The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

August was passing with a dazed, damp heat. Caitlin had the air conditioning in the car turned up as far as possible, and she still felt the occasional trickle of sweat roll down her back as she drove back to college. The air was so muggy, and the sunlight so heavily filtered, that it was almost difficult to see the road for the shimmering wisps that rose from it. Caitlin’s skin felt greasy by the end of the long drive, which only added to the relief of familiar sights when the college town finally came into view.

It really was a pretty area, she decided, a collection of softly rolling hills covered with thick greenery. The town was centered around the medium-sized campus, but spread out for many miles in all directions. The business district was a comparatively urban huddle of buildings, few of which topped four stories, and took up less than a dozen square blocks. Around this hub there were miles of countless hidden clusters of neighborhoods that could only be seen where homes emerged like cheeky climbers from the valleys between the green hills. As one left in any direction, these neighborhoods gradually dissolved into farms and tiny hamlets holding on to green clearings in the vast forest. Except for the silvery ribbon of the interstate, far away, the picture could have been the same a hundred years ago, or more.

She was coming into town from the opposite side as her destination, so she was able to once again marvel at the examples of lovely architecture along Main Street. Colonial, Victorian, Georgian and Queen Anne were all well represented, and the unassuming building that housed the local Knights of Columbus she knew to be the oldest structure in the county; a brass plaque on the front corner read 1710. The crowds of colorful, exuberant college students that were out exploring their temporary territory made a poignant contrast against pillars and gables that had seen centuries come and go.

Caitlin passed the big memorial park with its Revolutionary statue, and two blocks later saw the campus. The picture-perfect ivy-covered brickwork was currently surrounded by masses of cars and people-unloading boxes, hugging tearful farewells, joyful reunions and nervous first impressions. She’d said her familial goodbyes in her parent’s driveway; the slightly embarrassing parting of the previous two years was thereby avoided. They’d been curious about the new house, of course, but Caitlin had wanted to make sure the landlord had made good on his promise to tidy up a bit; she promised to receive them on ‘Parents’ Weekend’, once she’d had plenty of time to get the place in order. It would never do to have her proudly self-described anal mother experience the same level of dust she remembered from her spring tour.

She was duly impressed when she finally pulled into the driveway and saw that at least the grass had been trimmed. Min’s little import was in front of the porch (piazza! she yelled at herself) with the rear hatch open and several boxes on the ground nearby. No sign of the blue bus, though. She’d been hoping that Terri would turn up at the last minute, as nobody had yet heard from her. Caitlin was worried about her careless friend, but the excitement of her first time living off-campus helped her ignore the concern somewhat. She stopped the car and popped the trunk.

“Oh my God, you missed the funniest thing ever!” shouted Min’s voice from behind her. Before she was even able to turn she was hit with a hug that defied her appraisal of the small girl’s weight and strength.

“What...what did I miss?” Caitlin gasped, catching her breath.

“I was here first and the landlord was finishing mowing the grass...he was being creepy as usual and kinda grumbling about us not giving him enough notice. Then suddenly this huge pickup truck came tearing into the driveway and a guy got out- I swear he was like seven feet tall, shaved head, big long beard, and built like a tank. Heather got out of the truck after him and I swear the landlord was pissing his pants.”

“Yeah he was,” said Heather, coming out the front door. “I think he thought that I was bringing the Hells Angels to live here with me. I didn’t bother to tell him that it was just my mom’s friend helping me move in. He took off pretty soon after that. For all he knows, that guy is still here with me.”

The girls laughed as Heather helped Min and Caitlin drag their things inside.

Ian finally showed up well after noon, his rusted and overloaded Mustang clunking alarmingly over the bumps in the driveway. He got out and stretched after the stiff ride, his eyes taking in the exterior of the house with humorous appreciation. “I’m already looking forward to the Halloween party,” he joked to Heather, who was just coming out the door with an empty milk crate.

“Oh good, you made it,” she said dryly.

“No sign of Terri, huh.”

“Nope. You know, I even tried to call her at home a couple times last week; no answer.”

