COMPLETED, at last, with Part IV. Some believe drugs can expand the mind. THESE drugs, though, do a real reduction on it, among other personal qualities... as discovered by the hapless patrons of a nightclub with a sinister streak.
Chapter Description: Introducing you to Marcus Halberstram, genius chemist, nightclub owner, and genuine hellraiser. Contains male bodily function humiliation, female bodily function humiliation, hypnotized homosexuality, and first-person male mental AR. Hypersexuality and strong humiliation throughout; sets up a series of totally AR-centric vignettes, so if it isn't AR enough for you, the best is yet to come!
This story is written with gratitude toward those AR fans who took the time to PM me with regard to which elements of an AR story appeal most to them. ’Course, there’s plenty for those who didn’t, and, let’s be honest, for me. --littletrip
Part I: Selling Surrender - Friday
Friday, 10:00 PM
It took 25-year-old genius chemist Marcus Halberstram one-fifth of his life to perfect and commence manufacture of his custom analogue of 3,4-Methylenedioxymethamphetamine. To many, the original drug is known as Ecstasy... to others, simply X. The compound is a stimulant with slight psychedelic properties and is chiefly known as a drug useful for inducing euphoria, a sense of well-being, and a lust for bodily contact. It is sometimes sold on the street, but, in most cases, it’s popcorn sold at nightclubs for a premium price. That’s why nightclubs charge upwards of $5 for a bottle of water... Ecstasy sucks the hydration right out of you.
Marcus’s analogue -- or, variant on a base drug -- accomplished far more than Ecstasy’s native indications. In fact, he was able to produce well over a dozen variants of the drug; not only did they induce the effects of their parent compound, but they added new desires and compulsions. A Ziploc bag of Marcus’s variants would represent a veritable candybag of variety. Of possibilities. Of certainties.
And it is one such Ziploc bag that Marcus brings to Vices, one of Chicago’s trendiest nightclubs. Marcus ensures that his customers buy from him by setting the price of his wares at three-fifths the current street value of the original. All of the other Ecstasy peddlers working Vices that night become financial victims to Marcus’s monopoly of the market. Not everybody buys from Marcus on this particular night -- not everybody uses, of course -- but everybody who does buys it from that one particular chemist. He makes hundreds of dollars. And he’s ensured, through the use of special binders and fillers, that the effects rendered upon his creation’s users remain with them for a long, long time.
Friday, 10:45 PM
Zack dances with his girlfriend, Tricia, near the center of the dance floor. Lady Gaga blares from the dozens of speakers positioned throughout the complex. They grind up against each other, front to front, and make out as so many other couples on the floor are doing.
“Baby, I’m feeling it already,” says Zack.
“I don’t know why you buy that shit,” Tricia replies. “I like it just fine how hot we get the regular way.”
“Mmm,” Zack sighs slightly. “But this is different. This is... more real.” He grinds his crotch against that of his girlfriend’s, slides his hands up and down her jean-clad pants, and presses his mouth to hers as he starts pissing in his pants.
Tricia feels the sudden warmth immediately. She breaks the kiss and pulls away from Zack; she sustains only a small stain on her jeans due to her quick action. Zack doesn’t seem to notice. He stands in front of her, stiff as a board, as his bladder empties itself into his jockeys and blue jeans.
“Zack, you’re... what the fuck?” Tricia says. “You’re pissing your pants!”
Zack moans and feels his eyes roll back into his head. The darkening stain of Zack’s blue jeans covers his crotch, then runs down his legs, forming long streaks of wetness. A dark circle radiates from Zack’s fly, from his cock, and before long he’s soaking his socks.
“I know, babe,” Zack says. “It just feels so right. It’s the right thing to do.” He cannot believe how good it feels to piss his pants in front of his girlfriend, in front of all these strangers. It sends him to a new dimension of pleasure.
“Okay, that’s a little fucked up for me,” says Tricia. “I don’t know why you didn’t tell me you were into that and I don’t know if I can get into that.”
As Zack’s bladder empties, he contracts his muscles forcefully and deliberately to get the last few squirts of urine into his pants. His blue jeans are darkened from button to cuffs but he seems visibly disappointed when the stream comes to an end. And as soon as Zack’s cock finishes the job of voiding his bladder, it develops into the stiffest, most needful erection the 19-year-old has ever had.
