The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Dr. J.Eckels and Mrs. Whore

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Feedback is always welcome and appreciated. Enjoy!

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Edward sat in his office downtown, staring blankly at his computer screen. He was at a loss for what to do. He really didn’t want to be there, but he’d been out for all of last week, and he’d be risking his job to take off another with this little notice.

Jennifer was still on her continued medical leave. Whatever their suspicions, they didn’t know for sure whether the lab explosion really had been an accident or not. If it was, then her leave was a more than plausible excuse to stay away. If it had indeed been deliberate, on the other hand… who knew what they would do with her if she did show up? They might very well lock his wife up like a lab rat. These were powerful people with no morals and deep pockets.

Still, Edward was troubled leaving Jennifer at home on her own. He suspected that “Jenna” had made an appearance at least twice since he’d last seen, while Jennifer was alone in the bathroom. He could hear her in the shower, moaning loudly in a way his wife never had before, but when she came out of the steamed over bathroom, she was simply her normal self, completely oblivious.

Now that the reality of what had happened had begun to sink in a bit, he was starting to feel somewhat depressed by their ongoing dilemma. Already, he was troubled by the prospect that he couldn’t hold his wife in the same way, could not be intimate or even affectionate with her, without fear of her transforming into that other… person.

She’ll figure it out, Edward thought resolutely. Jennifer was, above all else, brilliant and driven. She would cure herself and things could go back to normal.

In fact, Edward was sure that she was in their home office right now, hard at work on a solution.

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Jennifer’s eyes fluttered open. She looked at the clock, then did a double take. It was nearly 5 PM! Where had the day gone?!

She then noticed that the front of her blouse was torn slightly, missing a few buttons. Brow furrowed, she turned to the computer screen, and instantly understood. The web browser was pulled up and pornography was playing, of a very raunchy variety, involving one woman and several men.

She closed the browser quickly.


She had taken over again. For how long? Jennifer didn’t know... although there was a way to find out. Jennifer opened a folder on her computer, containing a large video file that had been recording the office continuously from the webcam she had setup earlier in the week to give precisely this information.

But did she really want to know..?

She hesitated for a few moments, deliberating, then double clicked the file.

Motion activated, the video clip started with her coming into the room earlier that morning, sitting at the workstation, typing and clicking. Jennifer fast forwarded the clip, watching herself go through the day at hyperspeed, mostly sitting at the machine, occasionally stretching or getting up and walking off screen, returning and sitting down again moments later, all just as she could recall. It was after lunch that she slowed the recording back down, playing in real time, skipping ahead in 15 minute increments, until just after 2 PM.

Although she couldn’t recall it, Jennifer saw herself sitting in a stupor in the leather backed swivel chair, head resting on one hand, as she occasionally listlessly clicked around. Then she watched as her recorded self opened up the web browser, loaded the pornography site and immediately became more animated, sitting up, watching the video intently. Although squirming slightly in self-consciousness to watch herself, Jennifer did not turn away when the recording showed her lifting her skirt up and starting to masturbate as she watched the dirty videos.

It was only a few minutes later when the transformation began. As her past self sat there in the office, hand between her legs, her pants audible on the recording, her hair suddenly began to grow streaked with light highlights, and then turned completely blonde. The moans became louder as her chest expanded, the buttons popping off her blouse to accommodate her growing bust, tearing to reveal generous cleavage.

“Oh yea,” Jenna hissed on the recording as she fingered herself, frantically humping her own hand, encouraging the porn actors on the computer screen as she engrossingly watched. “Yea, fuck that whore… fuck her…”

Jennifer watched wide eyed, scarcely able to believe that this hedonistic, sexual trallop was herself, and yet at the same time, she was aware of her nipples tightening painfully, a growing dampness between her legs.

She felt a sudden urge to touch herself and resisted it, compelling herself to keep observing, gritting her teeth as arousal flared up inside of herself with surprising strength and intensity, though she knew its cause. Jennifer hadn’t told Edward about just how high the dosage of I-New was in her system. At levels like these, the effects would go far, far beyond merely assuaging doubts and insecurities.

It wasn’t like Jennifer to hold anything back from her husband, and she didn’t know precisely why she had. Maybe she just didn’t want to admit it to herself, justifying the omission under the pretext that Edward wasn’t scientifically minded enough to realize the implications of it—that deep down, some part of herself wanted to be Jenna. This was her, stripped of any conscious reservations or morals or fear of judgement, with a body of her subconscious choosing.

How could that be, Jennifer wondered to herself. Is this really what I am deep inside? Is this really what I want to be?

Some nasty little slut?

Jennifer felt her a jolt of pleasure between her legs at the thought, and again felt the urge to touch herself, more powerful than before.

These thoughts… they’re not mine… it’s just the I-New…

They are yours… the drugs just free your mind… free you from yourself…

No. No, I don’t want this, Jennifer thought firmly, balling her hands up into fists, fingernails digging into her palms, her eyes still fixed on her recorded self nonetheless. I don’t want to be some horny slut.

A filthy little whore.

A small moan escaped from Jennifer’s mouth before she clamped it shut, her lips pressed tightly together, breathing rapidly through her nose.

No. Fight this. Fight it. You’re a scientist. A molecular biologist.

Not a horny, mindless animal.

Jennifer gasped loudly as another spike of pleasure hit, and she rubbed thighs together restlessly, panting now, echoing the voice on the recording, her dripping sex aching for stimulation.

No, she thought desperately. No….

I’m not some big titted, blonde fucktoy…

A dirty bitch in heat...

She swayed for a moment, then toppled forward, clutching the table, groaning, as the hair draping her face turned bright golden blonde.

Oh, fuck… No… No…

It’s happening… I’m changing...

She groaned again, more loudly now as her chest began expanding again, filling out her blouse until the fabric was straining, fit to burst.

God, they’re so big… such big titties…

I’m turning into… a total slut...

She could feel drool spilling over her plump, luscious lips.

Such a dirty, nasty whore...

Jenna gave a breathy laugh as she reached down and began fingering her wet slit, watching herself doing the same on the video in front of her.