The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“And... we’re on a break,” the director stated, as the cameras shut down. The six highly paid entrepreneurs let out a collective sigh. It had been a long day, and they were all looking forward to ending this session and cutting filming for the day. As six of the wealthiest businessmen and businesswomen in the nation, they’d worked together and against each other in various enterprises over the year, but the idea to combine their forces to host the reality TV show, Shark Cage, had to be one of their best ideas yet. At least, most of the time.

“Oh, god, tell me this day is almost over,” Wanda Richardson, CEO, and founder of the Richardson Investment Company complained, stretching in her comfortable recliner, yawning briefly. “Today has been a real slogfest. Seriously... does no one have any good investment ideas these days?”

“Heh. You can say that again,” her companion, Mario Macelli, billionaire mogul, and basketball team owner sighed, shaking his head. “I gotta say... this show does have its up and downs... but on a day like today, I actually miss sitting in a boring stuffy board room meetings all day.”

“Speak for yourself, Mario,” the balding businessman next to him quipped, grinning. “Personally, I could do this all day. I mean, what’s not to like? If the guys coming in to pitch their projects are good, I get the chance to partner with them and turn a nice profit. If the guys’ proposal is garbage... well, there’s something to be said for seeing the looks on their smiling shining faces just before the harsh reality crashes down upon them!”

“Damn, Bobby,” the dark-skinned fashionably dressed mogul at his side murmured, shaking his head. “I know all’s fair in love, war, and business, and all that... but there’s seriously something wrong if you actually find enjoyment in making people cry!”

“Oh, come on, Dreon,” Bobby MacGillicudy replied, still smirking. “You act as if you haven’t caused your own fair share of tears this past season.”

“Maybe so,” Dreon Morris retorted, “but I didn’t take personal enjoyment from it. There’s a reason everyone refers to you as ‘Mr. Terrible’, you know.”

“Probably because they discovered your secret,” the young brunette woman on the far end, Rachel Winters, Internet mogul and Online sales distributor, replied with a smirk. “That you don’t eat or drink like the rest of us—that you actually subsist on the tears of children.” The others all laughed.

“Okay, ladies and gentlemen,” the director called out, reading from his clipboard. “We’re back in two minutes. One last contestant for the night. And you might wanna check the program guide and refresh yourselves on the next guest’s background. He’s a previous contestant on Shark Cage from a year ago, back with a brand new product.”

“Oh? A returning guest?” Brandi Chambers, the blonde-haired female owner of several QVC and TV retail channels, replied, glancing through her program guide, a slight frown on her face. “Hmmm... let’s see... a ‘Dr. Jonothan Drake?’ Drake... why does that name sound so familiar?”

“Wait! Dr. Drake?” Wanda said, perking up, grabbing her own program guide. “Oh, hell... I remember now. He WAS on the show... last year, you remember? That scrawny pencil-necked geek with the thick glasses and that white lab coat?”

“Oh yeah... that guy,” Bobby cut in, rolling his eyes. “You’re right. I’d never forget THAT guy. He came in here with all this weird scientific technobabble, a lot of charts and diagrams and data, but no actual working product, asking for a hundred thousand dollars! The guy was trying to sell an idea. As if we’d actually lay down good money for that!” He grunted, shaking his head. “Damned idiot had no idea what he was doing.”

“Maybe so,” Rachel replied, still reading, “but from what I’m seeing, his ‘idea’ apparently caught on. Looks like that dweeb was able to get funding for his machine from someone else, and managed to get it into production.”

“Really?” Wanda asked, dubiously. “Someone actually gave that guy a hundred thousand dollars?”

“Fuck... it sure looks like it,” Dreon replied, shaking his head ruefully. “And I thought that name sounded familiar... and not just from his appearance on the show. Apparently, Dr. Drake started his own business, selling his device to the medical community. And as of last week, Drake Medical Concepts hit the NASDAQ with a dividend yield of 7.2%... it’s the highest trading stock on the entire service right now!”

