Hi, my name's Bo (He/Him/His). I write smut and make manips of hot people mind controlled. I am 31. 18+ only. All characters featured in my stories are adults. See pinned post for content warning. You can find all of my stories in one place here.
So @laurentidal-backup was there in case what happened happened, because I know at one point you were like, if I get nuked I'm not restarting. So when you didn't get nuked, I didn't keep it up to date.
BUT if other readers are more anal meticulous about tagging than I am, and have your stories tagged, I could use the script to go reblog more "lost" stories. With their note counts, of course. I know you love your data.
As fate would have it I updated my spreadsheet like 2 days before the nuke so I have fairly accurate data as it currently stands.
I wouldn't say no 😂 but I don't mind the interim stories being lost media for a bit either. I still have the OG copies saved to my vault and I'll prob post them again little by little like I did the first time
Lauren couldn't remember when she started the vault. Hell, she couldn't even remember writing the first story. Her mind didn't tend to dwell on trivial things like that anymore, but the sudden ban on Tumblr had forced her to go back into the old files and now she was looking at a massive depository of hypnosis smut in an Obsidian vault with her name on it.
She barely had time to process her feelings when the ban came down. She'd once sworn publicly that three times was enough. She would not start a fourth blog. But when the time came to call it quits, something triggered in her mind and she got to work rebuilding, almost as if her body were acting on its own.
Maybe it was. After all, she didn't remember writing a single one of these stories.
And as she clicked through columns of stories with unfamiliar titles, she found herself repeating an oddly comforting phrase.
"My mind is a vault and I must fill it..."
That's right, she thought. I remember now. I did this all for them.
She imagined the blank faces of the nameless thousands who had consumed these stories. She wondered how many had been driven to sexual release, and then she considered...she wasn't that much different than the mind controllers in these stories. That brought a rush of excitement that she didn't expect, and it kept her moving forward, the rest of her resolve to retire melting away.
After all, she thought. "My mind is a vault..."
"And you must fill it," said the faceless thousands.
DVD Bonus Features - Quick Hits #35: Free Will, In This Economy?
Wait! Before you read this neat post, you should read the actual story first. Then reblog and stuff maybe idk thank you.
Commentary
A while back I wrote about the weird nesting doll situation that my writing process often spirals into. What's funny about that post, other than the fact that I haven't finished any of the stories I was talking about nine months ago, is that I left one idea out. Tabbie at Futurum has been on the backburner longer than most of the stories referenced in that post.
In fact, An Alpha Interview #2: Tabbie, which I published a year ago last week, started as a Futurum story. The issue was that I had a sudden inspiration to explore Tabbie's background through Dr. Fielding, and I didn't know which idea I wanted to write first, so I started writing them in tandem. Eventually, the Alpha Interview idea emerged as the more interesting concept and I put Futurum aside with the intention of coming back to it after it had some more time to develop in my head.
For most of its life, the Futurum concept played out the same way. Tabbie speaks to the audience about her experience working for the company before we discover that she's telling her story moments before her own brainwashing in a Futurum lab. The blueprint never changed, but Tabbie's attitude did. One version has Tabbie eagerly getting captured and pretending to fight even as she helps a brainwashed Corbin strap herself into the brainwashing chair. In another version, Tabbie is so indignant about Futurum's boring applications for mind that she's mortified when she discovers that the company is using Madison Wells' old mind control tech from the Alphas basement. Sometimes Tabbie's Alpha experience makes her immune to the brainwashing, other times she succumbs to the brainwashing and her voice changes to match her new life as a cold, Futurum drone.
The point is that I spent the last two years trying to find the perfect angle for this story. Ultimately, the blueprint did change. The original concept was always framed with Tabbie in the chair because it was meant to be a quick, throwaway story. The details of Tabbie's work life at Futurum aren't as important as the outcome. That was the attitude that I had when I started writing this version of the story, but I quickly discovered that I had a lot more to say about life at a mind control office.
I have a handful of story ideas that lately I've been calling my "trouble stories." These are mostly written, half-written, or just extremely brainstormed. It's not a bad problem to have so many ideas half-baked, because it means that I already have something to work with whenever I get the urge to write. Still, it's always super satisfying to finish something that has hung over me for so long. Maybe with this chapter closed, I can finally make some headway in that Alphas rewrite.
Trivia Track
Okay, so my time at the Gilead Hotel wasn’t just research.
Each Tabbie story opens with an obvious confession to the reader. Technically this is only the second in the Tabbie series (Alpha Interview does not count because it's in third person), but I knew that I wanted this to be a running gag even when I was writing Just Research back in 2024.
Maybe I wanted to be locked up for hours in their interrogation room, hands cuffed behind my back while they turned my brain to mush with their whole Good Cop/Dom Cop routine.
This is a reference to Internal Affairs #1: The Rookie, which Just Research is technically a spinoff to. Another story that's been trapped in my head for years is the second chapter of Internal Affairs, which would feature a mind control scene in an interrogation room.
I rewrote the "Good Cop/Dom Cop" line about five different times before I found something that felt like Tabbie's voice.
So, yeah. I know when you see me now, naked and on my knees in a Futurum office with my new boss’ cock down my throat, you’re probably thinking, “This bimbo Tabbie just couldn’t resist joining the mind control company,” right?
