Me and My Zapper
Chapter 5

Copyright© 2013 by John D

Mind Control Sex Story: Chapter 5 - A young man invents a device to induce intense arousal in unsuspecting women but he has to face up to the consequences of his dangerous tool.

Caution: This Mind Control Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Mult   Consensual   Coercion   Mind Control   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Cheating   Gang Bang   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Pregnancy   Exhibitionism   Voyeurism   mc sex story,mc story

To say Maisie and I had a row that evening would be an understatement; she was livid and her friend had received a steady stream of phone calls from tearful team-mates anxiously wanting to discuss the lustful fog that had unexpectedly gripped them, and the consequences of their debauchery.

Maisie threw them at me as they were relayed to her: Emily was splitting up from her partner as she now "realised" how boring he was, Harriet was now looking for a girlfriend and not a boyfriend, and Evelyn was begging her husband to take her back. These were my fault and I felt a bit guilty, but there was some good to come out of it too. Julia had found her husband had loved the idea of her being unfaithful and was begging her to have a repeat performance, while Susie arrived home, gave her startled young neighbour a tube of KY and told him that he was not going to University for his lecture, but instead the only place he was going was her bedroom and her ass.

Maisie was furious with me, thought that I was completely irresponsible, and confiscated my zapper with a snarled face and a furrowed expression; this ended our conversations for most of the next few days. She passed me an article from the local paper - "Sex-crazed footballers shame village" and shared the hundreds of text messages she received, but she never let on to anyone what I had caused or done. I owed her gratitude for that at least.

She did also keep a watchful eye over me in my cottage factory and our good working relationship returned. I still really desired to play with my zapper much more, and could see so much potential with it, but Maisie was insistent that I had done enough damage. I had to be content without it.

I tried to discuss ways of using it in an "ethical" manner, but Maisie refused all of my suggestions and so my invention was very much unused. It was a waste, but she quietly pondered things and said little to me on the subject.

A fortnight after the "football club fuck," my mischievous tenant asked if I could leave her alone for the evening as she planned to invite some friends for a girlie night in, and this coincided with an invitation I had pinned to the noticeboard from my sister for one of her "community get togethers."

My sister, Katie, married a wealthy and upwardly mobile city financier and they moved to a small and exclusive hamlet a few miles outside the town. She did her best to look like she was still connected to her family but ensured she maintained a sizeable distance – we were a mild embarrassment – while I did my best to remain at a complete distance from her husband and her neighbours; they irritated me.

Katie loved playing a host, she would regularly invite her affluent neighbours to her extensive garden, for "food, drink and good company," and while I would always try to avoid such pomposity and ostentatious displays of obscene wealth, it was infinitely more preferable than Hollywood remakes at the cinema on my own or spending the evening with one of my friends, and their stressed partners, as an "odd one out." I resented their inability to be separated from the latest girl sucking their cocks and my offers of a boys night out was turned down!

Katie seemed delighted, surprised and somewhat worried, all at the same time, when I parked on her grass verge in my five-year old car. She tutted but said nothing about my appearance – non-designer T-Shirt with navy shorts – and showed me into her expansive property; I asked, because it always irritated her, if she still needed two kitchens, eight bedrooms, five bathrooms and four lounges – and she sighed, pushing her blonde hair behind her ears and perching on her impossibly tall, and ridiculously expensive shoes. I am sure I was adopted.

The party was her usual banal mix of arrogance, self-importance, ignorance and egotistical patronisation: the plastic surgeon and his wife, the four CEOs, the dozen city workers and managers. They all relished the exclusivity of Little Heywood, and that they were miles away from "the plebs." I hated them, but the vol-au-vents were lovely (as always) and I was given a glass of some ludicrously expensive champagne that I decided would be rude to refuse!

