals see before they are delivered to justice.

I changed the channel and tried to calm down, as if TV could stave off my rage. It didn’t even try. The finance channel was showing some screaming balding man prattling off sound effects on his show “Crazy Money.”

”BIG moves from BIG WADE spell BIG problems for BIG BLONDE! Who says they have more fun, right? (Sound of a girly giggle) Who comes in to rescue the Blonde Princess with the grand treasure? A WHITE KNIGHT of course! (Trumpet fanfare) Who will buy out BCL before fire-breathing WADE can gobble it all up?? Will it be their main competitor BIMBOTECH INDUSTRIES? BTI already wears the pants in the blonde economy (sound of a whip cracking)—“

I used the remote to turn off the TV by throwing it through the center of the screen. No super strength was necessary—I just get a lot of exercise.

A white knight buying up all of Blonde Concepts first would be bad. The orgasm drug would be on the street and all of Wade Corp’s new, unexpected bad press would be for naught. I had planned to have attorneys tie up the process for weeks, but a friendly company could rescue BCL in a matter of hours.

My only hope was to expose an illegal version of the drug and bring it to light. That would stop government approval and leave BCL with a huge loss, making the merger fall through. I never wanted BCL anyway.

It was time for Ms. Americana to hit the streets.

I look damn good in my knee-high red boots, elbow-high red gloves, and blue, star-spangled string bikini. Before women marched to take back the term “slut,” I fought crime itself as a symbol of feminine beauty and power. I dress for myself. I show my rounded butt and ample bosom because I am damn proud of them. They belong to ME, and not to any man. Until men learn that, the golden power belt encircling my waist gives me the strength of twenty women for protection.

Normally I walk around Delta City’s red light district, Sugar Town, with my head high and my chest out. It is imperative that I carry myself in a manner informing these drunken philanderers that I am proud, powerful, and unattainable…especially after some of my more lascivious defeats here. They must not see that my pride or power has been compromised in any way.

A proud showing is the wrong action tonight though. This was not the time to push pimps and rescue street walkers from the perils of a misogynistic society. I needed information. I hid in an alley at the usual snitch station until Garter, my main informant, slithered by.

Garter was a harmless snake, but he did know how to listen in the right gardens. He never tried to rise in rank and his informant money made him a loyal, paying customer at many of the local “gentlemen’s clubs.” Sometimes I wonder what will happen to him if anyone notices he’s the only john in Sugar Town who doesn’t get arrested.

“I figured you’d be here,” he hissed. “Big changes are coming to Sugar Town. Not a day after you’re always here to buy information.”

I wasn’t used to hearing intelligent thought. Must be he couldn’t see my breasts in the dark. I held up a few hundreds and got right to the point. “New drugs. What do you know?” I loathe talking to this skinny freak in a dark alley but it’s my only choice. Right now we both needed the shadows.

“I know new drugs on the street change everything. Lots of money changing hands, lots of drug shipments moving, lots of power struggles. If Kidd Rotten knew where King Pimp’s deals were, well, Kidd Rotten would control the whole new shipment.”

It was so tempting to set up a raid and rid this town of two vile pimps once and for all, but this was about corporate espionage. I had to have something by the time the markets opened. I flashed some more paper. “Believe it or not, I’m after bigger game. What does the new drug do and where is it from?”

The garter snake shrank as if he wished to be an even lower life form. “That…n…no offense, but I don’t know if you can afford that information.” I’ve done this dance before. A little more money and/or a little more violence and the info would be mine. Not this time. He was frightened. That meant serious muscle from out of town was here.

I handed him fifteen hundred dollars. “There must be something you can tell me. Say, a good vacation spot…?”

He shifted around and produced something that looked like an asthma inhaler. “No one’s allowed to talk about the new drug, but we were all given a single free sample to use.” Fast as a rattlesnake, his arm darted out and spritzed me with whatever was about to flood into my city.

I was mad enough to scream but still sane enough not to draw attention. I knew from experience a woman’s scream from an alley meant cheap or free sex around here. (No hotel room saves on overhead.) “What the hell? We had a deal! What did you spray me with?”

He slithered out of the alley turning back only to say, “Darkview is nice this time of year.”

I gave chase but just before I stepped into the red-illuminated streets I felt something was wrong. The very fabric of my bikini felt like it was rubbing me. You’re not supposed to feel your clothing, it’s just there. Yet the strip of cloth between my legs was stimulating me with every step. When I turned to walk back into the alley, I felt my nipples stiffen as they were caressed by my top. I wasn’t scared, my breath quickened for another reason.

The tingles from between my legs were getting stronger and I was beginning to soak that thin strip of cloth that made the difference between freedom and indecency. The drug was doing something to my body, something my body really liked. It worked fast, confirming my fears. Still, I never imagined an illegal version would be out so quickly. Did Blonde Concepts intend to make money illegally first? Usually the street modified legal drugs.

My breasts felt heavy as my deeper breaths struggled to push them up. My nipples were so sensitive now I was afraid I would cum just from having them rub against my bikini top while I was breathing heavier, heavier breaths. Should I take off my top? I thought if I slid it down to my flat, toned stomach there would be some relief. There wasn’t. Even though I had stopped walking the pulsing between my legs grew stronger and I knew something was dripping down the inside of my thigh.

Waves of pleasure were starting to wash over my head, making me a little dizzy. I tried to calm myself down. If I came I would lose all my super strength and most of my will power. As a carrier of the Aphrodite gene I was mighty even without the power belt—stronger, smarter, faster—but the gene was also cursed to remove, even reverse those advantages on orgasm. I’d be weaker, dumber, and slower in a dark alley in a town visited by law enforcement only when they want discount sex. I leaned my back against the wall and put my arms flat against it for support.

