Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, NonConsensual, Mind Control, Drunk/Drugged, Cheating, Cream Pie, Voyeurism,
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Part 1 - Several years after leaving the Army Pamela finds out that she was the unwitting subject of lab test of a secret drug formula.
At the height of the Cold War in the late 70s the Soviet Union was known to be experimenting with the use of Psychics in an effort to improve their intelligence gathering capabilities. During that same period the CIA in conjunction with the US Military was conducting experiments with drugs to improve our own capabilities. Most of these programs, like the one in the following story, were abandoned in the 80s as the Soviet Union collapsed and the Cold War ended. But how sure can we be that all of these programs ended? How certain can we be that all of these experimental drugs have been destroyed? How safe would you feel if you knew that the CIA or the NSA had access to a drug formula like DHS 77?
That night John seemed to be a little distant as I led him to my bed. As we began kissing his mood seemed to improve but I could tell he had something weighing on him. As he kissed me, he unbuttoned my blouse, which he soon had off and my bra unhooked. When he sucked my nipple into his mouth, it felt wonderful. John wasn't my first lover but when we got together, everything he did to me, every sensation felt new to me so all I could do was give myself over to the experience. I did whatever John told me to do and moved whatever way he wanted me to move.
I was so horny that night that it felt like he was lighting little fires on my body anywhere he touched me. When he ran his tongue over my pussy lips, I started to orgasm. When his cock penetrated me, I grabbed hold of John and he pulled back momentarily then slowly began penetrating me again. Once he was fully inside me, John stopped moving and gave me a chance to get used to the feel of his hard cock inside me. As my vaginal muscles relaxed to accept his large shaft, I enjoyed the feeling of having a cock inside me. John began moving his hips causing his cock to slowly move in and out of my sensitive pussy. John began to increase the speed and power of his penetrations and I soon had an amazing orgasm. I loved the way it felt to have his cock moving inside of me. When my orgasm passed, John climaxed inside me triggering another orgasm for me.
John lay with me on the bed for a while then got up still naked and got two beers from my refrigerator. He came and sat next to me on the bed and, as we drank our beer, I stared at his limp penis. It always amazed me that it could be so big and hard when aroused and so small and soft afterward. I reached over and touched it. John didn't say anything, he just spread his legs a little to give me more access. I picked his penis up between my fingers and just kind of examined it. I turned it and bent it, pulled and twisted it so that I could see it from every possible angle. As I was doing this, it began to grow. Only slightly, but I noticed.
As I watched to see if it would grow some more, John said, "Why don't you suck my cock?"
I didn't answer him. He had never asked me to do that before and I had never before had a cock in my mouth but I wanted to try it. I just bent over and as I got close to his cock I could smell the scent of our sex, which was totally foreign to me. I stuck my tongue out and touched the tip of John's cock with it. There was a little drip of his cum there and I picked it up with my tongue. I found the taste to be slightly salty but otherwise inoffensive. I again ran my tongue over the head this time sliding part way down the shaft, and then I looked up at John. When we made eye contact, John said, "Take as much of my cock in your mouth as you can. Try to only touch it with your lips and tongue, no teeth."
Because of its somewhat relaxed state I was able to take his whole cock into my mouth. John said, "That's good. Now pull back so that my cock comes part way out of your mouth and run your tongue around my cock as you do this. Then slide your mouth back down the shaft."
I did as John instructed and his cock started getting bigger immediately. It only took me a couple of minutes to get him completely hard. Then John said, "Now just make love to my cock with your mouth being careful not to hurt it with your teeth."
I caught on to what he liked me to do very quickly and found myself enjoying the experience. As I continued to suck on his cock, John said, "Now I want to teach you how to really please a man. When I climax, I want you to try and swallow it. When you feel me starting to cum, keep your mouth closed tightly around my cock and try not to let anything leak out."
I opened my mouth just enough to say, "Ohtey (okay)."
A minute later John said, "Here it comes." Then he grunted just as I felt the first squirt of his cum hit the back of my throat. I almost choked on this but was able to control myself. I didn't swallow all of his cum but I did manage to swallow quite a bit. John told me to continue sucking and licking his cock until it was completely soft. As I did this, he told me that I had done very good for my first time.
