The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Adjusters III: Do You Take This Woman?

A Wedding and an Assignment (2)

(Northern Maryland, near the Pennsylvania border. Now.)

Armand Brisecoeur was sitting at his console before his array of monitors, pouring over figures and data, pointing out interesting pieces of trivia to Daniel, who was trying to follow the Belgian’s excited speech about topics that as far as he could tell, had nothing to do with anything—rates of leakage of lead in a river in Wisconsin, the sharp fall in value of a local currency in Upstate New York, the subtle demographic changes in a medium-sized city in Arkansas.

“So what are we doing, exactly?” he had asked several times.

“Looking for a needle in a haystack, really.” He pointed to the right-most screen, which was scrolling through rows and rows of numbers. “That’s census data for the last hundred years, chopped and diced and sliced in every combination you can imagine and more, taken apart and put together to make it tell stories of the kind even Stephen King would have trouble making up.”

When Daniel did not comment, Brisecoeur grinned. “I came up with many of these algorithms, you know—data crunching at a scale people have problem grasping. Just so you know, that was my job when I first joined the Corporation—that’s what we call it, the Corporation. Only newbies and ass-sticks call it ADCorp. You should remember that. Anyways, it’s great to be back to good ol’ data analysis.”

Daniel gave up getting a straight answer from the Belgian. “Back to data analysis? So what were you doing before this?”

“Internal Affairs. It’s not as bad as Enforcement, but still it still gets to you after a while. And everyone looks at you funny.”

“What’s Enforcement?”

Brisecoeur shot Daniel a glance. “Désolé, but I can’t tell you. It’s a clearance issue. They take that shit seriously here. Another thing you should keep in mind. Curiosity’s not good for career advancement. Anyways: between Internal Affairs, Enforcement, and Freak duty, give me Freak duty!”

“Okay. Let’s try again. What the hell are those freaks you keep talking about?”

Brisecoeur looked at him for a beat, a pinched smile on his lips. He kept typing as he was doing so, and Daniel for a second saw his friend Radhu in Brisecoeur’s stead.

“Freaks,” said Brisecoeur, giving in. “Officially, the Corporation refers to them as Specials. But we just call them freaks. Because that’s what they are. Freaks. Guys—because as far as we can tell, they’re always guys—who are able to affect peoples’ mind.”

Daniel felt a sharp stab of anxiety pierce through his chest. Memories of the previous year came flooding back unbidden. Memories of friends forced to do things they would not normally do—Cindy, Serena, Kyra—Jenn. He willed himself to calm down, tried to not let any emotion show on his face. Thankfully, Brisecoeur was focused on the screens before him. “You mean, like hypnosis?”

Brisecoeur snorted, which degenerated into a coughing fit. “Ah! What freaks can do makes the best hypnotist you’ve never heard of look like a midget at an Olympic High Jump competition. It’s more like telepathy. They get into the heads of people and shape them, twist them, scramble them. Girls. It’s always girls, never boys, who are affected.”

Brisecoeur tilted his head as something caught his attention on one of the monitors, and fired a volley of keystrokes before settling back down.

Daniel frowned. “Telepathy doesn’t exist.”

“Indeed. Telepathy is complete bull. I said it’s like telepathy. What they do goes way beyond telepathy. They can’t read minds. But they can—rewire stuff inside. We don’t know exactly how it works. But all it takes is a touch, really. And poof, they’re inside, messing with a girl’s emotions and thoughts and memories. And our job is to catch them, and contain them, and study them so that we can cure them.”

Daniel simply stared at the Belgian man.

Brisecoeur nodded. “It’s okay. I didn’t believe it either when I was told. And then I met my first freak. You’ll see. I won’t spoil the surprise for you.” He paused. “They’re dangerous, dude. Aside from the fact that they can seriously mess up someone, they tend to go nuts. All that power, it gives them delusions of grandeur. They go psychotic. Cuckoo. And then they start doing real damage.”

“Was Doctor Cargyle a freak?”

Brisecoeur looked at Daniel. “What do you think?”

