The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Chapter 2: In Which our Hero Dispenses Three Orgasms, by which Aspects of His Character are Revealed.

Through the roof of the Maybach I can see the interplay of light and leaf. I have the roof glass electrochemically set to maximum clarity, and the shadows play across the interior, a jumble of information that could hold all the computers in the world captive for a thousand years without being able to recreate it. Needless to say, we don’t spend our lives contemplating infinities. It comes through as noise. Joyful, if we take the time to contemplate it, but noise.

The sound system grates out the twanging banjo chords of the song Kara and I are singing along to.

I am the passenger

I stay under glass

I look through my window so bright

I see the stars come out tonight

I see the bright and hollow sky

Over the city’s ripped backsides

And everything looks good tonight

Before my change I had a vocal range of about half an octave, with each note hovering under flat. But now. . . . Kara and I sound like sexy gutter angels, singing along with Iggy Pop’s scratchy track.

As we pull into our destination, a college campus renowned for it’s medical, farming, and electrical transportation departments. We sing the final notes of the chorus before the car whispers off.

Forget the fact that you’ll be lucky to see a Mercedes Maybach in the next ten years, It’s going to be even longer until you see one fully equipped with fuel cells and an electric motor driving each wheel. We use an experimental carbon filament flywheel in a hellaciously gimballed system for regenerative braking, and it has more computing power than a submarine. Kara’s been itching to show off her latest modifications to hern geek friends she’s been consulting with over the net.

I exit and crouch down to her face at her open window. “You be good, you little Slavic hussy. I don’t want to hear that some undergraduate drove through a wall because you were wiggling your ass.”

“I will stick my ass wherever I please, thank you! You know Dr. Mandotti is going to ask about next year’s funding. He’s such a nervous little beast. What shall I tell him?”

“God that poor man’s going to give himself a stroke. I can understand—when you’re that far ahead in a cut-throat field, you feel highly exposed. I know I would have. If I get a chance I’ll see what I can do to calm that fevered brain of his. But either way, tell him to talk to Janine. She has instructions to go over his research funding for the next two quarters.”

“He’s worried she’ll eat him. That stuck up uber-bitch cunt. Why’d you stick a Nazi like her as his contact?”

“Jealousy, love.” I chide. “I’ve stuck it up both of your cunts plenty of times. I need her to clear away all the obstacles the big three keep placing in his path. Good grief, if cars moved ahead as quickly as computers—”

“You’ll get you flying car, Gospodin Kosmonaut. When hell freezes over.”

“So! After you’re done why don’t you unpack, find us a nice lively restaurant, and I’ll call you about six as to where to get me.”

“Da, chief. I’ll find you a good place to troll.” With a soft kiss upon her lips and a pat on the cheek, off she rolls.

My top priority this afternoon is the office of Dr. Juana Cervantes of the oncology department. My concern here is the treatment of Karposi’s sarcoma, the opportunistic cancer that most ravages AIDS patients.

I’ve mentioned before that I can cure people I have sexual contact with. I have cured a number of women from AIDS and its followers-on. But the sucker is tricky, and I’ve had to go back several times to women whom I thought I cleared out. It likes to hide in odd places. I’m doing everything I can to rid this world of the pandemic. I have other institutes working on a vaccine. But here and now, it’s the sarcoma.

Juana greets me warmly, and we take a walk to the small auditorium classroom she had reserved for the briefing. Juana is a plump woman in her early fifties with a lovely wide, brown face. She’s wearing a light gold jacket and a long, dark, cotton skirt. She has that grandmother-in-the-making sort of feel. As if in a few years she could retire to stock some kitchen with cookies for kids and make albondigas on Sunday. But that look is a lie. Her husband died from numerous cancers caused by pesticide poisoning when he was a farm worker and she was a young radical student. You don’t want to cross her if you don’t have data that can stand up to her rigorous scrutiny.

“We’ll be met in the theater by one of my shining stars, Dr. Austen,” she explained on the way, and there introduces me to the pleasant looking Todd Austen, a young man in his early thirties.

Inside we sit in the back while Todd runs the computer slides from the front, showing any number of electron micrographs of cell nuclei. I recognize them. I should. Many of the cells come from me. I infected myself with live cancer cells, integrated them into my body, then cured them, with Juana examining biopsy samples every step of the way. The three of us discussed the samples, or we two let Todd explain some of the findings.

Is this why you’re reading this memoir? I doubt it. Here I am, the most lovable freak on God’s green earth, surrounded to people who agree with my every move, and who want to be absolutely helpful. No you’re reading this memoir for sentences like the next one:

Juana leant over next to me, and whispered in my ear, “It’s been well over two hours since we’ve met and you haven’t offered to get me off even once. What sort of patron are you?”

I sighed, and whispered back, “ Come on, hike up that skirt. I’m guessing you forgot your underwear today.”