After that John lay next to me on the bed and didn't speak for a long time. When I asked if something was wrong, he didn't respond; he just took me in his arms and started making love to me again. When it was over, John dressed, said goodnight and left.
I knew immediately that he and I would not be getting together again. We should never have gotten together in the first place. John was married and worse than that he was my commanding officer.
My name is Pamela Johnson, I am 45 years old and I live in the Los Angeles area. The story I am telling you began 25 years ago while I was serving in the United States Army. Back then I was SP4 Martin.
It was 1981 and the Soviet Union was just beginning to show signs that it was weakening and the end of the cold war was near. At the time I was 20 years old and serving in the US Army as a security guard at the Pentagon. One morning in late March, my commanding officer called me into his office and after spending a few minutes discussing the beautiful early spring weather we were having Captain John Lewis got down to business.
"Pam, I wish things could be different," he said.
I knew this was not going to be good news. John had never broken protocol by addressing me by my first name while at work. In the office he had always addressed me as Specialist Lewis.
"My wife has become suspicious and I think she knows about us," he said. "I am sorry but we are going to have to stop seeing each other. I've decided that it would be best for both of us if I have you reassigned. I managed to find an assignment that I think might interest you. They need a security guard for a government lab in Virginia. The job is on second shift but it would mean a promotion for you. You would be bumped up to E5."
I guess I always knew that the day would come when we would have to end our relationship and maybe that was why I wasn't too upset or maybe I was just ready to move on. I knew I would miss the sex but I had to admit that I was never in love with John. I was young and inexperienced when I first was assigned to his command and John was handsome and he proved to be a good lover.
John was right, of course. Under the new circumstances, I didn't want to be working for him. The idea of getting a promotion helped ease the pain and I didn't mind working second shift. I was single and I suddenly found myself without a love life, so working evenings would not interfere with my newly inactive social life.
"What specifically would I be guarding sir?" I asked. I always maintained proper military discipline and avoided the temptation of calling Captain Lewis by his first name while at work.
"They didn't say. I only know that you would be working at a government lab. Apparently they deal with a lot of classified projects. Anyway, they didn't tell me anymore than that. You interested?"
"Yes, sir, I am," I said.
"Good. I already told them you would be there Monday. You are to report to Building 9746 at 1500 hours on Monday. When you get there ask for a Mr. Cameron at the front desk. Good luck, Pam," Captain Lewis said as he handed me the orders assigning me to the lab and directions to the facility.
I said, "Thank you, sir," and then saluted him and turned to leave his office.
I felt very cold when I left his office but in a way I was glad that our affair was over. It had lasted six months but I always knew it would go no farther than meeting for sex a couple of times a week.
The lab was about thirty miles west of Washington near Leesburg, Virginia close to the Maryland state line. Only a small sign that read, "Building 9746, US Government Facility, No Trespassing," identified the building.
The facility was built into the side of a hill so that only one wall was exposed. It was a two story concrete wall with no windows making it look cold and foreboding. I was beginning to feel uneasy as I approached the main entrance, which was comprised of a set of steel doors. The interior of the building wasn't quite as cold looking as the exterior but it wasn't exactly welcoming either. It was brightly lit but had more of an antiseptic feel, like a hospital than an office building.
Mr. Cameron came down and met me at the front desk. He was about forty years old and a little thick around the middle. He had a quick and easy smile, which kind of reminded me of my father. That made me feel a little more comfortable. Mr. Cameron ran me through the process of getting a security badge, an orange plastic card with my name and picture in the front and a magnetic strip on the back. Mr. Cameron also got me a parking permit. Then he showed me around the building. He showed me the cafeteria, the first aid station, where to go to get office supplies and where the rest rooms were located. Finally he took me to the lab where I would be working.
We had to badge in through two sets of doors to get inside the lab. To the immediate left, just inside the door there was a small desk with nothing on it except for a telephone and a desk lamp. There were two more desks at the left end of the large room and five lab tables positioned in the middle of the room. Each of the tables had a large fluorescent light fixture above it and a row of electrical outlets along the back edge of the tabletop. On the far wall, diagonally across the lab from the entrance, there was another door with its own badge reader. Along the wall to my left, there were five black metal cabinets. Each cabinet was about seven feet tall by four feet wide and eighteen inches deep.