“When I met him, he didn’t seem psychotic. He seemed... normal.”

Behind Daniel, a cold voice responded. “Cargyle was a sociopath intent on bringing down the whole world. Introduce a new world order. Did you already forget how much damage he did?”

Daniel flinched. He turned to look at Shawbank who was strolling into the room with her typical slow-paced steps. She was dressed in black, as usual, the leather of her jacket creaking in the cold of the room.

“I did not forget.” How could he?

“Good. Because if you forget that sort of thing, you’re done for. If the Specials don’t get you, I will.”

Daniel did not know if Shawbank was serious or not. Her face remained as expressionless as ever.

“Brisecoeur,” she addressed the Belgian, “what have we got?”

Brisecoeur tapped on his keyboard, isolating a monitor and directing Shawbank’s attention to it. “The usual. Computer’s outlined some interesting statistics, some possible leads, but nothing jumped out at me. There’s a bit of an economic dip in Upstate New York for no particular good reason, and it seems correlated with some local barter money fluctuating on the local market, but I couldn’t push the analysis very far.”

Shawbank nodded sharply, and looked at the data that Brisecoeur had sent to the monitor. She frowned, studying the numbers and associated graph. Daniel looked at her, then at the data, wondering what she was looking for.

“Is everything based on analyzing data?” he asked Brisecoeur.

“No. We have a dedicated floor above us with teams of people scouring the news, looking for tidbits that might suggest a freak at play. Oh, they’ve got some help—natural language processors filtering through the various newsfeed, international, national, and local, highlighting items of interest for them, but the bulk of the work at that level is manual. Computers are good at data crunching, not so much at semantic analysis.”

Shawbank, who seemed to have ignored their exchange, shook her head. “What else?”

Brisecoeur tapped some keys. The display changed. “We have a slight uptick in births in West Virginia, compared to the predicted birth rate based on a forty-years regression. The analysis suggests more correlations than expected.”

“What kind of correlations?”

“Lots. An interesting one is that the increase in birth is almost all accounted for by an increase in the birth occurring within a two-weeks window at the nine months mark after the mothers’ wedding. A first child in all cases.”

Shawbank studied the data.

“Doesn’t it make sense that there’d be more births nine months after the wedding night?” asked Daniel.

“Turns out wedding night conceptions are pretty rare nowadays, except in highly religious communities. And this increase is not correlated with any such community, at least based on available data such as hospital of birth. And besides, the algos take all of that into consideration to come up with a prediction. This birth rate is an increase with respect to the predicted birth rate, which means it’s not accounted for by the collected data.”

Shawbank interrupted him. “Any news links?”

Brisecoeur nodded. “One. Beckley, West Virginia. Interview with a man whose son was born eight months and three weeks after the wedding, who claims he has had a vasectomy and therefore would not have been able to conceive. Story ran in the Register Herald three months ago.”

Shawbank nodded. “Get me the data, and a starting point.” She turned to Daniel. “We’re flying out tomorrow. Meet here at seven hundred. Pack light.”

She turned on her heels, and without saying goodbye, left the room. She did not rush out—in fact, could have been said to stroll leisurely out—but Daniel was left with the distinct impression that she had vanished in a flash.

“Quite an effect, isn’t it?" said Brisecoeur, as if he had read into Daniel’s thoughts.

Daniel looked at him, and turned to look at the data on the monitors. “So it that one of them? One of those freaks?”

Brisecoeur shrugged. "Don’t know. Most likely, yes. Shawbank’s got the eye for spotting them.”

There was a sense of wonder in Brisecoeur’s voice. Daniel had to ask. "How?"

"Beats me. She’s just scary that way.” He hesitated for one second. "Well, in other ways, too...”

Daniel had to agree with that assessment.

* * *

Four hours later, Daniel pushed open the door of his apartment, a nondescript rental in a nondescript high-rise near the Baltimore harbor. He carried a take-out box of Thai food, knowing he needed to eat but did not feel particularly hungry. He did not feel much of anything. He had driven back from ADCorp in silence, against traffic, his mind a buzz of white noise.

