Chapter 1: Define the Question

Caution: This Mind Control Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Reluctant, Mind Control, Drunk/Drugged, Heterosexual, Safe Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Voyeurism, .

Desc: Mind Control Sex Story: Chapter 1: Define the Question - A young chemist is given the chance to study a mind-control drug in the government’s MK-ULTRA program. Excited by the possibilities, the chemist begins using the drug for … private research.

In the summer of 2003, I got laid off from what I thought was my dream job. I hadn't done anything wrong, I was just young, and the company I worked for was having financial troubles. In fact, nearly everyone on the project I was working on got laid off—our research just wasn't cost-effective to keep researching in the current fiscal crisis. At least, that was the line of crap they fed us. I had worked for a major pharmaceutical company. But now, I was unemployed.

When I got laid off, I was twenty-eight years old. I had a doctorate in Biochemistry and Pharmacology. I'd only been with the company for a year, but I was on a team working towards a possible cure for cancer. Since my own mother had died from breast cancer, and the project was promising, it really had been my dream.

But that August, only a year after defending my dissertation, I found myself jobless. I'd been working so hard for so long, I found myself in a very bad place—jobless, nearly broke, and alone.

My father had left my mother when I was only a fetus, and I'd never even met the jerk. My mother had been truly wonderful, but she died of cancer when I was nineteen. At the time, I'd been a fairly well-adjusted young man—good student, fun-loving college guy, steady girlfriend, lots of friends ... you get the picture.

But after my mom died, I really threw myself into my studies. I already had wanted to be a research chemist, but when she died of an incurable disease, it really changed me and made me focus more. Soon, girlfriend, friends, and fun all fell to the wayside. I became an amazing student, but my personal life was non-existent. Heck, I think my best friend was my doctoral advisor, and I haven't spoken to him in nearly three months.

I graduated third in my undergraduate class, completed a Masters in Chemistry in only one year, and quickly began working on my doctorate. My adviser and I were one of the first to begin trying to attack cancer cells with a man-made virus. The work was promising and it was what led me to my dream job.

But when I was laid off, I found myself coming home to a fairly sparse and empty apartment with my severance paycheck in my pocket and a gloomy expression on my face. For two days, I sent out resumes and contacted old professors to see if they had any leads. But the outlook was grim. I was living in Los Angeles at the time, but I was entirely willing to move anywhere I could find gainful employment.

On the third day after being laid off, I awoke to someone knocking on my door. Checking the clock, I saw it was barely seven o'clock. In only a pair of boxer shorts and a bathrobe, I answered the door. Standing on my doorstep was a man in an Army uniform. The man had so much brass and ribbons on his chest, I had no idea what to make of him.

"Dr. Keith Meridian?"

I nodded wearily.

"Good morning, Doctor. I apologize if I woke you, but I have an urgent proposal for you."

I rubbed my face sleepily, "What kind of proposal?"

"A job offer. My name is Colonel Mark Ansel. May I come in and speak with you?"

I was intrigued by the prospect of a new job, but still weary. I decided to go ahead and hear him out. I stepped aside and gestured for him to enter. The Colonel moved like a man who could easily kill me with his bare hands, though his face was kind and honest.

Judging by his appearance, he wasn't much older than me, probably in his late thirties. I didn't know much about the military, but I did know that was fairly young for a Colonel. I gestured to my kitchen table and we both sat down.

"I understand you were recently laid off?"

I nodded.

"We became aware of your employment status when they made the layoffs, but we didn't get a chance to review your records and resume until yesterday."

"How did you get my resume?" I asked.

"I'd prefer not to say. We have several former employees who work with some of the companies you applied to. One of them forwarded us your resume. We then compiled a file on you and did a preliminary background check. When that was completed and everything checked out, I came here."

I nodded, but asked, "What kind of job is this?"

"Research. Classified research. I can't tell you much more before you take the job, but I can tell you it is not related to the cancer research you've been doing. I know that's your true passion, but this research will most likely have no implications into that field.

