The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

October 23rd 2010

“Son, come on down here.”

Great.

Mark pushed back from his computer. He’d been about to log into World of Starcraft, but he didn’t know how long his father would need him for. He pushed his hand back into his thick black hair, which had been styled to fall across half his face. His mother said it made him look like an anime character. His father said it made him look ridiculous.

The relationship that Mark had with his father was a tenuous one. His father was a demanding man, and he often spent a lot of time down in the basement. The basement had been locked for as long as Mark could remember, and only his father had the key. Yet, as Mark exited his room, he found the basement door open.

Carefully picking his way down the steep staircase, Mark wondered what it was his father was up to. It wasn’t the first time that Mark’s curiosity about his father’s activities had been piqued, but it had been some years since he’d really tried to find out. His father was a perfectionist, and Mark never had an opportunity to figure out what went on in what he had come to term ‘the Lab’. This was due, in part, to the fact that Mark’s father was a scientist. A biochemist that worked at a pharmaceutical company.

Mark wasn’t sure what he expected to find in the basement, but if he’d guessed ten times, none of those guesses would include his mother lying down on a surgical table. She was naked, but didn’t appear prepped for any sort of medical procedure. Mark’s father stood by the table, fully clothed, peering at Mark from beneath his glasses. Mark shared his blue eyes with his father. They were a soulful blue, the kind that could pierce with just a casual look.

“Ah, there you are.” His father smiled.

“What’s mom doing on the table?” Mark asked.

Glancing down at his wife, Mark’s father returned Mark’s incredulous stare with one that was as cool as though they were just discussing the weather.

“There’s something you need to know, Mark.”

“Damn right I do! WHY IS MOM ON THE TABLE!?” Mark was surprised he was yelling. He was usually fairly deferent to his father. However, something about seeing his mother in such a vulnerable state had set him off.

His father remained calm, “If you will just listen, that’s what I’m about to tell you. Sit down, son.” Mark’s father gestured to a sofa that, oddly, was positioned to view the table.

Mark glanced at the sofa, then to his father, and then to his mother. Something inside of him steeled.

“No.”

His father wiped his brow and shook his head, but smiled. “Just as stubborn I was. That’s good.”

“What you need to understand, Mark, is that you and I are not ‘Norms’. We’re... something more. The proper term is ‘Gifted’.”

Gifted!? Mark stared at his father, something must have driven him insane. Mark stepped forward, he would take his mother, get her dressed, and they would leave.

“Stop.” Mark’s father said. It was a simple statement, but his father’s voice reverberated through him and Mark found he couldn’t move.

What the fuck??

“As I said, you and I are Gifted. We have powers over the mind that, put simply, are similar to magic. However, significant research has been done over the past couple of centuries, enlightening the Gifted with a bit more insight into why our powers work.”

“W-what did you do to me?” Mark stammered, and he hated himself for it, but it was difficult to even speak. His father merely smiled.

Then Mark remembered. History class, Freshman year of High School. One of the days had been devoted to the history of the Gifted. How they had all been registered after the Treaty of Rome. How a separate organization, outside of any government’s control, had been formed after World War II, the United Gifted Association. The UGA.

“You’re resisting, good. I was certain you would be powerful.” Mark’s father began to move around the table toward him.

“Haven’t you wondered why you’re so popular at school, Mark? Why everyone wants to be your friend?”

Mark frowned, he was gaining more control of his body back. “That’s because I’m funny, talented, smart... ”

Mark’s father simply chuckled. “All true, but you’re all of those things because you’re Gifted. Being Gifted isn’t just about persuasion, it permeates everything about who we are. We’re stronger, faster, smarter.”

“You’re crazy!” Mark’s voice rose up a bit, though he couldn’t quite shout. However, his fingers clenched into a fist. His father looked down at Mark’s fist and then back up to connect once more with his gaze.

“Tell your mother to touch herself. However, when you do it, make it feel more like a command.”

“Ew, no.” Mark stared at his father, did he even know this man? “She’s my mother.”

Glancing back at his wife, Mark’s father nodded. “She is. I suppose we could grab one of the girls in your class. Who is it you fancy, Allison?”