The others were stunned into silence. Then: “Well... shit,” Wanda replied groaning softly. “I guess we all know how this meeting is going to go. This guy’s probably here just to gloat, and rub it in our faces. Goddammit... I fucking HATE these kinds of meetings...”

“Okay, everyone,” the director called out. “We’re playing the intro now. We’re going live in five... four... three... two...” The voiceover played loudly in the background as the large heavy double-doors opened, and the last contestant of the night stepped forward, wheeling a small cart into the room with him. The sharks, however, were a bit stunned by his appearance. Far from the scrawny nerdy geek from a year ago, the man standing before them now was still tall, but with definite definition to his frame, his dark hair neatly cut and styled, and well groomed. Gone were the thick coke bottled glasses, his clear gray eyes either adorned with contacts or possibly fixed with corrective laser surgery. He still wore a white lab coat, though this time the clothes underneath were of much better quality, a navy blue tailored business suit nice enough to make Dreon envious.

The biggest change, however, was his attitude. Everything from his stance, to the way he walked and carried himself, spoke of confidence. Gone were the unsure mannerisms, the avoidance of making eye contact, the shuffling idly in place and wringing of his hands while idle. Indeed, his lips were twisted with a bit of a smirk, as if he were in on a private joke that no one else was aware of. Setting aside his blanket-covered cart, he turned to face to face the assembled group before him.

“Hello, Sharks!” he stated in a loud clear voice. “My name is Dr. Jonothan Drake. You might remember me from my last appearance on Shark Cage when I was shilling for my invention, the Drake Health And Wellness Propagator, a device that uses specifically calibrated microwaves, radio waves, and magnetic forces to stimulate and enhance cellular growth and repair.” His smirk widened. “At the time, it was all theoretical, existing merely on paper schematics and diagrams. And, as I recall, none of you felt... comfortable, investing in what was essentially... oh, how did you put it last time, Wanda? ‘The fanciful delusions of a mad scientist’?”

The elder woman scowled. “I see you have a very good memory, Doctor. Yes, I said something along those lines. But, I suppose in the end you proved me wrong, didn’t you?”

“Indeed,” Dr. Drake replied, gesturing to the board, as the camera crew activated the monitors, showing his prepared slides. “With funding achieved through various OTHER means, I was able to make the Health And Wellness Propagator a reality. And, as you can see, it was demonstrated and widely accepted by nearly every major hospital and research facility in the nation, from John Hopkins to the Mayo Clinic, to UCLA Medical. All of them agree that it is a true breakthrough in medical science, and has been highly sought after by every hospital, urgent care, and medical facility in the country, and beyond.” He clicked on a different set of slides. “In the past year alone, my net worth had surpassed eight hundred million dollars, and I’m actually struggling to keep up with the demand. I also have overseas orders coming in from the U.K., China, Switzerland, Japan, and seventeen other countries.”

“Well, Doctor,” Mario spoke up, eyes shining with avarice, “if you’re here seeking further investment capital, I for one would be very happy to discuss terms. We wanted proof of the viability of your claims, and I’d say you’ve proven it.”

“Hey, now, Mario,” Bobby cut in, scowling. “Don’t think you can just jump in and cut the rest of us off! Give the rest of us a chance to make a pitch as well!”

The Doctor surprised them, however, laughing gleefully, shaking his head. “Oh, my, no! No, no, no. While I appreciate the sentiment, I assure you that I am doing just fine on that front. I have more than enough capital for the Propagator, and business is booming on that front. No, no... I’m here today to seek funding for a brand NEW product, one not yet available to the public.” He gestured to the cart.

“Well, Doctor,” Rachel replied, smiling widely, “if it’s anything like your previous invention, I for one am very interested. And I would love to hear more about it.”

“Yeah, yeah, we all would,” Dreon pressed, sitting forward in his seat. “Enough suspense, man! Show us what you’ve got!”

“Alright then! With no further ado... behold,” the Doctor said, whipping away the sheet with a flourish. The sharks, all of them leaning forward in anticipation, sat back, gaping in stunned surprise. They all glanced at one another then at the doctor himself, not sure what to make of it.