I lolled my head back and forth as the pleasure kept assaulting me. It was spreading to my entire body now. The touch of my gloves and boots felt like a lover kissing my gently calves and forearms. Even the cold wall against my back was starting to warm up like a lover pressing against me from behind, hard and unrelenting. I hoped the drug would run its course by now, but the pulses from between my legs got even stronger. Each pulse knocked a gasp out of me, making me shudder against my stony guardian. From the waist up I must have looked like I was having my pussy licked.

When my clit started to throb I had to bite my plush lower lip to avoid screaming. My gasps turned into whimpers as the pleasure made me even dizzier. With deeper and deeper breaths I slowly began to sink, my back slowly sliding down the wall. I had to open my legs for balance. Once my ass cheeks hit the ground, my hands were behind my thighs. Sitting there with my top off, legs open, and panting like a slut in heat made me remember the other times I’d been compromised.

It happens more than I’d like to admit. Some idiot thug thinks I dress this way because I want to be taken, used and abused. So they attack me. Most end up in the hospital, but some always get through. They maul my oversized breasts. They slip fingers into my pussy. The smarter ones just take a hostage and make me follow their sexual wishes. The damned Aphrodite gene makes my body respond to everything they do. I wonder if this is how the drug affects everyone or if I’m more vulnerable. My body is starting to twitch with each wave of pleasure now. My hands are stroking my inner thighs, and while I try to pull my knees together they always slide apart a second later.

I was panting openly now. I felt hair plastered to my face, I must have been sweating. Knowing what coming does to me, I always resist it, but my hands were moving to my breasts. They ached to be touched. My nipples felt neglected. My other hand was sliding down my stomach to my open pussy. My legs wouldn’t stay closed. I’d brought my knees together a few times but couldn’t keep them shut so I gave up on it. I was close now. Hopefully I could come quietly and sneak out of this alley.

My dreams were dashed when I heard a voice in the darkness. “Damn, Garter, your info IS good!”

“You sold me out! I’ll…uh…get…” The waves of pleasure washed out my thoughts of rage and indignation as they formed. I would stammer an objection but my body would crave to be touched, and I couldn’t summon enough willpower to keep my hands from rubbing myself AND say something other than a pleasurable, breathy moan. Three shadows loomed over me but I couldn’t pull my own hand off my dripping pussy long enough to threaten them. I had to reason with them.

“Please…” My hand pushed my thin bottoms aside and stroked my slit. “You mustn’t…” Talking meant my hands were moving. “I’ll let you go if I…aah…catch you…”

“It’s…the…aaaagh…” I pressed my palm into my nipple so I could rub it and squeeze my breast at the same time. When I get worked up it feels amazing to squeeze them so hard.

“Please…ah…hhhaaaah!” The more I objected, the more my hips rose to meet my fingers as they slid inside me. I knew how the three of them were looking at me. I knew they were waiting for me to cum so they could pounce on my powerless form and turn my beautiful femininity into a disgusting object for their disgusting seed. I don’t know if it was the drug intensifying, my fingers speeding up, or sex on the brain but I came right there. Loudly.

It was the best orgasm I’d ever had. My muscles were twitching for much longer than usual. I bucked. I moaned. I squeezed both breasts as hard as I could. I would try to assert myself but only continue shaking, occasionally staring up at hard cocks lying in wait. I knew what would happen, but for that moment it was pure bliss.

When two men lifted me by each arm their touch still felt pleasurable. I was still under the influence. They pulled me up to my knees to face a cock in front of me. I told them I was Ms. Americana, paragon of justice. I told them they couldn’t do this to me, that I’d make them pay. All while quivering to the aftershocks of that orgasm.

As he slid his dick between my breasts, I had a moment of clarity before pleasure from the breast stimulation washed over me. If the legal drug took orgasm muscles that couldn’t move and made them move, then the illegal version takes muscles that already move and REALLY makes them move. If this drug didn’t wear off would I always come that hard, that easily? There’s usually some fight left in me after a normal climax, but after this I just felt weak.

All I could do was watch his member slide up and down between my tits. I was starting to pant again by the time he finished all over my face and breasts. I had to close one eye as a thick rope of cum landed across my mask. Seeing how I was getting hot again, the three of them started rubbing my body all over. I tried to push them away. I had some strength but there were three of them and the drug was making me hotter. I managed a few ‘no’s before my pussy gushed fluid onto someone’s hand.

I remember being on my hands and knees being fucked from behind when the second damaging, blissful, cursed, wonderful, orgasm wracked my body and mind. Word must have gotten around that I was tame after a few orgasms. I was still shuddering with pleasure when someone pushed his dick past my lips, into my throat. I had no gag reflex.

Eventually, curse of the Aphrodite gene left me too weak-willed to put up any resistance, never mind the drug’s influence. I hate it when I’m reduced to such low status, but to observe me in that moment you’d never guess it. When they spanked my ass I squealed with delight. When they fucked my ass I had a regular orgasm. It must have been the drug; I certainly don’t get off on such degrading things. I couldn’t help it; every time I came I became more obedient. I begged them to shove my panties aside and fuck me. I danced seductively for them on wobbly knees with sperm leaking out of me until they got hard enough to fuck all my holes again. I was their slave, cumming while I awaited their next command. It arrived.

“Don’t’ forget. Darkview is nice this time of year.”

Just like that I was alone. That clever snake gave me the drug info (in his own, sick, twisted way) and the source while looking like he used his dose on some slut to share with his buddies. Did I mention I’m not used to smart adversaries?

I had to get to Darkview. A super heroine like me can take all this abuse, but I had to rescue normal women from these horrible effects.