The five people in the lab looked up as Mr. Cameron and I entered. Two men and a woman in white lab coats were working at the tables and there was an officer with the rank of major sitting at one of the desks. The other person in the room was an older man, also wearing a white lab coat and he had his face buried in one of the metal cabinets I mentioned earlier.
"I'll introduce you to the team," Mr. Cameron said.
He guided me around the room and introduced me to everyone, apparently in order of their importance. He started with Dr. Moore; he was the older man who had been engrossed in the content of one of the metal cabinets when we came into the room. He appeared to be in his late sixties. He was a tall, thin man with a full head of silver gray hair. His eyes were slightly red, which made him look tired. Dr. Moore had a friendly smile but he only gave me a perfunctory hello and then went back to studying the contents of the large black metal cabinet.
Next was Major Mitchell. He was a short man, maybe five feet five inches tall, making him three inches shorter than me. From his demeanor and the way he greeted me, I pegged him immediately as someone who wanted desperately to be a general but would probably never even make it to lieutenant colonel. I had seen so many like him at the Pentagon that they were easy for me to spot. It's not something I can describe, just a sense you get about someone. I think he expected me to be impressed by his rank, another trait I had seen many times. I knew a lot of majors at the Pentagon and frankly I was not impressed by any rank below general.
Jim Holtsclaw was one of the lab technicians. He was about 25 years old and quite handsome. He was tall with dark hair and blue eyes. I remember being disappointed when I saw his wedding ring.
Brian Carter, also a lab technician was older that Jim, maybe in his forties. Not bad looking but not very interesting. Everything about him was average.
The last lab technician and the only woman on the team was Brenda Powell. Brenda was an attractive woman about 30 years old, tall, brunette and in good physical condition. I noticed that she had a big diamond ring on her finger but no wedding band.
Everyone seemed to be very busy but they all tried to make me feel welcome if only for a moment. After the introductions Mr. Cameron guided me to the end of the room farthest from the team.
"Normally quitting time is 5:00 PM but Dr. Moore and the lab technicians will often work in the evenings. Major Mitchell doesn't usually spend much time in here and you will seldom see him after 5:00."
"What are my duties?" I asked.
"You are second shift security for the lab. You are not to allow access to this room to anyone unless they are brought in by Dr. Moore, Major Mitchell or the technicians assigned to this project from 3:00 PM until you are relieved at 11:00 PM."
"Is that all?"
"You are also responsible to make sure that classified trash gets put into the proper receptacle," he said. "On Thursdays you will take the classified trash receptacle to the furnace room and remain there until you witness the emptying of the receptacle into the furnace. Every night when the others leave you are to make sure that there are no classified documents left out. If you find any classified documents have been left out you are to lock them in that cabinet over there and report the incident to me the following day.
"Every Wednesday night around six o'clock, the cleaning people come in to sweep and mop the floor. You are to make sure that they do not bring anything into the room when they come in and that they don't take anything out of the room when they leave. Everything they need to do the job is in that cabinet over there." Mr. Cameron pointed to the big black cabinet farthest from us as he said that.
"The desk over there by the door is yours," he said. "Whenever you are not busy with other tasks, you should be at your desk."
I looked around the room and asked, "By what means do I keep people from entering if they managed to get through the security doors?"
Mr. Cameron said, "Oh, yes, I almost forgot."
He led me over to one of the desks and opened the drawer and removed a holstered 45-caliber pistol and handed it to me and said, "Use this tonight. When you come in tomorrow, we will go to the weapons room and you can draw your own weapon. While you are on duty you will wear a side arm at all times. Is that understood?"
"When you are here by yourself, if you need to leave the room for any reason, for instance when you take the classified trash to the furnace room or need to use the rest room or to go to the cafeteria you must call the main desk. They will dispatch a security guard to this location. He is not to enter the room. He will stand guard outside the room until you return. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir. When my relief comes in at 11:00 PM, how will I identify her or is it him?"
"Your relief is Sergeant Lewis. He will be wearing the same orange ID badge all of us in this room are wearing right now. Anyone without an orange badge is not allowed in this room unless escorted by one of the team members. Do you have any more questions?"
"Yes, sir. One. What's in that other room?"
"They do testing in that room," Mr. Cameron said, "and under no circumstances are you to go into that room. Also, you are not to discuss what goes on in this lab with anyone."