“Um... I... er,” Brandi sputtered, at a loss for words. “Excuse me, Doctor... What is it exactly that I’m looking at here?”

“Why Brandi,” Dr. Drake replied with a low chuckle, “it’s exactly what it appears to be. So, you tell me. What do you THINK I’m presenting here today?”

“It looks like a goddamn tinfoil hat,” Wanda snapped, crossing her arms. “And it looks to me like this whole thing was a waste of our valuable time!”

“Wanda, please, remember to watch the language,” the director’s voice cut in. “We’re going to have to bleep the swearing out in editing later...”

“Oh, to HELL with that!” the female mogul retorted. “Danny, you’re supposed to vet these characters BEFORE letting them up onto the stage, specifically to keep out all of the crackpots and weirdos!” Dr. Drake’s eyes narrowed. “This guy is obviously pissed off for the reception he received last time and this is all just a ploy to mess with us to make up for it!”

“My, my, my,” Dr. Drake replied, shaking his head. “Always so quick to judge, Wanda. If you’d learned anything at all from my last time here on Shark Cage, it should have been not to be fooled by appearances.” He turned back to his cart. “Yes, I suppose to the untrained eye, this might appear to be a simple tin foil hat sitting atop a mannequin’s head, but I assure you it is much much more.” His grin widened. “I present you with the Drake Brainwave Deoscilation Helmet, patent-pending, guaranteed to protect the wearer from mental manipulation from psychic and/or technological means.”

The sharks glanced at each other again, dubiously. “Damn... I hate to actually agree with Wanda about, well, anything,” Bobby remarked ruefully, “but I guess she was actually right for a change.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” the doctor chided his audience. “But I can understand the sentiment. My previous invention promised a lot as well, and I wasn’t able to provide any substantial proof to back up my claims. Well, I learned from my mistakes,” he stated firmly. “So now I’ll provide you all with sufficient proof. If you’ll indulge me for a moment?” he asked, glancing around at everyone. “If I haven’t proven my claims beyond the shadow of a doubt, I’ll gladly leave and never return. Heck, I’ll even sweeten the deal and give you each a million dollars for wasting your time.”

That got their attention. “Did you just say... a million dollars?” Dreon asked, stunned. “If we’re all not completely and totally satisfied that your device works?” Drake nodded solemnly. “Man, you have got yourself a deal! Not sure about your overall business plan if you’re throwing around money like that, but I gotta admire your commitment...”

“Thank you, Dreon. Now then... if everyone will stand up for me, for just a second,” Dr. Drake asked, still smiling pleasantly. Once everyone had risen, he nodded. “Very good. Perfect baseline readings. Now then... everyone, strip! Take off all of your clothing, and place them neatly back into your chairs.” As expected, his request was met with outrage and disbelief.

“What? Are you fucking serious?!?” Wanda screamed, going red in the face.

“Dude! Seriously! You’re out of your damned mind!” Dreon yelled

“Outrageous!” Rachel hissed, shaking her head. “You sick... This is... you.... how can you even...”

Brandi just stared, wide eyed, saying nothing.

“Okay, we’re officially done here,” Mario replied, sternly.

“Seriously, Bill,” Bobby called out for the director, “Can we get security up here now or... or... WHAT THE FUCKING HELL?!?!”

Despite their protesting, each of the Sharks watched in helpless disbelief as their traitorous hands followed through with the doctor’s request, unbuttoning and unzipping their clothes, beginning to strip down naked in front of each other and the cameras. Indeed, it seemed everyone was equally affected, as even the support staff, the cameramen, sound guys, and the director, all began to do the same. Dr. Drake merely stood there, smiling his same knowing smirk, idly buffing his fingernails.

“This... I... can’t make myself stop,” Rachel complained with a strained voice. “D-doctor... what is this? How are you doing this?”

