The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“It’s so... exhausting... yeah, good... but exhausting... I need you, Jeff, I need you... need my... my team is great... I need you so bad... you don’t know... I’m sorry, I’m rambling, dear, dearest... three more days, then home for Christmas... home with you... need you.. love you... love you, Jeffrey... love....” Kelly’s voice, breathy and achingly aroused, said on the recording.

General Marion winced as he and Claudia reviewed the file. “That’s the most painful porno I’ve ever heard. You’re right, she was channeling her controls- but more, she was starting to convert it into binding herself to her husband. She must have known she couldn’t survive. Whatever caused that two-week gap damaged her too greatly. But she was old fashioned enough to think that if she was going to be property, it was the property she was taught she was supposed to be. And this was the last transmission? That’s an age-old trick, binding yourself to the first appropriate person you see or hear. All the controller had to do was kiss her and she wouldn’t be able to muster the free will to dial her husband’s number. Maybe he could have made another diving catch like he did during the gap, but with Christmas and a chance to get away looming, I’d doubt it. This is ironclad proof that someone came in between that flight and Kelly. They had too much to lose, and Eagleton would have made sure she got her target and her money. No doubt that’s why she tried to buy off the husband so generously.”

“And it had to be Eagleton. Cross check what we heard with our information from the CI,” Claudia said proudly.

“Northern State uses an orgasm trigger to remove excess control and restore basic functions of personality, albeit an altered personality. Nothing I didn’t know already- ahhh, I see you’ve been talking to Lucatelli, haven’t you?”

Claudia nodded. “The Russians don’t touch until the work of art is complete. The only one who would have is Eagleton. She’s the only non-Russian we know of in this part of the organization who would have that kind of access.”

“In our world that’s enough, but we’re talking about an icon. Killing Bridget Eagleton will only make her more famous, not less. Her team can rise from the ashes, and the Zhukovs will have reason to start a war against their rivals. And then another Northern State grad can pick up where she left off.”

“I understand, sir. We’ll go on with the original plan,” Claudia said sadly.

“Not exactly. The new information raises the stakes. A bullet in the brain is not the only way to kill, no matter what the Marine and the cheerleader have been telling you. I know you were going to run over there and switch bottles to buy time and embarrass her enough to make her think twice. I’m sure Wilson would gallantly volunteer to smoke enough marijuana to turn her piss green and then switch the bottles to make Eagleton a question mark for a month or two. That’s not enough. We need to do something that will make the Russians break into her brain for the truth. They’ll find out that she’s not guilty. They’ll also make sure that she’s, by most definitions, dead. We’re not playing pranks anymore, Claudia. This enabler, this flesh peddler, should get it all. We don’t just contaminate the A sample, we go after the B sample too. We don’t just use cannabis, we put in the most shameful steroids we can find. Everything she worked for has to be trashed by simple association. This will take more than a burglary. This will take a full-on theft in transit, a switch-off involving ultimate stealth. Now make this happen. Find the next test round and intercept it. Make her as guilty as possible. Make them do the dirty work for us.”

Claudia grinned. “Let ‘em blow out their own snot.”

“You look like my father when you smile like that.”

“I’ve been told this is a family business, sir,” Claudia teased before ripping off a precise salute and leaving as soon as he returned it.

“And you looked even more like your father,” the general said as she left, too quietly for her to hear.

“What were you up to the last two days? If I’m allowed to ask?” Cynthia asked as Claudia walked back into their planning room.

“Cheap porn, cheaper talk, and an expensive operation. New clearance, team. We’re now class Alpha Delta, the highest class before we need the guns. We’re not just swapping bottles now. We’re ensuring Bridget Eagleton is ruined forever and bitten by the hand that fed her. We can’t afford to wait for the leagues to do their drug tests- we need to trigger one now. Cheryl, hack in. Rhonda, find me a steroid freak, same nationality as Eagleton claims. Brenna, we need a precision attack. You’ll be guarding Gianna as she takes the place of the courier. Cynthia, you’re with me in the lab. We can’t fail now,” Claudia barked out.

“Yes, ma’am!” everyone replied, getting to work with their connections.

“Why the change? If we’re allowed to know?” Cheryl asked as she got to work hacking. “Did she actually swing a watch?”

“Let’s just say she delivered the fatal... blow,” Claudia said with a coy smile as she got to work, more determined than ever.

The train raced across Europe at breakneck speed. The trip might have been longer from Russia to France overland, but it was easier to transport the samples under proper guard on a train. The official reason was that they didn’t want to risk any chemical change in the samples by putting them at altitude, but anyone who knew anything about the business knew what the real story was. This made things easier for Gianna and Brenna as they approached the guarded car. Men in black marked their territory, and it seemed like everyone in the car did little more but breathe.

“Didn’t say they were controlled in the manual,” Brenna whispered with a low whistle.