Mark shuddered.

“Son, I know this is a lot to take in. I’m trying to prepare you. If I don’t, they’ll take you away.”

“They?” Mark asked the question before it had even entered his thoughts.

“The G.I.A. They’re the Law Enforcement for our kind.”

Our kind? Mark knew his father must have cracked, but he sounded perfectly sane. He looked at Mark with those blue eyes of his, the ones that always made Mark feel that he knew what he was thinking.

“I do.” Mark’s father said, “If I want to.”

Mark blinked. “What?”

“I know what you’re thinking, if I choose to. When you’ve trained a little, you’ll be able to block out other Gifted.”

“No... " Mark began to back away.

“I’m not insane, Mark. I know this is a lot, but you’re about to turn eighteen. Once you do, you’ll have to be registered. I’m trying to prepare you, I’ve put it off long enough.”

Mark’s father stepped forward again, and put his hand on Mark’s shoulder. Firmly, but with a certain gentleness, his father guided him over to the couch and took a seat.

“Sit down, Mark.” There was no power behind his voice this time. Mark looked at his father, and of his own free will, chose to sit down.

“I know you don’t want to do anything to your mother. Why don’t you tell her to get dressed?”

Mark looked over at his mother, on the table. She was awake, but she hadn’t said a word the entire time he’d been down here. She hadn’t moved, she hadn’t done anything. If he hadn’t seen the clear rise and fall of her chest from breathing, he’d have wondered if she were dead.

“Mom. Get dressed.” Mark said, though it didn’t come out anything like his father’s words had.

Nothing happened. Mark’s father shook his head.

“Not like that, Mark. You need to put a command into your voice. You need to feel it.“

Mark sighed and closed his eyes. Even if he were telling his mother to get dressed, he didn’t feel comfortable commanding her to do anything. All of this felt wrong. He shouldn’t be commanding anyone to do anything. How could his father do it with such ease. He spoke of being Gifted as though it were a birthright. Mark realized that outside the brief mention in history class, he didn’t really know anything about the Gifted. He’d heard of the G.I.A before, in the news, but he’d never known what it stood for. He thought it was like the U.I.A or the U.B.I. The United Central Intelligence Agency and the United Bureau of Investigation were both organizations that serviced the three Americas.

After the Civil War, the United States had split two ways. Then, when more and more people began to settle out west, it had become a lawless land, until it created a third American state.

In addition to the Union and the Confederacy, the third America had named itself California. While the three Americas were very different, they had unified in response to World War I and World War II, and some inter-American agencies had developed like the U.I.A and the U.B.I to assist local agencies with problems that happened across the borders of the three nations.

“Mark, just do it.” His father’s hand squeezed lightly.

Fine.

“Mom. Get up and get dressed.” Mark tried to form it as more of a command, and the words that came out were his, but also not his. His voice sounded deeper and more resonant.

His mother sat up. For the first time, he noticed that her eyes had a sort of glassy look to them, as though she was looking at something that neither Mark nor his father could see. Her movements were stiff, but she got dressed quickly and efficiently. When she finished, she looked like the mother that Mark had grown up with all of his life. She wore a green cardigan over a plain white blouse. A matching green, floor-length peasant’s skirt finished the outfit off. She just stood there, staring at nothing and no one in particular.

“Mom?”

Mark’s father chuckled, “For her sake, I put her in a trance state, Son. If you want to ask her questions, you’ll need to use her name.”

There had been many rules in the house for Mark growing up, but one of them was to call his father ‘dad’, his mother ‘mom’, and to never use their names. Mark didn’t know many kids who did use their parents’ names, but it still took him a moment to remember his mother’s.

“Aubrey, are you okay?”

His mother’s voice was her usual voice, if a bit devoid of emotion. It was not the toneless monotone that he had expected. Too many sci-fi movies, Mark thought.

“I’m just fine, Mark.”

“A-are you sure?”

His mother didn’t respond. Mark’s father gave him a meaningful look.

“Oh. Right. Are you sure, Aubrey?”

“Yes. I’m fine.”

