From borisl@room3b.demon.co.uk Fri Apr 04 15:44:43 1997
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From: borisl@room3b.demon.co.uk (Boris Ludmemkov)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: A Reasonable Man (Mf, mmmf, mind control) Part 1/3
Date: Fri, 04 Apr 1997 20:44:43 GMT
Organization: Port Kar Enterprises
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Another Mind Control tale, this time with nano-tech and body 
transformation. Not a lot of graphic sex but concentrating on the 
changes in the victim's mind and body.

Comments and encouragement welcome.

Boris Ludmemkov

Pervert and Pornographer


May Censors everywhere have their rectal orifices clogged with Brillo Pads

A REASONABLE MAN

	{{You'll have heard of me, of course. You've seen me on the cover of magazines that 
nominated me as Greatest Human Being of the Century (and stuff like that there). But you won't 
(I hope) know what I'm going to tell you now. I intend to keep this quiet until I am nicely dead 
and all the praises have been sung to the man who gave the world the Fountain of Youth and 
Health. I'm not planning to die for a long while yet either. But you never know, even with the 
medical miracles I've wrought with the Nano Revolution. I could still die in a plane or car 
crash or run up against some disease my clever little machines can't fix. So I'm writing this 
down to let the world know (when I'm safely gone) who and what I really was.

	I don't think that what I've done is very evil. Perhaps a little. But I've done so much 
good (for the world as well as for myself) that I feel that I'm due a little, let us say, 
self-indulgence in exchange. I can keep my private life out of the papers (even media barons 
won't upset the man who can give them centuries more of life and youth) and when I'm gone I 
won't care what the historians say about the contrast between Mankind's Benefactor and the 
private face my....little hobby reveals.

	I was at my desk dictating to my private secretary when the direct line phone rang. 

	"Adams."

	"Sir, this is Jessica down in Main Processing. I have a Code Red for you."

	I felt myself tense. Not with fear: with anticipation. Despite the alarming sounding 
name, a Code Red means that one of my personal targets has come in. A subject I had ordered 
investigated and then drawn into my net. If she had said 'Code Blue' it would have meant a 
subject she thought I might be interested in collecting. Jessica herself had been a Code Blue 
once. I had gone down to look her over, ordered a background investigation to ensure that she 
would not be missed and then had her processed. 

	But a Code Red was intentional. A Code Red was personal. Always.

	"The name, Jessica?"

	"Jenny Barkworth, Sir. Born Jenny Davies."

	I felt my face split into a very nasty grin indeed. Jenny. At last.

	"Where have you put her?"

	"Consulting room 7, Sir. Doctor Harmsworth is with her now."

	"Good. Alert the tag team to go on standby for when she leaves. I want her followed from 
now until she's ready."

	"Sir."

	I hung up and turned to my secretary. Sugar was a Code Red too: one of the earliest 
ones. Not her original name: nor her original body. Now she was a lovely black woman with lips 
that could suck the juice out of a man and frequently did. Then he had been my business partner. 
But that's another story.

	"Leave that for now, Sugar and fetch me the Jenny Davies file."

	"Yes, sir." She rose and went to the walk-in safe only she and I can open. I turned to 
the television monitor by my desk and tuned it to give a view of Consulting Room 7.

	Jenny was lying on one of the scanning decks, listening to Old Harmsworth give her the 
standard spiel. She was still lovely. Although it had been twenty years since we last met.

	Twenty years. Long enough for me to change from the pudgy, bespectacled nerd that Jenny 
Davies had laughed at (in front of everyone!) to the Nobel Prize winning scientist. Long enough 
for me to create the NanoDoc and make a fortune bringing health, beauty and long, long life to 
whoever can afford the not unreasonable price I put on them. Long enough for Jenny to marry her 
rugby-player (what was his name?) grow bored with him, divorce him and start a career for 
herself as a journalist. 

	But not long enough for me to forget. Or to forgive. I watched as Dr Harmsworth went 
through the routine questions, enter the data into the computers and wait for the dispenser to 
create the NanoDocs needed for the first treatment. I reached over to my terminal and entered 
some codes. I had the data already prepared on how I wanted Jenny treated. Or rather 
transformed. 

