The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Cutting-Edge Neurological Techniques for Boosting Libido and Curing Sexual Dysfunction!”

Gunther knew as he read the tagline, in the back of a porn mag he’d been trying to jerk off to, that no normal man, under normal circumstances, would believe it for half a second. A normal man, if he even saw the ad, would laugh at it. Maybe he’d think to himself, “Who buys this stuff, anyway?” It was about two steps below penis-enlargement pills from email spam, and Gunther knew it.

But Gunther was not a normal man. Gunther was getting desperate, enough that he read the tagline and it gnawed at him. Maybe it would work. Maybe it would make a difference. He was, lately, willing to try just about anything.

On the day of his appointment he was greeted by a remarkably professional receptionist in a remarkably professional office building. Not at all what he’d expected from the ad. He waited in the lobby, flipping through golf magazines until a nurse came out and fetched him; after that the doctor came along remarkably quickly. Gunther was impressed.

“OK, Gunther,” the doctor began, his broad smile wrinkling the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. Gunther estimated the man at 60 years old, give or take. Salt and pepper hair, he was a handsome older guy, but still, old enough to be Gunther’s dad, easily. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Well...” Gunther hesitated, but his desperation beat out his anxiety. “Look, I’m 26 and I’ve had a terrible sex life. Every time I get with a girl I can’t get it up. I panic, my heart races, I can’t stay focused. I try to concentrate. Sometimes I start crying. It’s awful, and it’s only getting worse. Every time I try to have sex and fail it makes it all worse.”

“Gunther, take a deep breath,” the doctor offered, putting his large hand on Gunther’s shoulder, reassuringly. “We’re going to help you. Now, first, I need to ask you some questions.”

At the doctor’s assurance Gunther looked up, visibly hopeful. “Anything, doctor...”

“Just call me Rory. First things first. Tell me about yourself, Gunther.”

“OK, Rory... well, I’m, uh, I’m a chemical engineer. I’m really good at my job, and I make a lot of money. I got my PhD from MIT and I —”

“Gunther, I’m sorry to interrupt, but why don’t you talk about some of your dating experiences, your friends, your social life?”

“Oh. Well, I... don’t really have much of a social life. I have a handful of friends but mostly guys I play videogames with online sometimes. I haven’t even met all of them, like, face-to-face. I don’t really go out very much. And I don’t really date. I mean, the times I do, I find girls on online dating sites. But they never really get very far.” Gunther was looking glum, again, now.

“OK, look, Gunther, I don’t mean to make light of your situation, but it’s a very common one. And the good news is, it’s very easily treated. Basically, all your life you’ve spent stimulating and developing the parts of your brain that you use for intellect, for problem-solving, for storing complex information, and for excelling at university and in your job. But those neurons don’t help your sexual side at all. In fact, they hurt it. You build up a network of inhibitions and circuitry to subdue your emotional and sexual responses because it makes you a more efficient engineer. And you haven’t done much of anything to develop the parts of your brain that respond to lust and arousal. It’s really not rocket science, I have to say.”

“That makes sense, Rory, intuitively, but I never thought it’d be that simple in the brain itself. It sounds too... obvious. How are you going to fix it?”

“We have equipment that’ll help us stimulate certain underdeveloped parts of your brain. Nothing invasive, Gunther, don’t worry. Just a few probes we put on your scalp that send rays that stimulate your brain and promote the even development of all the areas. I’ve got time right now, in fact, if you’ll just sign these releases and follow me.”

“Wow, doc, this is all happening pretty fast. I’m not sure I’m ready—maybe I should do some research on my own?”

“Gunther, 100% of our patients fill out survey cards when they leave and 100% of them gave us top marks. Nobody’s ever suffered even the slightest injury, even a broken fingernail, and everyone has left thrilled with our work. Plus, since it’s noninvasive, you’re not really risking anything major.”

The doctor’s logic made sense to Gunther, and anyway this practice was inside one of the biggest medical facilities in the city, and everything looked so professional, they couldn’t possibly be a bunch of quacks. Gunther shrugged—and then smiled; his dreams were coming true!—and signed the forms.