“Oh, babe,” he moans, distant from this world, “You gotta rub up against me. Please.”
“No fuckin’ way.”
“Please,” Zack begs, staring straight at her. “I don’t ask that much of you. But I really, really want you up against me now.”
Reluctantly, Tricia moves to Zack and takes him into his arms, wanting only to make him happy. She does. With one simple grind from her pants into his, he ejaculates a massive load into his saturated jockeys, bucking against her with otherworldly lust.
Over the coming months, Tricia gets used to Zack’s need to piss his pants before cumming or doing anything else remotely sexual, on condition that he do his own laundry. And there’s a lot of it.
Friday, 10:50 PM
A different type of pill had been sold to Leslie and her girlfriend Tina, and it was at this time that they realized the full potential of its effects.
“God, this shit is getting me so hot,” Tina declares, clutching at her girlfriend’s tits right there on the dance floor.
“Holy hell, me too,” Leslie replies. The two lovers embrace tightly and dance tightly against each other, in sync with the music.
Then, they pull apart a bit. “Can I suck your thumb, Leslie?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
Tina hungrily grabs her girlfriend’s right hand and balls it into a fist, leaving the thumb sticking out. She slowly, lustfully, slides the thumb between her lips and takes it into her mouth, sucking it like a baby.
Leslie follows in turn, taking Tina’s right thumb and sliding it into her mouth, giving it a few gentle sucks and feeling an intense pleasure in her vagina.
For several minutes, the two girls suck each others thumbs, holding each other’s asses with their free hands, dancing in time with the music.
Tina gently pulls Leslie’s thumb from her mouth. “Oh, Leslie,” she sighs, “I really, really want to finger your cunt right now.”
Leslie slides herself off Tina’s thumb. “And I want at yours, babe.”
And soon, their left hands are down the fronts of each other’s pants, sliding into each other’s pussies and tickling their clits, while their right hands resume their duties as thumbsucking instruments. Some around them seem to notice, but the girls are positioned too deeply inside the crowd for security to witness the display.
Eyes were closed for seconds, then opened only for a moment. Thumbs slide across wet tongues. Fingertips slide across wet cunts. Then Leslie comes up with an idea of her own.
“We have to shit our pants,” she says, after removing Tina’s thumb from her mouth. “That will be the hottest fucking thing ever.”
Tina’s eyes go wide. “It’s like you can read my mind.”
Their thumbs in each other’s mouths, their fingers in each other’s pussies, each girl squeezes and strains to empty their bowels into their panties. Tina succeeds first, pushing log after log of shit into her underwear. Since she’s wearing a skirt, the load is allowed to fill out the back of her panties, leaving a softball-sized brown globe pressing against its back.
Leslie, though, is wearing designer jeans, and when she takes a dump in her pants, it squishes all over her asscheeks. The girl, understandably, finds the sensation foreign; but she also finds it tremendously erotic as the warm, sticky load coats her behind as if she were a baby in a diaper.
Tina, too, savors the added weight of the load in her undies. She akes her right thumb out of her girlfriend’s mouth long enough to reach down and size it up, cupping it in her hands.
And then, both girls cum. Harder and hotter than they ever had before. Wracking their bodies against each other, spasming, drooling on each other’s thumbs which they very nearly bite off.
Afterwards, they hang against each other weakly, so in ecstasy and so in love.
Security comes to escort the couple outside shortly thereafter after receiving several complaints from fellow patrons about the odor emanating from the girl’s panties. They toddle out of the establishment feeling a little bit of shame -- but, mostly, they look forward to their next opportunity to suck each other’s thumbs, poop in their panties, and reach undiscovered heights of pleasure.
Friday, 11:00 PM
Two couples dance next to one another: James and Hillary, and Mike and Hannah. They had never met each other before, and they have no reason to do so tonight. But, in minutes, the four would find themselves inextricably linked.
James and Mike had both purchased and taken a variation of Marcus’s drug; their girlfriends had not. So, when the effects finally and fully kicked in, the girls were left bewildered.
Especially as they were tossed aside on the dance floor, almost as afterthoughts.
James and Mike embrace, their hands on each other’s hips.
“I’m no fag,” James says, “but I really like dancing with guys sometimes.”
Mike smiles. “Same here.”
They dance for a while, swinging their hips to the beat. Before long, they’ve wrapped each other up in their arms, grinding their crotches and stiffening cocks against each other. Their girlfriends stand off to the side in stunned silence.