	I listend to Old Harmsworth reassuring her and her chatting back, telling him that she 
hadn't planned to get treatment just yet but there had been a special offer (a very special 
offer, had she but known, special to a few special ladies) and she had decided.... And then the 
dispenser beeped to say it was ready and Old Doc Harmsworth administered what he thought was the 
first of a routine set of treatments to hold off aging, illness and other physical problems 
("Now you may feel a little strange over the next few days....It's just the little machines 
getting set up and ready....Come back next week and we'll see how they are doing.") 

	The doctors just administer the nanos that the machines fabricate for them: and it is 
not uncommon for clients to see a different doctor at each appointment. No-one notices if a few 
clients don't return for their second appointments. 

	I watched her dress and leave and found that I had grown quite hard thinking about what 
she would be experiencing over the next few days. I signalled to Sugar and she knelt before me 
and undid the sash of my silk dressing gown. Hungrily, she brought her talented mouth to my sex. 
Absently, I patted her head, like the trained pet she was, thinking of Jenny, mine at last. }}

****************************

	She began to notice the changes  the day after her visit to NanoHealth. 

	At first it was just an unusually healthy appetite: she had an extra helping of dessert 
in the canteen and during the afternoon kept nipping to the snack machine for munchies. The 
ofice jester joked she must be 'eating for two' and she felt vaguely guilty about calories. 

	That night she slept unusually deeply and her dreams were vivid and disturbing, although 
she couldn't hold on to them as the alarm woke her.  For a few moments she lay in bed, lazing, 
trying to recapture the bright images that had seemed so important a moment before. A memory of 
school.... Had she been having the old 'back  in school again' nightmare? 

	Then in the shower, she felt a tingling, an energy in her skin that was strange but not 
unpleasant. When she dressed for work her clothes felt strange on her and she thought for a 
moment of wearing something lighter, less formal.. She let the thought slip  from her mind.

	Then at her desk, her attention kept slipping  away from the stories she was writing and 
the background stuff she was reading. Her mind went....somewhere else and when she tried to 
concentrate she found she was developing a headache. 

	That night, her dreams were disturbed again. She was in school and found herself in 
front of the class. Miss Burton, the biology teacher was using her for a sex education lesson. 
She invited a boy up (what was his name? the one they said was so clever: he kept looking at her 
during classes: what was his name?) and told him to feel how Jenny grew excited when he touched 
her breasts, when he touched her lower lips, when his finger slipped deep inside her...

She tried to speak but could not. She tried to move, to cry out..... And she awoke to find her 
hands at her breasts, at her cunt. She was moist and excited and her bedsheets were swimming 
with her sweat. Almost without willing it she brought herself to a climax and then lay there for 
a long while trying to recapture the dream, while her skin cooled in the night air.

END OF PART ONE OF THREE



From borisl@room3b.demon.co.uk Fri Apr 04 15:45:10 1997
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From: borisl@room3b.demon.co.uk (Boris Ludmemkov)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: A Reasonable Man (Mf, mmmf, mind control) Part 2/3
Date: Fri, 04 Apr 1997 20:45:10 GMT
Organization: Port Kar Enterprises
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Lines: 177

A REASONABLE MAN Part 2
	
In the morning, the tingling in her skin was stronger still and as she dried herself from her 
shower she looked in the mirror. Her breasts seemed especially full today, her nipples were 
erect and seemed longer, thicker than they normally were. She stood for a long time, watching 
herself, moving the towel across her skin, feeling good, feeling strange.

That day she chose to yield to her impulse of the previous day and were a dress, summery and not 
quite suitable to the September day. Her editor, old Mr Radcliffe,, complemented her on it and 
she found herself actually blushing and then thanking him with a stammer in her voice. He was a 
balding, harmless, middle-aged man. And yet when he complimented her, she felt a hot rush in her 
blood and a giddiness in her head.