Rory smiled and led Gunther down the hall and into a room that looked like something out of a sci-fi movie set. In the middle of the small room was a gurney, standing up vertically, that Rory led Gunther to, velcroing his limbs down with restraints (“So you won’t slide around when it rotates”, he explained.) The walls of the room were a kind of iridescent blue, and all around the gurney were robotic arms poised carefully, robotic attendants waiting their turn to do whatever it was they were going to do. Gunther complained the room looked a bit imposing, and Rory laughed.

“Yes, I know, but don’t worry, this is just what you get when you’re on the bleeding edge. In a few years they’ll make all this stuff in boring beige and it’ll be commonplace in any doctor’s office. For now, we get the strange-looking early models. Now, Gunther, I’ll just shut this door so we don’t have to worry about any outside radiation interfering with the process, and then we’ll get started.”

Rory hefted the incredibly thick steel door shut and turned the latch, which issued forth a loud and very serious-sounding deep, metal, CLUNK as it locked. Then the doctor turned back to Gunther with a smile, though a different smile than before. Just a little. A twitch of the lip. Probably nothing, Gunther thought.

Rory lifted up a helmet-shaped lattice of wires and slid it over Gunther’s head. “These are the little guys that will do the reprogramming.”

“The what? What did you call it?”

“Oh,” Rory laughed, and smiled again—definitely something different, Gunther thought this time—“Reprogramming your brain, of course. Like I said. Just balancing things out a bit.” And with that, the doctor hit a button on the wall.

The room came to life, the gurney laying Gunther down on his back and the robot arms moving in. Blades came out of them and Gunther screamed in shock, but then they very precisely cut only his clothing, didn’t even nick his skin. Still, now panicked, Gunther cried out.

“What are they doing? Why did they just cut off my clothes? I have to go back to work!!”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Gunther. It’s necessary for the procedure.”

“What do you mean you wouldn’t worry about it?? How am I supposed to walk out of here naked?”

Rory ignored the question and began tapping away at a screen facing away from Gunther. The wire helmet began to softly hum. Gunther felt a gentle warmth emanating from it, now.

“Let’s see...” Rory said, to nobody in particular, “... need to find the... ah, there it is.” And he pressed a button.

Immediately Gunther’s cock flooded with blood. He couldn’t remember ever having an erection this strong. Moreover, his mind was flooded with sexual imagery. His breathing came short and raspy, he started moaning. He struggled to thrust his pelvis into the air for relief but he was restrained down to the table. And then just as quickly as it came on, it was over.

“Oh my God, Rory, what was that?”

“That was your sexual networking, lit up like a Christmas tree,” the doctor laughed.

“Yeah, wow, doc, that was the stuff! Just gimme a button so I can do that whenever I want!”

“Well, you know, I can’t just give you all this equipment to take with you. So instead we’re going to stimulate those neurons and tell them to grow. But first we’ve gotta make some room.”

“What does that mean, make some room?”

“There’s only so much room in your skull cavity, Gunther, and these neuron masses take up space. We just send the opposite signal to some of the ones you don’t need, tell them to decay and die off, and then we’ll have ample space to make you that horny all the time!”

“Uh, wait a minute... I don’t want to be that horny all the time. I like my life, and I like most of what I do. I want my life to stay the same—I just want to be able to have great sex, too.”

“Gunther, everyone says the same thing. But a smart boy like you ought to know you can’t have your cake and eat it too. But don’t worry: the fact that you came here today makes it clear, your subconscious is sending a strong message about priorities. Sex is important to you, Gunther, it’s what matters. You’ll be so much happier this way.”

“What? Rory, no, I’m not willing to make trades here. If it means damaging the rest of my brain then forget it. Call it off.”

“Oh, but Gunther, that’s not really an option now. Our equipment is very expensive to run, so we can’t just let you change your mind, now. That’s why we have you sign all those release forms. You did read them fully, didn’t you?”

Gunther’s stomach sank. This surreal experience was seeming less like a dream and more like a nightmare. “What did those forms say, exactly?”