Mark swallowed. He looked over at his father, who watched the exchange with a serene sense of pride. Mark didn’t know whether to feel revulsion or not. Strangely, he felt empty about the whole thing. He’d never imagined being able to have power like this, not in his wildest imagination. Sometimes he’d pretended he had magical powers, like some sort of mage from one of his games, or Ron Potter, from the popular book series. He supposed that both scenarios had spells that could control others, but he’d never thought about it much.

“It’s a lot to take in, son. Many Gifted see their power as a blessing, without recognizing the curse.”

“Curse?” Mark’s gaze had slid back to his mother, but he looked at his father again.

Mark’s father nodded, “To be Gifted is to understand that we are superior to Norms, son.” His father raised a hand as Mark began to shake his head, “I understand your objection, but listen to me. We are smarter than Norms. Stronger than Norms. We are better than them in every way. If we abuse that fact, the world would fall into a very dangerous place. We are cursed, for we must ensure that we are not consumed by our Gift.”

“I... " Mark didn’t know what to say to his father. “This, all of it. It’s too much.”

Mark’s father slipped an arm around his shoulders. “I know it is, son. Why don’t you have Aub- your mom tell you her story.”

“Her story?” Mark looked at his father questioningly.

“Of how I tamed her.” His father said simply. “Then you’ll better understand our purpose.”

Mark looked at his mother. She stood there with no outward indication that she was hearing any of what they were saying. He spoke only after a long, reflective pause.

“Aubrey, how did my father tame you?”

His mother smiled, and, for a moment, Mark thought she looked normal again. However, she continued to stare off into nowhere.

I was a wild girl, Mark. You have to understand, when I was younger, I was nothing like the woman that I am now. I have your father to thank for that. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I dropped out of High School at sixteen. My father had left my mother shortly after I was born, and my mother didn’t care much about my schooling. She was a prostitute, usually strung out on heroin when she wasn’t working. I didn’t have any other siblings. My mother had gotten her tubes tied after she had me, getting pregnant was bad for business.

Honestly, I didn’t even know what to do when I dropped out. I ran away from home, if you could call it a home. However, the only thing I knew for certain was that I didn’t want to end up a prostitute. I stayed away from the harder drugs, but Marijuana was readily available to me.

Eventually I realized I could make a lot of money stripping. I was quite the hot little thing at the time. I like to think that was what caught Frank’s eye.

Aubrey blushed a little, but didn’t look over at Mark or Frank. Frank simply smiled.

I’m proud to say that I never did any of the hard drugs, even though they were available to me too. However, I’m ashamed to admit that I became quite addicted to weed anyways. Marijuana doesn’t get you addicted in the same way that other drugs do, but some people simply have the personality... disease of an addict. It was my mother’s most enduring gift for me.

I slipped in and out of abusive relationships. I even tried playing the other side of the fence a little, though I found that while I found other women attractive, I didn’t want anything more than casual sex with them.

I wasn’t going anywhere, and, to be honest, I didn’t care.

One day, a young gentleman walked into the bar where I stripped. It wasn’t entirely unusual for a well-dressed young man to show up, but the bar was more of a blue collar place, if that gives you a better picture of the atmosphere. All of the girls fought with one another when a well-dressed man came in. I think most of us dreamed that we’d strike oil with the right guy and never have to work again, but that was a fairy tale. Or so I thought.

This particular gentleman sat at the bar as he watched us strip. It was a little disappointing, since men had to gather around the catwalk in order to give us money. However, I noticed very quickly that he only had eyes for one of the girls. Me.

You inherited most of your father’s looks. However, while your hair is black like his, it’s thick like mine. While my natural color is a nutty, light brown color as it is now, at the time, I had bleached it blonde. I knew it’s what the guys preferred, and I saw my earnings go up when I’d gone through with it. My hair was longer then, it reached down to my butt.

I’ve always been a pear-shaped girl. I used what I had even then. The girls with bigger breasts made more, and I’d considered implants, but I’d never gone through with it. I’m glad that I didn’t. I don’t think Frank would have latched onto me if he had.

My artificial hair color was already repugnant enough for him, but he found other parts of me more appealing. In particular, he was drawn to my eyes.