At lunchtime she ate hearty again and then in the afternoon she found her bra had grown 
uncomfortable. It felt too tight. She went to the ladies to remove it and saw herself again in 
the mirror. Her breasts were definitely fuller. For the rest of the afternoon she felt her 
nipples erect against the fabric of her dress, sending shivers through her at each movement.

("Now you may feel a little strange over the next few days....It's just the little machines 
getting set up and ready....")

Then when it came time for her to go home she stepped into the lift headed for the ground floor, 
crowded with people  heading for their cars and trains. And then suddenly this short journey, 
one that she had taken a thousand times before, changed its meaning completely and she felt the 
pressure of the bodies of the men around her, the scent of them swimming in her head. She was 
uncomfortably aware of the size of them, their bulk towering over her, unaware of her. She felt 
insignificant, unworthy, small and helpless. And aroused. She felt her lower lips moisten and it 
seemed to her that the smell of her arousal must be filling the cramped space.

But when they reached  the ground floor the crowd poured out and she stood in the corridor, 
leaning against the wall and trying to catch her breath.

The journey home on the Tube was worse. There was no place for her  to sit and she felt herself 
crowded against the bodies of the other strap-hangars. One young man, wearing a leather jacket 
whose rich organic scent filled her nostrils, kept her pressed up against a partition for three 
stops. She fought down the urge that filled up her mind, to push herself forward and press her 
body against his, to rub her nipples, so hard, so achingly hard, against his jacket, 

When she got home she tried to ring the Institute but was told that her doctor was away at a 
conference but would be back on Monday. She thought about insisting on speaking to someone else 
but hesitated and then the man at the  other end rang off. She couldn't bring herself to ring 
back.

That evening she sat around in her silk dressing gown, feeling the heat in her body. She tried 
to work at her word-processor but found she couldn't concentrate. She tried watching the 
television but found herself loosing the plot of even the simplest sit-coms. She went to bed 
early but could not sleep for a long time. The cool sheets felt wonderful aganst her skin.

In her dreams she was back on the tube again. Except she was naked and when she went to the 
seated man in the leather jacket he wouldn't give up his seat but let her sit on his lap where 
he played with her breasts and pussy. Then he passed her along the rows of seated commuters who 
used her too until she ended up on the lap of a man (she knew him: she had seen him: they had 
been at school together) who opened his fly and brought her mouth to his erection.

She awoke with the taste of cum still on her lips and sweat once again soaking her bedding. She 
changed the sheets but it was a long, long time before she found sleep again.

The next morning she looked at herself in the long mirror in the front of her wardrobe. Fresh 
from the shower, her hair looked lighter, shot through with golden tones. Her breasts were 
noticably larger and her nipples longer, thicker. It looked to her as though her clit was 
enlarging too: it peeped out from behind its hood. 

Her skin was more golden in colour and imperfections such as freckles and spots had vanished 
over night. Her eyes seem wider and her lips fuller, pouting. 

She could not face the office. Her head ached at the thought of sitting and reading, writing. 
She rang, having some difficulty recalling the number and told them she was sick, nothing 
serious. She would be in on Monday. Perhaps.

She could not bear the touch of even her finest undergarments. Her skin was burning with the 
change. She put on her lightest summery frock and went out to the supermarket for supplies for 
the weekend.

She knew that what was happening to her was odd. But she felt so good, so alive. A part of her 
mind felt concern but she could not say about what. As she walked around the supermarket she 
could feel the eyes of the young men who stocked the shelves on her and she walked with a sway 
in her hips for them. One of them carried her bags to her car and she smiled at him. She felt 
herself flush as he smiled back and had to sit at the wheel letting her blood stop racing for 
five minutes before pulling away.

Back in her flat she put her purchases away and then gorged herself on sandwiches filled with 
every strange pickle, cheese and meat she could find in her fridge. The thought of pregnant 
women craving for strange foods crossed her mind and she went again to the bathroom and pulled 
her dress off and stood examining herself in the mirror. She wondered what it would feel like to 
have her breasts swell with milk, to feel a baby's mouth sucking it's nourishment from her. She 
cupped her breasts and felt them heavy in her hands. She bent to see if she could get her nipple 
in her mouth. Not quite.