At that Jonothan grinned. “Ah, finally, an intelligent question from the group! I was hoping someone would actually ask. Oh... but first, a moment if you please,” he said, turning back behind him. He glanced at one of the cameramen and gestured forward. “You there... um.... er, sorry, what’s your name?”

“C-Charles, Mr. Drake,” the nervous camera operator managed, tossing his shirt to the ground, and reaching for his belt buckle.

“It’s ‘Doctor’ actually, Charles,” he clarified, “but that’s fine. Tell me... why are you taking off your clothes right now?”

“B... because you told us to,” he murmured, loosening his belt, sliding it out of his pants, and reaching for the zipper. “It’s like... I don’t have a choice! Believe me, it’s not like I want to do this!”

“Excellent. Now then,” he said, reaching out to place the tin foil hat on the man’s head. Charles’ eyes widened, his hands dropping back down to his sides. “And now, Charles?” the doctor asked. “Looks like you’ve stopped undressing. Care to tell us all why?”

“I... I dunno,” he said slowly, glancing around as everyone else continued to strip, most of the sharks down to their underwear now. “It’s like... that pressure, that feeling in the back of my head making me do this... it stopped when you put this hat on me! I don’t feel like I have to do what you said anymore.”

“Indeed,” Dr. Drake replied with a smug nod. “A very rousing and sincere testimonial of the effectiveness of my product if there ever was one. Well, Sharks, I’d say I proved now that my device works as stated. But now, let me delve a bit deeper into what’s happening here.” He pulled up a nearby stool and sat down. “When you all so callously turned me down, I was forced to seek financial gain from other, less savory avenues. I got the hundred thousand from a different ‘shark’... a loan shark, with the option to pay back one million dollars in six months’ time.” He sighed dramatically. “Luckily, my idea was sound, and after creating a working prototype, and setting up a demonstration with the head of John Hopkins, I managed to secure orders for six devices, pay back the debt, and still have enough left over to continue production. And one year later, I’m the owner of a multi-million dollar enterprise.”

“Ughhhh... fine... so you’re a... technological genius... and a skilled entrepreneur,” Mario grunted, as he kicked off his brown Kiton loafers, slid off his Versace boxers, and stood before him, completely naked with the other Sharks. “But that still doesn’t explain how you are able to control us all like goddamn puppets!”

“Oh, that? I’m getting to it,” Dr. Drake replied easily, taking a swig from his bottled water before continuing. “Once I’d established myself and made my enterprise basically self-sustaining, I decided to go back to the drawing board... to begin truly exploring what my Health And Wellness Propagator could really do... you know, test the limits of its restorative powers. And I found out that with a bit of recalibration, and intensifying the frequency by a factor of ten, I could induce cellular growth on an unprecedented scale in very specific instances.” He smirked seeing the blank looks on their faces. “Let me dumb that down for you laymen. Basically, with a bit of tweaking, my device was able to not just heal a body, but augment it... leading to increased muscle mass,” he said, gesturing to his own physique, “clearing up skin issues, such as acne,” he stated, gesturing to his face, “and fixing minor physical defects, like near-sightedness,” he added, gesturing to his eyes and lack of glasses. “Why bother going to the gym or getting laser eye surgery when a few sessions with my device can accomplish the same thing?”

That got everyone’s attention. “So... your machine is what’s responsible for your new look?” Brandi asked, interested. “I’d thought you had cosmetic surgery done, or something similar. How long did it take for those changes to set in? How many treatments?”

“Brandi! For God’s sakes!” Wanda yelled, incensed. “Who the fuck CARES about that right now? This bastard is controlling us like goddamn puppets! Fuck his damned machine!”

Jonothan sighed heavily, shaking his head. “My, my, my. Such stubborn intolerance. I see you didn’t learn a thing from our last interaction, did you, Wanda?” He raised a hand. “No, no, don’t answer. In fact, do say a single word.” The elderly woman blinked, eyes going wide, suddenly finding herself struck mute. “Now, as I was saying. I was quite fascinated with the effects of my device, how stimulating and controlling the growth of certain cells in the body, and retarding others, could change a person so dramatically. For instance,” he said, moving back to the metal cart, “a little bit of tweaking to the mass and density of a person’s muscle and tendons,” he stated, lifting the heavy two-hundred-pound cart with one hand, “results in a deceptively powerful increase in strength and resilience, with very little outward appearance. I dare say I am at least as strong as a professional bodybuilder, just without all the excessive bulk.”