Aside from the Thai food, he also carried an ADCorp-supplied tablet computer that Brisecoeur had loaded with files about the Specials—the freaks. Case studies, biological studies, psychological studies. Brisecoeur had assured him that there was enough information in there to keep him busy until the next century.

Was Doctor Thaddeus Cargyle, the man responsible for the fiasco at Darnell University this past semester, the cause of all of Daniel’s troubles, a freak? Brisecoeur had not answered the question. Neither had Shawbank. O’Neill had told him, several months ago, that Cargyle was a researcher at ADCorp. And Brisecoeur had said that he and Shawbank were Internal Affairs before their current assignment. So Cargyle was an Internal Affairs case? This did not prevent him from being one of the freaks. O’Neill words resonated in his head: Trust no one.

The two-bedroom apartment he rented was half-furnished, and held a couch and a side table in the living room. Daniel had not seen fit to add to that in any way. The wooden floor and empty walls echoed with the sound of his footsteps. He had lost most of his possessions in the fire that burned down his place back in North Alexandria in the spring, and he had no real drive to replace any of it.

He dropped the Thai food and the tablet on the side table, and his eyes automatically went to the large poster on the far wall of the living room, the only decoration breaking the monotony of the off-white walls. It was a poster-sized shot of Jenn, looking back at the camera over her shoulder, her long brown hair catching in the wind, a dazzling smile on her lips, a sparkle in her eyes. Daniel’s heart caught as it always did, and he stared, losing himself in the feeling.

Where are you? he wondered, as he always did when he looked at her. Are you okay? What are you doing? He felt helpless. That she had not contacted him—or her mother, or anyone she knew—did not suggest happy things.

He fingered the engagement ring he kept around his neck on a thin leather string as a constant reminder. It was the engagement that she had returned to him, prompted by Biff, Daniel had no doubt about it.

Like an infected splinter, the memory of Biff looking at him in a North Alexandria strip club after he had forced Jenn to dance onstage itched, impossible to ignore, impossible to scratch. The words were seared in his mind.

“See, I put a little thing in that cute head of hers, a little thing that ensures that if she’s away from me for too long, well, she goes nuts. She starts craving dicks real bad, and there’s nothing she can do to get rid of the hunger. If you manage to get her away from me, your loving little ex-fiancée is gonna become a cock-craving slut good only for the nuthouse.”

Daniel hoped against hope that Biff had just been pulling his leg, finding a new way to torment him. But he had seen how Biff had treated Jenn, and he could not dismiss easily the possibility that what Biff had said was true. Which meant that right now, Jenn was suffering.

Daniel closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and eventually felt his clenched fists unfurl. Anger, worry, guilt, none of it would help him find Jenn. He stared at the poster on the wall for a few more minutes before dropping down on the couch.

Part of him felt exhausted, part of him felt restless. I should be out looking for her, he thought. Not sitting here waiting to head out to friggin’ West Virginia to go look for a freak—whatever that is.

But that was the arrangement he had made with O’Neill: while he Daniel would be working with ADCorp, he O’Neill would be out looking for Jenn. And while it made him feel useless, Daniel had to recognize that it made sense.

Sam O’Neill was a private investigator that Daniel had first contacted right after Jenn had disappeared for the first time, before Daniel knew all of the shenanigans at Delta Iota Kappa and the existence of Cargyle. O’Neill had finally showed up when the disaster at Darnell went down—when the fraternity burned down and everyone died.

O’Neill had been investigating ADCorp for years, for reasons he had not explained, but he was the one who pointed out that Cargyle had worked for ADCorp, and that they may hold the key to how he could save Jenn. In exchange for Daniel accepting the job he had been offered with ADCorp and be willing to report on what he saw and heard, O’Neill had offered his services and expertise to track down Jenn. It had taken some convincing, but Daniel had eventually relented, extracting from O’Neill a promise that he would keep Daniel updated with his progress.