She leant back and stood with her legs apart. Her clitoris too was notably longer and thicker, 
peeking out continually from between her pussy lips. She touched it and felt the electric shock 
of passion run through her. She watched herself in the mirror as she masturbated, her jaw slack, 
her eyes unfocussed as she brouught herself again and again to explosive climaxes.

That night she could not sleep at all. She had spent the afternoon just lying on the balcony, 
screened from the sight of her neighbours by some hastily rigged sheets, quite naked to the 
touch of the early autumn sun. As the breezes had carressed her body, she felt that heat and 
that tingling within her and knew that she was changing. Becoming something new. Someone new. 

Near two am she could stand lying waiting for sleep no longer and got up from her bed and 
dressed, again in her light summer dress. She did not feel the cold of the night, the heat from 
her body filling her with the warmth of hotter days. She put on her shoes and her hat and went 
walking. The streets were deserted in the suburban areas and she walked and walked, not paying 
any attention to where she was going until she found herself on a main road and heard the sound 
of music, loud and throbbing.

There was a club, still punching out music in the small hours and outside knots of young people 
talking, drinking, shouting. She felt herself drawn forward and walked past them. She could feel 
the eyes of the young men on her. She passed a group of young men all wearing leather jackets, 
like the jacket that had so fascinated her on the tube. They stared at her as she came up. And 
then she knew what she had been looking for, what she had walked so far to find.

"You, And you. And you." She pointed at them and then walked to the opening of an alley beside 
the club. There was an old sofa there and she took off her dress, lay it down over the battered 
leather and then lay herself down on top of the dress. 

The three boys she had chosen had come around the corner and stood at the end of the alley 
looking down at her as if they could not believe their luck. One was black, one was Indian and 
one was a pudgy white boy with greased down red hair. Behind them a group of wondering faces 
stared at her.

"Well, boys? Do you have to be shown what to do?"

Grinning nervously, afraid to be shown inadequate in front of their friends, they came towards 
her. The smell of the leather mingling with their sweat, with the stale lager they had drunk to 
much of, with the smell of cigarettes from the black one, with the nameless smells of the 
alleyway. She reached for the first one to come to her, the Indian boy, and wordlessly undid the 
belt of  his jeans.

He tried to pull back but she pulled his face to hers and with the other hand pulled down the 
denim that sheathed him. A long, thin brown cock flopped out and she took her mouth down from 
the kiss, half completed and down to it. The slight scent of urine as she pulled back the 
foreskin and brought the pink tip into her mouth. 

Hands on her breasts, holding them clumsily from behind her. She looks down and sees the white 
boy's hands ineptly fingering her nipples. And between her legs, with a shock she sees the black 
boy, a knowing grin on his face, bring his thick, cunning lips to her lower lips. The thought 
crosses her mind: "He's done this before...." And he has. Like a gourmet eating a fine meal, he 
tastes her, sups from her, draws the deep juices and the heat from her.

All around her she becomes aware of a circle of boys, standing, watching as the three chosen 
ones explore her. They watch fascinated and jealous, some of them playing with themselves. She 
only speaks once, when the white boy, having shucked his trousers moves to take off his jacket. 
"No, don't. Keep it on."

Together they move through all the combinations that three men and one woman can take up. The 
black boy, more experienced, becomes the director of their little drama. She takes him, from 
behind, doggy style, as she sucks and wanks the other two. He isn't as long as the Indian boy 
but thick and hard inside her. 

The white boy comes first, spraying her face with his come as he looses control. The Indian boy 
came in her mouth and she sucked up the cream of him, as eager as she had been for pickles and 
sour milk earlier on in her transformation. The black boy filled her cunt, bringing her to a 
screaming climax as heat, volcanic lava heat, flows into and out of her.

And then it is over. There is a moment's silence. A boy sobs. With shame, witth regret? And as 
the black boy stands up the watching crowd starts to move forward. Some have come already with 
watching her. But some are still eager and want to finish what has been started.

"No, wait...." It sounds silly in her ears. Who is she to say no? How can she stop them? 

And then a man's voice from the end of the alley.