"What I can tell you is this—the job is monetarily rewarding, not dangerous, and if you complete the project, we can definitely help place you with one of the major pharmaceutical companies again. Or, if you prefer, we can assign you to another project."

I thought about his answer for a few moments, then asked, "How much monetary compensation?"

He wrote down a number and slid it to me, "Plus, full health, vision, and dental. We don't have a 401K plan, but with what we pay, you can afford to fund your own retirement funds."

The number he'd written was easily three times what I'd been earning this past year—and major corporations paid research scientists well. This was a small fortune.

"How long with the project take?"

The Colonel shrugged, "That's hard to say. We estimate six months to a year, but it could take as long as two years. We'll pay the full amount for any time during the first year, but if it goes beyond, we'll consider that figure a yearly salary paid monthly."

"Is there anything else you can tell me about the project?" I asked.

The Colonel thought for a moment, then said, "It's interesting work, I believe, and your work will ultimately benefit your country."

I nodded slowly, then questioned, "Can I think about it?"

The Colonel checked his watch, then said, "I can give you one hour. Then I'm afraid I'll have to offer the job to the next person on my list."

He stood and walked to the door. I opened it, "May I ask ... where am I on your list?"

The Colonel put on his hat and grinned, "You're at the top. I'll be back in an hour."

I was still groggy, so I started my coffee maker and took a shower. From the time the Colonel left to when I was getting dressed, I kept trying to think of reasons not to take the offer. I couldn't though. It sounded intriguing. High pay, low risk, interesting and classified work—what was the problem?

While I sipped my coffee and ate a bowl of cereal, I began to try and think of what the possibilities might be—chemical weapons research, some sort of super-soldier-enhancement drugs, maybe work with bio-chemical computers. All of my ideas were interesting.

Eventually, when Colonel Ansel knocked on my door again, I was eager to take the job. He nodded to the kitchen table again and opened his briefcase. He explained each document as he passed it to me to sign. Confidentiality agreements, insurance policy, and several more forms which I honestly could barely remember later.

Then he told me to pack a bag with anything I might need for a three-day trip. I packed a suit, a change of clothes, toiletries, my laptop computer, and my iPod. He let me to his rental car and we drove to a small airport. I was so consumed with excitement and curiosity, I didn't' really press him for answers.

We drove right onto the tarmac and boarded a small Gulfstream jet. There was a pilot and flight attendant already aboard. The pilot had the engines warming up before we were even seated. Ansel stowed his hat and jacket and seemed much more comfortable without them.

"Jackie, this is Dr. Meridian," he said to the flight attendant.

She wasn't wearing a uniform, but I could tell by the way she moved and nodded to the Colonel, she was military, or former military. She had blonde hair, gathered up and pinned neatly in military fashion on her head. She also had bright blue eyes and a gorgeous figure. Her clothing wasn't revealing, but I could tell that a body like hers could never fully be hidden. She had the kind of body that made a polka-dot muumuu look sexy.

When she caught me looking, I blushed, but Jackie only grinned. She brought us both drinks and then went to the cockpit to belt in as the plane began its take-off run. Ansel began to tell me about the project. He first pulled out a black binder with several "Classified" warnings on it and handed it to me.

"Have you ever heard of a project named MK-ULTRA?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"At the beginning of the Cold War, the CIA formed the Office of Scientific Intelligence, which still exists today—though we call it the Directorate of Science and Technology. One of the first projects the OSI undertook was called MK-ULTRA. MK-ULTRA was a project that studied the human brain from many different points of view: psychology, pharmacology, mysticism, and parapsychology.

"The project was started because the CIA believed that our enemies—namely the Soviets—had already started their own program. And technically, there was evidence that the Nazis had a similar program during World War Two, though their focus was primarily on the parapsychology and mysticism.

"Parapsychology? You mean like psychics and telepaths?" I asked incredulously.

Ansel nodded, "But the MK-ULTRA program was primarily psychological and pharmacological. Have you ever heard rumors that the government was giving college students massive doses of LSD in the sixties?"

I nodded, "Sure, that's what Stephen King's Firestarter is based on."

