The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Why not push forward? Why then, limits that are self-imposed for some greater good when the world is not built for sacrifice. There is no scoreboard, no morality meter, no right and wrong balanced on scales that determine the ultimate worthiness of character. There is only life, life that moves forward to an ultimate conclusion regardless of the nature of the soul.

Three hours north of Atlanta but my mind was elsewhere. Eight days had passed, eight days in what would normally take me two. My phone was littered with voice mails that I hadn’t returned. There was little reason to do so now; I was getting home soon enough. Just later than expected... stops along the way slowed my progress. This was all true, but the nature of those stops were not necessary to discuss.

I had set out from Memphis intending to go straight home, no more interruptions. But, thirty minutes down the road I stopped in for a burger in the outskirts of the city, and sure enough there was an Indian woman in a tight pair of shorts that hugged her ass as if painted on. I hadn’t ever been with an Indian woman before. A minute later she was gripping the side of the dumpster behind the burger joint, panties around her ankles and shorts discarded somewhere between the back door and where I was currently fucking her for all she was worth. She screamed out obscenities as I bottomed out inside of her, appreciating the way her cunt burned hotter than the Tennessee sun. Somewhere behind us I could hear an outraged adult calling the police... but two minutes from now I’d be down the road and moving on. For that matter, if the caller was attractive...

I stopped to collect my bearings an hour later at a rest stop, leaning against my car and fanning off. The smell of pussy clung to my skin, overpowering the sweat from the midday heat. I had just walked over to a drinking fountain to get some water when an older teenager skidded to a stop beside me on rollerblades. She had red hair and more freckles than I had remembered seeing on a person before. I wondered, glancing down at her chest and sports bra, if the flush of freckles extended over her breasts and past her nipples. She saw me looking and frowned, moving her arms up over her chest. I smiled, stepping away from the fountain and gestured her forward. Glaring at me she rolled forward, and I brushed her arm as she passed. There was a spark, a moment of increased anger, then a flush really did rise up her chest. In an instant she was on her knees giving me one of the best blow jobs I’ve ever had in my life. I stripped the bra from sweaty, sticky skin and grabbed onto firm tits with the smallest nipples I’ve ever seen. I flicked them with my finger, smiling at the way they jumped up to attention as her mouth continued to work my stiff cock. For three hours I fucked her, slowly, quickly and with vigor. I came in long ropes on her back, the cum dripping off her like sweat.

Later that day I stopped to fill up the gas tank when I saw a middle aged black woman in a white sundress. The contrast of her skin against the light fabric, combined with thin beads of sweat that tricked down her neck and under the cloth gave me pause... and the smile she flashed me when she caught me staring sealed the deal. Under the pretense of asking for directions I approached her with a map, and a gracious handshake was all it took. We drove around the block, her tearing at my belt and pants the entire way. By the time we stopped she had fished my cock out of my pants and swallowed it, the white sundress riding up around her waist. I fingered her in the front seat, smiling as I wondered what was happening to her car still stationary at the gas pump. Then, a minute later she had clamped her legs around me and was taking my hard cock deep inside of her. We drove to her house, a difficult task given her obsession with being fucked... getting directions was an impossible task until I fished out her driver’s license and found the address for myself. I stayed the night there, taking her in every position and vowed to reconnect with her on the way home. She was wonderful, and she never seemed to tire.

I have no idea where my stamina was coming from, let alone a seemingly endless supply of cum... but those questions were becoming increasingly unimportant. How many women I could fuck between here and Atlanta was becoming my new mandate. Dozens, certainly.

I lost track four days later.

It didn’t matter. Whenever I stopped I would scan the room, looking for who I was going to fuck. My standards were becoming lower, but did it matter? Whoever it was this hour, it could be someone new the next. I would look for the hottest girl in the room, and I had her. If there was more than one, I could have both.

The leaving was still problematic. No matter how much energy I had, the girls would have more, or simply have been fucked into an exhausted stupor. I rarely had the time or interest to put that much effort into a single person, so most of my exits had to be performed quickly. The women would chase after me if I showed signs of leaving, grabbing at my shirt and wanting more. I became adept at jumping in the car half naked, peeling out and getting to a quiet location before fully dressing and moving on. I hadn’t tested how long it took for the effects to wear off and the girls to return to normal. The experience with Terry indicated that it would take at least several hours of no contact, and even then some traces seemed to linger.