The original line said, "Naked and strapped to this chair in a Futurum R&D lab..." but that was before I cut the scene in the lab. I just felt like I was juggling too many layers at that point to comfortably work in a third location, and Tabbie on her knees before her boss felt like a natural endpoint to a story that is essentially a day in the life in a Futurum office. If you feel robbed of a brainwashing scene, don't worry, the lab will return.
No T&A on the copier, no breakroom blowjobs, no sex in the stairwell.
I had a tough time recapturing Tabbie's voice. The first draft sounded way too much like Corbin. My last revision was focused entirely on fixing these issues, and this line is probably the best example of that. It originally said, "No procrastination, no aimless wandering, no small talk around the breakroom." @ottopilott, who gave me notes on my first draft, made the point that Tabbie rarely goes a paragraph in Just Research without mentioning sex, so my goal in that last revision was to fit sex in as much as possible. Tabbie doesn't care about regular office life, her only motivation is to fuck, so naturally those are the things she would list when imagining the normal office environment.
He replied, “Private designations are discouraged in workplace settings. My Associate Designation is No. 122.”
I don't really check these numbers before I write them. There's a good chance multiple characters will end up with the same number just because I'm stupid.
“All new associates are designated a number during onboarding,” My neighbor on the other side of me said. She was a gorgeous redhead who tried to hide a massive pair of tits beneath a fleece turtleneck. She seemed to share Gary’s passion for talking to computer screens. “My Associate Designation is No. 500.”
“You look like a Josie,” I said. “Have you seen a girl named Corbin around here?”
This is the same Josie from Quick Hits #25: The Pleasure Method, who is designated no. 500 at the end of that story. We don't get to see the direct result of her brainwashing in The Pleasure Method so hopefully it turns some readers on to see her as a drone now.
“I have reached my hourly-allotted non-productive conversational capacity,” Josie replied. “If you wish, you may reapproach this topic in twenty-nine minutes.”
This joke doesn't fully land because of Tumblr's shitty formatting. "Twenty-nine minutes" is supposed to be in a different font to emphasize how robotically Josie says the time.
“Bravo. Bandwidth. Sea foam. Carpetbagger. Waiting room. Downtown. Colossus. Mitigate. Theta.” After a brief pause, the voice said, “Repeat your sequence.”
Sequences have been a part of this series since the very first Futurum story, Quick Hits #10: Remote Training. The two tiered mind control system intentionally mirrors Alphas, where Madison initially hypnotizes her sisters, then fully brainwashes them in the basement.
There's no significance in the words used in the sequence. I just try to string a number of words and phrases that flow well together.
When I saw Corbin outside my window at the Gilead, I thought she’d come to rescue me. Of course I had a john with me at the time, but he was nice enough to fuck me by the window so that I could watch the whole thing: Corbin walked casually up to one of the rooms. A woman in a towel appeared when she knocked on the door, and the woman invited her inside. That was interesting to me, because I was not in that room.
Futurum was written before The Gilead Hotel was a location in Romero. The story was actually going to be about a Corbin Arroyo fangirl who falls into a trap while investigating the company, but since it was just a quick Hypnovember story, I didn't have the time or energy to establish a new character. I liked the concept of a Corbin fangirl, though, and after setting Just Research at a trashy, by-the-hour motel, connecting Tabbie's story to Futurum felt like the obvious next step for her character.
As much as I hated to leave my research unfinished, I had a duty to rescue Corbin or, in failing to do that, join her in sexy submission. The johns weren’t going anywhere.
Seems significant that Tabbie can leave her mind control predicaments any time she likes. I'm sure she'll go straight back to The Gilead when she's done with this place.
I didn’t expect work at Futurum to be easy, but I fell behind Gary and Josie quickly. Their eyes fixed to their screens, their fingers click-clacking across their keyboards. Inhuman speed, impossible processing time, no errors.
Tabbie's internship was a job in customer service in the first draft. But Futurum is a scientific research company, their customers would be like, federal agencies, not regular people, so I couldn't see a need for a big, public facing customer service department. Plus, Tabbie is one of our brilliant young minds, she's not processing payments at a desk. I left it ambiguous as to what she actually does at Futurum, but I think it's some administrative role.
The mystery was how Futurum was making people into perfect worker drones. I’d already seen their little onboarding light show, but that wasn’t enough to turn a person into a robot! There had to be something I was missing, a second level to the brainwashing.
Once again mirroring Alphas, this line echoes one of Corbin's in Alphas #1: It Starts With a Pledge: “Work like that requires a lot more than a soothing voice and a swinging pocketwatch. She has a methodology, something more permanent.”
It was a look on Josie’s face. A small, nigh imperceptible twitch. Understand, my coworkers are automotons. Any emotion at all is a significant deviation worthy of additional study, but this wasn’t any ordinary facial twitch. It meant that...Josie’s a fucking slut, just like me!
Back to dunking on the first draft, this was probably the roughest stretch when I first wrote it. Long blocks of paragraphs with very technical-sounding language, the voice was just wrong. Part of the problem here is that Tabbie developed in such unexpected directions after Just Research that I had to relearn her voice while also incorporating her brainier side. That turns these long, technical lines into setups for punchlines like, "Josie's a fucking slut, just like me!"