One of the reasons I pulled off the blonde hair so well was due to my natural baby blues. Absent only of the larger chest, I looked like the stereotypical Union dream-girl. My lips were made up to exaggerate their fullness, and I wore dusky eye-shadow that complemented my eyes beautifully.

Yet Frank saw past all of that. He saw the passion in my eyes. He called it my fire.

He stayed at the bar all night, nursing a single drink. When he finally got up and left, I never thought I’d see him again. I remember chatting with Ginny after, she was the bartender. She was a little put-off that he didn’t order more, but was mollified because he’d left her a twenty as a tip anyways. All the other girls groaned and grumbled a bit more at that, if only he’d come up and used some of that cash on us!

I strolled out to my car, eager to get home and light up. I had an ounce or so of some grass waiting at home. I was sure my deadbeat boyfriend had already gone through more of it than any one person should have been able to toke. However, there still should have been plenty left for me.

I’ll never know, I never made it home.

Frank was leaning up against the back of my car. He had a self-satisfied smile that would have appeared smug if I wasn’t already so attracted to him. I saw a man brimming with confidence. His blue eyes and carefully styled black hair were set on a face with that strong jawline of his, with a prominent, distinctive nose.

“Hey there mister,” I drawled out. I’d already taken a hit with a couple of the girls before coming out, and I was feeling really good. “That’s my car.”

“This one?” He’d said to me, playfully looking as though he’d been surprised, “That’s a shame, I thought it belonged to a different girl.”

In my altered state, I didn’t really catch the playfulness in his words. I remember feeling a bit hurt, “Guess you’ll keep waiting then.” I’d said, taking out my keys and moving for my front door.

“Aubrey. Stop.” Frank’s voice commanded me. It was so deep, so powerful, I barely questioned why I had stopped. It felt so right.

Even though I had stopped, my mind hadn’t. I began to wonder how he knew my name, I hadn’t remembered telling it to him. Out in the bar, I went by “Skyla”, it was the name I’d always wished for when I dreamed of having a sister, before I found out what my mother had done to ensure that no little brothers or sisters would be coming along.

“I’m not like most men,” Frank told me, as though he could read my mind. I didn’t find out until much later that he actually could.

I looked Frank up and down. Even though he was dressed in a suit, I could tell that he had a good physique underneath all those clothes. It wasn’t just the broad shoulders, it was in how he carried himself. I just knew. I couldn’t help it, I began to warm up.

“I- I can see that.” I said. I remember stammering, just like that. I was surprised that I could speak. Only moments before I had felt like I couldn’t say a thing.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me, Aubrey. Come.”

Just like that, I started walking. Frank led me over to his car, a black Mercedes. Without even thinking about it, I got into the passenger side and buckled up. Frank, ever the gentleman, had even held the door open for me.

We drove for awhile, I don’t know how long. I had eyes only for your father. He pulled up to this house, the one we’re in now. Though, at the time, it was a bit smaller. It was a ranch then, and it didn’t have the extended wing it has now, where your room is.

Still, it was a nice house. Frank pulled right up, got out, and opened my door for me.

I remember looking up into his eyes, those blue eyes that felt like they could read every word written on my soul. I shivered, but I felt flush, I was burning up inside. I wanted this man, a man I’d only just met. I’d forgotten about my boyfriend already, who was he compared to Frank?

“Don’t be shy,” he’d said to me. It didn’t have the power like the rest of his words did. I remember that, for the first time since he’d said stop, I could make a choice. I could have run down the street, screaming for help. Help from this man who could control me with but a word.

Instead, I got out of the car demurely. I felt like a princess being courted by the most handsome of knights. I was a little girl again, in one of my fantasies about who Mr. Right would be. I’d long forgotten those tales of love, the real thing had only disappointed in my adult life. Yet, I felt that same passion all over again.

I followed your father inside. The house looked very different on the inside. The living room was small and cozy, the kitchen and dining room were one clear room. Frank’s bedroom was right beside the basement. It eventually became a hall and the laundry room, when we put up the second floor.

I looked around the home and I felt like I was home. I’d never really known what that felt like. My mother had hopped from apartment to apartment, and so had I. To me, home was a fanciful place, not a real thing. I had never imagined how different it could feel to be at home.