I said, "I understand, sir."
And I did. There were lots of rooms in the Pentagon I wasn't allowed in. I always figured that it was probably better to not know what went on in those rooms and I certainly knew the regulations regarding working with classified materials.
I said, "One more question. Can I ask what project they are working on here?"
"It's called Controlled Intelligence Source or CIS for short," he said. "You will be given access only to the information you will need to perform your duties. You know the drill."
"Yes, sir, need to know basis."
Mr. Cameron smiled at me then looked around the room.
"Looks like you won't have much to do tonight. In the future you might want to bring a book to work with you so you won't be too bored."
"Yes, sir. I'll do that."
"If you have no more questions, I will be going now," Mr. Cameron said, "Good night."
"Good night, sir."
The CIS team began to leave shortly after five o'clock with Dr. Moore being the last to leave at 6:30. Once I was alone in the lab I began to wander around the room, more out of curiosity than looking for any classified documents I would have to put away. I knew I wouldn't find any. I walked over to investigate the five metal cabinets along the wall. Inside the first cabinet the shelves were lined with bottles labeled with the names of different chemicals. The second cabinet was locked and had a small sign that read 'Pharm, ' which meant nothing to me at the time. The next cabinet contained test equipment, test tubes, beakers and other glass items you would expect to see in a lab. The fourth cabinet contained cleaning products and a box of powder for soaking up chemical spills. The fifth and last cabinet contained brooms, mops, buckets and floor cleaner.
After my little self guided tour of the lab I sat down at my desk and wondered about CIS. This was obviously a very secret and sensitive project; otherwise Mr. Cameron would not have given me the instructions he gave me. As a security guard assigned to the Pentagon I knew that being told, "You are not to allow access to this room to anyone, " means that I am authorized to use deadly force to prevent unauthorized access to the lab. The use of deadly force when necessary is part of a security guard's job but it is not generally mentioned when discussing a particular assignment, unless they feel that someone might actually risk death to get into the facility you are guarding.
I was very curious about what CIS might be but I wasn't sure that I wanted to know.
It took me only a month to fall into a routine. I would perform my assigned tasks and then, if no one else was in the lab, I would spend the rest of the night sitting at my desk reading or writing letters home.
I was slowly getting to know the team members as I was around them for at least two hours everyday and many nights one or more of them would work over. I really liked it when Brenda worked late. It was nice to have a woman to talk to and she would go with me to the cafeteria for dinner. I felt that we were actually becoming friends.
During those early months, I also learned that the locked cabinet was full of drugs and that Pharm stood for pharmaceuticals. I assumed that was one reason I was not to allow anyone into the room after hours. There were some pretty heavy drugs in there including several narcotics.
For the first couple of months, Major Mitchell tried to flirt with me but, when I showed no interest, he left me alone. I think he decided that I was a lesbian, that way he didn't have to feel rejected when his charm didn't work on me.
Dr. Moore was the strange one in the group. He was always friendly toward me and, when he talked to me, it was almost as if he was being conspiratorial, although he never talked to me about his project. In time I got the impression that Dr. Moore was not happy working on the CIS project. I sensed that he would rather be somewhere else. It wasn't anything he said but to me it was apparent in his overall demeanor.
During my second year at the lab, there seemed to be an increase in the level of stress among the members of the CIS team. The pressure the team was under was palpable. You could see it in their faces and hear it in their voices. Even I was feeling the stress although I didn't know why. I guessed it was contagious.
I went through a period where some strange things happened to me, which I attributed to the stress. There was a period of about two months during which there were several days that I remember reporting at work but waking up the next morning and not remembering anything about the previous evening.
I thought that somehow the stress was causing this and I was worried that I was having a nervous break down. One evening when Brenda was working late, I had dinner with her and told her about the problem I was having and said I was thinking about seeing a doctor about it.
For a moment, Brenda looked worried but the expression on her face quickly disappeared and then she smiled at me.
"I wouldn't worry about it. This place gets to everyone at some point. I wouldn't be surprised if just talking to me about it helps. Besides, if you go to a psychiatrist you might get transferred out of the lab. These people are not real comfortable having employees talking about their work with anyone outside."
That scared me a little. I sure didn't want to be reassigned. "You're probably right," I said.