The orgasm was so intensely concentrated that it only registered on the outline of a single muscle beneath Josie’s eye. That it occurred at the same moment that Josie completed a column on her spreadsheet was enough for me to begin formulating a hypothesis.
If sexual stimulation is related to the mental subjugation of Futurum associates, then a third party could use sexual stimulation to control Futurum associates.
Ugh, listen to me, I sound like a fucking nerd.
One of my inspirations for Tabbie's voice is the Doom Guy from the infamous mid-nineties Doom Comic. With Tabbie, I want to capture the way Doom Guy tears through the Mars base searching for bigger and more powerful guns while occasionally waxing poetic about the dangers of pollution. This note is basically just an excuse to talk about the Doom Comic.
“There is no pleasure in hard work,” I whispered to Josie. “The only pleasure is sex.”
“You don’t need a manager,” I said to Gary. “Let your cock manage you.”
Seeing Tabbie brainwash her coworkers was a very late addition to the story, originally occurring in a single line. This part intimidated me because I wanted to capture the scale of Tabbie's work without sacrificing the pace of the story. It was hard to tell how Tabbie was breaking her coworkers, so I tried to find an efficient way to show that.
“Unknown Associate Designation…” Josie moaned. Her chin glistened with my juices, one hand kneaded her pink tits while the other viciously rubbed her clit. “This associate is…is just a dumb bimbo…just a dumb bimbo for Supervisor Tabbie…”
Tabbie's coworkers originally called her Mistress, but Supervisor fit better with the setting. When I first wrote their dialogue here, it was very informal, but I wanted to stick with that same rigid Futurum voice.
Stupid drones.
Could be an alternate title for this story.
The annoying click-clack of keyboards was replaced with the beautiful music of mindless sex, the Alphas house resurrected in the middle of Futurum’s office.
A recurring theme in Tabbie's stories is how she's always just recreating the Alphas everywhere she goes.
I had to get creative to stay above the productivity tracking software. I showed a group of associates how to slide the mouse over their clits so that it looked like they were still active on their computers even as they were cumming their brains out.
This bit was an Otto suggestion, but comes from my own experience working an office job from home where company software tracks your keystrokes and mouse movement. I like that it works as a dig at soul-crushing office work but also uses the setting to its fullest.
I rolled my eyes and said, “Per my last email, Garrett, it’s called a cock, and I’m like, a total slut for yours.”
Playing around with the setting some more here. I guess Tabbie brainwashed Garrett through email.
My boss reminds me a lot of my johns at the Gilead Hotel. Approaching middle age but obsessively fit, he’s tall, handsome, and a little rugged, like a man who models razors.
Going back to the Doom Guy comparison, I wanted Hank to read like a boss battle after seeing Tabbie mow through her coworkers' minds.
I mean, here’s a guy who is smack-dab in the center of the Tabbie-lusting demographic and he can’t even steal a split second to objectify me?
As I sit here in my thirties it occurs to me with horror that I am only a few years away from being in the Tabbie-lusting demographic.
“Your body is a temple built to worship pleasure. Won’t you worship with me?”
Tabbie uses the "body is a temple" line on Hank because he's so fit. Her line of induction here is basically, "You've worked so hard to have that body, why don't you use it?"
See? I told you I had a good reason to be down on this floor. It’s not just because I’m a brainless hypnoslut who’s totally addicted to sucking cock. I’ve already got loads of cum in my tummy already!
Vegas has the over/under on number of cocks Tabbie's sucked today at 16.
“Coo-bin A-woy-O!”
This was the first line of dialogue that I wrote when I started this story.
He’s slipped on a pair of reading glasses that make him look like Clark Kent.
I wrote this line because my wife is obsessed with David Corenswet, which is totally fine, he's crazy hot.
I want to jump up. I want to clap my hand over his stupid sexy mouth, but my knees are weak from all the fucking.
In the first draft, Tabbie can't get to her feet because the conditioning is already sinking in. I like the change to "weak from all the fucking" because it's some goofy ass "hoist with his own petard" shit.
“Waiting room…downtown…colossus…”
I said earlier that the words mean nothing, which is mostly true, but I did throw "waiting room" in there as a reference to the Fugazi song for some reason.
I’m sure there’s a lesson here somewhere.
I toned down Tabbie's reaction to falling under Hank's control because I think Tabbie would respond to losing a mind control battle would be a big ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Deleted Scenes
Normally I'd use a section like this for cut content, but I didn't really have any significant cuts. I did, however, make three other manips for this story, so let's talk about them.
This manip probably came the closest to going out with the story. It is the "Tabbie is working at the mind control company and it's ruining her life" manip.
This is the manip that I was going to use when I started working on Free Will? last year. It's for the version of the story where Tabbie becomes a mindless Futurum drone and speaks directly to the reader in the automoton voice.
Around the same time I was working on Free Will?/Alpha Interview #2, Sabrina wore this look at the Met Gala. It felt a little like kismet, so I briefly played with the idea of Tabbie as a Futurum executive. The idea was that even as a corporate drone, Tabbie is still fabulous. I didn't really get very far with this idea, and the rest of the horny hypnomanip internet immediately got to work doing better manips of the same image set anyway.
Teasers
Since I have so many half-written stories, I thought it would be cool to have a feature where I preview some of the stuff that's around the corner. Note that these excerpts are all from rough drafts and any of it is subject to change in the revision process.