The sharks frowned, stewing in silence and frustration. The situation was doubly frustrating, in not only were they helpless and at the mercy of a vindictive madman, but they were also being taunted by the exceptional benefits of his device, the very project he had pitched to them, and they had each disregarded as impossible.

“Of course, that doesn’t even BEGIN to scratch the surface of what the Health and Wellness Propagator is capable of,” the Doctor continued, taking another quick drink from his bottle of water. “One of its uses is in aiding burn victims by rapidly healing and regrowing damaged skin and tissue. But just imagine how it could also be used to benefit the beauty and cosmetic industry as well? No more painful tedious liposuction or diet and exercise to trim fat. No more long strenuous workout sessions in the gym. And forget botox or collagen injections to enhance your normal natural beauty—you can literally sculpt your face and body to your perfect ideal in a matter of minutes.”

Mario grunted slightly, expressing his consternation as he felt himself becoming hard. Despite the situation, he felt his manhood responding, hardening despite any kind of stimulus or desire. Indeed, glancing around the room, he saw that he was far from the only one affected. All of the other men in the room were sporting large erections, and the women likewise were squirming uncomfortably, sporting flushed skin, hardened nipples, and the telltale dampness between their legs. Yet they were all utterly unable to act, to either cover themselves or tend to their steadily growing arousal, forced to simply stand in place and listen to the Doctor prattle on.

“But... I digress,” Drake stated, suddenly, turning back to face them. “The important part is that one of the key discoveries I made is that my device can actually propagate the growth of new brain cells.” He smirked at that. “The idea being that it would be ideal for helping those with traumatic brain injuries, or the elderly suffering from Alzheimer’s or dementia. But I discovered an unexpected benefit when testing it on myself—an overall increase in neural functionality. It made me smarter. And... it granted me a few other abilities as well,” he stated, gesturing idly to the table in front of the group, causing it to lift into the air, spinning for a few seconds, before depositing it back down again.

“Oh, geez!” Charles replied, causing Drake to glance back behind him again.

“Ah, right, I almost forgot... you’re not being affected by my psychic emanations right now,” he mused aloud. “No matter. Again, it merely demonstrates the effectiveness of my product proposal.” Moving back to the cart, he lifted the sheet completely off, revealing a second tin foil hat. “Now then, sharks... here is my proposal. I am willing to part with this prototype Brainwave Deoscilation Helmet. I’m afraid this is the last one, however,” he stated with a smirk, “as Charles here has already taken possession of the other. I’m willing to accept the highest bid for this unit, with a few incentives,” he added, as the five entrepreneurs suddenly jerked to attention, turning to face one another, “which, as you now know, grants you complete immunity from any and all psychic control.”

“Aaaahhh! What the hell?!?” Dreon suddenly yelped, able to speak again, as he turned towards the others, walking over to Brandi. “What... what’s going on? B-Brandi? I... I can’t... I can’t control it,” he protested weakly, thrusting his hips forward as the equally controlled blonde dropped down to her knees and opened her mouth to receive him. His protest faded, turning to groans, however, as the blonde CEO began sucking him off. “D-damn,” he groaned, shaking his head. “Fuck... Brandi... that feels... fucking amazing... I never knew you were such a good cocksucker...”

“Gaaahh... it’s not me,” Brandi protested between sucking, popping him out of her mouth to lick and slurp at his balls briefly. “It’s... Drake... the Doctor... he’s making me... do this... ggaaahh!” she exclaimed before taking him back in and deepthroating his cock. Her eyes went wide, nearly bulging, as she felt him bottom out into her throat. Far was inexperienced, she’d never been one for fellatio, and had never even contemplated taking some man’s prick into her mouth, let alone her throat. Yet, somehow, she was able to take him in effortlessly, utilizing skills she didn’t even realize she had!