Rory turned and flashed him a very unkind smile. “They say we can do anything we want to you, and you can’t object. Don’t feel too bad, Gunther. Nobody ever reads them. The desperate men that come in here are willing to do anything, and those forms are so long, nobody has the patience for them. You’re certainly not the first to make that mistake.”

And with that, Rory pushed another button. The helmet got even warmer and suddenly Gunther felt his academic career and his whole knowledge of chemical engineering flash through his head very suddenly. Facts, at random, images, thoughts of class notes he hadn’t considered in years, questions off final exams he’d taken a decade ago, it was like a tornado in his head, lifting up layers and layers of memory and tossing them around like piles of loose paper.

“What are you DOING?” Gunther managed to scream, over the horrible noise in his head.

“Oh, sorry, Gunther. We have to bring a lot of those memories up, activate those neurons so that we can kill them off.”

“KILL THEM OFF?” Now Gunther was screaming even louder. “YOU CAN’T KILL THIS I NEED THIS!!”

“Gunther, this old stuff? This stuff is so boring. Chemical formulae and engineering equations? This stuff is a waste of your time. None of it’s going to get you laid! Think of this first part as spring cleaning. Everything that doesn’t relate to fucking is going out in the trash!”

Gunther was now howling incoherently, so Rory shrugged and pressed another button.

Instantly the din in Gunther’s head faded, as if the tornado just evaporated.

“Oh, God, thank you, that was awful,” Gunther sobbed, “Thank you for stopping, thank you, I’ll do anything.”

“Stopping? Gunther, I didn’t stop. That was just the first wave of trash. It’s all gone now. Hey, do me a favor? Try and remember anything from your college classes. Or from your job.”

The dread welled up in Gunther’s chest like deep, black water as he struggled to bring even one fact about chemical engineering to mind.

He couldn’t.

Back to the incomprehensible screaming. Rory started laughing. “This is my favorite part!” he shouted, at Gunther, over the screaming, “This is the intellectual ‘you’ screaming! Your big academic brain screaming! But don’t worry, Gunther! We’ll get rid of all that for you! We’ll give you what you really want. When you leave here that brain will be gone. When you leave here, you’ll just be a body, flesh and blood, horny as fuck. That skull of yours will house a big mass of neurons that serve exactly one purpose: having sex. Having so much sex! Gunther, you’ll love it, I promise.”

The doctor flashed Gunther a mischievous grin. “Let’s get a glimpse of the new you, shall we? Now that we’ve got some space freed up in that cranium of yours.” And he pushed a button.

Gunther immediately felt a throbbing in his head. A different set of images flooded his mind: all the porn he’d ever watched, the magazine he was jerking off to when he found the ad; deeper, now, his fantasies, childhood perversions he’d stashed in the darkest corners of his mind. The time in church when he was eight and that woman slipped her hand down the front of his freshly-ironed church pants. The girl in his gym class in grade 6 and all the times he masturbated imagining doing violent things to her. Gunther started twitching with the horrible dissonance of all these buried, shameful memories coming back, all at once.

“Hmm,” the doctor thought aloud, “You know, I have to admit I’m a little biased here, and I’m going to take a little... can I call it ‘artistic license’? You are my newest artistic creation, after all. And I’d like to see things take a different turn.”

Some tapping away by the doctor and Gunther found the memories fading like the rest, now replaced with new ones. In church it had been the priest who felt him up.

“No, no—stop!” Gunther mumbled like a man in the throes of a nightmare, but on it went.

In gym class in grade 6 it had been another boy he’d lusted after, and he’d wanted the boy to do those horrible, violent things to him. A few more key clicks by the doctor and Gunther realized that he had, he’d lived those out. He remembered the savage beatings he’d endured at the boy’s hands, how the boy’s prick had stood out hard and wet as he rained down blows on Gunther, and then he remembered how he’d show his gratitude when the beating ended by sucking the boy until he came in his throat.

Gunther’s rational mind saw what was happening, and fought. Inside his head a war raged, his brain trying its best to extend its reach back, to heal, to reestablish itself, but the hated helmet and machinery in the room coaxing it into growing instead these new memories, these new desires.

