The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive


by Captain Dunsel



Jeff Napier stepped off the express elevator. Wow. He had been told there would be a security check when he arrived, beyond the extensive online vetting, but he hadn’t expected it to be that thorough. The headhunter who arranged this interview hadn’t been kidding when he said BoozeMart took industrial espionage seriously. And what the hell was with that immunization booster? Weird. Still, for a professional opportunity like this one, and with the salary they were offering, well… Jeff would’ve happily put up with a lot worse than a few nosey questionnaires and a PharmaJet injection. He rubbed his arm absently, though there had been no pain. Well, vibrio cholerae was nothing to fool around with, sure enough. A booster couldn’t hurt.

Jeff caught sight of his reflection in the elevator door and was relatively pleased by what he saw. More pleased than usual, certainly… he was feeling unexpectedly confident today. Although, on reflection, he wondered if perhaps the turtleneck had been a mistake. It might be a trifle… well… gay. Jeff had no beef with homosexuals… in fact his little brother, whom he loved dearly, was gay… but today for some reason he felt like it was important that he not be mistaken for one. He wasn’t sure why, exactly. It was okay to look casual, but he also needed to look professional and… for lack of a better word… macho. Mostly, he didn’t want to look like a nerdy bio-chemist, which was exactly what he was. He brushed a strand of thinning brown hair away from his face and pushed his frameless eyeglasses back up his nose. Oh well, whatever, too late now. This is what he looked like. Mr. Freeman from HR could like it or lump it.

There was a small sign on the wall opposite him with an arrow pointing left that read RECEPTION—ALL VISITORS, so he headed that way. When he turned the corner, he saw two women standing halfway down the corridor, talking. He smiled, a bit wolfishly… which was weird because he never smiled wolfishly and always ridiculed men who did. But yowza, he sure had reason to. Both girls were knockouts, and the brunette was wearing a very short black dress. And no shoes. That was a little odd, to say the least, but maybe she-

Jeff’s eyebrows shot upward. Jesus Christ. It wasn’t a dress, it was goddamned nightie. Even from this distance he could plainly see the girl’s nipples through the sheer fabric. Jeff lips formed into a silent whistle. Wow wow wow. Nice tits. Nice body. Pretty face. And yeah, she was definitely wearing a see-through baby-doll. What the hell? Delightful, but very weird. Maybe she was participating in some sort of… fashion show or something? Or what did he know, maybe this was standard attire in the islands. Weird weird weird. Damn, she was hot. And she knew it. She knew any guy who saw her in that negligee would want her. Jeff licked his lips. Yeah… you could tell, this one was just asking to be thrown down on that padded bench and fucked within an inch of her-

Whoahhhh, Jeff told himself. Calm down. Get ahold of yourself. Sure, she was sexy as hell… but that was no reason to behave like a fucking Neanderthal.

As he neared the two females he forced his eyes away from the scantily-clad brunette to the other girl. This one wasn’t dressed for a bedtime roll in the hay like her friend, but not bad at all from what he could-

Holy shit! It was the gorgeous redhead from the limo! He hadn’t recognized her at first because she looked… well… different than she had ninety minutes earlier. Her skirt was hiked up almost to her ass cheeks and her blouse was unbuttoned down to her navel. What the hell? On the plane and in the limo she had seemed very prim and uptight… and frankly, a little bitchy… but she sure as fuck didn’t look uptight now. She looked easygoing, with an emphasis on the easy. Jeff admired her body with a new appreciation. The jacket she had been wearing earlier had concealed how big her knockers were. Jesus. And Jeff had already notice her very nice ass. A little plump, maybe, but he liked plump asses. And all that sexy red hair. All in all, very fuckable. Now the two of them together, that would be-

Jesus, Jeff, knock it the fuck off. What is with you? This was weird. He wasn’t the kind of guy who treated women like sex objects. Not even when they wanted him to treat them like sex objects which, let’s face it, they sometimes did. Not even when, like these two, they were obviously oversexed bimbo fuck toys just waiting for him to tear off their-

Stop it! Christ. Jeff focused his attention on the end of the hallway and tried to ignore the boner straining at his khakis as he passed the two girls. Women, not girls. They were full-grown women. Although… he suspected that redhead would squeal and giggle like a little girl if he just reached out and grabbed her luscious-

No! You cannot grab her ass! Ignore it ignore it ignore it ignore it. That’s right. Good boy. Just walk right on by. Ignore both of them. Jeff walked right on by, his hand twitching as he passed the girl with the nice ass. He wasn’t eavesdropping, but he couldn’t help but overhear a bit of their conversation.

“Really? You don’t have a… a cocktail?”


“Ohhhhhhh, well here.”