Around the room, the other sharks were likewise pairing up, sucking and fucking each other with abandon, against their wills. Bobby groaned, scowling in disdain as he found himself moving in behind Wanda, the elderly woman spreading her asscheeks in open invitation. Despite this, the woman regarded him with contempt. “You... you son of a bitch!” she growled, shaking her ass temptingly. “You’d better not do it, Bobby! I swear! If you put that... that thing, in me, I’ll—”

“Shut up, Wanda,” the balding CEO snapped, sweating heavily, as he moved into position. “You think I WANT to fuck your wrinkly old ass? Dammit... I’d rather stick my cock into a garbage disposal than into your—uuuggghhhh!” he gasped, grunting as his body surged forward, impaling himself deep within Wanda’s bowels. Unable to control themselves, the two moguls gave in, letting their bodies take over, with Bobby thrusting in deep inside Wanda’s ass, again and again, causing the older woman to grunt and gasp in discomfort.

“W-wait! No! St-stop!” Rachel protested, shaking her head in denial, even as she moved back into her chair, and spread her legs wide. “D-Doctor, please! Don’t make him do this!” she pleaded. “I’m a... a lesbian,” she grunted as Mario grabbed her by the ankles and lifted them up onto his shoulders. “I don’t want this!” she protested feebly as her unwitting cohost entered her roughly.

The Doctor sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Sorry about the pairings,” he said with a shrug. “Honestly, I actually considered having Dreon and Mario together as a pair,” causing the two men to gasp and glance his way in alarm, “but it’s really just more practical this way. Besides, considering my endgame, you may want to get used to the feeling.” Not that he really cared, actually. Of all of the sharks, he was most sympathetic towards Brandi. During his last time on the show, she was the only one who hadn’t insulted him, and had actually considered his proposal seriously. In the end, she’d backed out as well, but her civility had earned her at least some leeway. The rest, however... he was very much enjoying watching them squirm.

“Ugh... ugh... ugh... endgame?” Dreon managed, grunting with effort. “What do you mean? What more can you do to us, anyway?”

“Ah, I’m very glad you asked,” Drake stated, grinning. “You see, sharks, this isn’t JUST about revenge. I’m not THAT petty. This is an actual business proposition. In just a moment, I’ll be taking bids for this last remaining prototype,” he stated, patting the tin foil hat, “but I mentioned ‘incentives’ so let me further explain. You are all being psychically conditioned into becoming a bunch of submissive, obedient, sex-addicted thralls. When I leave here today, that programming will kick in and become permanent. So, as an extra added bonus, whoever makes the best offer for the Brainwave Deoscilation Helmet will not only be immune to the slave programming, they will also become the undisputed Master, or Mistress, of all the rest of you!”

The six business magnates all stared at him in horror, “Wait! You... you can’t be serious!” Bobby protested angrily. “You can’t fucking DO this to us!”

“I can, I have, and will continue to do so,” Drake replied blandly. “I would think your current situation would have driven that point home by now.” He sighed, taking a last swig from his water bottle, and tossing the empty container into the recycling bin. “Now then... who’d like to start the bidding?”

“N-n-none of us!” Wanda managed defiantly, panting heavily from the constant thrusting into her ass. “We... aaahhh... won’t play your... fucking... game!” she belted out through gritted teeth. “We... won’t give you... the satisfaction—”

“One million!” Brandi called out suddenly, surprising the others.

Drake smiled. “I have a bid of one million dollars,” he replied, smirking. “Do I hear two?”

“B-Brandi! You... fucking trait—aaahhh! Goddamit, Bobby!” she yelled incensed, as the portly bald man slapped her ass hard.

“Ughh... I already told you—it’s not ME, goddammit!” he protested even as he slapped her ass yet again.