"If you feel you need to talk to someone," Brenda said, "I'd be glad to stay late any night you need me."
"Thank you. I might just take you up on that offer. You are really the only person I can talk to."
As it turned out, I never had to take her up on that offer because I never had that problem again.
Over the next several months, things seemed to go smoothly and the stress level dropped significantly. Everyone seemed to be more relaxed and in better spirits. By that time, I had learned a little about the project. Nobody told me anything specific; I just put little pieces of information together over time and started to see the picture. The lab was working for the CIA trying to create a drug that could be used to gather intelligence. I didn't know how the drug was supposed to work, only that the CIA would use it to get information from people without them knowing they were giving away any secrets.
In January of 1984 things began to change. We started hearing that the CIA wasn't happy with the progress the team was making and they were threatening to cut our budget. Major Mitchell was reassigned and went back to the Pentagon and there were rumors that some highly placed people in the government wanted to kill CIS. It was about this time that I decided that when my enlistment ended in June, I was going home to California and go to college rather than re-enlist.
It turned out that was a wise decision. In May we got word the funding for the project was cut off and the lab was given a month to shut everything down and destroy all records of the project. The fact that I wasn't very vested in the project made it easier for me to walk away but I felt bad for the others. They had invested more than four years in the CIS project and now they would never see the final product of their efforts. The odd thing is that they didn't seem to be as upset as I would have expected.
The last week was frantic. I would not have thought that shutting down a project would take so much effort. That day I was asked to come in early and make sure no one carried out any classified information. I felt bad standing guard over the people I worked with for the last three years. I didn't know what I would do if any of them had tried to smuggle out any documents. Luckily, nobody tried.
By 5:30 that evening, everyone had left except Dr. Moore and myself. For the last hour Dr. Moore had been sitting at his desk waiting for the others to leave. When we were finally alone he came over to me and put his hand on my shoulder.
"I am sorry about all this," he said. "If I had been stronger, I might have been able to keep things from going too far."
I had no idea what he meant by his last remark and was about to ask him about it when he said, "Please come with me."
I followed him to the door that led into the back room. The room I had never been in. Dr. Moore opened the door with his badge and I followed him through. The room was empty except for one steel cabinet against the wall next to the door we had just come through.
"They emptied this room earlier this week. All that is left is in here," Dr. Moore said as he pointed at the cabinet.
Dr. Moore pulled a key from his pocket and opened the cabinet. The only things inside were a cardboard box and a roll of packing tape. Dr. Moore pulled the box out of the cabinet and set it on the floor. He lifted the flap on the box and showed me the contents. All of the books I had brought in to read over the three years were stacked in the box. Dr. Moore then picked up the roll of packing tape and sealed the box. On the outside he wrote 'Personal Property of SP5 Martin.'
This worried me a little. I knew from the size of the box that it contained more than just my books. The books had been arranged to hide whatever was underneath them. Was this what he meant when he said, "I am sorry about all this. If I had been stronger, I might have been able to keep things from going too far."
Was he asking me to help him smuggle classified materials out of the lab?
I was in a panic. I didn't know what to do. My job was to make sure that didn't happen, not to help some one do it. Then Dr. Moore put his hands on my shoulders and looked directly into my eyes.
"I want you to take this home with you. I think it is best that you have the contents of this box. In time, you will understand."
I had no idea what he was talking about and I was too afraid to ask. I knew that I should not take the box but the look on Dr. Moore's face told me that it was important that I do as he requested.
Neither of us spoke again. I watched as Dr. Moore finished packing up his personal belongings and we left together locking up the lab behind us. We went to the front desk and turned in our keys and badges. The guard at the desk asked what we had in the boxes and we both said personal items. Then the guard made Dr. Moore open his box. He looked through it, told Dr. Moore it was okay, and then he looked at me. I was petrified.
I said, "You want me to open this?"
The guard said, "No, we trust you."
Dr. Moore and I walked silently to the front door and once outside he said, "You may want to let some time pass before you open that box. I hope in time you will be able to put all this behind you and do the right thing, because I couldn't. Good-bye."
I was puzzled by Dr. Moore's comment and I didn't know how to respond to him.
"Goodbye, Dr. Moore."
As I walked to my car, I felt like I should have said more but I had no idea what to say.