O’Neill had told him to trust no one. But did he trust O’Neill? He did, although he did not have anything to go on except a strong gut feeling. Too many people with too many agendas. What was O’Neill’s agenda? The private investigator wanted inside information on ADCorp. Why? O’Neill had said that he suspected they were behind the abduction and corruption of women throughout the country. He had no definite evidence, only leads, and he needed an informant. Daniel, for lack of a better plan, had agreed to be that informant.

Daniel looked at the time. It was nearly eight o’clock, meaning it was nearly five in the afternoon in California. He picked up the laptop from the floor near the couch, and started up the custom video chat software he had installed. It was time to catch up with how Cindy was doing.

Cindy. One additional oddity in a half year filled with oddities. Born Cindy Caprese, currently going by the name Cynthia Barnes, she had attended Darnell where she had shared a few classes with him in their senior year. The short and perky blonde had had a none-too-subtle crush on Daniel, but had respected the fact that he was dating Jenn.

Later, when Jenn was abducted and controlled by Biff, Cindy became a friend that Daniel could rely on, helping him and Radhu solve the mystery of the strange hold that the Delta Iota Kappa fraternity had on several girls across campus, hold that was really Cargyle programming those girls to respond to triggers and obey the Delta Iota Kappa fraternity members. It did not take a doctorate to guess what those teenage college students did with their ability to control the girls.

Cindy had been one such girl, programmed to respond to those triggers, and to act out whatever perverted fantasy the brothers dreamed up. Except that the programming, for reasons unknown, had not really taken. She had slowly regained awareness of her activities when she was triggered, even though—and that was one of the things that Daniel still had some difficulty understanding—she kept going along with the charade, kept being used. She told him, later, that she had always had a submissive streak, that she enjoyed submission, but there was a strong resistance from within herself to those desires which kept her from feeling sexually fulfilled, and the programming that the doctor had performed had helped reduce that resistance. Basically, when she was triggered, she could enjoy sex again.

Still, she helped him hunt down Biff and try to get Jenn back, and for that he would be forever grateful. She was a friend, one of the few ones he had left. A friend with benefits, too, as the saying went. They slept together. There was no romance involved—at least on his part—but it was pleasant, there was no denying it, and it helped fill a void that he worked hard at denying existed. It made him feel close to someone. Even though Cindy was now across the country, in California, studying for an M.D. Ph.D. at UCLA.

She was studying under an assumed name, courtesy of O’Neill, who had saved her from unknown attackers back in North Alexandria—probably the same group that had stormed and destroyed the fraternity house. O’Neill had thought it best to make it look like Cindy had been killed in the fire that ravaged Daniel’s apartment.

They spoke often through an encrypted video chat system that Cindy herself had customized, running over an anonymizing network. She was smart. As smart as Radhu was, he thought, with a pang of regret.

She was online, and picked up on the third ring.

“Dan!” The perky blonde’s voice rang through the speaker as if she was beside him. Her image showed up on the screen, a face dominated by a huge smile. He could just imagine her, basking in the southern California sun, her eternal short skirt swishing around her. He felt another pang—guilt, this time—at finding so much pleasure with speaking to a girl while his Jenn was off somewhere, lost, maybe suffering.

“Hey Cin. You look... different.”

“You like?” She ran her hand through her hair, which were darker and had been cut down to her shoulders that gave her a particularly mischievous look. She was also sporting a pair of glasses, with wide rims of the kind that were popular in the sixties and seemed to be making a comeback in some circles.

“It’s... different.”

“Pfft. Men and compliments. It’s like pulling teeth.”

Daniel had to laugh at that. “You look great, Cin. And that little geek girl look really works on you.”

“And you should see me when I’ve got only these glasses on and I’m naked as the day I was born.”

“I’m sure you look scrumptious.”

“Apologies accepted. It was Mister Dick’s idea.”

O’Neill. Of course. Cindy was after all supposed to be dead, and while it was unlikely that those that were after her would still be after her after a body that had been identified as her had been recovered from the smoldering remains of Daniel’s apartment, O’Neill clearly did not want to take any chances.

“So is this a bad time?” Daniel asked.

