Grieger & Hatchman, P.A., "where greatness was a retainer away". It was a bold tag line for a criminal defense and intellectual property firm, apt for the bold majority holder partners of the firm. You're yawning as you exit the elevator in the lobby of your office, a satellite in Brooklyn with only three attorneys and two generous, empty offices for the "real" partners, whenever they might grace you with their presence. (They never have.) The portraits of the titular partners are the first thing all visitors see: Jeffrey Grieger, an old gentleman with a face like a pitbull in repose, and the much younger, keenly ambitious, and some say dangerous, Helen H. Hatchman, a blonde goddess sculpted by Greek prodigies of yore... if these portraits, both painted from head to knees, were to be believed. In close to four years working here, you've never met either, but their reputations make you grateful for that much.
Contemplating them, you let out another yawn that only the receptionist, a chubby redhead with smooth, pale flesh, gets to hear. You respected Devi's privacy and space, which means you're exhausted by a weekend of vacillating between masturbation and mostly listening to Devi's incessant rants on safety: first by her attempts to lecture you in her room and, when that proximity proved too much for her to handle, by text messages. Even now your phone has unread messages, probably for even more requests for samples or new ways to keep you from influencing your co-workers.
Of course, all she's really doing is giving you pointers on how to influence them. Close proximity, bare skin touching, fluid transmission, loitering in enclosed spaces... you could spend all day booby-trapping your office and enthralling the mostly-female staff of this small office, but it would be best to focus on one target. Obviously, the only female attorney in the office, a real cranky bitch that your office mostly despised, might be too smart and was surely too powerful to risk upsetting... at least until you understood what it is that you're capable of. So, for the soft targets...
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A late mutation gives you addictive fluids/pheromones. Clumsy evolution and sex ensue.
You're a 27-year-old college drop-out with no prospects... until a latent mutation makes you the perfect potential father with addictive, borderline-mind-controlling sperm, the first step of your rapid evolution. What will you do to the women in your life with this newfound power? What will you become?
- 2nd Person, Male
- Mind Control
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