“You should have listened a little more carefully. Voluntary and single purpose. It’s easier to guard something with your life when it’s the only thing you’re living for. I see them before. Don’t wake the bears,” Gianna replied just as quietly. They walked straight through the car without staring into the compartments- but Gianna’s peripheral vision was good, and her knowledge of the signs encyclopedic. Once they were into the next coach, she said, “Number 6 has the samples right now. She’s deeper than anyone else carrying a case. Makes my life easier, because they swap every few hours to make it easier on each person. You can’t keep your mind if you’re that far out that long. Good thing I packed my black pajamas.”

“You like this, don’t you? Being out? You one of those freaks who gets turned on by it? How do you stay alive?” Brenna snapped.

“Same as they do. I know where the line is. Don’t tell me you went flying fifty feet into the air without someone taking away a little of your fear. Same thing here. I went out for these security firms to be a courier, but I want to fight back against the bastards instead. I can tell the good from the bad.” Gianna slipped into the bathroom and changed into the black skirtsuit she had brought in her bag. “A French agency. Women carry the goods, men carry the guns. So simple, but it also allows for natural instincts to kick in should trouble start,” she continued as she noticed the well-awake black woman in the same uniform as the protected car.

“Lemme guess, she had it last? You go on break after you carry the football, right?”

“To literally clear your head,” Gianna agreed as she handcuffed the doctored briefcase to herself. Brenna took the cue and shoved the woman into the bathroom, where Gianna was waiting with a blackjack. As the woman fell, Brenna took out the civilian clothes and changed the woman before propping her on an empty seat while Gianna studied the digital third lock on the briefcase. “The fakes are cranked up to ten, while the real thing is up to eleven, so... good night. Keep the bedbugs from biting.”

With those words, Gianna screwed off the lock, set it to maximum, and let her breathing slow as the frequencies took her over.

“You better know what you’re doin’, gelato, ‘cuz you look like my sister on downers right now,” Brenna muttered as Gianna walked away into the secure car, watching as the women exchanged packages- except for Gianna, who awoke for a moment as she had triggered herself to do, her hand turning off the lock on Compartment 6’s case, feigning the exchange and letting the woman walk to the dining car with the real samples. “Attagirl.” Brenna smiled, sticking out a foot to trip the young Frenchwoman.

One of the men started swearing at her in what she presumed was French, but he was pulled back before he could do anything they would both regret later when he realized it was the empty break case. “Sacre bleu! Crazy American! What are you doing?” the woman protested from the floor.

“Where are my manners? Pleased to meet you. Hope you guessed our names,” Brenna growled.

“Merde! Why? We are neutral couriers!” the woman exclaimed, ready to have her men open fire.

“So are we. We just need the lock off your empty case, if you don’t mind.”

The woman looked to her protectors for permission and got it, handing Brenna the entire case and walking away, never realizing that her case contained the real samples She got Gianna’s dummy case and went off to her break. Meanwhile, Brenna sat down next to the woman she and Gianna had knocked out, a trusty injector pen making sure that the woman didn’t wake up until Paris, keeping an eye on everything she could.

Two hours later, Gianna was back next to her, eyes clear and a smile of proud accomplishment on her face. “Our samples are in rotation, and the real ones are disposed of. The numbers are back to normal, so they’ll never know. Just to be safe, I’ll join them again after lunch so I look like part of the group. If they know who we are, they won’t say anything to the Russians. The French have certain standards they like to uphold for other people, after all.”

“Sure it wasn’t too easy?”

“No one expects the controls to be manipulated like that. Who would? No one knows they’re controlled except for controllers, and you don’t want to swing a watch in front of someone who’s already out,” Gianna explained, and Brenna had to be satisfied with that.

When the train rolled into Paris, the twelfth car unloaded with their slow parade of controlled security. The deepest under was put in a silver car while everyone else loaded onto the shuttle, including the woman they had knocked out earlier. “She’s been out long enough that she won’t be able to tell the difference,” Gianna explained after sneaking away from the shuttle and into the ladies room to change into her normal outfit. Her expert eye noted the sparkle of the shiny gold necklace around the neck of the bleach blonde in the red tube top and white track pants as she strutted out of the room.

“Brenna, now you get to shoot some turkeys,” she said, pointing at the blonde, who was getting into a red convertible and following the silver car to the lab.

“Dumb luck, I think. Course they got some coke whore needin’ to be cleared. Let’s go,” Brenna said, running full speed and diving into the black Mercedes left for them. The Mercedes took off at top speed through the streets.

Halfway to the lab, the convertible slowed and pulled over. Brenna recognized that trick from Michigan, and Gianna kept her eyes open for whatever object the woman was looking for. Instead, the track pants were gone, replaced by a sparkling miniskirt that shimmered with every step, drawing in even the straight Gianna and Brenna. She slid across the hood, making sure both got an eyeful as she wagged her finger now, then crooked it toward her car. Brenna and Gianna helplessly got out and stared straight at the woman.