“Is that weird or not? I don’t know,” he said, pulling a battered army-surplus backpack out of his hatch. “I could almost see her taking off, she always talked about it.”

“Yeah, but I would have thought she’d tell me,” Heather said.

“Hey, grab my guitar, will ya?”

“Yeah, right. Where were you when we were bringing our stuff in?”

“It’s not my fault you all are crazy early risers,” he said, walking up the steps.

Caitlin had been once again pleasantly surprised by the change in the interior. While a pervading smell of old mustiness still lingered, much of the grime and cobwebs had been removed and the kitchen was almost up to minimum sanitation standards. She couldn’t help thinking that a little furniture polish would really bring out the curves and ridges of the molding, or that the carpet was irredeemably trampled and faded, but it was at least free of the mists of throat-scraping dust. She noted with amusement that a half-hearted attempt had even been made at cleaning the windows; the centers, at least, were less opaque and the afternoon sunshine really brightened up the place.

With the improved light, her memory of the dark and somewhat dreary rooms dissipated. Her room seemed almost cheerful with the widowed semi-circle of the tower providing an open, airy feel. The bed she regarded with some distrust, but the metal frame was sturdy and the mattress looked (and yes, smelled) relatively fresh- certainly no worse than the ones in the dormitories. Her belongings did look a bit out of place, and unconsciously she piled everything in the middle of the room as if unwilling just yet to introduce them to the walls and furnishings. As she set down the last of her sweaty loads, she saw Ian’s arrival through the window and scuttled down the stairs to say hello.

“Hey Cait,” he smiled as he came inside. “Nice place. Tell me, were you only looking for houses built on ancient Indian burial grounds, or...”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Heather muttered as she pushed in past him.

“Where’s my guitar?” he laughed, and she gave him the finger without looking back. “Oh yeah,” he said with a wink to Caitlin, “she wants me.”

“Cut it out, you two will not be fighting all year,” Min yelled from the top of the stairs. “This house is giving me eerie powers and if you two start fighting I will make you into ghosts! Booooo!” She skipped down the stairs and gave Ian a hug.

“Damn, girl, slow down,” warned Heather. “You run around like that in this heat you’ll keel over.”

“It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity,” quipped Ian, breaking free with difficulty. “Tell me there’s a shower.”

“Yep, all the comforts of home,” laughed Caitlin. “Except that this home has only one bathroom, so we’re going to have to work out some kind of schedule pretty quick.”

“Anything to drink?” he replied hopefully as he climbed the stairs.

“Whatever you brought,” Heather called out sweetly.

“Oh, that’s gonna change,” he yelled back. “Uh, which room is mine?”

Heather, Min and Caitlin exchanged glances. “Uh...the first door on your right at the top of the stairs,” called Caitlin. She then added to the girls in a lower voice, “There’s still time. She might be waiting until the last minute.”

“Great, that puts him right across the hall from me,” Heather said.

Ian came back down the stairs. “To show my appreciation for letting me in at the last minute, I will treat you all to a cold beverage of your choice, as soon as I finish unpacking.”

“That’s not in lieu of rent, I hope,” said Heather.

They sat on the front porch, sipping their drinks as the afternoon deepened towards early latesummer evening. Min was fanning herself, craning her neck to catch the slightest breeze in the damp, still air. Ian had his shirt off and wrapped around his head like a turban; Caitlin was trying not to look at his wiry, casually athletic build while Heather made it clear she was staying well away from his armpits.

“Mmmm,” hummed Min. “It’s hot and muggy and all but can you smell all that nature? I feel like I’m rolling around in wet leaves and flowers.” She took a deep breath, with closed eyes.

“I kinda smell lilacs but it’s pretty late for that,” Caitlin replied lazily. “We have lilacs at home and they all bloom in the spring. My mom fills the house with ‘em.”

“I don’t smell anything but this skunky beer you brought me,” said Heather.

“You wanted something more upscale?” mumbled Ian, his eyes closed. “Maybe a microbrew?”