Another factor that was quickly evaporating in my mind was pregnancy... I had stopped using protection some time ago and a few days prior had stopped making any attempt to pull out unless the mood suited me. I still enjoyed spraying cum in wide arcs over the faces of the women I was with, dripping down their chin and coating their breasts. But the downside became clear when I tried to make my exit and would get my own seed wiped on my clothes as the women frantically tried to pull me in for more. So I simply pushed in deeply and came inside. I was aware that this most likely meant I had fathered several children on my journey, but even thinking about this seemed like too much effort in the hot summer sun. It would be fine I told myself, and somewhere along the way I separated what I was doing from pregnancy completely. The effect surely blocked insemination... somehow this made sense to me.

Very faintly I wondered about what I was doing. But any time I tried to think about it I became distracted, either by a woman I saw walking on the road, or by thoughts of what type of woman I would fuck next. The morality of what I was doing was wrong... but rather than focus on it my mind would slide into another track, contemplating twins, lesbians, or an entire cheerleading squad. I was becoming more reckless, but with no consequences to my actions did it matter? Even the strange organization back in Oregon felt like months ago... years ago... and was becoming faint and hazy in my mind. This was my new reality now. I accepted it, and I loved it.

It was the buzzing of my phone and seeing another voice mail come up that finally pushed me to take the final step home. It was undoubtedly my mother... I was late and I didn’t want her to worry any more than she already was. I told myself a return to normalcy would be a good thing... that a quick break from hedonism wasn’t the worst idea. Sexual detox. I stunk like sex and sweat, and the realization that having no need to groom myself in order to appeal to the opposite sex had meant a complete devolution into sloppiness. A shower, a shave, and some rest would do be good.

I pulled into at a truck stop just outside of Atlanta to briefly wash up and make myself mildly more presentable before I made the final drive to Buckhead and home. Coming into the house reeking of sex was bound to open up more questions than I wanted to answer, and the quick shower cleared my head enough to come up with a game plan. I didn’t want to touch my mother or sister obviously, so faking a cold would at least get me into the house, catch bearings, and come up with another plan. Hell, after a couple days I could make an excuse to head to Florida and avoid any complications completely.

The neighborhood was familiar, and in the hot summer sun it transported me back to when I was a child, playing on the streets and exploring the neighborhood. For a moment it was like no time had passed at all but then the world fast forwarded and I felt, for the first time in my life, the weight of my age. What a strange feeling this was; I was still in college and nothing close to a place where I should feel old. Yet... there was no denying this feeling that had come over me. Aged, tired. Old. Old barely into my twenties... I laughed at myself, even as a darker thought entered my mind. I wasn’t normal anymore. Nothing was normal anymore. Home didn’t feel like home, it felt a foreign place that wasn’t mine anymore. It was the host body... I was the virus.

Suddenly believing that I should turn around as quickly as I could, my feet carried me forward. Up the walk and to the steps of the house. My hand knocked, even as my mind screamed to run. Something bad would happen here.

The door opened and my mother beamed at me. “Remembered us? Welcome home, boy.” She reached out to pull me into a hug, but I quickly stepped backward. Before her gaze could turn into hurt I held up a quick finger.

“Cold... bad one. I’m not passing it along.”

She made a show of a mock pout, then gestured me inside. I followed, putting on a show of looking weak as I came into the house.

“Caught it right as I left Idaho; bad bug, maybe a result of all the studying...”

“Studying?” She laughed. “I’ll go ahead and look for other causes if it’s all the same. But, sick or not sick it’s good you’re home. Your sister has been climbing the walls waiting for you to get home. Bill and Sandy are with their father...”

She trailed off, and it was apparent that the last year hadn’t healed anything. The divorce hit her hard, and I suddenly felt a rush of shame for my detours, my activity... the selfishness in being halfway across the country. My family needed me, and I wanted more than anything to give her a hug, tell it would be OK, and be there for my mother.

But I couldn’t; I was the virus.

“Anyway, I have to go out to the store now that you’re finally home... pick up some things for dinner now that I’m cooking for a crowd.”