Ansel laughed, "Yeah. Well ... the rumors were true. In the seventies, a senate commission investigated the program and supposedly shut it down. Then a few years later, they found that it had simply been moved to black-ops and again, the program was shut down. However, the program continues today, as our enemies continue similar programs."

"Sounds more like work for a science fiction writer than a chemist. You're really trying to create telepaths and such with drugs?" I asked.

"Oh no!" he laughed. "The true purpose of MK-ULTRA was always about the limits of the human mind, whatever they may be, but the practical implication of MK-ULTRA is mind control. Already, many drugs exist which affect the mind's ability to process thoughts in a normal manner. Take Sodium Pentothal for example. It's a barbiturate that is primarily used as an anesthetic, but it is also known as a drug which is known for being used as a 'truth serum'. However, the drug is highly ineffective in most interrogations because a practiced liar can still lie while under the drug's influence."

I nodded.

"When it comes to mind control, drugs are the easiest and most effective route. More effective that psychologically manipulating the subject, and faster."

"What does the military want with mind control? Turning soldiers into zombies that follow every order without question?"

Ansel laughed, "No, they can already do that without drugs—they call 'em Marines. Besides, a mindless drone who follows orders unquestioningly isn't really much good in today's modern military. We want a soldier who can think on his feet and accomplish goals in the most efficient way possible. In order to do that, a soldier has to understand the flexibilities of an order.

"If I order to walk to point A, a mindless drone would walk in a straight line to the point. But if there is an obstacle in the way, say a chasm, the mindless drone would fall in and die. Give the same order to a soldier with a good head on their shoulders, and the soldier would find a way around the chasm or across it.

"No ... mind control has much better uses. Imagine being able to simply drug a terrorist and instantly turn him into a double-agent. Or what about for interrogating a captured enemy? We could save millions of lives."

I nodded in understanding. I knew enough about how the current so-called 'truth serums' worked to know that they weren't all that reliable, and neither was torture. In either case, the subject eventually becomes so compliant that they'll simply tell the interrogator what they want to hear—whether it's the truth or not.

"The project you'll be working for is on overseeing the human testing phase of a new drug we've developed. It's a radical new approach to mind control, and the animal testing phase was nearly flawless."

"Nearly flawless?" I asked.

"Unfortunately, the previous Project Manager tried using the drug himself. No one knew he had a weak blood vessel in his brain and the drug was enough to rupture it. He died only hours after taking the drug. For this reason, you'll have a full battery of brain scans later today—CT, MRI, PET, etc."

"I'll be using the drug on myself?"

"You don't have to, but after you see the results, you may be tempted to try it. For that reason, all those working on the project are taking this precaution."

I nodded. I understood. Researchers often were tempted to try the new drugs and treatments they developed on themselves, friends, or family. From rumors I'd heard, Viagra was actually quite the recreational drug at Pfizer before FDA approval for human tests came through.

Ansel handed me another file and I began to read. The drug was currently called Rx V7-439, but according to the lab notes from the animal testing trials, the researchers started calling it the 'Vulcan drug', or simply 'Vulcan'—a reference to the powerfully-minded Star Trek aliens, like Spock. Unlike previous attempts at mind control, the subject given the drug did not become compliant to commands, but instead those around the subject found their commands irresistible.

The drug had been an accidental discovery by a normal research team at a pharmaceutical company looking for a new non-addictive sleep disorder medication. The drug radically changed the subject's brain activity without changing thought patterns. Since the drug did nothing for sleeping disorders, it was scrapped by the researchers who created it.

However, the MK-ULTRA project took the drug and continued to modify and test it. The current generation of the drug still greatly increased brain activity without showing any signs of changing the subjects state of mind or thought processes, and it also greatly increased the subject's pheromone transmitters.

The only side effects were a bit higher blood pressure and a greatly increased metabolism in the subject. The high-blood pressure increase was very slight, but combined with the increased activity in the brain, it made brain aneurisms more likely—hence the need for subjects to have brain scans prior to usage. All of the testing up to this point in the project was done with human subjects surrounded by animals.