What the fuck? Jeff thought as he moved out of earshot. Cocktails? And the one in the see-through nightie definitely looked and sounded like she had already enjoyed a few. Maybe that explained why she was dressed like a porn fantasy. She was sloshed. No, that didn’t make any sense. A girl might get drunk at work if there was an office party or something, he had seen it happen at Merck a few times, but how the hell would she end up wearing lingerie? Not that he was complaining, mind you. He’d sure as hell like to run his hands up under that sheer fabric and grab those-

Jesus Fucking Christ, Jeff, get your mind out of the fucking gutter! You’ve got a fucking job interview to worry about.

Speaking of which, he hoped he was walking in the right direction for Reception. He had been so flustered by those two… ladies… he hadn’t paid attention to where he was going. But there was no way he was gonna reverse course and go back down that corridor. He wanted to… but he wasn’t sure he could trust himself not to bend that stunning redhead over one of those padded benches, yank down her panties, and fuck her luscious ass until she begged for-

Oh my god enough already! He pushed through the double doors at the end of the corridor. He stood for a moment, gathering himself. Okay. Jesus. That was weird. Sure, like any guy he felt lust when he saw a sexy girl, but that was… something else again.

Okay. Whatever it was, it’s over. Get ahold of yourself.

Jeff took a deep breath, exhaled, and headed into what was obviously the reception area. There were a couple of sofas, potted plants, Caribbean wall art, and a curved reception desk. As he walked up to the desk Jeff saw, to his dismay, that there was a pretty girl sitting behind it. She had her back to him, he could only see her blonde head peeking above the back of her chair… but he could tell she was pretty. Probably had a killer body too, with tits out to there and a sexy-

All right, control yourself, asshole. She’s just a girl. Woman. An ordinary woman… employee… minding her own business, doing her job. Her looks, whatever they may be, are irrelevant. You’re not a fucking Neanderthal. You’ve got a fucking PhD, for Christ’s sake. Act like it. Politely tell her your business and ignore the fact that she’s female.

“Hi. I’m Jeff…” The girl spun around in her swivel chair. “…Nuhh… Nuhh… Napier.”

She wasn’t pretty, she was dazzling. Young. Fresh-faced. Blonde hair, blue eyes. She would have made the cover of Playboy Teen magazine if such a publication had existed. She reminded Jeff of that blonde chick on that old TV show… what the hell was it… Married With Children. Kelly Applegate or whatever. Only this chick was better. Bigger boobs and prettier. Indeed, she was one of the most beautiful girls Jeff had ever seen in the flesh.

And as if that weren’t bad enough… she was wearing a bikini. A ridiculously skimpy, bright pink bikini. Welcome to BoozeMart R&D. Our receptionist wears a fucking bikini, for Christ sake. Nuts.

And as if that weren’t bad enough, she was quite obviously inebriated. Drunk as a skunk. Red nose, red eyes, drooping lids, and slumped lazily in her chair with a crooked smile on her teen queen face. She had a cocktail glass in one hand and a stainless-steel thermos in the other, and she had obviously been attempting, with only passing success, to fill… to re-fill, no doubt… her glass with a greenish liquid.

Why me? Jeff cried to the gods. Why are you doing this to me?

“Oh! Hi there, cutie pie!” the girl said, smiling up at him and hiccupping. “I’m DIC!... I’m Debbie!”

Of course you are, Jeff thought. You couldn’t be a sober sixty-year-old crone named Bertha. You had to be an intoxicated eighteen-year-old sex kitten named Debbie.

Debbie finished filling her glass from the thermos… spilling some… took a swig, and put both down on the desk a bit clumsily. The thermos teetered a bit. She held her hands in place long enough to make sure it wasn’t going to topple over, then she grinned, turned, and consulted her computer. Against his will, Jeff’s gaze shifted downward. Debbie’s youthful, tangerine-sized tits were straining her bikini, her nipples poking at the stretchy pink fabric.

“Whaddid you HIC!... sorry… whaddid you say your HIC!... your name was?” she asked, trying to focus on her monitor with bleary eyes. Her body jerked and her tits did a sexy little dance each time she hiccupped. Jeff cleared his throat.

“Jeffrey Napier,” he managed to say.

Debbie the drunken receptionist blinked at her screen, then broke into a smile.

“Ohhhhh yeah, here you are,” she announced happily. “You have an app-HIP!... an appointment with Mr. Freeman.”

“Yes. That’s correct,” Jeff agreed, somehow managing not to leap over the desk and ravish the perky little slut on the spot. He wanted to. He really, really wanted to. And she probably would have let him. She was obviously a slutty little thing. She would probably like nothing better than to mount him and ride his stiff cock like a bucking-

Stop stop stop stop stop! he rebuked himself.

One of the double doors bumped open and the chick in the black nightie stumbled in with a giggle and a “Whoahhhhhhhhhh.” They both turned to her and Debbie smirked.

“April… I told you… you… you were on th’wrong floor, dummy,” she scolded. April giggled and pointed.

“Yessss, ann you were… were correct,” she agreed, then her grin became predatory and she weaved her way over to Jeff, stopping in front of him, swaying and occasionally staggering to keep her precarious balance.

“April…” Debbie cautioned.

