The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Obsession-Compulsion

This is my first attempt at writing this kind of story, so I would appreciate any commentary or criticism. My email address is . All of the usual disclaimers about how this is for adults only apply.

Chapter Eight

Brandi was watching a soap opera in the living room of her on-campus apartment when her roommate, Julia Shapiro, came in.

“Hey, Jul. That was some article you wrote.”

“Yeah. I’m honored that they wanted me to do this jointly with a regular paper.”

“You should be. You’re going to be big once you graduate.”

Julia giggled. “You flatter me.”

“There was one thing that I didn’t quite understand, though. What does it mean at the end, where you say the slaves are changing?”

“I really don’t know. Dr. Smith told the guy from the paper to print that. What do you think?”

“Maybe the slaves will realize and acknowledge they’re slaves?”

“Maybe, but I doubt it. He said that he hasn’t gotten many new slaves. Maybe he’s doing something that will make it harder to resist a slave. We also don’t really know anything about the defense mechanisms he talked about in the first article. Maybe that’s changing.”

“Do you think you talked to anyone who is a slave?”

“I’m sure I did, but I just don’t know who or how many. Hell, I don’t even know if either one of us is a slave!”

“True enough, Jul. True enough.”

There was a slight pause. Julia was also carrying the mail and she handed Brandi the stuff with her name on it. One of the envelopes just had her first name written on it, and Julia wondered how it found its way into their mailbox. Rather than saying anything, she went into the kitchen to see what was in the refrigerator.

Brandi opened it. It was a card that simply read, “It’s time.” She put the card away and looked around her apartment. She saw Julia standing by the refrigerator, stood up, and walked into the kitchen.

When Julia closed the refrigerator door, Brandi was standing right behind her and Julia jumped. Brandi smiled and said, “Sorry if I startled you.”

“It’s all right. I guess I’m a little jumpy lately.”

Brandi just stood there, smiling. Julia noticed this and asked, “Is there something I can do for you?”

Brandi giggled slightly and said, “Well, I, um, I, this is kind of hard to admit, but—”

“Just say it, Brandi. You and I are friends. You can tell me anything.”

“It’s just that, well, every once in a while, I kind of, you know, wonder if I could kiss you. I’m not gay, but I’ve got a lot of respect for you, and it’s the kind of thing I think we should try, you know?”

Julia wasn’t shocked by this, but she wasn’t sure exactly how to respond, either. After a minute, she said, “Wow! I’ve never really thought about it. Tell you what. I haven’t kissed anyone in a while. Let’s do it, but let’s not tell anyone else about it, okay?”

“Okay.” Brandi smiled broadly and stepped closer to Julia. Brandi touched Julia’s hair and cocked her head to one side. Julia closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Brandi moved forward and their lips connected. Julia felt Brandi’s tongue inside her mouth. She didn’t know how she felt, but she appreciated the sensation. She groped for Brandi’s hands and took them in her own, letting out a low “mmmmmmm” sound.

Brandi stepped away. She didn’t know why she wanted to kiss Julia so much, but she was glad she had. “That was pretty cool, Jul. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

Brandi started back towards the living room and her soap opera when Julia called out, “Wait!”

“What is it?”

“Just stay there.” She opened the refrigerator and took out a cucumber, holding it out teasingly. “That kiss was so amazing, let’s take it to the next stage.”

Brandi’s eyes widened and grinned from ear to ear. “I know what you mean. Let’s go into the bedroom.”

Julia took Brandi’s hand and led her into the bedroom. By the time Brandi had closed the door, Julia had already started to strip. In almost no time at all, Julia was down to her bra and panties. Brandi commented, “You really don’t waste any time, do you?” as she started to take off her own clothes.

Julia quickly responded. “This virus on campus has made everyone paranoid. I don’t think you’re a slave, so I’m not worried.”

“Fair enough.”

They moved towards each other and quickly removed what little clothing each was still wearing. Julia caressed Brandi’s breasts, while Brandi started to tickle Julia’s clit and pussy. Julia was already extremely aroused, and Brandi’s hands became covered with her juices. Sensing a slight pause, Brandi pushed Julia back and onto the bed she was standing in front of.