“No, I just took them off before you arrived.” She held my hand gently and slid it up her thigh, under her skirt. Her legs were like the rest of her—soft and warm.

And as she rested the palm of my hand on the curly hairs of her pussy, and I slid two of my fingers along the moist outer dampness, she asked Todd to show me the series of cell wall shots taken with various passage membrane constrictors applied. Everthing about her feels soft, and warm, and loving; like dipping into a hot tub with a best friend.

We continued on this way for several minutes, the three of us discussing technical matters. I needed help with many of the details, but they patiently explained what we were looking at. They were making great progress in understanding Karposi’s protein structures, especially using the X-ray crytallography equipment I was able to fund. All this time my fingers were burying deeper into her wetness while she softly stroked the back of my hand. Eventually she asked,” Shall I stroke you?”

“Some host you are,” I grumbled, and she used both hands to free me from my pants. I wear a very stylish pant, loose in the crotch, with a front panel that can be easily lifted aside exposing my genitals. I never need to wear underwear, and can adjust my scrotal tissues for maximum comfort. On a hot day like today, I can adjust my internal heating system so that my scrotum doesn’t expand and stick to my legs.

Wrapping her fingers around my hardening staff she gently stroked away at me. Todd, of course, could see exactly what we were both doing, but it was me, so it was no big deal.

Juana’s clitoris had expanded, and I spent as much time stroking it as diving deeply with my fingers. She had licked the tips of her fingers, and were rubbing them along the head of my penis. I’m sorry to say that she was not very good. But really, such a sweet woman.

“Excuse me Todd,” I interrupted at one point, “can you hold off a moment while Dr. Cervantes comes?”

She was gripping the head of my cock like it was an arcade strength tester. Ow! I reached inside her head, opened her hand and helped her slide a good, hard orgasm completely through her body. she shuddered a lovely shudder.

“Oh,” She draped her head on my shoulder. “That was so good! Thank you. Oh. It’s been so long. Was it good for you too?”

She hadn’t noticed what I had done with her hand. I looked down at her shining star pupil, Dr. Austen, her junior by—what? 22 years? “Todd, are you seeing someone right now?”

“Not really, It’s been a while.”

“Look, can you do me a favor. Can you make it a point to make love to Dr. Cervantes every week or so? Get her up to speed.” I look at her and see all the good she’s doing. Honestly, I do. “A woman this fine, it’s a shame to have her out to field. She needs to be ridden properly, kept in racing trim. Can you do this for me?” I stroke her head on my shoulder as she sucks my fingers clean.

“Certainly,” he nods, staring up her legs to her wet pussy.

“And Juana?”

“Hmm?” she grins at me, glowing.

“See to it he learns what he needs. After a bit, if you two want, go find someone you love. Take some time to enjoy life.” I wrap my arm around her, and hold her closely. She snuggles up to me, and we finish our work.

When I leave the little auditorium to my little sex bunnies the sun is starting to set behind the low hills. I have to readjust myself, and take a little shot of endorphins to lessen the pain. God, Juana’s a wonderful woman, but we can’t all be perfect at everything.

I hope Kara’s found a nice place for dinner. Maybe she can give me a nice, gentle blowjob, cradle me in her mouth.

Then I see a young woman slide by on her bike, swing her leg off while still moving, and then trot its front wheel into a rack parking slot. In the afternoon heat she’s wearing a white cotton tank top, backpack, and chino shorts. Her breasts shake as she trots. Ahh, what the hell. What’s the point of being an all-powerful freak if you don’t just go for it every so often.

Her head perks up as she feel me reach out for her, and she looks in my direction. She could have been Juana’s youngest daughter. Fine light brown skin, two coils of black hair piled up off her neck, and eyes like midnight. She swings her backpaqck off, approaches me with a lacivious grin, releasing her hair, knowing perfectly well what she’s about to do, and all fired up to do it.

I sit on the ground with a tree to lean back against under the last warm rays of the sun, and she pulls her tank top off in one stroke, revealing her sweaty breasts. The young student walk on around us. Some of the boys look at her hungrily, but then keep on going. It was those breasts hanging down as she rode that made me pick her at a whim. She leans over, and her nipples crinkle to dark chocolate nubs as the sweat cools on her body. He breasts hang like exotic jungle fruit. I hold her damp left breast and pull her hard nipple as she kneels forward to kiss me.

“Come,” I whispered to her softly, and she does, sinking shuddering moaning to her knees. “Now, mija, you may suck, very gently.” And she did.

Nothing fancy; that’s not what I needed. Just a beautiful girl to lay her head in my lap, hold my cock in her mouth, and stroke her long black hair, her long, smooth body. The sun went down, and very slowly the ceiling of the sky darkened.