I did find another "normal" person: when Rebecca had recently split with her boyfriend, he had broken into her flat and done considerable damage to her rented property in revenge. While the insurers, the landlord and the Police addressed this, she was lodging with her sister, Elsie, in the "spare bedroom." She joked that it was bigger than her flat, and I was not sure if her comment was completely untrue.

Rebecca was an out-of-work primary school teaching assistant, working as a waitress, and had a wonderful smile, a cheeky expression with deep blue eyes and long, brunette hair that oozed playfulness. I would have liked her anyway, but amongst the supercilious smarminess that infected the party, she was a god-send.

We retired to one of Katie's kitchens after chatting on her verrandah for half-an-hour; my elder sister teased me not to "corrupt" the young lady when she offered us more champagne on a silver platter, but I was driving and had to seek soft drinks inside. It was quieter, cooler and more private inside the house, but we could see over the garden from our viewpoint while we chatted.

After half-an-hour of talk, we both saw dozens of women grab their crotches and their eyes sparkled. "What's going on?" Rebecca asked in a desperately concerned voice, as the party became infected with lust-addled zombies. "What's..."

"Maisie!" I exclaimed and grabbed and Rebecca's arm roughly. "The little ... Rebecca, go home!" I demanded and she scowled at me, waiting for an answer. "Please. You need to go home. Now!" She paused, and I promised I would give her an explanation later, although I wasn't sure what I could say. I didn't want Rebecca watching her sister getting fucked, or her sister watching Rebecca. And I didn't want Rebecca to get caught up in Maisie's revenge.

She stammered, but she must have seen the importance in my eyes, and left by the front door as I strode into the garden. "Maisie!" I yelled, but no-one noticed; the area was awash with women desperately ripping themselves free of their garments and their husbands frantically trying to stop them. It was almost amusing for a split-second, but caught sight of a familiar face leaning against the garden wall, holding one of my zappers and cackling. "What have you done?"

"Only good things," she promised with a malevolent giggle and cocked her head with a smirk. "I have an idea. But I need ... just trust me!"

"Trust you!" I snapped, and shook the sneering coquette by her shoulders; she wriggled free of my grasp. "You have just dosed up my sister with lust and..."

"You did that to my friends," Maisie interrupted and bit her lip as we watched Elsie throw her husband roughly into the flowerbeds, pawing at his trousers and squealing obscenities. "She's in for a good time," Maisie teased as I snatched the zapper from her grasp. She didn't care; she had done what she wanted, and peered towards my sister and another city financier's wife kissing passionately while hands caressed the naked bodies, and their husbands panicked. "Should be a good show," she cried and skipped away.

I snarled, but what could I do? There was no antidote, and resigned to being part of the mayhem; I wondered if this would be enough for the patronising bastards that lived in Little Heywood to join the rest of us in the real world. I watched a middle-aged blonde lady, sat at the outside table, with a hiked dress and her fingers pressing against her crotch; her breathing ragged and her public ribald antics deliciously arousing. She saw me ogling her and raised her dress higher; her panties abandoned on the floor before I arrived and her bare crotch, pink and soaking. She raised her leg to another chair and pushed her body into her seat, itching to exhibit her masturbation and smiled as I fidgeted.

I said nothing; I didn't need to, but stared as her fingers toyed with her clit and she stroked her labia with her other hand; gentle strokes of her puffy flesh as she exaggerated her whimpering and groaning for the sole member of her admiring audience.

She slid a finger into her glistening hole and squealed, closing her eyes and bucking her hips. She was desperate for me to watch and I slid my hands into my shorts to touch my erect cock. My lust burned, but she was sexy; her buxom, shapely body oozed femininity and she used her womanly wiles expertly to ensnare my attention, and my arousal.

She maintained eye contact for a few moments before ripping her glance away as her body lurched towards her climax and she plunged two fingers deep inside her well-lubricated cunt, glistening as she rotated them. I gasped as she panted; her breasts heaving and her legs quivering with pent-up desire. She was going to climax and I leant against the wall, idly rubbing my shaft as she played.

 
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