The drug itself was fairly benign as far as its effects on the human body, but it's effects on those around the human body were still uncertain.

The first round of testing used several federal prisoners who were given a small dose of the drug, then ordered to read instructions to a single mouse. Researchers found that complex instructions could not be followed, and they surmised it was because the pheremonal instructions were only getting through—after all, mice don't speak English.

The next round of testing involved prisoners again. I wasn't quite sure how I felt about using federal prisoners as guinea pigs, but according to the documents, they were rewarded with lighter sentences for volunteering. In the second batch of tests, a stronger does was given and steadily increased to determine its effects, again using mice. The results were a longer lasting effect, but a corresponding increase in metabolism. Their studies showed the optimal dose was one that lasted twenty-four hours and effectively doubled the human body's metabolism, which required more food and water intake. However, most subjects would only be given a fraction of that dose for further testing. Doses that lasted longer than twenty-four hours caused the body's metabolism to increase too rapidly for safety. Luckily, no prisoners were killed in these tests.

After nearly two hundred federal prisoners had been given the drug almost no negative side-effects, the researchers decided it was safe enough for paid volunteers. They also began using multiple animals for the third round of testing. Results showed that mammals were more responsive to the effects of the drug and researchers theorized this was because most of the effect was transmitted via pheromones rather than verbally or through some immeasurable thought-transmission.

The fourth round of testing confirmed their hypothesis. Subjects now instead focused on written commands and did not read the command out loud. The animals still performed the tasks admirably—though non-mammals were still less responsive.

The fifth round of testing consisted of a single test. The researchers wanted to know how far the subject could push and still get results. The subject was told to order a dog to walk into a fire and sit down in the flames. Surprisingly, the dog complied. Overcoming an animal's 'fight or flight' response probably meant the effect was limitless. Since the researchers weren't cruel and felt these limits could be further explored in later human testing trials, they used a terminally ill dog and only performed the test once.

The sixth and last round of animal testing used primates. Volunteer subjects were easier to find and screen because they simply thought it was some sort of psychological experiment. The drug was generally administered through drinks or food they were offered. The results showed that more complex commands were able to be followed by the primates, even non-verbal commands that were complex. The researchers hypothesized that this was due either to the larger brain capacity of primates, or due to their genetic proximity to humans.

It was at the end of this phase of testing that the former Project Manager, a sixty-three year old man, was tempted to try the drug himself. So far, he was the only fatality of the drug—unless you consider the dog as well.

When I finished reading the file, I asked Ansel, "It definitely sounds interesting. What will I be doing with the project?"

"Why ... you'll be leading it."

"Oh!" I gulped. "Uh ... do I at least have some ... direction?"

"We'll get to the research. Basically, you'll need to do several rounds of testing to determine how effective the drug is on humans, what the limits are, and how truthful humans under the effect are. We've been able to basically get animals to do pretty much anything, but we still don't know if someone can lie while under its effects. So far, humans are the only species that lies, Doctor."

I laughed, "Yeah. True."

I glanced out the windows thoughtfully, and then realized—I had no idea where I was. Shocked, I asked, "Where are we going?"

"The research facility your project has been using is in Houston. We've arranged a house for you in a fairly nice neighborhood about twenty minutes away from campus."


"The research facility is on the University of Houston campus. It makes hiding our research a whole lot easier when we look like any other university research program."

I nodded. That made a lot of sense.

"What ... um ... what about my things?"

Colonel Ansel checked his watch, "They should be finished loading them on the truck now. You should have everything by tomorrow night. Amy will have everything taken care of."


"Oh. Right. Amy Stone. She's your personal assistant. She'll be able to help you with anything you need, decorating the house, getting new ID's, address changes, etc. Until your car and things get here, she'll also be taking you to and from work. I'll go in with you two today and introduce you to the team, but if you need to make any personnel changes, Amy will help you with that."

"You're not going to be around?"

"No. I oversee several MK-ULTRA projects and I'll be flying out again this afternoon."

Suddenly, I felt a huge weight on my shoulders. This project was important, I was in charge, and there would be very little supervision of my leadership. I just hoped I didn't fuck this up.