At some point Gunther noticed his dick was rock-hard. That was unusual.

And then the throbbing in his head grew more intense. Gunther twisted his mouth up into a hungry kind of sneer. He could remember all these new memories, and as he remembered them he started breathing harder. He started panting. Gunther was horny. Horny! It’d been so long since he’d really, truly been horny. He drew his upper lip back in a dirty kind of smile and started licking his lips.

“There we go, look at that. Gunther, how do you feel? Would you like me to make some more room for more of this?”

Rational Gunther reasserted itself. The dirty smile vanished. “No. No, this is twisted, it’s demented. I’m not gay, I never wanted this. You’re ruining my life.”

“On the contrary, Gunther, I’m improving your life unimaginably. See, if you ask me, we’ve got far too many people in this world who spend all their time thinking big thoughts. Writing mathematical proofs. Making esoteric art nobody wants. You know what we don’t have enough of? Fucking, Gunther. Fucking like the animals we are. What humanity needs is to let go, to accept what we are, and to embrace the horny fuck-beast inside. That’s why I started this business, Gunther. One by one I’m taking Poindexters like you out of circulation and giving back something much more valuable: a slut, a fuck machine, a horny animal. Someone who just wants to fuck.”

The doctor tapped a few more keys and Gunther felt it again, the heat, the throbbing. He could feel his cock begging to explode in his pants and as it throbbed in time with his head, his resistance, his understanding of what was going on, his sense of imperative, like sand through his fingers they slipped from his grasp. In their place returned that horny little fuck.

Gunther felt his body as if for the very first time. Every nerve ending lit up, and he laid on the bench, overwhelmed by the stimulation of his body, the craving demands of his hungry flesh. His cock grew even harder than before, shiny skin stretched taut over the thick, throbbing, veiny shaft, and finally, lying still on his belly, his cock exploded, spraying spurts of thick, white cum all over his torso, face, the bench, everywhere.

And then came the familiar wave of shame. Only this time it was matched by his abject horror at what Rory was doing to him.

“Oh, God—please, please stop, I swear I’ll do anything, anything at all, just stop!!“

“Oh, Gunther, you weren’t lying about those inhibitions. You’re quite resistant. Most of the other men had broken down by now! Well, that’s easily fixed...” and here Rory tapped a few more buttons, “... why don’t we just give you another ‘memory’ to help you along?”

Gunther was in college again. He was a brother in the campus gay fraternity. Wait, that wasn’t right. Was it? He struggled to remember anything else but this memory just grew more vivid, more certain. It played out like a movie inside his head. Finally Gunther’s energy flagged and he collapsed and just let it play out.

It was a Friday night during his pledge term and, as usual, he had to show up for fraternity meetings wearing his uniform: a tight pink t-shirt and cutoff jean shorts. All the pledges wore it and the brothers laughed and taunted them. Soon meetings were underway and Gunther was racing around the room to the brothers who beckoned and attending to their needs.

One of the brothers, Ed, grabbed Gunther and yanked him down to his knees, then made him unzip Ed’s pants and pull out his big, hard cock. The brothers sitting near him started watching, snickering at Gunther’s plight, as Ed slowly but inexorably pushed the pledge’s face down against his cock, first wiping the leaky head of it across his face, leaving a trail of precum in its wake, but finally shoving the whole thick thing right into Gunther’s mouth and fucking his throat mercilessly until he started to cum. When he did, he pulled out just enough that the tip of his cock-head was lying on Gunther’s extended tongue and throbbing, pumping out blast after blast of thick, hot sperm over Gunther’s tongue and mouth. The nearby brothers had, by then, pulled their own cocks out and were jerking them furiously, and just as Ed was finishing his load, the others leaned in and tag-teamed Gunther’s still-extended tongue, until Gunther’s whole field of vision was full of crotches, pubic bush and sweaty, hard frat-boy cocks, all of them squirming and sliding against each other vying to press against Gunther’s cum-slick tongue as they all blasted hot, thick spunk out all over the hapless pledge’s tongue, mouth, face, chest, and hair.