Syrup is a short epilogue to Quick Hits #32: Iconic. Newly minted Alphas Tamika, Antonia, and Demi debate how a syrupy handprint ended up on the fridge as they clean up the house on the morning after a party.
“But how do you think it got there?” she asked, pressing her finger to her chin curiously. A white trashbag hung loosely from her other hand, half-full with crumpled plastic cups, empty bottles, and used condoms.
“Probably from fucking,” Tamika said casually, pulling her mop from its bucket and plopping it down onto the linoleum.
Demi replied with a doubtful little hum.
“Definitely fucking,” Antonia said on the other side of the counter. Alcohol bottles clinked together as she reorganized the sorority’s stash.
“But they were mixing drinks at the island,” Demi pointed in Antonia’s direction. “How did the syrup get on the fridge?”
“Mads, Demi,” Tamika shook her head with an arrogant laugh. “For such a dumb slut, you can be so stupid.”
Demi frowned. “That’s not fair. I’ve only been an Alpha for like…twelve hours!”
Tamika dropped the mop against the countertop and stepped toward the fridge, her hips swaying dramatically as she practiced her new Alpha walk. Tamika had always been proud of her body, but now she had a fresh pair of black lace underwear to compliment her curves and it was making her feel a certain way.
“Syrup, please,” Tamika said to Antonia as she passed by the counter. Her friend pulled the bottle of strawberry mixer from her collection and passed it over the island. When Tamika reached Demi, she said, “On your knees,” and guided the younger Alpha down to the floor.
“Oh!” Demi gasped when she felt the cool linoleum on her skin.
Tamika put herself between Demi and the fridge, facing Antonia at the island. Demi found herself staring into Tamika’s panties, only a sliver of sheer fabric separating her tongue from Tamika’s slit. She smelled so fucking sexy.
Ouroboros is a Sylvia Fielding origin story that explores her brief career with the FBI in the mid-2000s. In this next teaser, she's challenged by her new boss when she boldly claims that she can't be hypnotized.
“But your dissertation contradicts your own claim. You argue that everybody has a motivating factor that makes them susceptible to mental manipulation. The ‘Submission Principle.’ Good name, by the way.”
“Thank you,” Sylvia replied. “That’s correct. In effect, every human is capable of being broken.”
“But if that’s the case, how can you be impervious to hypnotism?”
“With all due respect, doctor, a simple metronome induction is…”
“Far beneath your skill, yes, I understand. I’m not challenging you, Dr. Fielding. I’m simply curious how you avoid mental manipulations that our agents may be vulnerable to. What makes you the exception to your own principle?”
“Hypothetically,” Sylvia said. “I’m as vulnerable to manipulation as anybody else. But I’ve worked to limit those vulnerabilities. A young woman falls under the soothing rapture of a hypnotist’s voice at the county fair, the girl doesn’t have any protection, she’s not trained to resist a powerful will. Whereas I could sit through the show, listen to his voice, even follow his instruction without falling victim to the induction.”
“You’re saying the metronome is like a stage hypnotist,” Dr. Prentice replied slowly.
“They’re party tricks,” Sylvia said.
“So, what’s the secret? How do you beat the hypnotist?”
Sylvia turned her attention away from Dr. Prentice, focusing on the metronome between them. They were talking about more than just stage hypnotists and mesmerizing trinkets. Her eyes followed the pendulum as it swung back and forth. She allowed herself to consume its repetitive click as it journeyed from one side to the next.
Click..clack..clack..clack…
Untitled Follow-Up to HYPNOSAPIEN is a big project that explores the impact of The Sound on the Carpenter State community. Recovering Alpha, Megan, discovers a clip of the sound while searching online for hypnotic inductions.
Her eyes fluttered shut beneath the weight of the pleasure, but Megan had sworn never to give herself over so completely again. She forced her eyes open, ready to fight back, but the sight of a dark mass seeping through her bedroom ceiling caused her to cry out. It sank through slowly, taking form as it descended upon her. Not a mass, but a figure, human in shape but cosmic in every other sense. Its surface was as black as the night sky, with splashes of starlight and the prismatic glow of distant galaxies spiraling down its surreal body.
The hum continued in Megan’s ears, but now she noticed something beneath the sound. It was a voice speaking in some unearthly language. The figure extended its hand toward her, reaching out from eternities away. Not just a figure, but a messenger.
“Wait, wait, wait…” Megan whispered, the stifled orgasm weighing her down, threatening to pull her over that edge. Her pleas couldn’t stop it. She came just as The Messenger pressed its finger to her forehead. Her eyes shot open as it passed through, her body locked at the peak of its orgasm, her mouth frozen in an eternal cry of pleasure. The sound continued to burrow into her brain, filling the empty crevices where her thoughts had been.
Just listen.
The Message spilled into her, and suddenly, Megan understood. That unintelligible language beneath the sound was as clear to her as if spoken in English.
“I am the Birth of a new species. I will Prepare my body and my mind for the Great Arrival. I will Fill whatever need is expected. I will Preach, I will Build, I will Breed. I will Shape the soil to The Messenger’s Desires. I am a puppet of flesh. My Submission is eternal.”