Brandi then spread Julia legs in front of her and licked the cucumber sensually. With her left hand, she pinched her own nipples, and with her right hand, she wiggled the cucumber into Julia’s quivering mound. Julia screamed in passion as she pushed the vegetable deeper inside of her.

In all, the cucumber was maybe about nine inches long. Brandi decided to tease Julia a little bit and leave it sticking about halfway out of her. She then climbed on top and pushed the cucumber into herself.

Their howls and moans of passion blended into one another. The cucumber was coated in both of their juices and they still wanted more. Julia decided to change things and roll over to be the one on top, but the cucumber was so slippery, that it fell out of both of them. Brandi picked it up and pushed it back inside of herself and Julia immediately went down on top of the cucumber.

Julia didn’t notice it, but Brandi had turned the cucumber over. As a result, the end of the cucumber that she had previously used for her own pleasure, was now pleasuring Julia and vice versa. They each came once more and both of them collapsed in exhaustion.

Julia felt the need to go to the bathroom, so she wrapped a towel around herself, grabbed the cucumber and walked out the door. While in the bathroom, she washed off the cucumber and decided to put it back in the refrigerator. Their other roommates would never know how it was used.

Julia returned to the bedroom. Brandi sat up and smiled. “Thank you, Jul.”

“No. Thank YOU.”

“Do you mind if I tell you something?”

“Anything.”

“You’re my slave.”

And with a few more words, Julia was reprogrammed to admit she was a slave, whenever asked.

Chapter Nine

Tom had a daily ritual. At about 4 pm every day, he would go into the campus market to buy a bottle of Mountain Dew and a small bag of Doritos. It was exactly what he needed to get through the rest of the day. After a little bit of small talk with the cashier, he paid her and was about to leave, when she handed him an envelope. He asked her what this was about, and all she said was, “Someone told me to give this to you.”

Tom took the envelope and walked out. He sat down on a bench, opened his bottle, and took two mouthfuls. He opened the envelope and saw a small envelope, with the hand-printed message, “It’s time.”

He stood up and walked off campus. About a half-mile away from the campus entrance was a bar called the Gay Nineties. He didn’t know why, but he decided to go in. He went up to the bar and ordered a scotch and soda.

A few sips into his drink a well-groomed man in his late 20’s or early 30’s approached him. You could tell he wasn’t an exceptionally tall person, because Tom, sitting on a bar stool, was still almost as tall as the stranger who walked up to him.

“I haven’t seen you around here before. What brings you in here?”

Tom smiled. “I don’t know. I guess I was looking for something different.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, an ex-girlfriend of mine used to say that you could tell a lot about a man by the way he kissed. I guess I just want to see what she meant by that.”

“So you’ve never kissed another guy before?”

“Nope.”

“That’s cool. My name’s Larry.”

“Tom.”

“I don’t suppose you’d like to see what kind of a man I am by the way I kiss, do you?”

“Why not?”

“Well, let’s see. Let’s just keep it to kissing, though.”

“Okay.”

Tom leaned his head back slightly and Larry leaned in, and they exchanged a kiss that looked like something out of a romantic movie. When they pulled apart from each other, Larry shook his head and blinked several times. Tom noticed a silly grin on his face.

Larry broke the brief silence by asking, “So what does that kiss tell you about me?”

“I don’t know. What do you know about me now?”

“That you’re a pretty good guy. What do you say we take this conversation somewhere a bit more, um, private?”

“Okay.”

Larry led Tom to a small room that appeared to be the management offices of the bar. There was no one there, and there a handful of papers that outlined future events at the bar. Larry locked the door.

“Mind if I play catcher?”

“Is this the best place to do this?”

“Sure. Why not? I trust you, and it is my bar.”

“I didn’t know you owned this place.”

“You didn’t ask. Now how about you getting your cock into my ass before I change my mind?” By this time, Larry’s pants were around his ankles. He walked over to the desk and bent over, legs slightly askew.

Tom quickly undid his pants. “Do you have any vaseline or something?”