The Doctor’s smile faded. “Huh. All this, and the only bid I get is for a measly million dollars? Apparently, you aren’t taking me seriously. Maybe I should just withdraw my offer now and walk away—”

“Two million!” Rachel called out.

“Fuck... ahh... fuck it,” Mario grunted, shaking his head. “Five million!”

Drake nodded, grinning again. “Ah, that’s more like it. Now you’re getting into the spirit of things. And remember, whoever gets the, er, ‘device’ becomes immune to everything that’s happening, as well as what happens afterward. So don’t be afraid to shell out.”

“Ten million!” Dreon called out, getting glares from everyone else.

“You... you bunch of shady fucking bitches!” Wanda yelled out. “Don’t you see that he’s playing us? Toying with us? He’s putting us against each other! If he can make us do all of this, what’s to stop him from reneging on his deal in the end?”

“And what’s to keep him from simply turning us into his obedient slaves here and now?” Rachel shot back, just as angry. “Goddamit Wanda, I don’t like this either, but what choice do we have?”

“Shit... she’s right... twelve million,” Mario added, before turning back to face Wanda again. “This isn’t some board meeting or contact negotiation! This bastard has us by the literal balls... it’s his show. And pissing him off is only going to screw us even more! So get with the damned program!”

Drake laughed gleefully. “Going to ‘screw you over’ even more? Interesting choice of words there, Mr. Macelli, considering your current situation. But you have a point. Wanda, if you’re not planning to make a bid, then I will consider you as being ‘out’. As such, you no longer get to talk or interrupt the others.” He smirked. “I wouldn’t want you to unfairly influence the others bidding, after all.”

Wanda’s eyes went wide. “Wait! Wait a minute, I...” she began, only to fall silent, her ability to speak taken away. Gasping, clutching at her throat, she yelled soundlessly, unable to voice her rage at the situation. Drake ignored her completely, turning back to the others.

“Okay, sharks... looks like Wanda has dropped out. Last bid was twelve million to Mr. Macelli. Do we have any others?”

After a second or two of hesitation, the others began yelling out offers. For his part, the Doctor merely smiled, basking in the attention and desperation of the moguls under his control. It was a most fitting irony; a year ago he had pleaded with these same people, lowering himself to begging, to find funding for his greatest invention, a multi-billion dollar idea. And now, thanks to that same invention, he had those same people desperately shouting out multimillion-dollar offers for what was basically a folded newspaper hat covered in aluminum foil! And the best part—he didn’t even need the money! His business was now so successful that he never needed to work a day in his life, let alone worry about funding for any future projects.

So... yes, perhaps in retrospect, he WAS actually that petty.

“Fifty million!” Dreon shouted, panting heavily, beginning to sag. All the while, he and the others had continued having sex with their assigned partners, their bodies enthusiastically going through the motions, yet unable to cross the threshold into orgasm. It was getting to the point that most of them were willing to offer just about anything just to get this over with, regardless of the outcome.

Drake yawned, nodding. “I see. Fifty million from Dreon. Well, folks, this has been a nice little diversion, but I think I’m going to have to call it a day. If there are any other serious bids, you’d better make them now—”

“One hundred million dollars!” Mario Macelli announced, causing the others to gasp. The Italian businessman was regarded as the richest one among the group, and his announcement had stunned the others into silence. If Macelli was taking off the kid gloves, then he was very likely to simply outbid the rest of them. Drake smirked. He’d expected this tactic, he just hadn’t expected it to take so long for them to reach this point.

“One hundred million dollars,” the Doctor repeated back, whistling. “Very impressive. It looks like we have a winner. All right, Mario. One hundred million, going once... going twice... and—”

“Half!” Brandi shouted out suddenly, causing the Doctor to pause and glance her way.

“Excuse me, Ms. Chambers? Did you say ‘half’?”

“Y-yes,” the lovely sweat-soaked blonde managed, nodding her head. “Half... fifty percent... of my total net worth... now... and in the future!”