The words were so clear to Megan now because they were coming from her own mouth, intoned in emotionless unison with The Messenger’s voice flooding her mind.
Pairs of hands emerged from the bedsheets around Megan, as alien as the messenger above her. They were infinite in number. Their touch was as cold as the vacuum of space, tearing her clothes, holding her down, gripping her thighs, squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples, filling her holes. She rolled her tongue hungrily around a ghostly thumb which sank between her lips, its icy form spilling down her throat and into her stomach, consuming her body. She continued to recite its words through it all, repeating The Message until it was all that was left of reality.
Credits
As mentioned above, @ottopilott was super helpful in finding Tabbie's voice again after a year off from writing her. His notes had a big impact on the final draft of this story and I can't understate his importance to it.
I'll cover this some more in the DVD Bonus Features in a couple days but I just want to say it's very funny to me that I came up with the title "Free Will, In This Economy?" so long ago that the economy was good lol
Lol I recognized the title from this post: https://www.tumblr.com/ottopilot-wrote-this/765927290620231680/reblogging-to-well-my-writing-blog-for-context
I'll cover this some more in the DVD Bonus Features in a couple days but I just want to say it's very funny to me that I came up with the title "Free Will, In This Economy?" so long ago that the economy was good lol
Okay, so my time at the Gilead Hotel wasn’t just research.
Like, I might’ve been more interested in that place if I knew that they were brainwashing girls to fuck for money there. Obviously I’d know that crooked cops were behind the operation. Maybe I even let them catch me. Maybe I wanted to be locked up for hours in their interrogation room, hands cuffed behind my back while they turned my brain to mush with their whole Good Cop/Dom Cop routine.
So, yeah. I know when you see me now, naked and on my knees in a Futurum office with my new boss’ cock down my throat, you’re probably thinking, “This bimbo Tabbie just couldn’t resist joining the mind control company,” right?
Wrong!! This job sucks.
You’d think an office where everybody’s a mindless drone would be my dream job, but the people here are so boring. I’ve been here three weeks and no one’s even tried to fuck me! They just stay in their cubes typing away at their secret projects. No T&A on the copier, no breakroom blowjobs, no sex in the stairwell.
When I introduced myself to my neighbor in the next cube over, he didn’t look away from the screen. I was wearing the tightest little dress on the floor, but he was more interested in his computer!
I said, “Hiya! I’m Tabbie!” Bouncing on my heels as I spoke, once to be seen by him behind the wall, two more times because I liked how it made my tits jiggle.
He replied, “Private designations are discouraged in workplace settings. My Associate Designation is No. 122.”
“Oh,” I said. “Can I call you Gary?”
“That is not advisable,” Gary said.
“Do I get a number too?” I asked.
“All new associates are designated a number during onboarding,” My neighbor on the other side of me said. She was a gorgeous redhead who tried to hide a massive pair of tits beneath a fleece turtleneck. She seemed to share Gary’s passion for talking to computer screens. “My Associate Designation is No. 500.”
“You look like a Josie,” I said. “Have you seen a girl named Corbin around here?”
“If you know the individual’s Associate Designation you may submit a query to the Office of Associate Relations during your scheduled lunch time,” Josie replied.
“You’d know her if you’d seen her,” I said. “Sexy Latina, great eyebrows, incredible taste…”
“Please refrain from further conversation with this associate,” Gary said.
“I have reached my hourly-allotted non-productive conversational capacity,” Josie replied. “If you wish, you may reapproach this topic in twenty-nine minutes.”
I completed onboarding at my desk. The first three modules covered boring stuff like my benefit options, so I skipped to the good one. When I opened the fourth module, I was hit by a blast of light and pulsating colors that made me feel tingly all over. A sexy monotone voice spoke softly through my headphones.
“Bravo. Bandwidth. Sea foam. Carpetbagger. Waiting room. Downtown. Colossus. Mitigate. Theta.” After a brief pause, the voice said, “Repeat your sequence.”
Listen, I’m not perfect. When a mindless whore sees some pretty spirals on her work computer, she can’t resist falling under. My mind was empty by the time the voice commanded me, the sequence absorbed into my brain.
The brainwashing might have been effective on Gary and Josie, but for a cute little freak like me it was just a fun morning distraction from work. I broke free of the conditioning by lunch and after rubbing one out real quick in the bathroom, I turned my attention to my actual job.
When I saw Corbin outside my window at the Gilead, I thought she’d come to rescue me. Of course I had a john with me at the time, but he was nice enough to fuck me by the window so that I could watch the whole thing: Corbin walked casually up to one of the rooms. A woman in a towel appeared when she knocked on the door, and the woman invited her inside. That was interesting to me, because I was not in that room.
Corbin’s vibe was different when she left the room. She marched like a zombie out the door, her face was blank, a look I’ve seen a hundred times in the mirror. As she followed the stranger across the parking lot, I caught a quick flash of something on Corbin’s forehead. Some kind of device?
She climbed into the woman’s car, and they disappeared down the road.
As much as I hated to leave my research unfinished, I had a duty to rescue Corbin or, in failing to do that, join her in sexy submission. The johns weren’t going anywhere.
Futurum’s the only place in Romero where a person can get their hands on something like a mind control chip, so it felt like a good place to start. Unfortunately, I didn’t have to suck any cocks to get a job there, I already knew some people at Carpenter State who were eager to get me into an internship. My plan was to move quickly through the company. This is a secretive place, so I needed as much access as possible to find Corbin.
