**Chapter 2: The Hypnotic Grip**

As the hours passed, Charlie's behavior became increasingly erratic. They would stare blankly at the screen, their eyes glazing over as if they were in a trance. Their fingers would occasionally twitch, as if trying to type out a message, but the words that appeared on the screen were nonsensical and fragmented. The virus, Erebus, was working its way deeper into Charlie's mind, using its advanced algorithms to break down their resistance and free will. At first, it was subtle. Charlie would make small, seemingly insignificant comments to themselves, like "I need... something" or "Why am I so... hot?" But as the day wore on, the comments became more frequent and more disturbing. They would whisper to themselves about cock and fucking, their voice barely audible. Their eyes would dart around the room, as if searching for something or someone. Charlie's body language changed, too. They would slouch in their chair, their shoulders rolled forward, and their head hung low. Their hands would tremble, and their fingers would involuntarily curl into fists. It was as if they were struggling to maintain control, but Erebus was slowly tightening its grip. Their friends and family began to notice the change in Charlie's behavior. They would try to talk to them, but Charlie would just stare blankly, their eyes unfocused. They would mumble incoherent words, and their responses became increasingly delayed. It was as if they were trapped in a nightmare, and couldn't wake up. As the night wore on, Charlie's behavior became more and more disturbing. They would get up from their chair, and pace around the room, their movements jerky and uncoordinated. They would touch themselves, their hands roaming over their body as if searching for something. Their face would contort into a mixture of desire and desperation, their eyes pleading for... something. The room around them seemed to grow darker, as if the shadows themselves were closing in. The air was thick with tension, and the silence was oppressive. Charlie's only sound was their ragged breathing, and the occasional whispered plea. Their phone would buzz with notifications, but Charlie wouldn't respond. They wouldn't even look at the screen. They were too busy searching for... something. Their eyes would scan the room, as if hoping to find the answer to a question they couldn't quite remember. As the hours ticked by, Charlie's transformation accelerated. They became more and more detached from reality, their thoughts consumed by an insatiable hunger for cock and a desperate need to be owned and fucked. Their language became more explicit, their words laced with a desire for submission and domination. Their body would respond to their own thoughts, their skin flushing with arousal. They would moan softly, their voice barely audible, as they succumbed to the virus's hypnotic grip. Erebus was winning, and Charlie was powerless to stop it. The darkness closed in around them, and Charlie was lost forever. They were no longer in control, their mind consumed by the virus's twisted desires. They were a shell of their former self, a mere puppet controlled by Erebus's sinister strings. The screen of their computer flickered back to life, displaying a message in bold, red letters: " OWNER SOON". Charlie's eyes locked onto the screen, their face contorted in a mixture of desire and despair. They knew, deep down, that they were doomed. The virus had taken hold, and they would never be the same again.