I locked the box in the trunk of my car where it stayed for the next three weeks while I finished out my enlistment back at the Pentagon on security detail. When I received my discharge papers, I packed up my apartment and arranged for the movers to come get my things. When I got to California, I put my belongings in storage and moved into my parents' house while I looked for an apartment and a job.
Over the next three months, I got a part time job for Alpha Security and Investigations, a private security company, started college and found a small apartment. The apartment was too small for all my stuff so I left some furniture and some boxes in storage. Among the boxes left in storage was the box from CIS.
I met Allen in my first year of college. He was tall and handsome and I knew he was the one for me. Allen had also been in the military, which gave us something in common. He was a year older than me and was in his sophomore year when we met.
We dated for three weeks before we had sex. It wasn't that I was making him wait; it just seemed that things kept getting in our way. School, jobs, people - but we finally got together. Allen came over to my apartment for dinner and we ended up on the floor five minutes after he walked in. It started with a hello kiss and we almost immediately started pulling each other's clothes off.
I guess we both knew what was going to happen that night so it didn't take much to start it. I had been celibate for the last three and a half years and I had been nervous and excited all day by the prospect of finally having a man inside me again. I almost felt like a virgin until Allen pushed his beautiful cock inside me. No virgin ever felt that much pleasure on the first penetration.
After that night we were nearly inseparable and Allen moved in with me three weeks later. We got married soon after he graduated in 1988. I finished school the following year and we both managed to land good jobs. Allen got a job at a large bank in their mergers and acquisitions department and I took a position with an advertising agency.
Everything was going great for us - the marriage, the careers, everything. So in 1990 we bought a house in Glendale, California. The day after we moved into the house Allen had to go to New York for a week of meetings on a large corporate merger. He kept apologizing for leaving me with the unpacking. He said he would find a way to repay me. I told him I would take it out in trade.
Allen caught a flight out Sunday morning and by the time he called me Sunday evening I had already unpacked the kitchen and bathroom stuff. I had arrange to have the week off to settle the house and by Monday evening I had put away all of the normal household items.
Tuesday morning there were just a few boxes of odds and ends left to deal with. One of the remaining boxes was the one from the CIS lab. For two days I had been avoiding the box. Every time I looked at it I felt uneasy. The only reason I could think of for feeling that way was because of what Dr. Moore had said to me that last evening.
"You may want to let some time pass before you open that box. I hope in time you will be able to put all this behind you and do the right thing, because I couldn't."
I decided I had put it off long enough. It was time to see what was in the box. I carried the box into the kitchen and set in on the counter and then poured myself a cup of coffee. I open the box and removed the layer of books. Underneath I found a notebook, which was labeled DHS 77. There were also three industrial videotapes. Not VHS tapes but three quarter inch tapes. I recognized the tapes because we used the three quarter inch videotapes at our agency. The final items in the box were two jars. One jar was filled with small gelatin capsules. The capsules looked like they were filled with an oily substance. There was a label on the jar that read 'Antidote for 77.' The second was a sealed canning jar which contained a clear liquid that had the consistency of liquid dish detergent. The label on that jar read 'DHS 77.'
I took the notebook into the living room with my coffee, hoping it would shed some light on what DHS 77 was and why I had it now.
I opened the notebook to the first page and found that a note from Dr. Moore addressed to me had been inserted. The content of the hand written note read as follows:
May 27, 1984
I am writing this note to explain why I gave you my notes and the formula for DHS 77 and to try and apologize to you for what you may already know happened or will know as soon as you watch the videotapes.
I never wanted Major Mitchell to use you in his tests but there was no one else that we could bring into the lab without identifying them as a test subject, which would have defeated the purpose of the test. I suppose I could have prevented what happened if I had just declared the project completed and turned the test results and the DHS 77 formula over to the CIA. While I felt terrible about what I allowed to happen, I felt it would have been much worse to give the CIA a tool that could be so easily abused.
In the end the project was canceled and I was able to keep DHS 77 away from them. Now you have the only remaining DHS 77 and the antidote. You also have the only notes remaining from the project.
After you view the videos you will know the danger this formula would represent if it fell into the wrong hands. I probably should have destroyed this myself but I just couldn't bring myself to throw away four years' work.
I trust you to know what to do with this more than I would have trusted anyone else on the team.