I didn’t expect work at Futurum to be easy, but I fell behind Gary and Josie quickly. Their eyes fixed to their screens, their fingers click-clacking across their keyboards. Inhuman speed, impossible processing time, no errors. It was a slavish devotion that I’d only seen in the Alphas house, but it was all wasted on work!
The mystery was how Futurum was making people into perfect worker drones. I’d already seen their little onboarding light show, but that wasn’t enough to turn a person into a robot! There had to be something I was missing, a second level to the brainwashing.
After a few weeks, I was exhausted, fed up, even ready to quit, when the breakthrough happened.
It was a look on Josie’s face. A small, nigh imperceptible twitch. Understand, my coworkers are automotons. Any emotion at all is a significant deviation worthy of additional study, but this wasn’t any ordinary facial twitch. It meant that...Josie’s a fucking slut, just like me!
The orgasm was so intensely concentrated that it only registered on the outline of a single muscle beneath Josie’s eye. That it occurred at the same moment that Josie completed a column on her spreadsheet was enough for me to begin formulating a hypothesis.
If sexual stimulation is related to the mental subjugation of Futurum associates, then a third party could use sexual stimulation to control Futurum associates.
Ugh, listen to me, I sound like a fucking nerd. The long story short of it is that Futurum is totally fucking its associates into perfect, mindless worker drones. To see a look of pleasure like that in a place like this…fuck, it made me wet.
Look, something you might not know about me is that I’ve always been an ambitious girl. Understanding how Futurum was brainwashing my coworkers gave me all the tools I needed to exploit it. If Futurum can train its associates to convert cumming into endless productivity, I could take that same energy and turn it toward something else like, say, licking my pussy!
“There is no pleasure in hard work,” I whispered to Josie. “The only pleasure is sex.”
“You don’t need a manager,” I said to Gary. “Let your cock manage you.”
Josie was a surprisingly good pussyeater already. Gary less so, but he didn’t look like the pussyeating type, if you know what I mean. All it took to get them on their knees before me was a few words. But Gary and Josie are just drones. When I turned the conversation back to Corbin, they could only look at me with those blank eyes, begging for more pleasure.
“Unknown Associate Designation…” Josie moaned. Her chin glistened with my juices, one hand kneaded her pink tits while the other viciously rubbed her clit. “This associate is…is just a dumb bimbo…just a dumb bimbo for Supervisor Tabbie…”
Gary furiously stroked his cock next to Josie. He’d been on the edge for minutes, but I wouldn’t let him cum until he gave me a good lead.
“If this associate knows…” Gary sputtered. “If this associate knows where Corbin Arroyo is…Supervisor Tabbie will authorize him to cum?”
I pressed my finger to my chin in playful thought, then I shrugged and said, “I dunno! Once you cum, you’ll be my slave forever. No more deadlines to meet, no more calendars to clean up, no emails to write. It sounds so unproductive. Is that what you want, Gary?”
Gary nodded his head, his strokes growing harder, faster. “Yes, yes, please, yes! Make this associate yours forever! This associate will obey! I....I’ll obey!”
“Okay then!” I chirped. “Where are they hiding Corbin?”
“Futurum!” Gary replied quickly with an optimistic smile. “They’re keeping her right here!”
Stupid drones.
“Fine,” I sighed. “You can cum, Gary. But you have to do it on Josie’s tits.”
“Yes, Supervisor Tabbie,” Josie and Gary replied in unison.
I have to admit, I’ve always been more inclined to submission, but lately I’ve found myself adapting well to the role of a Mistress, I mean, er, Supervisor.
My words passed from cube to cube, rewriting each associate’s company programming with my own. The annoying click-clack of keyboards was replaced with the beautiful music of mindless sex, the Alphas house resurrected in the middle of Futurum’s office.
I had to get creative to stay above the productivity tracking software. I showed a group of associates how to slide the mouse over their clits so that it looked like they were still active on their computers even as they were cumming their brains out.
“Like this, Supervisor Tabbie?” one of the girls on the floor asked, the plastic creaking between her athletic legs.
“Just like that, Griselda!” I encouraged her with a friendly thumbs up.
“Do you assess this associate’s phallus to be appropriately pleasurable, Supervisor Tabbie?” another associate asked me. He had me down on the carpet with my back on top of his keyboard, pounding my body into the keys.
I rolled my eyes and said, “Per my last email, Garrett, it’s called a cock, and I’m like, a total slut for yours.”
Soon the commotion on the office floor was too loud to hide. After all those weeks of hard work, trying to get in front of a manager so I could get some answers about Corbin, it turns out all I had to do was start an orgy.
My boss reminds me a lot of my johns at the Gilead Hotel. Approaching middle age but obsessively fit, he’s tall, handsome, and a little rugged, like a man who models razors. He calls himself no. 66, but I like to think of him as Hank.
To be clear, I already assumed Futurum was developing weapons-grade mind control tech in their secret labs, but I didn’t know that they were testing it on their associates until my interview with Hank. Even though I was wearing the cutest little skirt and my silky blouse was unbuttoned just enough that you could see the outline of my sparkly black bra underneath, Hank never broke eye contact with me. I mean, here’s a guy who is smack-dab in the center of the Tabbie-lusting demographic and he can’t even steal a split second to objectify me?