“No, it’s perfect, actually. I’m just out of Biology. Did you know the human foot has twenty-six bones, thirty-three joints, nineteen muscles, and one hundred and seven ligaments? And that I have to learn them all, before moving on to the leg, the pelvis, the back, and then—”

“So they’re keep you busy, huh?”

Cindy laughed. “Yeah, that they are. It’s just weird to be back in school, you know? It’s more of the same, but all different. And I finally met my new roommate today. A sweet girl. Maura.”

“Glad to hear. And you got some sun, too...”

Her skin had taken on a golden hue. “Southern California will do that you— Oh, Dan, you should see this place. It’s wonderful. I mean, LA is okay, but you just jump in the car and once you get out of the traffic hell, you’re up in the hills and mountains and it’s so peaceful it’s insane. When are you coming down?”

“Soon, Cin. I’m just getting started here.”

“That’s right, it was your first day today. How was it?”

“Okay. Compared to the three months of boot camp, pretty mellow. Met the team today.”

“Ah! So are you working with Super Cop?”

Super Cop was Cindy’s nickname for Agent Shawbank. “Yeah. Her and a little Belgian man with too much energy.” He paused, trying to verbalize something that had been bothering him since the end of the afternoon. “You know, I don’t really understand her. I mean, she’s the one that recommended me for the job, yet I get the distinct feeling that she’s not really happy I’m here.”

“You’ll figure it out, I have no fear.” She flashed him one of her dazzling smiles. “So do you know what you’re going to be doing yet?”

“Kind of. We got our first assignment.”

“Cool! Anything fun?”

“I don’t know. I’m not quite sure what it entails. I’ll... well, I’ll let you know more details when I learn them, but it’s weird.”

“Weird... as in, Doctor Spooky weird?” Doctor Spooky was Doctor Cargyle—O’Neill had warned them not to speak too cavalierly about the events at Darnell that spring.

“Yes, Doctor Spooky weird. Maybe weirder.”

“Then I definitely want to hear the details. Are you going somewhere fun?”

“West Virginia.”

“Fun enough, I guess. Oh, Mister Dick got in touch last night. He said he was tracking a lead on the Girl, somewhere in New York.” The Girl was Jenn. “He’ll be in touch once he learns more.”

“Do you talk to him much?”

“Every other day or so. He came to help me move here, I told you, yes? I think he’s keeping an eye on me. Like he’s worried about me or something. It’s sweet.”

“Sweet—not a word I’d associate with Mister Dick.”

“Oh, get off. I bet he’s feeling guilty about snatching me off and forcing me into a new identity and all. And I’ll be honest, it’s kindda nice to be taken care of a bit. Even though part of me wants to kick him and do exactly the opposite of what he wants me to do.”

“You know, Cin, I don’t think I’ll ever understand you.”

“I heard men like mystery. There you go.” She grinned. “By the way, talking about liking and looking different—are you growing a beard?”

He reached up, ran his finger over the stubble that were slowly forming a beard. “Yeah, I think so. I wanted—I don’t know, I think I wanted something a little different. You’re the first one to notice.”

“Oh, I’m sure Super Cop noticed. Anyway, I like it. It gives you a bit of a roguish air.”

“Roguish air?”

“Yes. Oh, you should grow one of those handlebar mustaches too—you know, so you can stroke it when you’re being all cunning?” She laughed, and Daniel found himself smiling in response—her laughter was infectious.

“So—fun night in perspective?” Cindy asked.

Daniel eyed his take-out Thai food, getting cold on the side table, then looked over the empty apartment. “As fun as it gets. We’re off tomorrow morning, so I’ll try to get some sleep.”

“Don’t get all mopey, all right? My laptop will be on, and I’ll be logged in. Call me if you get too down. Any time. You know that, yes?”

“I do. Appreciate it, Cin.” And he did.

“Who know, when you call, maybe I’ll have Dan Junior here—” and she lifted a large, realistic dildo to her face, pressing it against her cheek, “and I can act out what I’d do if you were right here beside me ready to fuck my little tushy off.”

Daniel could not help let out a groan as on the screen Cindy slipped Dan Junior into her mouth and sucked on it, never breaking eye contact with him.