By the end the whole brotherhood had hosed Gunther down in sperm and he was soaked from head to toe in the slimy stuff. As the memory drew to a close Gunther vividly recalled being so turned on he was groping himself, sliding his hands all over his cum-slick body as he blew load after load in his tight jean shorts.

“You’re a monster,” Gunther said, quietly, to the doctor tapping on the keyboard. “That never happened. You made that up. I’m not a faggot, I’m not, this isn’t real.”

“Does it matter, Gunther? I’m just doing what it takes to help you along. Well, the new you. The ‘you’ I’m talking to now I could give a fuck about. I want this ‘you’ dead. I’m fighting for the new you, the hot horny cock-sucking slut ‘you,’ the one getting stronger every minute as this ‘you’, the one fighting, gets weaker and weaker. Now, how about those frat boys? Pretty hot, huh? Look at that, you’re hard again already.”

As Rory said it Gunther strained to look down and saw, to his chagrin, that the doctor was right. He struggled to recall his college days and all that came back were orgies, indescribable orgies that it seemed had lasted forever. His head was full of the most depraved stuff, and though he knew it was all the doctor’s twisted work, it seemed so real...

“Still fighting in there? Hmm, this is harder than I thought. No matter, let’s see what you did after college.”

Gunther was interviewing for his very first job. He’d flunked out of college because of all the sex—wait a minute, that wasn’t right, he was so smart, wasn’t he?—he’d flunked out of college because of all the sex, so his only option was construction work. He was in the trailer meeting with the site manager for a big project, one he was excited about. He’d have steady pay for months if he got this one.

“Alright, son,” the site manager barked at him, “Seems like you got the body for it and we can use the help. Now let’s just see how well you take orders. Drop trou, kid.”

“Sir?”

“You heard me. Drop ‘em. And drop the undershorts, too.”

Gunther was frightened but already growing horny at the man’s words. He slid his pants and underwear down and his cock sprung back up, hard and leaking already.

“I see we got ourselves a little fag slut on our hands. No matter, we know what to do with the likes of you, son.” The site manager walked over, spun Gunther around so fast he was left disoriented, and before he could protest the man had his cock out and stuck it right between Gunther’s butt-cheeks and up against his hole.

“Take it, you little bitch,” the site manager grunted as he stabbed his dick into Gunther’s hole. Fortunately, Gunther was used to the fucking from his time at college, so the man’s hairy, unlubricated cock slid into him without too much pain. Soon enough, Gunther was bent over the recliner in the site manager’s trailer, taking it in the ass like a champion fuck-slut.

“Oh yeah,” Gunther moaned, “Aw yeah, fuck me!”

“Oh, yeah, you like it, bitch!” And with that, the site manager pumped the first of several loads up inside Gunther’s hot meat-head construction-worker ass.

Later he explained to Gunther that the pecking order on the site was established by prowess: if one worker could dominate and fuck another, the one who got fucked was submissive to him during work hours. It didn’t take Gunther long to identify the weaker, smaller members of the team and one by one he got them away from the group and had his way with them. Some of them fought more than others—some seemed naturally submissive and didn’t resist much.

Eventually Gunther was through all the obvious choices, and the next man he had his eye on was clearly a match for him. Mike was a pretty big guy, solid and had a mean look to him, so Gunther knew he’d have to plan his attack.

He waited until after Mike had eaten a big lunch, as was his custom on Fridays, and to Gunther’s delight Mike even had a couple beers, which he didn’t always do. An hour passed before Mike excused himself to hit the head, and Gunther stealthily followed him to the bathroom. As Mike walked up to the urinal and unzipped, Gunther crept up behind him, and all in one quick motion he slipped an arm around Mike’s neck in a choke, and used the other hand to shove his pants down.

Mike cried out in shock, but the other men had seen Gunther creep off and knew what was up, so nobody hurried to Mike’s aid. The big man staggered backwards, his cock spraying piss all over the stall walls as he frantically tried to get Gunther off of him, but it was too late. Gunther slammed his spit-slick cock up against the man’s tight hole and in one brutal stab he drove it past the man’s clenched sphincter and into his ass.