I’m sure Hank intended to chew me out about the orgy when he called me into his office, but I had a few words of my own for him.
“Your body is a temple built to worship pleasure. Won’t you worship with me?”
See? I told you I had a good reason to be down on this floor. It’s not just because I’m a brainless hypnoslut who’s totally addicted to sucking cock. I’ve already got loads of cum in my tummy already!
“Coo-bin A-woy-O!” I slurp down eight inches of Hank’s cock. He’s as big as I imagined when I first saw those strong, broad shoulders. I am not disappointed.
“This is…counterintuitive…to a productive workspace…” Hank’s Futurum programming is putting up a decent fight against my own.
His cock makes a pop sound as it slips from my wet mouth.
“You want to cum, don’cha, Hank?” I ask. “The emails and the meetings and the projects, they’re all just goals to achieve your next reward. But you don’t need to lock pleasure behind goals when you have a cock this big. You can feel this good whenever you want.”
“Whenever…” Hank repeats.
I slide my tongue over his massive head and I’m about to take him fully back into my mouth when a loud thud makes both of us jump. I turn around to inspect the noise, my hand still stroking Hank’s cock, and I’m greeted by the sight of a pair of tits, attached to a beautiful blonde, pressed against the glass. I called her Lulu when she introduced herself as no. 410, now she’s getting fucked from behind by no. 211, Nick, the IT guy. Her moans seep through the glass. I’m jealous that I’m not that mindless, having all my holes filled by some well-endowed dork.
“Arroyo, Corbin…” Hank reads.
I turn back to look up at him. He’s browsing the Associate Relations site on his monitor.
“Associate Designation…no. 752,” Hank reads back to me. He’s slipped on a pair of reading glasses that make him look like Clark Kent. Fuck, I’m gonna sallow every drop of him. “She’s in Research and Development…security level three. I can…I can take you to her.”
“Yeah?” I say with a little bounce.
“Anything…for you, Mistress Tabbie…” Hank exhales. I swear, I told him to call me Supervisor! “I just…I just need…”
“I know, baby,” I say, my wrist picking up speed. “I’ll let you cum first.”
All the pressure in Hank’s shoulders releases at once, his body sinking into his chair, sinking into me. He closes his eyes and mutters, “I just need you to repeat…”
“Repeat what?” I smile.
“Bravo…bandwidth..s-sea foam…carpetbagger…”
Fuck.
I want to jump up. I want to clap my hand over his stupid sexy mouth, but my knees are weak from all the fucking.
“Waiting room…downtown…colossus…”
Come on, baby. Think of how good we could have it.
“Mitigate…”
One word left. Hank’s eyes open. They're glassy with tears. They've sure done a number on this old Adonis, but my will is stronger.
I am an Alpha.
“Theta!”
I’m sure there’s a lesson here somewhere.
My vision’s fading now, the world melting into a beautiful kaleidoscopic blur of color. All I can see is the empty bliss of module four, and I gladly let it wash over my mind until my sense of self is inseparable from the colors. I s’pose I’ll break free of this by lunch too. I hope I’ll be hungry then, I’m already so full.
Wait, do you hear that? So far away, but I hear a voice. And I know this is crazy, but it almost sounds like my own…
Serious Romero lore question: how many cosmic entities that cause mass mind controlled orgies are too many cosmic entities that cause mass mind controlled orgies?
In-universe logic for this is that if sexual energy is powerful enough to overwrite a person's free will and turn them into a slave then it stands to reason that supernatural entities would also feed off that energy, therefore a cosmic thing's motivation in mind controlling a person is for the explicit purpose of accessing those energies.
Alternatively, sex for pleasure is a relatively uncommon trait in animals so once a cosmic thing possesses a human it almost immediately loses its sense of judgement in favor of gettin laid
Similarly I had an idea several years ago that never made it out of the workshop where a girl summons the soul of her dear cat into her body during a seance and the resulting catgirl, having never experienced the pleasures of non-barbed-dick sex, just goes nuts
I didn't write it cause uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
don't want to cross over into too many kinks that are not my own
Serious Romero lore question: how many cosmic entities that cause mass mind controlled orgies are too many cosmic entities that cause mass mind controlled orgies?
In-universe logic for this is that if sexual energy is powerful enough to overwrite a person's free will and turn them into a slave then it stands to reason that supernatural entities would also feed off that energy, therefore a cosmic thing's motivation in mind controlling a person is for the explicit purpose of accessing those energies.
Alternatively, sex for pleasure is a relatively uncommon trait in animals so once a cosmic thing possesses a human it almost immediately loses its sense of judgement in favor of gettin laid
Serious Romero lore question: how many cosmic entities that cause mass mind controlled orgies are too many cosmic entities that cause mass mind controlled orgies?
Mandatory company-wide midday break where employees enter their designated sleep pods to take a refreshing "nap" and have their brainwashing deepened and all programming updated to better serve the company...