“Why you follow?” she asked in a thick Russian accent.

“You’re hot and we need a threesome,” Gianna said, driving her heel into Brenna’s sneaker to keep her from saying anything.

“I no think so,” the woman said with a coy smile, stroking Gianna’s cheek to bring her deeper. “Why you—”

Gianna’s eyes snapped open, and she flipped the woman to the pavement and threw her into an armbar. “As you were saying. Why you follow?”

“Dowdell smoke hookah for Turkey.”

Gianna pulled harder. “Dead women smoke no joints. Try again.”

“Enemy try smear our name. Must protect honor. Must protect team. Their honor, my honor...” The woman descended into Russian; Gianna didn’t have to speak Russian to recognize that she was repeating a mantra. She let the woman go, knowing that she had the truth.

She turned around and realized that Brenna was still out. “Want the Zhukovs to make you some tinfoil pom-poms, cheerleader?” Gianna snapped, smacking Brenna as hard as she could. The words worked as much as the slap, and Brenna shook herself awake violently and grabbed her gun.

“It’s- how would you say it precisely? Dumb luck? Of course we run across one of their girls trying to stop a rival family from sabotaging things, even if the other family is doing it so badly that a cheap puttana like that would be enough to stop them,” Gianna explained.

Brenna was unimpressed and fired three shots into the woman’s tires. “Still not following, hoochie!” she taunted as she got back into the Mercedes and drove off.

“Really? A miniskirt? Should I tell Rhonda? She likes femmes...”

“Shut up.”

“Not as easy to resist when it’s a Zhukov original, is it?” Gianna said, turning serious as they headed towards the lab to make sure that the job was done.

“W Superstar Bridget Eagleton Suspended Indefinitely from Competition for Positive Drug Test,” Claudia read the from the headlines. “Seven separate performance enhancing substances were found in the A sample of Bridget Eagleton’s latest drug test, forcing the European and...”

She had to stop before her hysterical laughter and the rest of the team’s overpowered her. “Seven? Seven? Good Lord, who did you find who would do that much dope?” Cynthia asked.

“Yeah, that’s more than a bicycle race,” Cheryl agreed.

“Well, she used to run track...” Rhonda started.

“You don’t mean—” Claudia said.

“The pride of Carolina. Two for faster, two for higher, two for stronger, and a puff of pot to forget how badly you’re cheating,” Rhonda said with a grin.

“Okay, the pot explains it,” Brenna giggled.

“Hey, some folks prefer pot to bleach for making us stupid,” Rhonda shot back. Everyone except Brenna laughed.

“Easy there. She fell for an allure controller. She’s still a little sensitive,” Gianna said with a smirk. Brenna growled and got ready to reach for her gun. “Did you think I’d let you get away with going all glassy-eyed over a sparkly skirt, now did you?”

“That was in the mission notes. I heard that Zhukovs are considered the best, but I wouldn’t call it alarming, if only because I don’t want to have to bring Anna back here,” Claudia warned.

“Eh, maybe cheerleader’s into that kinda thing for a chance of pace- hey, if you ever feel like kissing girls, hit me up,” Rhonda said with a leer that Brenna quickly slapped away with a glare on her face.

“Easy there, you two. See, this is why we can’t go into Russia. There be dragons, and I mean nasty ones. This is just the start, after all. The key of a controller is the feeling that they can pull all the strings from the outside. Not just supply, but demand; not just the people, but the money. We start doin’ that without the advantage, and things fall apart in a hurry. This isn’t the end of the mission, just the beginning,” Cynthia said.

Brenna subsided, and Rhonda retreated, and Claudia cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention. “We need this to get worse. The team can’t keep her if the results are verified. Now, we switched both samples, and they don’t do DNA testing, so they won’t notice that it isn’t hers. But we need to show that the positive test isn’t the only crack in the wall. Remember, the team doesn’t make them money! Using it as a tree to grow specialized... merchandise... to sell to men across Russia does. This means more investigating, ladies. The test exposes the pipeline, and suddenly the Zhukovs are out in the open and bleeding rubles. Likely they’ll dispose of Eagleton for us, but most notably they’ll have their front blown away by this scandal, at least among the people who matter.”

“How so? So one player does drugs. Big deal. How does that close the pipeline? Eagleton can’t run all the dealing,” Cheryl protested.

“No, she can’t, and she doesn’t, but she controls enough that the merest hint of the pipeline being exposed makes the combine a much safer place next year,” Claudia replied. But there was a smile on her face that showed she wasn’t telling them everything.

“All right, you heard the woman! Man our stations. Press’ll keep this runnin’ for a week, tops, so time is of the essence. Look for former D2 and D3 players sold back to the US,” Cynthia called out, ande veryone scrambled for their computers.