When we landed, a large black town car was waiting for us. A driver and a petite young woman with long brown hair were waiting. Compared to the warm California costal weather I was used to, the hot humidity of Houston hit me like a ton of bricks. The air was so thick, it made breathing even a bit uncomfortable.

Ansel introduced me, "Dr. Meridian, this is Amy Stone. She'll be your personal assistant."

"Miss Stone, nice to meet you," I said, shaking her hand.

"Please, call me Amy, doctor," her voice was sweet and girlish. I'd guess she was no more than twenty-five.

"Well, call me Keith then," I smiled.

We climbed into the town car and Ansel pulled on a blazer. When I looked at him with a questioning look, he chuckled, "The uni attracts attention and questions."

He still had on his uniform dress pants, but they basically looked like slacks, so it became a quick civilian costume. Amy told me that my car and personal things would be here the next day and she'd make sure to have the movers also unpack things in basically the same places they were before. She had already started the process of getting me a new driver's license and car registration.

"After we drop off your things at your new house and introduce you to the team at the university, we'll go to the hospital for a physical and scans. The physical is more for insurance purposes, but did Colonel Ansel explain the need for the brain scans?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Good. It's really pretty simple, I had mine done last week."

"You're a researcher as well?" I asked.

"Uh ... no ... technically I'm your personal assistant, but I'll often be assisting you in the lab as well, so I have access are and needed the same tests done."

I nodded, though I wasn't sure why a personal assistant would be all that useful in a lab. A lab assistant was usually much more suited to lab work than 'assistant' work. Maybe my job was much more administrative than I imagined. I'd expected to be doing much of the lab work myself.

The car pulled into a cul-de-sac with several houses. We parked in the driveway of a nice-looking house and Amy escorted me inside. The house had three bedrooms, two and a half baths, a two car garage, and a nice kitchen. The best part though was a nice pool and hot tub in the fenced-in back yard.

I left my bags in one of the smaller bedrooms which Amy had temporarily furnished with some rentals. Then I took the opportunity to wander around the house a bit before Amy and Ansel both looked like we were still on a schedule and were ready to leave. I had a few ideas already about how I wanted to furnish the house, but I knew it wasn't really a priority to me.

When we left the house, a young blonde girl was leaving the house next door. She saw us leaving as well and waved, "Hello. Are you guys moving in?"

Amy smiled and approached her, "Not all of us. But he is." She gestured to me.

The girl was tall, nearly six feet, and was wearing a fairly skimpy outfit. She had on a pair of tight cut-off jean shorts that barely came to mid-thigh and a red and blue tube-top. Her blonde hair was in a pony tail and the only other thing she was wearing was a pair of white sneakers. The tube top snugly wrapped her braless breasts which I'd have to guess were easily a C cup, possibly more.

She stuck her hand out at me, "I'm your neighbor then. I'm Stacy Belkin."

I shook her hand, "Keith Meridian. Nice to meet you."

"Do you live alone?" she asked.

I nodded.

She smiled, "Too bad, you look like a nice enough guy."

"Uh ... thanks."

"Could I ask a favor of you?"

I barely knew this girl, but I said, "Uh ... sure."

"The previous occupant used to let my sisters and I use the pool in your back yard. We don't have one and we really can't afford to put one in our own yard. Do you think we could still use it?"

I shrugged, "I'm pretty much a work-a-holic, so I work long hours. As long as you aren't using it late at night or early in the morning, I probably won't mind."

Stacy beamed at me, "Oh! Thank you! And don't worry, we'll be careful and respectful, we just like to swim and stay cool in these hot summers."

I nodded, realizing that being out of the house's air-conditioned interior for only a minute had already made me feel like my body was covered in a sheen of sweat. I knew that was mostly because of the muggy humidity, but still, this heat was unbearable.

The three of us left my new neighbor and took me on the short drive to campus. We parked in front of a three-story building. Inside, they led me to the elevator, which used a security keypad to reach the other floors. Amy entered a code and the elevator began to rise. The entire second floor was a series of offices and labs set aside for our project. Amy and the Colonel led me to my office and showed me where everything was.