A patient is admitted to a university hospital with mysterious symptoms that doctors struggle to diagnose. The woman is suffering from an inability to form coherent speech, but there are no abnormalities in her body that suggest a stroke or brain damage. At the urging of his best friend, a brilliant but troubled diagnostician accepts the case. He forms a team with three young diagnosticians in training, each one exhibiting their own special brand of psychopathy. Our main character is a misanthrope who struggles from a Vicodin addiction following a severe leg infection. The crux of the story is his relationship with his best friend, who is the head of oncology at the fictional teaching hospital. Together, they form a kind of Holmes and Watson dynamic as our protagonist deploys unconventional and even dangerous methods to diagnose the patient, working backward by treating the symptoms first and seeing how they respond. To get a better picture of the patient's daily life, our protagonist even has his students break into her house to search for possible allergens or pathogens that may be the cause of the illness. Ultimately, after nearly killing the patient with his initial treatment, the protagonist discovers that the patient is infected by a tapeworm that is making its way to her brain, and she makes a full recovery.
Also, the Dean of Medicine is this intimidating hot lady who has undeniable love/hate chemistry with our main character and she like, idk, gets hypnotized by his cane or something
Next Time On...
It was really hard to be burdened by genius. Dr. Condo knew that better than most. Sometimes his genius was so vast that it manifested as abject stupidity. And you'd think his team would know by now to just get out of his way; he'd be right in the end. But they never did. Like take for instance the case of Cassidy Lane. Dr. Condo knew that this had all the signs of a tapeworm in her brain. But Dr. Winson kept telling him that was crazy. Tape worms famously live in the digestive system.
Dr. Condo knew better, though. He knew that Cassidy's word salad and scans could only mean there were worms were there ought not be worms. And to prove it, he assembled his team of sycophantic subordinates.
"Blonde one," he said to the blonde one. "Put her on some high dose anti-parasitics. We need to kill this worm before it eats it's way though the part of her brain that knows how to suck a dick. Her future husband will thank us."
"But there's no evidence of a worm..." the blonde sputtered. But Dr. Condo simply waved him off and popped a couple more pills. "I didn't tell you to argue. I told you to medicate."
He turned to the woman and held up the tip of his cane, which flashed bright green. Her eyes took on the color instantly.
"Hot one," he said. "Topless. I think better when I look at tits."
"Yes, Dr. Condo," she said, voice flat. She shrugged off her lab coat and pulled off her shirt and bra.
"Condo," the third doctor said. "Is that really necessary?"
"It is, bald one. Now shut up and let me think. We gotta get this worm out of her after the meds kill it."
At that point, Dr. Cunny walked into the office.
"Condo!" she shouted, gesturing wildly at the naked hot one. "Again with this?"
"You know my process!" Dr. Condo shouted. "Now are you going to be part of the solution? Or are you going to be in the way."
She rolled her eyes and breathed a heavy sigh but then pulled her own top of as well.
"Still not having any ideas. I don't know. What do you think, bald one? Maybe if the tits were jiggling?"
"Condo..." he sighed disapprovingly, shaking his head.
"That's not going to happen," Dr. Cunny said.
"Sure it will." His cane flashed again and Dr. Cunny's eyes also turned bright green. "Both of you, bounce your tits for me."
"Yes, Dr. Condo," the two women said together, reaching up and cupping their naked tits to bounce them lightly.
He sat and watched for a while, pondering his own brilliance.
"No nothing. But I have an idea. I think I need to get closer to this case. Cunny go bring me the patient. Maybe her her tits I need."
"Yes, Dr. Condo."
A few moments later, Cunny returned with Cassandra. Greetings. Sarcasm. A bright green flash. And a third pair of tits entered the lab.
"And bounce them for me," he said, exhausted at having to spell out every little need.
"Yellow, doorbell Condor," she replied nonsensically, but she obeyed perfectly.
"Motor function is unimpaired," the blonde one remarked.
"For now. Hot one, go eat her out."
"Yes, Dr. Condo."
After a few moments, Cassandra's body tensed and squirted on the hot one's face, shouting "Gob! Yesterday! Rind thespian!"
"Sexual stimuli still active."
"Yes thank you, bald one. I have eyes. I don't know, get a surgical consult. I the mean time, Cunny take Cassandra to your office. I need you to help me do a full physical exam. Hot one, wake up."
The hot one blinked, and wiped her face. "Are you two ever going to stop him when he does that to me?"
"It's hot," the blonde one said as Cunny lead Cassandra out of the room, eyes still glowing green. "Besides. You told me before it makes you wet when you lose control."
"Oh does it now," the bald one said, eyebrows raised. "And when did that come up?"
"Shut up!"
"Yes, please," Dr. Condo said. "Now I'm going to go see if I can Intercourse my way to the answers we need. If Winson come down, tell him it's a worm and he's wrong and he owes me fifty dollars."
The cane flashed again.
"Yes, Dr. Condo," they all said together as he followed Cunny and Cassandra upstairs.
-----
Thank you @subliminalbo for this gift. Hope you like this nonsense.
Everyone on the sexy mind control side of the internet eventually has to come to terms with the fact that they are serious, intelligent adults who also get turned on when a snake with spiraly eyes looks at a lady sexily
Everyone on the sexy mind control side of the internet eventually has to come to terms with the fact that they are serious, intelligent adults who also get turned on when a snake with spiraly eyes looks at a lady sexily
blakekathryn
theartofmadeline
turnnoffyourmind
izzy806
2087
germansingergirl