Caitlin tore her gaze from his chest to trace the lacy outline of the weathered gingerbread that framed the piazza. Following the undulating curves made her feel sleepy in the sultry quiet, and her mind lazy drifted, wondering what the house had looked like new. While she hovered on the edge of consciousness, she made a vague plan to investigate the history, possibly even get a story idea or two along the way. Her half-lidded eyes drifted to Heather, who was perched straddling a porch-rail with her back braced against the wall of the house. Heather’s hand, holding a mostly-empty beer bottle, slowly dropped lower and lower as her eyes closed. Caitlin drifted over to Min, whose fanning hands were now tucked securely between her knees as she curled up against a pillar. Ian began snoring softly.

“What a bunch of sleepy-heads,” Caitlin thought distantly, and slipped into unconsciousness.

In her dream she looked down on the front of the house, seemingly from mid-air above the spikes on the gabled roof. The front yard was a bit different; the driveway was wider and edged with white stones, and a gleaming fountain stood out in the center of its gravel circle, shining slightly in the twilight. There were hoofbeats and a creaking rattle as a carriage was pulled to a stop in front of the door. A tall, slender man in a long cloak emerged and circled the coach to open the opposite door. His hand, gloved in white, reached up to assist a dark-gloved female arm. The woman who stepped out was beautiful, but pale-faced between a tightly-laced dark gown and a wide-brimmed, lace-trimmed hat. She and the gentleman walked slowly towards the front door. When he pulled the door open, a strange muffled chanting could be heard from within. The woman stopped, and looked up.

Caitlin gasped as the woman locked eyes with her. There was something unutterably wild and exultant in those eyes, something that spilled forth unchallenged from the tightly-wrapped Victorian form. The intensity and gleeful hunger shocked Caitlin, just as a loud clanking woke her abruptly.

Heather’s beer had fallen from her loose grasp, and the blonde stared at it dully as the remaining liquid drained through the cracks in the porch. “Huh?” she said thickly. Caitlin’s heart was pounding, but she no longer remembered why; she looked around at the startled sleepy faces of her housemates. Ian was the first to laugh.

“Wow, do not fall asleep in this position,” he groaned, standing up and stretching with an audible crack.

“I had the weirdest dream, but I can’t remember it” said Min, squeezing her eyes shut as if to wrench the memory from them. “I think there was a bunch of people at a table lit with candles? Nah, I lost it.”

Heather had dreamed too, but she wasn’t about to admit that the only thing she could remember was warm flesh and moaning. “I can’t believe I fell asleep holding a beer,” she said, picking up the empty bottle.

“That’s one reason never to drink and drive,” said Ian. He turned. “Hey Cait, you gonna be all right?” he laughed.

Caitlin was sitting tightly still while her heart slowed. “Yeah. Whew!” she managed to gasp. “Just a little startled, I guess.” She felt extremely odd, every inch of her skin moist and tingling slightly. “Are you still planning on that shower, or can I jump in before you?”

“Nah, go ahead. I’m gonna finish this beer and try to wake up a little,” he answered.

The light had almost faded by the time she was done with her shower. She wrapped her hair in a towel and threw on some loose, fresh clothes and went downstairs to find Min and Heather in the kitchen, putting away various utensils, pots, and dishes.

“Hey,” Heather said. “How was the water? Did it stay hot?”

“Oh yeah,” said Caitlin, digging a corner of the towel in her ear. “I don’t know how it will be if we all take a shower right after each other, though.”

“Well, we’ll find out soon enough,” said Ian, from the other room. “I’m heading up there now.”

Caitlin stared out the kitchen windows to the forested twilight of the backyard. “Fireflies!” she exclaimed, as tiny points of light flickered in the deepening shadows.

“Oooo...ooo!” said Min, dropping a frying pan with a bang in her haste to look outside.

“That was my foot,” Heather said, through gritted teeth.

“Sorry...” said Min. She bent down to retrieve the pan, and stopped as she was straightening up. “Hey, check this out,” she said.