The next room they led me to was the main chemical lab. This lab was once used for examining the effects of the drug on individual cells and tissues, but now it was primarily used as a factory for producing more of the 'Vulcan drug'.

They showed me the testing lab next. The rooms looked much like a psychology lab or a large police interrogation room. The first room was small with a table and several chairs, used for observation by the scientists. That room had a view—through a two-way mirror—into the testing room which was a large plain room. Currently, the room was simply set up with a table and two chairs.

The last place we visited was a conference room. Inside, three people were waiting. Amy said, "Dr. Meridian, let me introduce you to your team. This is Dr. Nora Simmons, Biochemist," the woman was in her late fifties with graying black hair and a pleasant smile, "Dr. Walter Orias, Clinical Psychologist," a small man in his forties with a bald head and bushy brown eyebrows, "and Ms. Tina Jordan. Tina is a graduate student here and was recruited to be a lab assistant."

Tina Jordan was absolutely gorgeous. She put all three of the women I'd met today to shame when it came to pure physical beauty. While Jackie, the flight attendant, had been pretty with a nice body, Stacy had the youthful lusty beauty of a teenager, and Amy looked like the kind of woman you would take home to your mother, a beautiful girl-next-door type, Tina was a walking wet-dream.

Tina had a coffee and crème complexion which suggested a mixed racial heritage, but it was hard to pin down what that heritage was. Her name didn't help either. I could tell she was probably part Caucasian, but the other part was much too indistinguishable. Her hair was reddish brown, and judging by her neatly trimmed eyebrows, it wasn't from a bottle. Her eye shape didn't have the characteristics of Asian heritage, but that didn't rule it out either. And I couldn't see any signs that positively pointed to African heritage either. For a moment, I considered Indian or Native American heritage, but there were none of the usual traits that might positively stand out.

She was about five-foot nine, which made her the tallest person in this room after Colonel Ansel and myself, as both of the other doctors were fairly small, and Amy was barely over five feet tall. She was wearing a white lab coat over a tight black blouse and a sky-blue colored skirt. Her breasts weren't large, but they weren't small either. They fit her frame like she was molded by an ancient sculptor like Michelangelo.

I couldn't really completely judge what she looked like naked, but I could certainly imagine it. And while it had been enjoyable looking at the other three new women I'd met today, Tina was the only one that made my groin stir pleasantly. I did notice though, that her skirt was a bit short for a professional setting, and her legs looked incredibly sexy.

What really caught my attention though wasn't her body, it was her eyes—she had electric green eyes. They were so bright and hypnotic, I thought they must be contacts, but every time I looked, I couldn't see the line of a contact lens. Combined with her reddish brown hair, I suspected her Caucasian heritage might be of Irish lineage.

After talking with this group for a few minutes, Tina gave Amy a stack of papers for me to read. They were mostly lab reports and proposal ideas for the next few rounds of testing. I had a few questions about the chemical properties of the 'Vulcan drug', so Dr. Simmons added more documents to Amy's load.

In the end, Amy and Ansel lead my out of the building with a large stack of documents for me to read this evening. Colonel Ansel found other transportation and promised to be back soon to check on our progress. Amy and I climbed into the town car and headed to the hospital where I had to be poked, prodded, and scanned for nearly two hours before heading back to my new home. She promised to pick me up for work the following morning, then left me with a stack of research documents to read.

When I was alone, I noticed Amy had put a list of phone numbers for local food delivery services on the fridge, so I used my cell phone to call for a local pizza delivery, including soda. I probably ordered too much food, but I didn't know when I'd get a chance to actually go out and do some real grocery shopping, so I figured that cold pizza would make a good breakfast and lunch for the next few days.

When I sat down and opened the first file, I heard laughing coming from outside the house. I investigated the sound, suspecting I'd see kids playing in the cul-de-sac out in front of my home. Instead, the sound was coming from behind my house. Confused and tired, I slid open the back door and stepped out onto the shaded patio to see what was going on.

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