Mike howled in pain and defeat but succumbed, and as Gunther celebrated his victory by grabbing the man’s hips and pumping away, Mike hung his head in submission and moaned as Gunther filled his ass up with a big load of cum.

The men respected Gunther more, after that, and while the bigger ones still used him as a cum dumpster for the rest of the summer, Gunther had more than his share of ass to fuck. It was a wonder they ever got any construction work done.

“That didn’t happen—that’s not real,” Gunther moaned to the smirking Rory.

“But Gunther, remember how good you felt when you punked that big guy Mike’s ass?”

“Ooooh,” cooed Gunther, his cock throbbing, “It did feel pretty good,” biting his lip, unsure. “But... that’s not real, that’s not what happened. I didn’t do that!”

“What’s ‘real’, Gunther, anyway? Those things you don’t remember anymore? Or these wonderful new memories, and your new understanding of your role? I’ll tell you what’s real, Gunther: you’re really a fag slut, a horny fuck-machine, an animal that lives to get stuffed full of cock and to get those big balls drained.”

As the doctor spoke to him, urging him on, Gunther’s cock was pulsing, and he was moaning in spite of himself. “Fuck, oh yeah, so fucking horny... just wanna be a fuck-machine, doctor... make me a horny fucking slut!”

“Finally! I thought we’d never get there. One more and you should be ready to go!”

Gunther was lying on his bed. He’d just gotten back from school. Junior year in high school was not the best time. Every day his teachers pushed him to learn all this useless junk. He’d put up with it for years, but this year was the one he found something better to do with his time. It was getting harder and harder to make it through the boring school day.

Good thing he had his friend Jared around. He reached over and grabbed Jared’s hard cock in his fist, his friend lying next to him on his bed. They’d gone through puberty together and now as high school juniors were full-fledged hormone factories. They’d been jerking off separately for years, but had just discovered how much fun it was to play together.

Gunther swallowed Jared’s cock all at once and bobbed his teenage head up and down on the other boy’s dick as Jared moaned. Gunther reached up and covered Jared’s mouth with one hand so his parents wouldn’t hear. Just as he did, Jared winced and his whole body tensed and his toes curled and fingers clenched to fists as he started pumping out a load into Gunther’s mouth, which Gunther greedily swallowed. They made out for a bit and then Jared smiled and wordlessly pushed Gunther down onto his bed.

“Your turn,” he whispered. He swiveled around so his teen butt was right over Gunther’s mouth, and as he sat back his cheeks spread across Gunther’s face and his crack sat squarely back against Gunther’s nose and mouth. Gunther grinned and started licking, hungrily, teasing the boy’s hole with the tip of his tongue as Jared leaned forward and swallowed Gunther’s cock in his hot, wet mouth. Jared rocked his butt back and forth on Gunther’s face, smothering him with his crack, and as Gunther struggled to breathe he started plunging the whole length of his tongue into his friend’s asshole, tongue-fucking his teenage boy-butt as Jared gave him a fantastic blowjob. Just as Gunther started to pass out from lack of oxygen, his cock exploded all over the place, hosing Jared’s mouth down and running out all over his crotch and sheets.

No sooner had Gunther recovered from the exertion but Jared was hard as steel again. The two were inseparable, mostly because they were horny as fuck. They took turns, spending the night at each other’s house every single night, and came up with stories that convinced their parents they were studying, or something. But really all they did was fuck. At any moment at least one of them was hard. When they blew a load it only took ten or fifteen minutes before they were horny again. The two of them could barely think about anything else except sex, fucking, sucking, rimming, jerking, spurting jizz all over everything they could.

During classes every day they both sat near each other, uncomfortably hard the whole time. They’d tried to coordinate bathroom breaks at the same time but the teachers would only let one of them up at a time, so they suffered 50 minute stretches of celibacy, and between every class they would run, full-sprint, to the most distant, quiet bathroom on campus where they’d run into the handicapped stall at the very end, together, and fuck like the horny teens they were until the next bell rang.