"Alright, what's all this then?"

Boys scattering everywhere. Somehow she manages to stand, although her legs are weak and she is 
sore between them, stand and pull her dress over her head, find her shoes and run out into the 
street. There is a taxi with its motor running. She piles in and manages to remember her 
address.

When she gets home, she sleeps soundly at last.

{{I congratulated the team keeping an eye on her. The voice of the 'policeman' was one of them, 
using his judgement when it looked as if things might turn ugly. The taxi was one of ours too. 
Later I let her serve the entire team one evening. They deserved it.}}

END OF PART 2


From borisl@room3b.demon.co.uk Fri Apr 04 15:45:17 1997
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From: borisl@room3b.demon.co.uk (Boris Ludmemkov)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: A Reasonable Man (Mf, mmmf, mind control) Part 3/3
Date: Fri, 04 Apr 1997 20:45:17 GMT
Organization: Port Kar Enterprises
Distribution: world
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A REASONABLE MAN Part 3

She awoke only briefly during the whole of Saturday. She staggered to the bathroom, then to the 
kitchen where she downed milk by the pint, letting the cold liquid trickle down her front when 
it spilled. She gorged herself on food, not bothering to cook anything but just grabbing 
fistfuls of cheese and sliced meat from the fridge, chomping on apples and pears. Then back to 
bed, to a deep dreamless sleep.

She awoke early on Sunday morning and turned drowsily in the nest of sweaty bedclothes to the 
sound of a songbird in the square outside. She got up and retrieved the paper from the mat but 
found that the words no longer made sense to her. However hard she tried she could not squeeze 
any meaning from the letters, could not get them to form into intelligible phrases. 

Somehow at that moment, she knew that she could no longer read. Overnight, she had become... 
dyslexic. That was the word. Funny, that she could remember the word but not how to read or 
right it. 

Funnier still, that  it did not disturb her. She let the paper fall unread in the hall and went 
to the bathroom. 

The mirror confirmed to her that she had changed still more. Her hair was now golden and her 
face had changed to that of a woman who wanted one thing from men and wanted it all the time. 
Her skin had an olive tan and her body was firm and muscular without her having done anything to 
earn it. Her new breasts were both huge and firm and she could lift them so that the enlarged, 
very sensitive nipple could be brought to her mouth. This she did, first one and then the other, 
revelling in the sensations the touch brought. Again she stood before the mirror and brought 
herself to the first climax of the day. Later in a hot bath she pleasured herself again and 
again.

She went out and walked in the park. She watched the men as they watched her and knew that she 
could have any one of them she chose with a smile and a wink. But they did not attract her. She 
felt she was waiting, watching, searching, for one man. For something, someone special. She had 
lunch at the cafe in the park. Her appetite for food had returned to something like normal. But 
when she came to pay she found she could not work out how to make up the sum needed. She had 
lost more than the ability to read: she could no longer do simple arithmetic. Some part of her 
mind worried about this but most of her could not care. It wasn't important. She smiled at the 
waiter and held out the contents of her purse for him to take the needed cash. 

When she got back to her flat there was a parcel on the doorstep. Tied up with a big bow. She 
took it in and opened it. 

Inside was a steel collar. In bright, stainless steel segments with a locking mechanism that 
seemed to make no allowance for taking it off again. She took it out of the box and held it in 
her hands for a moment. There was writing on it but she no longer bothered about such things. 
She put it around her neck and with trembling hands pushed the two parts of the lock together. 
It clicked shut and she went and looked at it in the mirror. After a few moments she took off 
her dress and posed naked before the mirror. She liked how she looked. She wanted only one thing 
now. She went and had a shower and then lay on her balcony, waiting for the thing to make her 
complete. She knew he would not be long in coming.

The door opens gently as He comes to claim her but she does not miss the sound of her destiny 
coming for. She runs from her balcony and falls to her knees in the hallway, just as she had 
practiced it the mirror. She looks up at Him and knows Who has made her and why.

Boris Ludmemkov

Pervert and Pornographer


May Censors everywhere have their rectal orifices clogged with Brillo Pads