After a while I was feeling better. I saw Drs. Cervantes and Austen exit the building, holding hands. We waved at each other, and Juana pointed out something about my situation, and they chuckled to each other. Goodnight sweet lovers.

Ah. Enough. I was getting sentimental and drifting. This is my problem: lack of debate, of give and take. I see something and I have that thing. I see someone, and I have them. No real challenges, except from the laws of nature. Then and there I re-resolve myself to the point of my trip. Meet intereseting people who challenge me.

In a moment. I tap my Latina cocksucker on the shoulder. “Thanks love. Let’s finish this up.” She’s undoubtedly missed her class by now.

She shifts to her knees, still sucking, and looking at me with lust. The idea occurs to her that she was so unbearably filled with lust that she has walked up to a beautiful stranger, tore off her shirt for him and sucked his large cock, and that this is so exciting she cannot help but come when he does. The froth boils up in me, and I come in her mouth, letting her drink her fill. She moans in the excitement of what she has done, and feels the warmth of a sudden, light orgasm bloom up inside of her.

She disengages, breathing hard. “Ah, ah. whew. Mmm.”

I give her black nipples a final suck, and then she stands, puts her shirt back on and wobbily heads off towards the building.

When Kara pulls up she is grinning her usual grin, as if to say, “I know who you’ve been doing you naughty boy.”

I climb in. “So whom did you wiggle your ass at today.”

“None of your damn business. Now sit back and relax.”

“You’re in the driver’s seat.” We wend our way out past the back of the campus out into the flatlands where they have their test track. In the dim twilight I can barely see the banked curves and the handful of people watching from the stand.

“I have a surprise for you. Something you will enjoy.” She can hardly contain her delight. She punches it, and I’m pressed back into the seat.

“Shit!” I shout.

“We replaced the power linkages to the motors. Power transfer is way up. And the new cells are 15% more efficient. Nice accelleration, hey?”

We were continuing to accellerate: 70, 80, 90. We were barreling around the curves, and then blasted back into the flat. I could hear cheering as we shot past the stand.

“I’m taking you to a nice place tonight. Lots of beautiful people. So don’t embarrass me.”

“Heaven forfend!” I’m trying to maintain my cool as we hit 110.

She snorts. “I swear, you sound like a fucking dictionary sometimes.”

“And you make it sound like I’m fucking a sailor. What a mouth on you!”

We re-enter the curves, and she pulls us hard down to keep us from flying off. Back down to 90. But then we hit the straightaway and she floors it again. “Yeah, my mouth is right! I’m amazed I can close my jaws anymore, I spend so much time with your cock in it.”

“I’ll be sure to work you ass more.” We’re at 145. The tires are rated for 200 mph, but I don’t want to hit the curves again at that speed.

“Are you kidding? I already sound like the symphony when I fart.”

“Don’t complain, or I’ll make it so tight you won’t be able to pass a grape. Then I’ll thicken my dick up like a blow fish, and force my way in.”

“Promises, promises.” She takes the curves again at 120, and I can feel the car trying to slide off the surface.

We hit the straghtaway and are up to 170 before we know it. I can see flashlights waving frantically from the stands. “I never let you have any fun. Let’s stop the car.”

She’s intent on the road ahead. There’s an option to continue straight without hitting the curve and she takes it. We hit 195.

“You always want me to open it up for you,” she stares forward.

I realize I’m terrified for the first time in years. I lean forward and touch the back of her head. She comes so hard her hands freeze up on the wheel and her legs pull up. Then she relaxes with a harsh grunt and her reactions are the only thing keeping us from sliding off the road. She brakes to a stop so fast I worry about the flywheels exploding before they get a chance to siphon off power back to the batteries.

We could have died. Is this what she wanted? Is this what I wanted? I’m so hyped with adrenaline that I’m screeching incoherently inside my head as I try to regain control. I can feel the air boiling as Kara seethes and whispers death threats in Russian. But she will put it off until tomorrow; she’s as stoked on adrenaline as I am. Where did this come from?

“You bitch,” I whisper, obliquely, and it means more than all our light hearted banter today. I want her. I hate her. I am excited. Life is tingling through me. We are alive!

Her friends are running out towards us but I’m not ready to face them. I roll down the window as we pass. “Tomorrow!” I shout, and we’re on our way again.

The last glowing fragments of pink light whispers over my head, and each fragment is precious to me. Kara is precious to me. Each moment ticking towards dinner is precious to me.

The branches have sprouted thick night shadows that fill the interior of the car. I punch the music back on. Iggy sings:

Oh the passenger

How, how he rides

Oh the passenger

He rides and he rides

He looks through his window

What does he see

He sees the bright and hollow sky

He sees the stars come out tonight

He sees the city’s ripped backsides

He sees the winding ocean drive

And everything was made for you and me

All of it was made for you and me

Cause it just belongs to you and me

So let’s take a ride

And see what’s mine