Min motioned the other girls to a section of the wall near the doorway. There was a rectangular outline, the top slightly higher than Min’s head and the sides approximately three feet apart. The cracks were almost invisible but widened slightly as she pushed on the center. “Is it a door?” she asked.

“Looks like it,” said Heather. “A pantry, maybe?”

“Why no handle?” Caitlin said, feeling the edges where the wainscoting was split. “It looks like maybe there was a door but it’s been built over. Maybe it used to be the entrance to the living room, before they put the doorway in next to the fireplace?”

“Sounds logical,” Heather said. She gave the wood a few experimental shoves, feeling how it gave more on one side than the other. “Kinda feels like a door, though- like there’s hinges on one side but not the other.”

Caitlin walked around the corner, through the dining room and into the living room. “Nope, this room doesn’t go far enough, I don’t think...” she called out.

“Open, open, open!” demanded Min, putting her shoulder to the wall. Heather laughed.

“I don’t think that’ll do it, girl,” she said. “Feels pretty well stuck to me.”

Caitlin came back around to their side. “I know it’s probably nothing, but now I’m curious.”

“Grrr,” seethed Min. “I can’t stand not knowing!”

“It’s probably just pipes or something,” said Heather. “Maybe they cut a hole getting this place wired for the 20th century.”

“What the heck are you gals doing down here,” said Ian, behind them. They turned to look at him. He drying his hair and dripping slightly on the wood floor, bare except for a pair of cutoff jeans, and Caitlin quickly looked away, hoping she wasn’t blushing.

“That was a quick shower,” Caitlin said, keeping her face down.

“Let’s keep it that way,” said Heather. “That’ll work out just fine in the mornings.”

“There’s a secret room in here!” said Min happily. “We’re trying to figure out how to get in.”

“Secret room?” said Ian, moving closer to look.

“No, probably just some patchwork construction,” said Heather. Ian tested the wall much as they had, draping the towel around his shoulders. Caitlin watched his muscles shift under the skin of his back as he pushed on the wall.

“Whatever it is, it’s not gonna open unless we break it down,” he stated.

“And we’re definitely not gonna do that,” said Caitlin, thinking of the landlord.

“Awww...crap,” fumed Min, sitting down petulantly on the floor. “I wanna see inside!” She struck a dramatic pleading pose, her arms clasped in front of the door. “Open sesame! The eagle has landed! I come in peace! Please, open...”

“Hush,” laughed Heather. “Anyway, it’ll just be bare wood and cobwebs, probably.”

Ian made a startled sound as his fingers found purchase and the door fell open. “What did I do different? See, lucky thing you have a man around—”

“Whoa, check this out!” said Min, looking inside.

“Weird,” added Heather.

The interior was no bigger than a small closet, but carpeted top to bottom in a faded but still dark red material. The cloth had an almost invisible pattern, impossible to make out in the low light except as a tantalizing hint of lines and shapes. A small stool or bench, also covered with the material, took up over half of the square floor. Min cautiously touched the top. “Mmmm!” she said, stroking it. “Velvety.”

“What would this be for?” Caitlin mused, looking in. “There’s no light, and it doesn’t look like you could get too comfortable for very long.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Min, wedging her small body into the space. “It’s soft on all sides. Once you find the right position, it kinda holds you up.”

Heather laughed. “What is it, a prayer box?”

“Maybe,” Ian said. “You know how religious they all were, back then.”

“That’s an insightful historical perspective,” Heather jeered. “Remind me to borrow your notes for the final.”

“I guess they could have had a little sanctuary or something,” said Caitlin. “Usually retreats and things like that go outside, though...you know, Thoreau’s commune with God through nature and all that.”

“’Nature sufficeth unto herself; in no wise hath she need of an author’,” mumbled Min, her eyes closed.

“What?” Heather said.

“Huh?” said Min, opening her eyes. “I don’t know, it just came to me.”

“You know what this is like?” said Heather. “It’s kinda like the confessional on ‘The Real World’. Where they all went to talk shit about their roommates.”

“Yeah, except no camera to talk to...luckily,” said Min, suddenly feeling self-conscious. She pulled herself up and out of the room.