“Sit down.” Frank said. It had that power again, but I didn’t mind. I wasn’t even that frightened as my body moved of its own accord and I seated myself on the cozy love seat in the living room.

Frank moved over to me and kneeled in front of me, staring into my eyes. I could feel a fluttering in my chest as I gazed into his eyes.

“You no longer wish to smoke Marijuana. The very thought of it is abhorrent to you.” Frank said. Power thrummed with every word. I realized he was right, I didn’t want to smoke it any more. In fact, I suddenly felt stone cold sober, the nice after-haze from my earlier high was gone.

“You will call Joe-Joe’s Bar tomorrow and tell them you quit. No notice. You don’t want to work anymore. You want to be a mother, and raise a child with me.” Again, each word Frank spoke resonated with me. I realized I didn’t want to strip anymore. I didn’t want to work at all. I suddenly wanted to do what my mother never could, raise a child in a warm and loving environment. Yes, I could be a mother.

Everything seemed to change. My mind was already reworking itself around these new realities. I was already imagining a different world than the one I’d known, without any further input from Frank. I knew then what he meant when he said he wasn’t like most other men.

I began to slink out of my denim skirt, thong, halter top, and bra. I put on a little show for him, but Frank merely stood up and gazed into my eyes. I undressed him without a word from him. I did it because I wanted to. I’d been getting worked up since I’d first seen him, and I needed him right then and there.

Mark began to look a little comfortable, “Aubrey, stop.” He said, feeling more sure of the command this time and his voice had the same deep, resonant effect.

Mark looked at his mother quietly. He didn’t say anything for a long time. Neither did she, or, for that matter, did his father. He honestly couldn’t have said how long he sat there, in silence, reflecting on his mother’s story.

It was his father, who, at length, broke the silence.

“It won’t be like that for you. Not at first anyway.”

Mark looked over at his father, “Like what?”

“By the time I’d found your mother, I had already had a lot of practice using my Gift. It takes time, determination, and talent to get it to the point that I had. Not all Gifted are the same. Some are more powerful than others. I am certainly one of the more powerful Gifted. However, even I had to start somewhere, as will you.”

Mark just stared at his father.

“It will be easier to start out by telling others to do things they would probably normally agree to. Think of it as a little shove. If you were anyone else, they might say no. They might even get offended at you for being so bold. If they do say no, you can just play it off with your charm, and no one’s the wiser.” Mark’s father smiled.

“Eventually, though, you’ll find that it works more often than not. You’ll gain confidence, and, as you do, you’ll start demanding things that would give you more pause if you considered whether or not your subject would actually agree to them. One day, you’ll even feel confident enough to attempt it on a total stranger.”

Mark’s head spun as he listened to his father. This was, everything that his father described was, impossible. It couldn’t be real. Yet his mother had not once cracked in her story, or given even the most remote of hints that she was just playing along. Even now, she stood there as she had lain on the table, completely still and without expression.

“There’s no telling how powerful you’ll be, and that will limit what you’re able to do, how many you can command at a given time, and how deep you can go with them, but I have a feeling you’ll be at least as powerful as I am.”

Looking from his mother to his father, Mark wasn’t sure what to say or to do. Even after hearing his mother’s story, he wasn’t certain he understood what being a Gifted meant. How could he have that much control over another person? How could his father have that much control? Mark shifted his gaze back to his father, could he truly make Mark give up gaming forever, just as he’d made Mark’s mother give up weed?

“Yes, Mark. I could. But I won’t.” He smiled. Mark simply stared. “Aubrey, time to wake up dear.”

Swiveling his gaze back to his mother, Mark saw the life return back to her eyes and her features. She looked momentarily confused, then saw Mark and his father.

“Oh, my. I’m sorry, but, where were we?” She asked politely.

“You were going to bring some lemonade down to Mark and I,” His father said easily, “seems you forgot the lemonade.”

“Oh, wow. I can be such a ditz sometimes.” Mark’s mother gave his father a playful smile.

“Honey, you’re the smarest woman I know.”

Mark’s mother smiled. “I know, after all, I chose you.”