The others were stunned into silence again. Not only had she just offered the demented doctor HALF of her entire net worth, including her cash, holdings, and businesses, she had sweetened the deal with an offer of half of any FUTURE profits she might make! The others looked at her as if she were insane. The Doctor, however, laughed, clapping loudly in approval.

“Yes! Finally... someone shows a bit of actual intelligence and business savvy! There you go, folks... Brandi Chambers, you have yourself a deal.”

“What? NO! Wait!” Dreon yelled out, as Bradi pulled away from him, getting back to her feet. “You can’t... I can do fifty percent too! Fifty-five percent!”

“Yeah, me too!” Bobby called out. “And I have a higher net worth than Ms. QVC Queen over there!”

“I think not,” Drake replied, shaking his head, nodding to Brandi as she walked forward to join him. “You see, Brandi actually grasped the true value of my offer. By offering more than just a simply paltry sum of money, she won the bid. Meaning the rest of you lost.” His grin widened at the look of confusion on their faces. “And exactly what were the stipulations I laid out in the beginning?” he asked Brandi as he placed the tin foil hat over her head.

The naked blonde blinked, then grinned. “Ohhh... wow. That’s... interesting. It’s kind of like being really really drunk and suddenly becoming sober again.” Facing Drake, she nodded. “As for your question... you stated that the winner would not only obtain ownership of this nifty anti-brainwashing hat but would also claim ownership of the losers... and everything THEY own as well.”

Realization suddenly dawned on the remaining sharks. “Ohhhh... oh, fuck...” Dreon groaned, closing his eyes.

“Exactly,” Drake replied with undisguised glee. “So Brandi, in her wisdom, just offered me not only half of HER fortune, but half of all of yours as well! And, as you so neatly pointed out, Mr. Terrible, Brandi’s net worth was somewhat less than most of yours. So, with her bid, she obtained all of you as her obedient slaves, and ownership of all of your fortunes by default, and all it cost her was half of her own. Even sharing half of her new windfall with me, she absolutely came out ahead.”

As a group, the remaining sharks collapsed, sinking down to the floor like puppets with their strings cut, as the power controlling their actions suddenly vanished. “Welp, I have what I came for,” Jonothan Drake stated briskly, shaking hands with Brandi. “We can meet in a few days, say, this Thursday at noon, to finalize the details. For now, my dear, feel free to enjoy your new purchase... and everything that goes with it.” The blonde chuckled, glancing at the faces of her cohosts.

“Oh, believe me, Doctor,” she said, nodding sadistically, “I fully intend to.”

“Very well, then, I leave it all to you,” he said, walking back towards the hallway. “Oh, and one last thing. Mr. Director... er, Daniel was it? I’d like a copy of the tape sent to my hotel.” The others jerked slightly at the timely reminder of the cameras that had been rolling the entire time. “I know this content probably isn’t suited for the network, but I intend to keep a copy for my own private use.” And with that, he departed, laughing all the way.

“Well, then,” a still naked Brandi said briskly, walking back to her recliner, sitting down, and crossing her legs. “I think we should call it a day and head home. And by that, I mean you’re all coming back with me to my home, so we discuss the nature of our new ‘arrangement’.”

“W... wait... you’re serious?” Rachel asked, going pale. “You... you intend to... you’re really going to... make us...”

“My slaves? Oh, abso-fucking-lutely,” the blonde CEO replied with a smirk. “You heard the man. By now, all the slave programming he put in your heads should be firmly in place. You’re all going to do whatever I want from now on... and that means anything,” she stated, leering at Rachel. “And I don’t know about the rest of you, but that little sex session earlier was anything BUT fulfilling. The first thing we’re doing when we get back to my place is having you all take turns getting me off!” She paused, glancing at Bobby, and Wanda, and frowned. “And... as for you two, well, I’ll think of something for you two to do, like cleaning up...”

“How... how could you do this to us?” Wanda asked, finally able to speak again. “We’re... your friends... your colleagues...”

“True,” Brandi admitted with a shrug. “But I’m pretty sure any of you would have done the same if you’d had the chance. And anyway... this wasn’t personal. It was... just good business.”

((end))