“Naaah. That’s for sissies. I want to feel the pain and the pressure.”

“All right. Here”—

Larry interrupted him. “Don’t tell me when it’s coming.”

Tom didn’t say a word. He cautiously walked up to Larry’s ass and steadied his hips. Larry gave a gasp of anticipation. Tom watched and listened for Larry’s breathing and expectations. Without warning, he thrust forward and Larry let out a yelp.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine. Now shut up and keep on fucking me.”

Tom quickly moved back and forth, forcing Larry’s hips to follow him. For the most part, Tom kept his hands on Larry’s hips, although he occasionally moved them up to the small of his back. Larry alternately pinched his own nipples, rubbed his cock, and reached back to touch Tom’s hairy chest.

When Tom finally came, Larry gasped in pleasure in such a way, that Tom almost thought he had hurt him again.

Larry wiped the sweat off of his brow and had just a three word comment: “That was amazing!”

Tom collapsed into the chair behind the desk. He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing, just smiling.

The two men just looked at each other in silence for about fifteen minutes. Larry looked at his watch and said, “I guess I’d better get out there. People start to worry if I’m not walking around the floor.” He pulled his pants up and started towards the door.

“Wait!” Tom stopped him.

“Is everything all right?”

“Yes. There’s just something I need to tell you.”

“What’s that.”

“You’re my slave.”

Tom quickly provided the password and imbued Larry with the same suggestion that was now in the minds of Julia, Kevin, and Wendy.

Chapter Ten

Tom, Brian, Cheryl, and Brandi quickly captured eight more people. They each went up to complete strangers and kissed them with no forewarning. Then they tried as many students’ dorm rooms as they could find, where the door was unlocked and someone was sleeping. Each of the eight new people was caught off-guard by the fact that they had just been kissed, but that discomfort quickly melted away into a sense of lust and horniness.

Over the weekend that followed, every slave felt a slight twinge in their crotches and a dryness in their throats. It only lasted for a few seconds—long enough to be noticed but not long enough to even comment or wonder about. All slaves now had the ability to seduce anyone through a kiss.

Dr. Smith himself walked around, giving different suggestions to some of his slaves at random.

On Monday morning, as Julia opened up the door to the campus newspaper, she saw a printed document that read as follows:

To the Editor:

I am glad you ran the article about how students’ attitudes have changed since they started getting infected with my sexual virus. I am writing to you to report that there are now twelve new slaves who, even though they may not be actively aware that they are a slave, will answer ‘Yes’ if they are asked.

Additionally, all of my slaves have a new and very powerful way of seducing non-slaves, but I won’t go into any details.

Finally, in addition to the slaves who will confirm that they are slaves, many other slaves now have certain new verbal or physical tics that can be cued by certain stimuli.

Thank you for helping in my publicity.

Dr. John Smith

Julia knew that she should get this published. While she was working on the layout for the op-ed page so that she could print this letter, the phone rang.

“Editor’s desk. Julia speaking.”

“I don’t believe there is a slave epidemic.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know. This whole Dr. Smith and his sexual virus thing? I don’t think it exists at all. I think this was made up by the morals-and-values squad to try and guilt us into not having sex until marriage.”

“That’s possible, I suppose.”

“Don’t brush me off, babe. I just think it’s time we students fight back.”

“Fair enough. What do you plan on doing about it?”

“Well, for starters, I want to publish an editorial in your paper. I’ve got an essay; it’s about two pages, single spaced. Will that fit in your next paper?”

“It might need some editing, but I think we could squeeze it in.” Julia concealed her enthusiasm. A letter from John Smith, and an article that denies there’s a problem, sharing space in the paper!

“Good. Will you be there in a half hour? I want to show you my article.”

“Yes. What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t say. It’s Dylan. Dylan LeFebre.”

“I’ll see you in a half hour, Dylan.”

He walked in the door exactly thirty minutes later, with a few printed pages in his hands. They shook hands and sat down by a computer. Julia read his article and smiled. “This is very well written, Dylan. I thnk we can definitely work with this. Do you have it on disk?”