“Heyyyyyyyyy, cutie,” she drawled seductively. She took Jeff’s left hand and ran it up under the sheer fabric of her nightie, just as he had fantasized about doing moments earlier.

“Hannz off, Ape,” Debbie scolded. “He’s a protect… pro… spective.”

April ceased and desisted reluctantly but immediately, returning Jeff’s hand to his side.

“Oops,” she said, then she giggled and kissed Jeff on the nose. “If you get the job, honey, come fine me.” She leaned in and whispered. “I like ’em nerdy.” She waggled her eyebrows, giggled again, then staggered away. Jeff watched her sexy ass wriggle as she departed, twisting those black lace panties, and bit his lip.

“Slut!” Debbie called after her. They could both hear April giggle from down the hall. Debbie looked back at Jeff, brow furrowed. “Dr. Jeff…?”

“Nuh… Napier,” Jeff answered.

“Right!” Debbie squeaked. “I’ll LICK!... let Mr. F know you’re here.” She ran her finger down her touchscreen, stabbed at an icon, then picked up her cordless phone receiver. It was on speaker phone and Jeff could hear ringing at the other end.

“Quality Ash… ashurance,” a female voice answered. Even with the French accent Jeff could tell the speaker was not particularly sober.

“Oops!” Debbie said, giggling. “Sorry, Yvette, I hit the wrong NIK!... number.”

“Bon, chérie,” the female voice said. Debbie disconnected and scanned the screen.

“Less juss try that a… again.” She stabbed, somewhere a phone rang.

“HR, Freeman,” a male voice said. Debbie’s face lit up in triumph.

“Mr. Freeman,” she said. “This is Debbie DIP!... down at recession.”

“Debbie,” Freeman said. From the sound of his voice Jeff judged that Mr. Freeman was picturing her naked. “How lovely to hear from you. Are you drinking today?” It seemed an odd question for an executive to ask a receptionist, but this was obviously a very odd place to work. Debbie looked to her cocktail glass and lifted it, smiling.

“Mm-hmm. Beach Bums,” she told him.

“I see. And what does one wear while drinking a Beach Bum, I wonder.”

Debbie giggled. “One wears a BIP!... bikini, silly.”

“Not the same little pink bikini you wore when you drank all those Sand Dollars last month and seduced everyone in Purchasing?”

“Mmmm-hmm. Except I think it shrunk in th’wash cuz… cuz my BIP!... my boobs’re practically falling out of it, if you can imagine that, Mr. Freeman.” She covered the phone, winked at Jeff, and whispered. “It didn’t shrink in th’wash. I’m juss playin’.”

“Ah,” Jeff whispered back, nodding and smiling weakly. It didn’t shrink in the wash. She was just playing. Good thing too. If that thing had shrunk, she would be effectively naked. Jeff imagined her effectively naked and his hard-on got harder.

“Ohhhh dear,” Freeman’s voice said. “Well, I’ll have a word with the laundry service. We can’t have your cute little boobs falling out in front of our visitors now can we.”

“You are a sweetie, Mr. Freeman.”

“Well now… to what do I owe the pleasure of this call, Debbie?”

“There’s a man here named… Jaaaaaaames…” Debbie said, blinking, obviously having trouble remembering Jeff’s last name again.

“Napier,” Jeff said softly. Debbie smiled at him, mouthed thank you, and blew him a kiss.

“Napier,” she told the phone.

“Ah yes. Jeffrey Napier, PhD.,” Freeman said. “Please have him wait, I’ll be down as soon as I can. It may be a few minutes, I’m stuck in a…” There was the sound of a girl squealing nearby. “…meeting.”


“I’m looking forward to seeing your shrunken bikini, Debbie.”

“You can look but… but you have to keep your HIP!... hands to yourself, Mr. F,” Debbie warned him. She winked at Jeff again. “We’ve got company.”

“Debbie… have I ever been anything other than a complete gentleman?” Freeman asked, his tone mock wounded. Debbie giggled.

“Goodbye, Mr. Freeman,” she said. She disconnected, then looked up at Jeff and spoke conversationally, with no trace of embarrassment. “I actually wouldn’t mine fucking him at all, but I’m SIC!... scheduled to do a freestyle consultation with Mr. Ortega as soon as I empty this thermos.” She took a sip from her glass, giggled, then looked up at Jeff with a deliciously wicked grin on her face. “Course… by then, I’ll be so fucking wasted I’ll do anyone who HIC!... who looks at me cross-eyed… y’know?” She licked her glossy lips, inviting him to look at her cross-eyed.

Jeff just stood there, dumbfounded. What kind of nuthouse have I wandered into? he wondered. Of course, the inmates in this particular nuthouse were… charming, to say the least. He’d give a month’s salary for the chance to tear that bikini off with his teeth and-

“You can have a seat on the SIP!... sofa if you want,” Debbie suggested.

“Oh. Right. Okay,” Jeff said, shaking himself free of his fantasy. He walked over to the nearest sofa and sat.