The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Ocean stretched as far as the eye could see in either direction. Blue water so clear that it sparkled as if diamonds were spread across its surface.

Further back on shore Miami Beach Water Park was about as far from Portland, Oregon as you could go and still remain within the country. The gates had seen better days, once new and gleaming they had weathered and rusted against the hot Florida sun. The park was built during a time when going into the ocean was considered a slight risk. Fears of shark movies and undertows had prompted the city to issue bids for the facility, and through the years it benefited from South Florida’s overall tourism. In more recent years Spring Break had renewed life in the water park for the simple reason that a liquor license was more readily and easily obtained than the ordinances that came into effect on the beach. But a college destination point four miles down the coast from South Beach had little need of refurbishment and new paint; simply an ample supply of alcohol and security that looked the other way.

Today it was packed for the final weekend of the summer; Labor Day was long considered the second Spring Break, where college students had one last blow off party before returning to school (and continuing to party on campus), and where High School kids showed up hoping to get a taste of what their life was about to become. The weather was easily in the high nineties, but the high humidity made it all feel well over a hundred.

The wave pool was well over capacity with little attention being paid by the security who had long since given up any sense of order. It was midday, but nearly everyone was already several sheets to the wind and the high temperature simply meant that everything happened that much faster.

Nobody noticed the young man in the board shorts as he walked into the facility. He wore no shirt, and his skin already showed the early signs of a monumental burn in the making. He wore sunglasses, but these didn’t quite hide the dark circles under his eyes. He had the start of a beard, unshaven and rough. While the same age as the attendees at the Water Park, he looked decades older.

He walked past the rusting gates and into the wave pool, the highly chlorinated water lapping at his bare feet. As he walked he slowly extended his arms out to either side, a walking crucifixion pose.

With the crowd so tightly packed into the pool he brushed skin with every step, and it was as if a ripple followed him. Women began to follow, many discarding suits and shirts as they went. Confused boyfriends and other men wore an expression of surprise and excitement; nudity was nothing particularly new to the Water Park, but this felt different. Raw and dangerous.

Soon a crowd began to form around the man who was still walking out into deeper and deeper waters, grabbing for him, clutching at him... and yet still he trudged forward and round, touching everyone he passed. Life guards and security took notice, but as they reached the man they were either knocked aside by nude, aggressive women or they began to strip off their clothes themselves and join the growing horde.

At the gate, a security guard who until that morning believed he had seen everything there was to possibly see pulled his phone from his pocket and fumbled in a number.

“Um, we’ve got a... well, I’m not sure how to describe it. It’s...”

But before he could go any further a hand fell on his shoulder and pulled the phone from his hand. A man in a crisp suit, strange by its presence in the oppressive Miami heat, stood flanked by several men in riot gear. On their shoulders they wore a simple patch of a red circle with a thin line through it. With a tinge of alarm he noticed the guns held by the men in the gear.

“It’s going to be just fine.” The man smiled with the complete absence of warmth. “We know exactly what this is, and we’ve been looking for this boy for some time now. Go ahead and head home... tomorrow everything will be back to normal.”

In the water Jon felt the hands of the people he had infected grabbing at him. Surely enough now, thought Jon... surely enough. They pulled at him, pulling him deeper into the water in their struggle to touch him. His head submerged and he let the water flow into his lungs.

This... thought Jon... this is how an infection ends. What will become of them once the host virus is gone?

He fell unconscious, for all he knew breathing his last. He never saw the men in suits clearing the path to get to him, the rough hands grabbing his shoulders, the straps binding him to the gurney.

He knew nothing more... for some time.

But not, as he hoped, forever.