The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive


by Captain Dunsel



Paul Freeman was humming to himself in the elevator. Fucking young Marlena, Cliff Baxter’s hot little Latina admin assistant, had put him in a very good mood… in part because the dalliance had been entirely impromptu. Cliff was off-island for the week and Marlena, idle and bored, had apparently decided to lace her coffee break vending machine latte with a little of her boss’s Don Julio Blanco. Just to help pass the time, of course. By ten-fifteen she was chugging straight from the bottle and drunk off her tight little ass… which surprised exactly no one… staggering around the Human Resources hallways, showing her amused colleagues her tits… which most of them had seen many times before, of course… and cheerfully cursing them in Spanish when they politely declined to suck on her nipples. At ten-thirty she stumbled head-first into Freeman’s office, fell on the floor, and demanded that he fuck her como un perro rabioso. Paul Freeman recalled enough schoolboy Spanish to know that meant “like a mad dog,” and although he was usually attracted to girls with big tits, he closed the door and happily obliged pretty Marlena.

Freeman had fucked the little puta for about twenty minutes… pausing to take the phone call from Debbie… and thoroughly enjoyed the spur-of-the-moment tryst. He was particularly pleased that, after chugging twelve ounces of tequila, Marlena was far too borracha to do anything but lie there on the carpet and occasionally utter an untranslatable squeal of passion. He didn’t like it when the girls got too chatty while he was doing them. Some of them, like that bimbo Willow down in Procurement, couldn’t keep their fucking mouths shut, babbling on about how horny they were and how drunk they were and how big his cock was. Freeman knew some guys liked that sort of thing, but he found it annoying, frankly. Though of course he didn’t stint even with the talkative ones, he did his duty and fucked them within an inch of their chatty little lives.

Of course, Willow had been a brainless bimbo back in civilian life, before she ever got her first booster shot or drank her first cocktail. And the girl did have a fabulous set of knockers. They had to be a triple-D if they were a D. Freeman smiled wryly. Dumb as shit and built liked a brick shithouse had its own special appeal, he supposed. Maybe later on he’d stop by the Procurement Office and see if that ditz Willow had a free slot on her dance card. He could probably convince the stupid bimbo to play an S&M game; that would give him an excuse to gag her. Before that, of course, he had to give that teen queen Debbie the banging she so richly deserved, assuming she was available after her Beach Bum gig. His cock stiffened in anticipation.

Down boy, he scolded himself. Business before more pleasurable business. Freeman glanced down at the tablet in his hand. Jeffrey Napier, PhD. Impressive resume. Putnam said there was no question this guy had the bio-chem chops, that Merck & Co. would be sorry to lose him. And he had passed all the moral identity psych evaluations with flying colors. One of the highest scores ever on the ethical flexibility exam. As a result, Security had given him a very low dose immunization, just enough to ease him on board the crazy train and boost his libido a tad. Hell, Freeman himself got a libido boost once a week. You fucked four or five girls a day, five or six days a week, you needed it. Speaking of which, he hoped Debbie wasn’t being too much of a flirty little tease, he didn’t want to scare Napier off. Those goddamned Beach Bums still had a reputation for unpredictability when it came to gonadal steroid levels.

Freeman wasn’t too worried, though. The good doctor was probably so bedazzled by the sight of her cute little teenybopper bod in that pink bikini that he couldn’t think straight. Well, they were all disoriented at first. It was Freeman’s job to orient them. Dr. Napier didn’t know it, but he already had the job if he wanted it… he wouldn’t be here on the island ogling Debbie’s tasty little titties if there were any question about him being BoozeMart R&D material… it was just a matter of getting him with the program. Freeman was confident he could do that. The psych evals were dependable, and he was good at his job. And anyway, what sane man wouldn’t want to get with this particular program?