One day they were in the handicapped stall, Jared was sitting on the toilet while Gunther straddled him and faced him, riding his stiff dick, his tight ass tugging his dick as he stood and then plunged back down, the two of them sucking face and Gunther jerking his own hard, dripping cock, when they heard someone come in. They scrambled, but there was nowhere to hide, and the footsteps kept coming closer until finally both boys’ hearts were in their mouths when someone rattled the latch on the stall door and finally yanked it open.

“Well, well, what a sight,” said Mr. Sims, their English teacher from the prior period, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his big gut stretching his button-down shirt out over slacks that were barely able to stay up against his massive girth. “I thought you two were in quite a hurry leaving my class, and I wondered what could possibly be so exciting down here.”

“Uh, sir, it’s not what it...” Gunther trailed off. If he’d known they were going to be found he might have at least pulled up his pants. At that very moment Jared’s cock, shrinking from fear, slipped out of Gunther’s hole with a wet plop.

Mr. Sims just laughed a big belly laugh. Both boys cringed, hoping nobody else would hear and investigate. “Oh, I think it’s exactly what it looks like. Let’s not beat around the bush. Your secret’s safe with me... if you do exactly as I say. For now, I’m just going to stand here and watch while you kids finish what you started.”

“While we—what?” A stunned Jared did a double-take at the man, who didn’t budge at all, still smirking, watching expectantly as the terrified boys exchanged glances and shrugged, helpless.

“Better hurry up, boys, next bell’s going to ring any minute and you’re not leaving this stall until I see you both squirt out a load!” He laughed again.

Gunther scrambled off Jared’s lap and started sucking the boy’s cock feverishly, eager to get it hard again so they wouldn’t be late. Both boys found that, once the fear passed, Mr. Sims’s presence in the stall doorway was quite the aphrodisiac. He egged them on as Gunther slid back down onto Jared’s again-rigid prick.

“Yeah, look at you little sluts, that’s right, just slide right on there. Ooh, that’s it, yeah.” He smirked and reached a hand down under his big gut to rub the crotch of his pants.

Jared didn’t take long to squirt a big load up Gunther’s asshole, and when Gunther felt the warmth squirting into him he came on the spot, spraying globs of cum onto Jared’s shirt and face.

When the boys came down from their orgasmic high they turned to see Mr. Sims standing right over them, his shirt unbuttoned and big, hairy gut hanging out, pants down around his ankles and his cock thrusting out from underneath his pendulous gut. “Open those pretty mouths, boys,” he whispered hoarsely. Both boys saw his cock and their hormones got the best of them. Gunther didn’t even get up off Jared’s cock. They just wriggled into position so they could each get their lips up against Mr. Sims’s big cock and their hot wet tongues under the ridge of his leaking cock-head. When he felt their tongues he moaned. “Ooooh, yeah, FUCK—” and he started shooting. Mr. Sims wasn’t a distance shooter. The jizz just oozed out of his piss-slit. But what he lacked in velocity he more than made up in volume. He pumped out a huge load. Jared and Gunther were lapping at the head of his cock like dogs drinking water. The steady stream of thick white cum seemed to never end. The boys both got so turned on sucking up Mr. Sims’s juice that Jared got hard again inside Gunther’s ass and even as they slurped up his jizz, Gunther started bouncing on Jared’s cock again. The bell rang but none of them even noticed.

Hours later they’d blocked the door with a chair, their clothes were strewn around the bathroom, and the three of them were soaked in sweat and cum.

Like a freight train, more memories rushed into Gunther’s mind. More encounters with Jared and Mr. Sims. Countless occasions of utter abandon, innumerable orgasms, enough jizz to fill swimming pools. Some part of Gunther’s mind still knew these memories were fake, fabrications, the doctor’s horrible, twisted work, but they were all he had left. If they weren’t real, what was?

Gunther shuddered as he blew a load all over his naked torso, tied down to the table in the reprogramming room. Once again he flinched, expecting the shame and the self-recrimination immediately after an orgasm, but this time it didn’t come. His cock didn’t soften. He was still horny. He wanted more.

“Well, well,” Rory smirked, “Looks like we did it. How do you feel, Gunther?” At this, Rory reached over and gave Gunther’s cum-slick cock a squeeze.