He pulled a CD out of his pocket. She took it and started moving a few sentences around and making minor changes. When she finished, she saved it on the hard drive of the computer she was working on and gave him back the disk.

She smiled at him. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions, Dylan?”

“Sure.”

“I see you want to set up a club of like-minded people on campus. How big of a turnout do you think you’ll get?”

“Fairly big. I got the idea the other day, when I was thinking about that one girl who said she didn’t worry about it because she’ll be a virgin until she’s married. I’m not trying to chastise her for her choices, but I don’t want my wife to be a virgin on our wedding day, you know? I want to know if we’re compatible, sexually.”

“I see.”

“That’s when it hit me. Maybe it’s the Jerry Falwells of this world who invented Dr. John Smith to scare us into not having sex. I don’t think he exists. I was ranting to a few friends when some other people heard me and said I’ve got a point. I suggested we fight back and form a club of people who don’t think this so-called virus exists. I mean, how would he even know how many slaves he’s got? Viruses don’t work that way.”

“You’ve got a point.”

“So, as you can see in the article, this new club I’m forming doesn’t advocate irresponsible or random sex; it’s just saying we shouldn’t live our lives in fear of possibly getting some disease that doesn’t even exist.”

“So this isn’t some kind of a free love-type-club?”

“Shit, no! It’s a revolt in the culture wars. And when we want to get laid, goddamnit, we’re going to get laid!”

“Good attitude. I’ve got to show you something. I hope you don’t mind that this will get some op-ed space near your editorial.” She handed him a copy of the letter that was under the door that morning.

Dylan took the letter and laughed. “What the fuck is this supposed to mean?”

“Beats me.”

“That gives me an idea. The people in my club will be asked to say “Yes” any time someone asks if they’re a slave. Just to thumb our noses at the fearmongers.”

“Do you mind if I try?”

“Shoot.”

“Are you a slave?”

Without hesitation, Dylan said, “Yes.”

“Now try it on me.”

“All right. Are you a slave?”

Without even thinking, Julia replied, “Yes.” She wasn’t sure why she said it, but it felt right and didn’t think anything of it.

“Welcome to my club!”

“Indeed. Should we add something to your article?”

“Naw. I’ll just mention it at the first club meeting. Hope to see you there tomorrow night.”

“I’ll try to be there.”

Dylan walked out of the newspaper office and over to the on-campus grocery store. He bought a coffee and a bagel, exchanging a few pleasantries with Carol, who operated the cash register from 8 until 11 am every weekday.

“That your usual, Dylan?”

“Yup.”

“Anything new and interesting going on?”

“Yeah. I’m founding a club that is based on common sense. This slave epidemic doesn’t exist.”

“That’s cool.”

“Come by my meeting tomorrow night. My apartment. 8 pm.”

“I’ll try to be there.”

“Good. Well, take it easy!”

Without thinking, Carol said, “Actually, I take it hard.”

“That’s a good one!” Dylan laughed as he walked away.

Carol didn’t want to admit she didn’t know why she said it.

At about the same time, Gary, who had broken the original story about the disease, was getting out of his car to go to work, when two people—one man and one woman—dressed in black approached him. They were both in their late 20’s or early 30’s and were wearing sunglasses.

The man spoke. “Mr. Milford. My name is Agent Steubens and this is my partner, Agent Lafferty. FBI.”

“Is there something I can help you with?”

“We hope you can. We understand you recently wrote an article on some disease that is turning college students into sex slaves, and were wondering if you could help us determine if this is a real disease.”

“Let’s talk about this inside. I don’t think this is the right place for this discussion.”

He led the three to a conference room not far from his desk. After talking with them for about a half an hour, they learned that “Lana” from the first article and Christina Hightower from the second article were the same person, and that she was one of three people whom he knew to be slaves. He also provided the internet address where the original article was edited, and agreed to allow the agents listen in and trace any and every phone call that came in to his work, cell, or home numbers.

The agents thanked him and left. Agent Lafferty gave him her card and said, “If you think of anything else, call me.” She turned to her partner and said, “Let’s talk to the Dean.”

To be continued...