The elevator stopped, booped softly, the doors slid open, and Freeman exited, still humming. He walked around the corner and into the reception area, eager to see delightful Debbie. He hadn’t fucked the blonde baby doll in… Jesus, a couple of months. Too busy doing his bit to help ease the annual Product Development backlog. He had been doing eight girls a day for a few weeks there, barely had time for his regular HR duties. A lot of late nights. Fun, but… damned exhausting.

And there she was, the teenaged temptress, sitting behind her desk in her skimpy little pink bikini. Was Debbie the youngest girl in the stable? Maybe. He might check, just out of curiosity. He recognized the nerd on the sofa as Dr. Napier from the Skype session. The bio-chemist was leafing through a magazine, a smile on his face. Odd, he didn’t seem a bit disoriented. He didn’t have the aroused-confused-terrified-enthralled expression of the typical prospective. Well, so much the better. The sooner Freeman could orient Napier and hand him off to Cyrus Putnam, the sooner he could stick his eager cock in Debbie’s tight little-

Wait a damned minute. Something was wrong. Debbie wasn’t nearly as drunk as she should have been after a thermos of Beach Bums. Freeman could tell that even from across the room. She wasn’t completely sober, but she should have been at stage five by now and she definitely was not. Freeman had a good eye for inebriation levels, especially for a layman. Was she procrastinating? The girls sometimes did, despite the boosters and a laudable work ethic and their natural inclinations to get drunk and laid; the lab boys were still trying to figure out what to do about that. In fact, that was one of the things they were hoping Dr. Napier might investigate.

“Good morning, Debbie,” Freeman said as he approached the desk. Napier looked up from his magazine, curious and expectant, but definitely not disoriented.

“Morning Mr. Freeman,” Debbie chirped, only a very slight slur to her words. Her face was flushed and her eyes were bloodshot, so she had been drinking, but she looked like-

Freeman smirked, understanding.

She looked like a girl who had worked off her drunk with some hot and heavy sex. Most of them did hump off much of their intoxication, typically going from a stage six to a stage one, or even all the way back to neutral, within a few minutes of their orgasm. Hell, it was built into the formula, a major selling point. No puking, no hangover, no self-loathing, no regrets, no dealing with an obnoxious drunk chick after you fucked her, none of the ancient evils.

So… the little wench had fucked someone in the fifteen minutes since Freeman had flirted with her on the phone. He glanced over at Dr. Napier. Him? Possibly. Probably, in fact… because if she hadn’t fucked Napier then Napier had certainly seen her fucking whomever she did fuck, and if he had witnessed that beguiling spectacle he would not be sitting there so placidly, of that Freeman was sure. Besides, it was a major offense for a staff member to fuck a girl in front of a prospie; Freeman had been flouting the regulations by just flirting with Debbie. He doubted any of his colleagues would risk his job, risk being exiled from paradise, just to bang delicious Debbie on a lazy Tuesday morning. Not when they knew that, if they were just patient, they would get a chance to do so eventually. Multiple chances.

Freeman looked over at Napier, his smile tinged with respect. Well well well. The good doctor banged his first girl within twenty minutes of arriving here, before he was even hired, before he was even interviewed, before he could have had any real idea of what the fuck was going on. That took balls. Not to mention an admirably elastic moral compass. And judging from the way Debbie was making goo-goo eyes at him, she was more than usually pleased with the experience. The sweet darlings were always satisfied, it went without saying, no matter who was fucking them. That was built into the bio-chemistry. But they didn’t always fall in love.

Kudos, Jeffrey Napier, kudos. You’ll fit right in.

“Dr. Napier,” Freeman said, holding out his hand as he walked over to the sofa. Napier stood and extended his own. They shook. “Paul Freeman. Good to meet you in person.”

“Yes. Hello. A pleasure,” Napier said. Freeman got a good look at his face and knew for sure then. It was the face of a man who had just fucked Debbie the receptionist. The glow was unmistakable.

“Well…” Freeman said, “…shall we go up to my office and chat?”