“I’m no fag,” offers Mike, “but sometimes I really like making out with guys.”
James nods wordlessly and presses his mouth to Mike’s. Their warm lips sealed together, the two 21-year-olds slide their tongues along each other and caress each other’s asses; one’s clad in khakis, the other’s in jeans. They explore each other’s mouths with a passion and fervor they’d never previously known with their girlfriends.
Hillary and Hannah’s jaws are dropped. They’ve no idea what to do.
The boys do, though. “I’m no fag,” says James, “but I really like feeling up a gorgeous guy’s hard cock sometimes.”
“Mmm,” Mike replies, “me too.” And, as they slobber all over each other, their hands are on the flies of each other’s pants, squeezing and sliding along the throbbing member contained within them. Seconds later, each guy’s hand is in the other’s pants, massaging the meat lustfully and coating his hand in the other’s pre-cum.
As they dance on the floor together, massaging each other’s asses, each guy pulls his hand out of the other’s pants and offers the pre-cum-streaked flesh to his mate.
“Thank you,” James sighs as he slides his tongue along Mike’s fingers, tasting his own salty juices, feeling his warm fluids slide down his throat. Mike enjoys the same experience, slurping from James’s sticky fingers and pushing his tongue in between them. And he nearly cums his khakis in the process.
“I’m no fag,” Mike moans between licks of pre-cum, “but sometimes I like sucking off a guy’s cock in a nightclub bathroom.”
James finishes nursing the fluids from Mike’s index finger and slides it out of his mouth. “Sounds like a plan.”
The two men rush hand-in-hand to the bathroom, prepared to bust into a stall and coat each other’s faces with a hot load of cum.
Their girlfriends are already outside, hailing taxicabs.
Friday, 11:15 PM
I don’t know what’s going on. I bought a couple pills off of some guy, my girlfriend declined and started up a tab of Cosmopolitans, and now that we’re dancing together, I’m getting these really fucked-up desires. I’m horny as hell, sure, and I love pushing my body against Shari’s as much as I always do when I’m on X, but, it’s like -- I suddenly want to do other things. Things I’d never considered before.
They don’t seem to make any sense to me. They seem alien. But they’re there, and they’re gnawing at me.
I hope she’ll understand.
“Shari,” I say, my cock stirring a bit in my pants. “I have to... I have to do something.”
Shari tilts her head a bit. “Justin, what are you talking about?”
“If you really want me to be happy,” I offer, “you’ll let me do this.”
“What?” she replies. “What is it?”
I shuffle my feet a bit. “I’m a baby.”
“You’re... you’re what?”
“I know I’m 20, but I’m not 20,” I say. “I’m a baby.”
Shari only stares.
I have a fully-developed erection the minute I push my thumb into my mouth. I moan with pleasure as I suck it. My eyes fall shut.
“Justin?” Shari asks. “What the hell are you doing?”
I ignore her, controlled by the pulsing need of the tool pushing against my jeans. I drop to my ass, still sucking my thumb as I then take to my hands and knees, crawling around like a baby. It’s not so easy without access to both hands, but I can’t seem to take my thumb out of my mouth. It would be too terrible.
I roll onto my back. The people on the dance floor have noticed the disturbance and have gathered around in a circle -- my girlfriend inside the circle, but just barely. They all watch as I helplessly, lustfully, remove my shoes and socks. I cram my toes into my mouth and slobber all over them. They taste like sweat. The feeling is good.
I can’t suck toes so good with these tight jeans. I gotta unzip and take them off so I do. Then I’m in just my shirt and undies. I can suck my tootsies better this way. And I want to pee to prove I’m a baby to everyone but I can’t cause my peepee all hard. It about to go off. So as I suck my toes I roll around and offer “Gaa gaa goo goos” around them.
I give all boys and girls a good view of my butt as I make poopies into my white undies. It all wumpy and warm but it prove I’m baby. Feew good, too. I dunno, should I suck my tootsies ow my fumbie? I no know.
I gots dwool on my chin. I can’t top it. I getsta stwetch out an spwead messy aww over me. It feew good. Ebbybody fink I cute
dey tink i cute
i wuv knowin dis as i make cummies feews so good
wike my fumbie
Part II: Selling Surrender - Saturday
Thanks for reading. -lt