“Oooooh,” Gunther moaned, “Fuck, I’m so... so fucking horny! Ooooh,” he cooed, rubbing his thighs against each other, his cock still hard, leaking a stream of precum, “Let me up, doctor, I need to get up, I need to cum!”

“Of course, Gunther” Rory replied, with a smile. “Just one more thing. Press this button and it’ll complete your transformation. Just think”—and at this the doctor sneered and pumped his pelvis in illustration—“you’ll be a nonstop, brainless fuckbeast. That’s really what you came here for, isn’t it?”

Gunther looked at the panel the doctor was holding just within reach of his restrained hand. He tried to remember his job, but it was gone. He thought of his family, his life, but as he did his head started buzzing, foggy, painful. In just moments he gave up and slipped back into his body, feeling his cock, feeling that all-consuming hunger of the flesh. And he knew what he wanted.

Gunther wriggled his hand forward just far enough to extend his index finger and press the button on the screen.

Now the storm in Gunther’s head was more like a hurricane, sweeping things out one by one. Up came everything that was left still untouched: his recent memories, his recent life. Up came images of his family. And then they were gone. Memories of his apartment. His finances. Where he put his car keys when he walked into his house at the end of the day. The couches he’d been looking at online, thinking about buying. His frequent flier numbers. The instructions for his vacuum cleaner. The street intersections around his house. His knowledge of how to drive. All of it, passing through like water through a sieve.

His address.

Where he was, this very moment, and what he was doing there.

His own name.

All of it, gone.

When it finally finished, Rory stood looking at Gunther’s prone form. Rory realized he’d been absentmindedly stroking himself through his pants and had blown a load of cum right into his underwear. He smiled and wiped his palm on his pants leg. Gunther hadn’t moved at all. His eyes were glassy, dazed. Rory walked over and waved over his face. Gunther turned to look at him. He opened his mouth to speak but only incoherent grunting came out.

“Good boy, Gunther. Now we’ve got all sorts of room to play with, in there.”

For the next hour the doctor sat, tapping away, and Gunther shivered, convulsed, shook, moaned and screamed in pleasure. His cock only got stiffer, dripping lewdly over his body constantly, occasionally twitching to pump out a big load of steaming jizz all over the place.

Rory finished and looked proudly upon his handiwork. The charts on the screens showed the new contents of Gunther’s skull: a spaghetti mess of new neurons, grown haphazardly, twisted around wherever they’d fit. Every single one of them existed to make Gunther into a walking fuck-machine. Every one of them reinforced the hunger.

Rory fancied himself a kind of sculptor. When he’d come in, Gunther’s brain was full of inhibitive circuitry, wiring to keep him in line, to make him prudent, modest. Fuck that, said Rory. Human beings weren’t put here to be modest. They were put here to fuck.

He walked over to Gunther and removed the straps. Immediately the newly-recreated patient leapt from the table, his need obvious in his eyes, and presented himself for Rory. Rory smiled and obliged him, shoving his cock into his ass and fucking him until he nearly came, then pulling out and letting Gunther lap at the swollen head of his cock while he spurted creamy jizz into the fuck-whore’s mouth.

“Nice work,” he laughed, in mock approval. “As your doctor, I declare you fully cured of the disease of societal propriety. Time to put you to good use, you hungry fuck-pig.”

Rory led Gunther back through the office to a hallway with a series of unmarked doors. He checked a chart and chose a door, opened it, and pushed the fuck-pig that used to be Gunther through the door.

The door shut behind him. His eyes adjusted in the low light. He felt around. He was lying on something, something moving. It was warm. It was a torso. He looked up and saw the face of another man. He reached out and felt the man’s stiff, dripping cock. Ah, not a man after all. Another fuck-pig. Just like him.

They made eye contact. Their lips curled back simultaneously into hungry, dirty sneers. And then they began. The cameras saw all of it.

Back in his office, Rory cleaned himself up, changed pants, and sat down to finish his paperwork. “Oh, another one who hasn’t bothered to fill out a comment card,” he sighed. “No matter. I’ll fill it out for him. Just like I always do.”