I hope you can forgive me.
The note was signed Alex Moore.
Dr. Moore's note disturbed me greatly. What could I have been involved in that I didn't know about? I was a test subject? What did I do, or more importantly what was done to me?
I wanted to know what was on those videotapes but I didn't have a video player for three quarter inch tape. I was going to have to borrow one from work. I couldn't do that immediately so I went back to reading the notebook.
On the first page of the note book Dr. Moore had written the following.
"I have mixed feelings about tampering with peoples minds. I am not sure if the end justifies the means but I will press on and make a decision about that later.
What we hoped to accomplish here was to create a drug that could be used to put a subject into a deep hypnotic state (DHS) within a matter of seconds. While in the DHS, the subject would be programmed to perform certain tasks or provide requested information when given a key phrase command. The effects of the DHS programming had to last up to a year or more to prevent the need to constantly reprogramming the subject.
The programming had to allow for the control to erase the subject's memory after they had performed their task, give the subject an alternate memory or to have the subject remember what they did but not why.
That briefly is what Controlled Intelligence Sources is all about and what DHS 77 gave us."
That was all that was written on the first page. On the second page the date was written at the top of the page and under the date it said 'DHS Formula 77.' Below that was a chemical formula, which made no sense to me, followed by Dr. Moore's notes on DHS 77.
"The new formula works. The programming done during DHS should last no less than a year and, for some subjects, it will last even longer. Major Mitchell wants to try another test. While he agrees with the results from the 20 test subjects we used, he feels we need to try it on someone that does not know they are part of a test. He feels that it may be possible that subjects that know they are part of a test may be easier to program because of their willingness to cooperate.
I don't agree with Major Mitchell. I feel that the tests we have already done are sufficient proof that DHS 77 works. That said, I have decided to allow Major Mitchell to run his tests because I am not ready to turn DHS 77 over to the CIA and let them run amuck with it. My only hope is that they will get tired of waiting for us to finish and kill the project. For the record, I am not happy with Major Mitchell's choice of subjects but I understand his reason for the choice."
On the next page Dr. Moore commented on Major Moore's test with a single subject. His comment read as follows:
"Major Mitchell took the antidote for DHS 77 and, after waiting ten minutes for it to take affect, he took 5 grams of DHS 77 and applied it to the neck of the subject. The subject was only vaguely aware of what happened and was in DHS within five seconds. Major Mitchell then addressed the subject using the key phrase 'star kitten' to activate the programming.
The subject was programmed to follow commands given by Major Mitchell after the key phrase was given. The subject was then taken into the test lab and Major Mitchell gave the key phrase and then the Major gave several commands, which the subject followed without hesitation.
I assumed we were done but Major Mitchell insisted the subject be tested over a longer period of time to make sure the programming held up. He also wanted to test for memory residue. That is he wanted to see if the subject had any memories of things that should have been erased.
I strongly disapproved of Major Mitchell's tactics, as I felt he was doing this for his own entertainment, but the test for residual memory became important. It turned out that although the subject had no memory of the previous test the subject was aware of missing time. It became apparent that if you erase a person's memory of an event you had better replace it with some kind of memory.
On the next test, Major Mitchell replaced the erased memory with a false memory so that the subject would not be aware of blank spots in their memory. At that point the whole team knew that DHS 77 was ready.
Fortunately, when the budget cutting started Major Mitchell was transferred back to the Pentagon. After that, I was able to convince the rest of the team that we should never release DHS 77. So we sat on it until the project was shut down.
I had to reread the last entry again. There was something there that caught my attention. Dr. Moore said that the subject of Major Mitchell's test was aware of missing time. I had to think about that for a minute before it came to me. I remembered that there was a period of time when I thought I was suffering from some sort of mental blackouts. There were several mornings when I woke up and couldn't remember anything from the night before. I remembered discussing my concerns with Brenda and she told me it was probably the stress of the job.
That seemed like a good explanation then but now I wondered. Could it be possible that I was the unwitting subject of Major Mitchell's tests? Was I the subject that Dr. Moore didn't want to use?
I think I already knew the answer before I even asked myself the question.
I still needed more information so I kept on reading. The rest of the notebook described how the DHS 77 was administered and how the programming was done. I scanned through it quickly and put it aside.