I held up a hand, “Mom, let me go... you just stay here.”

“You?” She shook her head with a laugh. “You’re sick as a dog, can’t even hug your own mother, days late in coming home, and you want to run out ten minutes in to get groceries? If I wasn’t so glad to see you I’d bend you over my knee.”

Images of spankings I’d personally administered over the last several days speed unwillingly through my mind, and I stayed put. My mother picked up the keys from the counter and her purse.

“Now go say hello to your sister! She’s upstairs with her headphones on no doubt... and she’s going to be thrilled to see you.”

She left with another promise to be quick, and there I was in this completely familiar and yet completely alien house. With the noise of my mother gone I could hear the faint thumping of my sister upstairs. It would be good to see her... Kim and I were always close as siblings, and perhaps just seeing her would help to erase this strange mood I found myself in. I headed to the staircase when my phone buzzed, and I pulled it out of my pocket to see who was calling.

Colorado... the school. I hit to answer, bringing the phone to my ear.

“Terry?”

There was a pause, then breathing. “J... Jon? Jon, is that you?”

Fear flooded my body. She sounded shaky, breathless. It was completely opposite her usual self and for some reason all the more terrifying as a result. “Terry, what’s wrong?”

“Jon... Jon you’ve got to come back. We... Nori and I... we need you. We need you so badly... I can’t... I can’t even... I’ve been calling. Over and over... leaving messages... it’s so bad Jon. We can’t... I can’t... Jon...”

“Terry, slow down... what’s wrong? What do you need? I’m just home, in Atlanta... what do you mean you need...” But even as I spoke I knew. It didn’t go away at all, and her next words only further confirmed it.

“I need you. Your touch, your cock... Jon please. Come back. I can’t think about... about anything else... it’s so bad Jon, I need you so bad... please...”

“Terry, I’ve got... I’ve got to go... I need to think about what...”

“No!” Her scream came through the phone with pure panic, like someone scared for their life. “Don’t go... just... talk to me... say something... it’s... it’s better than nothing... hearing your voice, I can close my eyes... touch... touch myself... I was calling your voice mail over and over just to hear... hear your voice when it got bad. It’s... it’s always bad... god Jon, what did you do to us?”

The phone dropped from my hand. As it fell I could hear her still babbling into the phone...

“It’s getting worse.”

All those messages. Not my mother, Terry. Which means that across the country there were dozens...

“Guess who?”

I felt two hands close over my eyes from behind me.

Three things happened in rapid succession; the clatter of the phone hitting the floor. The spark as my sister touched my face. The gasp of her breath.

No.

No... oh no...

She stumbled backward as I turned in slow motion, as if in a dream.

“Jon... what... what is...”

She was wearing a simple halter top and shorts. She must have heard me from upstairs and come bounding down to say hello. Thought she would cover my eyes like old times. Like when we were kids. A childish guessing game for someone who we always knew. But this time it was different. Because now she was infected.

I was a virus.

She looked at me with wide eyes. Eyes that rapidly sunk from surprise to betrayal... to lust.

She had the virus.

And there was no cure.

She crossed her arms over her chest and pulled off her top, exposing to me the chest that I hadn’t seen in more than a decade.

I turned to run, but I didn’t make it to the door.

Her arms folded around me, and I felt her warmth. Our clothes made their way to the floor, followed closely by the two of us. I would like to say that I resisted. That I ran to my old room, locked the door, escaped through the window, fled into the night, into the world, and then isolated myself forever in some dark place nobody ever heard from.

Instead I thrust into her, and it was the best feeling I had ever had. It felt like home.

A half hour or so later, my mother came home. She screamed when she saw us, the bottle of wine she had bought smashing to the floor. She tried to pull us apart, and then the screams stopped. For a few moments anyway, and when the screams resumed they were very different indeed.

The virus spread.

“What is life then but moments? But flashes of a camera against the dark of the night, the horrors of the unknown. Life is but a fleeting spark of a dream, speeding us from an origin we quickly forget to an ending we have no concept of. Our journey is littered with compromise, the never-ending cycle of reasoning and excuses to salvage this difficult path. To life is not to walk the path of the righteous, but to survive the descent. None of us are born wrong... but we do end that way.”